Puppy-eyed

I sometimes look into Joe's eyes, trying to fathom what he's thinking - always unsuccessfully.

The only time I can deduce what he's thinking is when he isn't - when he simply needs something: to go out, to go for a walk, to play.

But sometimes, usually when I've just come home, or awoken, or have a rawhide bone in hand - sometimes, he looks at me with such adoration.

I wish I could live a life as simple, joy-filled and direct as my puppy, instead I'm grateful for joy he brings into my life by being a happy, happy puppy.

Trainer's Verdict

Joe had two sessions with a wonderful trainer, Cora at the Downtown Dog Lounge. In her professional opinion, he's very energetic, perhaps excessively playful but not aggressive in the least.

This however does not mean that he doesn't need to be under firm control at the dog park. And I confess, I did (up and to a point) let him make his own decisions while there.

She taught him to drop whatever he was doing with a stern, "Leave It." And he's much better on leash now too.

I am very relieved and look forward to going to the dog park again.

Dog Days

One thing I didn’t, perhaps, spend enough time considering was how getting a puppy would affect our relationship. B. works long and arduous hours; often he is too tired and too drained to spend time caring for Joe. This usually falls to me, as we both knew it would, and this is fine with all of us.

It has though had an unexpected effect, that I am far more involved with the pup than he is, and as such, it seems that I am over-involved with Joe’s welfare – the words used to describe me in this regard are over-protective and maternal. I don’t think of Joe as a child but when I’ve been monitoring how other dog owners circumscribe the ‘rules’ for dog-play at the dog park; it does break down awfully neatly on gender lines.

The women, myself included, seem to be very nervous about play that involves chomping down on the neck or legs, pinning, or anything that ends in squealing. The men, in contrast, stand back with arms crossed and murmur gnomically, “Let ‘em figure it out, when someone yips or bleeds, then it’s time to pull ‘em apart.”

The women, it could be said seem to be having emotional experiences with their dogs and the men seem to be more like farmers, not uninvolved but not emotionally involved in the same way, somehow.

But in the long and the short of it, B. feels I need to spend less time with Joe, and that we as a couple need to spend more time without Joe. I hear the faint resemblance to his tone to similar statements made by friends to their wives about a new baby – and have observed how my female friends do, without noticing, become enveloped in their relationship with the baby. I’m happy to be with someone that wants to ensure that we have enough ‘couple-time’ alone, but bemused that I had gotten so wrapped up in a puppy, especially without really noticing it.

I did notice that before I climbed into bed to cuddle with B. I’d always give Joe a little soft pat ‘Good-night’ – usually while B. was reaching for me… but I guess things creep up on you and you lose a bit of perspective, fairly quickly.

Dog Dominance Advice?

A Call for Advice –

As I’ve written many times before, Joe loves to play with much larger dogs. When he goes to daycare he has always insisted on being with dogs that outweigh him by as much as 80 pounds – he’s never met a 130 pound dog he didn’t like. He is also insistent about playing, if a dog is uninterested Joe will do his level best to engage him, he’ll bat at him, leaping about and land in a play bow, dancing and barking. And he’ll do this until I pull him away or until the other dog snaps at him.

He’s never hurt another dog, although he does like to grab the loose fur around their neck and hold on. He’ll wrestle another dog to the ground but lets them up pretty quickly because he doesn’t seem to want the game to stop.

Last weekend at the dog park, Joe had found a 100 pound, 8 month old Rottweiler to play with, but the Rotti was far more shy and submissive than Joe. Joe raced around the Rotti and the dog parried and boxed with him but without much enthusiasm.

His owner said to me, “Your dog is really aggressive.”

“Oh, he’s just a puppy. He’s still learning how to play.”

“No, he’s really aggressive.” She was very insistent about this.

I said that I’d do some research on it. She recommended obedience classes (which I do intend to do, once our out of town visitors have gone).

I have never perceived Joe as aggressive, dominant certainly, with Alpha aspirations definitely. Now, it may be a question of semantics, but it seems that ‘aggressive dog’ has a specific and important legal definition, a dog that poses a threat to people or animals.

I’ve seen Joe be wrestled to the ground again and again, I’ve seen him play with other pups, but I’ve never seen him look intent, look angry, never seen him actually hurt any dog, never had any reports of anything like that at daycare either. Nonetheless, he’s my responsibility, I want to always protect him. I don’t want to find out later that I’d been in denial about a problem, when something’s gone terribly wrong.

B. (my boyfriend) feels that this woman doesn’t understand the difference between ‘dominant’ and ‘aggressive’ – but I wonder what you all think? Any advice?

Greenies & Health Issues

Joe, like most dogs, loves Greenies.

Our vet asked how much of them Joe ate and how often. Apparently, vets all over the country are seeing life-threatening bowel-obstruction problems with them. Owners should take care to feed their dog the appropriate size treat, and limit the number.

Here's an article about the Greenies and other risky dog treats (for readability on this page the website address takes 2 lines), http://www.detnews.com/apps/pbcs.dll/
article?AID=/20051225/LIFESTYLE/512250364/1005

I think it's a good product, but going forward Joe is only going to get the tiniest sized Greenie for puppies, and I'm watching him with those pig ears, too.

Panty Thief

(Sorry for the long break. Hope everyone had a good holiday.)

Joe was at a Doggie Daycare for a week, and he’s so grown that I honestly didn’t think he was our dog when he came into the lobby. After I looked in his face I recognized him, but in that one week it was as if he’d aged a year.

He looked like a dog, not a puppy. He’s taller and chunkier, longer and stronger. The little puppy that could be cradled in arms is entirely gone.

Yet, he’s still essentially the same, sweet, curious, active – just bigger. Suddenly, there’s a whole ‘nother layer of the house that will have to be puppy-proofed. He came home suddenly able to snatch things off counters and tables that he was absolutely stymied by only days ago.

Joe is, thus far, not at all destructive. We’ve gone through his puppyhood without anything destroyed – shoes, belts and garments all intact. He does love to grab something belonging to me when I’ve been working too long (in his estimation) and then come dancing into my office with it dangling from his teeth.

Unlike dogs I’d had growing up, he never secrets away things to gnaw to pieces. Any contraband he finds he dances out a clear Morse code telegraphing its discovery. Even from 20 feet away I can tell when Joe’s nabbed one of my socks or shoes from the “Gotta Dance! Gotta Dance! frenetic tippy-tapping of his nails on the hardwood.

He’ll let the shoe dangle seductively from his teeth, waving it gently back and forth, tossing it in the air until he’s caught my attention. His eyes are round with delighted mischief. As I give chase, he looks over his shoulder with a demented glee.

But never does he do any damage to the kidnapped item. It’s purely a stratagem to get me away from my desk.

When B. is home, the technique is the same but the items are nearly always B’s rather than mine. He can clearly smell the difference between my socks and B’s. Joe chooses an item most likely to get a reaction – never a rag or a sponge - always clothing, shoes or reading material. If nothing of B’s is within reach, he’ll dance in with something of mine, but his preference is always to bring something belonging to the party he wants to interrupt.

This morning I was still in bed and B. was downstairs online. I heard Joe tap dancing up a storm, dancing his little heart out and leaping about. Then I heard B. laugh and Joe’s paws drumming all the way up the stairs. B. managed to easily snag his boxers from Joe’s teeth as Joe cavorted, wiggling around with joy.

If only for the laughter he creates, he’s worth every second of work it takes to keep him healthy and happy.