slowpoke & joe - adrift in seattle

A girl, an ontological dilemma and a puppy stumble through Seattle

Friday, November 25, 2005

Teething to Distraction


I’ve been trying to distract him with ice cubes in toys, frozen Kong treats, a frosty string knot. For a half an hour or so, each of these distracts but these new teeth are causing bleeding, pink stains on the toys. Joe whimpers, plops down on a pillow only to jump up and pace, flop down with a breathy huff next to me, then in seconds is up and pacing again. The whimpers are so plaintive and unanswerable that it hurts to hear. I stop to pet and comfort him periodically but I've got work to finish. I can't help feeling in equal measure sympathy, concern and frustration. It's as difficult for me to concentrate as it is for him to rest.

Joe is too miserable to be ignored. I took him for a long walk thinking that afterwards he'd be able to slump into sleep. Once home he headed out of my office and I thought he'd begun his paces again. Instead he began scouring the house for contraband – stuff belonging to B or to me.

Hearing an unfamiliar sound in the kitchen I slipped in to see Joe trying to get a toy off a table. Two points of a quilted toy star hung just over the edge of the tabletop. He lifted himself up on his hind legs like a circus dog, a feat of motor coordination I would have thought beyond him at this puppy stage. He gently bobbled it with his nose on one side then the other, moving it gently and methodically. You could almost see the little wheels spinning as he observed, acted and recalculated how to move it within reach. He seemed to be enjoying the problem solving. Next, he grabbed his prize in mouth and then gave a hop of pure joy. Noticing me with an expression of mild guilt and hopefulness he shot away. He ran away looking over his shoulder clearly inviting me to chase him.

I would have but for the amount of work still on my desk.

After racing down and back the length of the house for a while, Joe finally collapsed into a fitful slumber next to my deskchair. Once he awoke I took him in the yard for an intense throwing and chasing session, hoping to tire and distract him. Yet he seemed even more energized and was not happy when I sank back into my deskchair.

So Joe took to a new but effective technique – springing up in the air a good couple of feet, woofing loudly. Then having gotten my attention he sprang from side to side like a deranged Texan skier slaloming out of control. I'd never seen him do anything like this before so I got up to try and calm him. He exploded into a run, hell bent for leather, down the length of the house. He was galloping so fast that his back was pulled into an arch, like an egg. His legs were going so rapidly as to be practically invisible. I've never seen him go so quickly before. Then he was back in the office still running at full speed in a tight circle in the center of the room. He circled and circled, his nails digging deeply into the rug. His eyes were wide and intense, yet unreadable. It was almost as if he'd been possessed by the ghost of an Egyptian coursing hound

He’s usually active, he’s a puppy, but nothing like this ever before. Nothing, not jet fuel, not a gallon of caffeine, nor a hit of speed could have made him move faster –

The wild-eyed look was intense enough that I got out of the way because I was afraid he’d accidentally bite or slam into me. Deranged by pain, I guess. When he finally flopped down to rest, I checked his mouth and the upper canines are just about to break the surface. No wonder he’s in a tizzy. Those will be big teeth.

Monday, November 21, 2005

Joy and Dogs



I am very fortunate to work at home so I fit taking care of Joe’s with my schedule. Sometimes I get so busy that I have to admit Joe gets cursory care – two short walks of ten minutes each, two meals and one 15 minute play session. The door to the backyard is only steps away from my desk so he goes outside whenever he likes.

I try to feel ok about this because I know most people would kill to be able to give their dog the cursory care I give on my busiest days. But deep down I know I could do a lot more and a lot more often. I love the guy but I’m still entrenched in my own habits. I’ve made room for a puppy in my life, have made many adjustments, but I know I come nowhere near the spiritual attentiveness and devotion of those monks in New Skete. And not just where taking care of dogs are concerned.

Today after finishing my project I set about some garden work; I’d promised B I’d get to it. He’d bought some bags of cedar chips for the area where Joe likes to take a squat. This area is covered with stringy, uneven, trailing Buttercup, which makes poo patrol messier than it needs to be. With the even surface of the cedar and it’s odor fighting properties it should be better for all involved.

Joe bounced along by my side as I first cleared the area. Fortunately, he’s uninterested in his poo so there were no ugly accidents. Afterwards, I grabbed the heavy and ungainly bag of cedar and dragged it behind me. I’m small but the bag was not, so it was slow going even though the bag wasn’t heavy.

Something about this took Joe’s fancy and he burst into a gallop, coursing around the yard like he was on fire. As I was pulled the bag into place - Wham! - Joe threw himself at the bag at full speed. The cedar bag absorbed much of the force and neither of us was hurt. I turned around to see him spinning away at top speed. As I dumped the fragrant, rich red cedar onto the lawn Joe reappeared and dove into the pile headfirst. Then with a snort he tunneled through it. This continued with all 5 bags, in more or less the same order.

With the last bag, I stopped to wipe my forehead and here came Joe hurtling pell-mell towards me. His wide eyes, doggy-laugh, and frenzied paws all came churning at me. I realized he was in an absolute spasm of joy – unadulterated, unmodulated, unmediated joy.

There are other things I could do with him, equally novel from his point of view just to elicit this joy. Although it wouldn’t always work because what strikes his fancy is known to him alone. I don’t really try to find out what would send him into paroxysms of rapture – and I pretty easily could.

This made me think about how often I experience joy. I wonder if most of us by adulthood spend much of our time in a low frequency contentment. How much of joy is the decision to dive into the silly beauty of ordinary moments? Why don’t we make joy a priority when nothing is more refreshing or gives daily life more flavor, and even perhaps meaning.

So, now I am trying to find ways to give Joe and myself a bit of the ineffable beauty of stupid joy.

Saturday, November 19, 2005

Puppies as Children


Personally, I don’t support the idea that pets should be substitute people, whether children, friends or spouses. It doesn’t seem fair to the animal, who may be wonderful but will never be a person. Ideally, pets shouldn’t have to carry the burden of human need.

But that’s my opinion, my judgment, for myself alone. If someone has a service animal, or is elderly or otherwise removed from mainstream society, a relationship with a dog is far better than no relationships.

So, that being my ‘philosophical’ position, I was a bit horrified to note my reaction to leaving Joe at Doggy Day Care for the first time. It’s a wonderful place, well laid out, well run, and well staffed; yet I only brought him there to prepare him emotionally for being boarded there during the holidays. I want him to have happy associations with the place there so being left there will be as pleasant as possible.

And he had a grand old time; he seemed reluctant to leave. When I brought him in, he wouldn’t go back to the dog areas without my trotting in ahead. The handlers jogged away in front of me, with Joe bouncily following their steps. Then he noticed that he was behind a gate without me and he tried to return to me. The handlers distracted him, he loped off, only to return again to the gate and press his little head against it. Again, they caught his attention and this time I made my escape.

I went home to work and missed his presence in my office. As soon as my work was finished, I went back to pick him up. Since he’s always reluctant to leave me, and seemingly heart-wrenched when I leave him alone at home; I expected a joy-filled reunion scene. I imagined symphonic strings swelling, a close-up on his delighted dogface, then cut to Joe scrambling madly to reach me, with a final shot of him charging into my legs. Exactly like a most obvious and sentimental television commercial.

I was more disappointed then I ever would have guessed when he actually seemed to be torn about leaving. No ecstatic reaction when he saw me, he seemed happy, not overjoyed. I was a bit crestfallen.

And in the car on the way home I realized that having a dog is more like being a parent than I wanted it to be, especially the part when you love and miss them, while they just want to be with their friends. I thought I was getting a puppy, but in this sense I got a teenager.

It is disconcerting at times to realize how needful I am, as I don’t think of myself that way.

Oh, well. If you pay attention there are a hundred ways to appall yourself.

Friday, November 18, 2005

Buffalo Bones & Pups


We’ve been giving him buffalo bones, which are huge and filled with marrow. This morning Joe was restless and whimpering for no apparent reason. Then he threw up 4 times, was drooling in thick strings. The final effluvia was clear mucous drainage from his posterior. On my carpet.

So, off he went to the vet. They stated emphatically that raw marrow bones and small pups are an E-coli-bonanza. Also the pups can ingest bone chips that can irritate their stomach lining and intestines. If they get E-coli, they need a full course of antibiotics.

So much for pet store advice. We were told these frozen bones were perfect for teething pups – but they neglected to mention the potential for infection. And this is a high-end boutique ‘health food’ pet store.

When he got his vet ordered dietary meal – plain boiled white rice, his expression was exactly like a child served Lima beans. Two bland, tasteless mini-meals later, he seems to be back in his normal form.

There is perhaps no more helpless feeling than having a dog or a loved one sick; especially when you don’t know how serious it is. With my Irish talent for melancholy there is no such thing as a best-case scenario. I remain visibly stoic but deep inside I expect the very worst. And the fact that this is rarely the case doesn’t dissuade me from silent, secret dire predictions in every event.

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

Joe’s first Dog Park Excursion – a perverse display





We have been waiting for Joe to finish his series of puppy vaccinations before allowing him to play with other dogs. Given how much energy he has, taking him to the dog park has been long anticipated.

Finally, we were given the clear by the vet and off we went to Marymoor Park in Redmond. I’d never been there before either; it's a massive amount of acreage. The park is bordered by a salmon-run creek with multiple stepped wading pools; cedar chip paths, dirt paths that wind and meander through blackberry bushes and broad meadow-like expanses for racing and chasing.

Joe trotted eagerly towards the loosely organized packs of coursing dogs with not a sign of timidity or fear. He headed into the frolics without trepidation at the number of dogs, nor at their size.

He’d never been off leash before and the sheer size of the park scared me far more than it did Joe or B. Actually, if B hadn’t been urging Joe on I might have kept Joe on the leash. The park is large enough that he could gallop out of sight pretty quickly. And that made me anxious.

Joe’s social technique (while hilarious to watch) was a bit less charming to his canine compatriots. He’d lope over shyly and disarmingly with his loose, sloppy, puppy gait, holding his head low. Then he’d nose his target, rolling his eyes coyly up at this chosen playmate. They’d sniff each other and Joe would cuff at the playmate’s head and let himself be tumbled over. He’d be rolled onto his back over and over again, (scaring the hell out of me). His eyes shone with a worrying delight and fear. Having convincingly demonstrated his submissiveness, he would then catch the playmate at a distracted moment. Up he’d clamber onto his playmate’s shoulders to then vigorously hump him in the face.

This never went over well.

But the furious reaction did not deter Joe in the least. His strategy was remarkably consistent; get them to let down their guard and then hump away on the head. This was particularly funny as he chose dogs usually twice his size. So he’d be banging manically, legs dangling over either side of his victim’s head. And then he’d take his punishment without too much protest. As if his rude gesture trumped any possible reaction, no matter the growls of anger, no matter the impressive display of teeth.

Of course, we not only had to separate him from each of his victims, we also had to try and apologize to the owners without laughing. It was funny, if confusing. He’d been fixed at roughly 7 or 8 weeks, so this couldn’t be sexual activity. And his choice of the head indicated that his sexual instincts have gone awry. The only possible explanation is that it is a Napoleonic impulse.

Last night on our walk he visited the same indignity upon a Mastiff, who remained coolly unruffled. The Mastiff just twitched his enormous shoulders and off Joe flew onto the sidewalk. As Joe tried to reassume his mount, the Mastiff blocked him with a meaty paw. The bewildered disappointment in Joe’s eyes was very amusing.

The Mastiff’s owner calmly observed, “He does want to be dominant, doesn’t he? Little guy’s got a lot to learn.”

May he learn it without bodily injury.

Monday, November 14, 2005

Joe in the Shower

Friday, November 11, 2005

Bathing beauty

Last weekend B and I decided it was time to give Joe a bath. Except that last time had not gone so well, Joe’s feet kept sliding on the curved side of the tub and he freaked. He struggled, he caterwauled, he dugs his claws into our thighs trying to get out. I’ve never had a dog that liked getting washed; although I had a friend whose Malamute, Bondi, absolutely adored it.

We decided to try the shower instead – it’s big enough for 2 people and a puppy. The door closes securely allowing one person to wash and one to rinse. This is vastly preferable to the WWF tag team moves we had to use to keep him in the tub.

We let the shower get nice and steamy, filled a watering can with warm water, then stepped in together and called to Joe in our friendliest, happiest tone of voice. He trotted in, stood under the stream of steamy water and grinned showing all of his new little front teeth. Soaping and rinsing went easily. The only sticky point was getting him toweled off but once it was turned into a game of ‘Uhh-oh, oh no, towel over my head – Bite, Bite, Bite’ that too went swimmingly.

This morning, days after Joe’s shower adventure he wandered over just as I was about to shower. I opened the shower door. He shot in so quickly I didn’t even see it. I looked down to see him standing proudly and happily under the warm water. I laughed but while I’m happy bathing him, I don’t want to bathe with him. So out he went.

And he pressed his black nose to the glass shower door, making little chuffs of steam as he sung an aria of discontent. So I guess keeping him clean won’t be an ordeal, but keeping him out of the shower as he gets bigger, faster and stronger may be.

Tuesday, November 08, 2005

Joe the manic pup

A huzzah for maturity!


When I was a child I sneaked little treats all the time to my dog, Sweetie, so that she would love me unreservedly and more importantly, exclusively. But, alas! Sweetie was a humanist, a free-love advocate, a democrat of love, and she loved all of us equally.

I'm proud to note that with Joe the pup, I have done everything I can to make sure that Joe is as attached to my partner, B, as possible. I let B feed Joe, I encourage him to chase the pup around the yard (to Joe's wide-eyed, slavering delight). I shove them together like a teen matchmaker at a junior high dance.

It would be easy for me to manipulate Joe's attachment to be largely fixated on me, especially as B has never had a dog before in his life. Looking back at the time that we've 'owned' Joe (about 7 weeks) I noticed that I have wanted B to love Joe and vice versa quite naturally and quite fully.

I am (pathetically) grateful that loving B has helped me evolve from my 6-year-old's possessiveness, at least in this area of my life. Because I can still be appallingly possessive when it comes to my friends falling-in-like with my friends.

Friday, November 04, 2005

Learning to try and regard things before reacting

Joe decides for no apparent reason to launch himself away from me as I walk him, as the lease is only 10 feet long, there's not anywhere he can really go, so he hangs himself up in the air before spinning back my way. And then he spins and pulls, grabbing the leash in his mouth.

It's both hilarious and frustratingly annoying in equal measure. Today though as I watched him twirling about manically, the whites in his eyes visible setting off the intensity of emotion he was feeling, I realized that this was puppy frustration. He doesn't want to mosey along all the time, some of the time he wants to claw the turf, gallop ragged through leaf piles, and be chased pell mell. He wants to go to the dog park, although he doesn't know what one is yet. For a puppy, no one's more fun than another puppy - and by those lights I guess I can be more understanding of these moments of demonic possession.

He'll get his last round of puppy shots next week, and then we're off to the dog park.

More importantly, though, it made me realize that if I step back from my idea of what a dog walk should look like, and really see what is happening for him as much as for me, the answer is obvious. Being annoyed when he goes briefly crazy may be difficult to avoid as my shoulder gets yanked hither and thither, but I think I've learned something important about being a dog owner from this last experience.

And perhaps in unrelated news, I woke up thinking that everything in my life is fixed only by my attitude to it, shift the attitude and everything else has to shift too. I suppose there are any number of spiritual self-help books that point that out, but to me it was a new realization. And for a moment, I felt a sudden shift, a lifting, a bearable lightness of being.

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

What to write about...




I don't have the vaguest idea what to write about, I thought having a blog would Drano-like begin opening a block.

Somehow today Joe looks even bigger as if every time he takes a pup-nap his bones are lengthening. I've been told I need to get him to accept nail trimming and teeth brushing. The nails are impossible. I must have tried 3 times today while he was dozing -- but he's learned to sleep lightly and if his paws are touched he wakes up with this piteous mix of alarm and 'why, why are you trying to hurt me?'

After the 3rd attempt, I simply gave up. All I was doing was training him to sleep like a fugitive, snapping awake at the least sound. I'd handled and held his paws as prescribed to get the dog to accept nail trimming but as soon as he sees the clippers he's determined to flee.

Fortunately, he seems to enjoy tooth brushing perhaps because he's teething. Last night those new razor teeth cut all the way through the leash. When he gets in the leash-pulling mood he goes from sweet to a bit satanic but it never lasts overlong before he returns to his tractable self.

Search Popdex:
Blogarama - The Blogs</a></li> 



<a href= Blogwise - blog directory Bloogz