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.