Monthly Archives: June 2012

Learning to love the crate … or not

Posted on by
2

Charlie and Lex snooze away after a day of play. (Photos by Matt)

Everyone has issues.

As for Charlie, our recently adopted border collie mix, he enjoyed making deposits on top of the guest bed or the laundry in the basement.

Seriously, this is not a big deal. I mean, he’s a puppy, almost five months old. Proper house training takes time, and patience. But this became a bigger issue when we visited the vet to treat Charlie’s worms. The vet tech strongly encouraged us to crate Charlie. At night, and even during the day. No more on the couch, and definitely no more sleeping with us.

I was crushed.

I could think of nothing better than waking up to puppy breath. Matt was more straight-forward about it. Charlie needed to learn he was not on par with us humans.

Sigh.

Matt firmly embraced his new role as Stern Daddy. And when Charlie kept pooping on the bed, Matt resurrected the crate. We had tried it for like a day when we first got Charlie, but he peed all over himself. He seemed less stressed outside of the crate. But now, Matt wanted to try it again. We went on a short trip to the store, and left Charlie in the crate. We came back to a completely drenched dog. We couldn’t tell if it was saliva or pee. We washed the crate pad, and left him alone a few hours later. When we returned, again, he was soaking wet.

That night, we played crate games. Matt and I took turns tossing squeaky toys into the crate, alternating with biscuits. Charlie seemed comfortable with it. He even went all the way in and curled up for a few minutes. But when it came time for bed, and the game included closing the crate gate, Charlie simply lost it.

He waited until I was almost asleep, then let it rip. A-WOW-ROW-ROWWWW!!!!!! WOOOOO! YIP! YIP!

I had read that I should let him howl. To not reward him by letting him out. I turned on my side, and tried to not think about the chaos downstairs. I started to drift off, then Charlie stepped it up a notch. I thought of my neighbors, and asked Matt if the downstairs windows were open. He couldn’t remember. I didn’t want anyone to call the cops.

I sighed. Heavily. And weighed my options. I walked downstairs.

Charlie howled until I opened the door. He was dripping wet. I pulled out the wet mat, then took Charlie outside. He immediately peed, so I started thinking he was wet from nervously drooling on himself. Matt and I decided to put a fresh blanket in the crate and bring it upstairs. We got Charlie back in, but he was not happy about it, and let us know all night.

Snuggle bunnies.

We woke up knowing we had to do something. After consulting multiple pet behavior websites, we hatched a plan. We drove to Costco, and bought three dog beds — a large one both dogs could use on the main floor, then two individual beds for upstairs. Then we went to Meijer and bought a baby gate. We put a dog bed on Matt’s side of the bed, and put the gate between the bed and the wall, providing Charlie a space that is about 3 feet by 5 feet.

It worked like magic.

Looking for reassurance, I went to the message boards (specifically my dog friends at Reddit) to get input. Mostly everyone encouraged us to stick with crate training, although some said if the current approach worked that was cool, too.

We tried the crate a few more times (usually when we made short trips away from the house) but the end result always was the same. Charlie would drool all over himself. I began to suspect a form of separation anxiety, and worried that continued exposure to the crate could cause harm.

So we continued with the confined space at night (baby gate, plus dog bed) and experimented with letting him roam free during the day. Even when we were gone. The first time we tried this, Matt and I were terrified. As we drove home, we imagined the destruction waiting for us.

But upon opening the front door, we were greeted with … nothing. Not a squeaky toy out of place. We chalked it up to beginner’s luck, then tried it again. And again. Always with the same result. Charlie didn’t even nibble on his chewy.

What great relief.

Now that Charlie recently taught himself to use the dog door, and apparently is housebroken (through positive reinforcement, he’s finally pooping outside), we get to move on to the next commands.

Did I mention he already knows how to sit?

Breaking through to the other side

Posted on by
1

Big news to report: Charlie taught himself how to use the dog door.

Of course, all of this is my fault. I had let him outside, and was selfishly trying to get some computer time in. Maybe 15 minutes went by, and I heard a rustling at the back door. By the time I walked through the kitchen, I got to the landing just in time to see Charlie shoot through the doggie door. Like a rocket.

A tad disoriented, he wiggle-walked up to me, and shot a look. You know the one. The one that says, “Lady, that deserves a biscuit.”

He was right. A biscuit was discharged, immediately.

You see, this was quite a rite of passage in our household. I never had a dog door, until my dad offered to install one at my house. He had watched a Martha Stewart episode about it, and it looked easy enough to do. He enlisted the help of granddad, and they installed it in an afternoon.

This one act of kindness by dad and granddad revolutionized my life. And that of my two pups, back then.

At the time, I worked at The Detroit News. My commute was only 15 or 20 minutes, but the work hours could go long. Once Lexie and my late pup Lili mastered the door, everything was different. I could work late. I could go out for a bite to eat after work. And I didn’t have to worry about coming home to a guilt-ridden dog, and a gift in the hallway.

Lexie seemed to benefit the most. She flourished in this new-found sense of freedom. She quickly adapted to the idea that she could go into the yard whenever she wanted. To this day, she’ll often get up in the middle of the night, and wander out back for a while.

So, Charlie learned how to come in using the dog door. Learning how to exit took more work. He would stare at the door, and poke at it with his nose, making the plastic door sway to and fro. But he seemed nervous about actually jumping through.

Armed with a pocket full of puppy biscuits, I walked outside, an closed the door behind me. Then I pointed my iPhone toward the doggie door and waited. I saw Charlie’s nose poke out a couple times. The nothing. I called out his name, then Lex ran out.

“Charlieeeeeeee!” I did my best to lure him through the rectangle in the door. Finally he popped out, and he jumped up on me, looking for his treat. Well deserved!

Our hope and fear: Did we work with Charlie enough to adequately housebreak him? He was just barely starting to sit by the back door this morning when he broke on through to the other side.

Learning this skill so young clearly is a blessing and a curse. We’re happy that he can let himself out. But the question is, will he go once he’s out there? He’s been known to play in the yard for a good hour, then come inside to poop on the laundry pile. I’m guessing we’ll have to follow him outside and praise each time he lifts his leg. And we’ll need to vigilantly scan the guest bedroom and basement for special deposits.

After a sweep of the basement, it’s clear we have trouble brewing.

NEXT: Learning to love the crate.

Dog-yawn-kiss

Posted on by
Reply

Charlie’s looking for a toy. Why are there no toys?!?

I think we’ll keep him.

It’s been a week, and we are madly in love with Charlie. Overall, I’d call it a successful transition. He and Lex get along famously, Matt has taught him to sit and he’s housebroken. Well, not really. He still really likes to take a poo in the basement. But he’s close to housebroken.

Magic bowl: Polaroid, tooth, tokens.

And last night, the Tooth Fairy came! Charlie lost one of his baby canine teeth. He got my attention by neurotically licking his nose (or so it appeared) and then it just flew out of his mouth. At first I thought one of his nails fell out, but upon closer examination I saw he lost a baby tooth. I put it in my magic bowl on top of the TV, and made sure to hide a dog treat in his bed.

In the first week of living with someone new, peculiar habits may surface. For Charlie, he has a thing for staying clean. Particularly, he likes to slip into the bathtub while Matt or I take a shower.

At first I noticed his little nose poking through the curtain. Then it was both paws on top of the tub. Then front legs hanging in the tub … and next thing you know, he’s soaked! Must be that Border Collie curiosity!

Now that Charlie has a name (thanks to everyone who suggested names and voted!) we had two tasks to accomplish. First, we had to teach it to him, and secondly, we had to get a cool name tag!

Somehow the stars aligned perfectly and Matt was able to get Charlie to answer to his new name AND teach him how to sit, all in one day. Matt says no magic was involved on teaching the command; he simply watched a YouTube video. To celebrate, we went to PetSmart and bought a bright red dog bone name tag. Fancy-schmancy stuff, indeed.

Throughout this week, Lexie has been a gracious big sister, gently (and geriatrically) showing young Charlie the ropes. Lex gave up her favorite spot on the couch (until we put a stop to that), she holds her ground as he zooms around her in the yard and does this odd yawn-thing each time Charlie goes in for a kiss. We Googled “dog-yawn-kiss” and apparently it’s a calming signal to indicate that everything is OK and there is nothing to worry about. Awwe.

In exchange for all of this, Lex gets to eat unlimited amounts of puppy chow. Not that we would want to encourage that, or anything. But she’s still quick on the paws, and able to gobble down quite a bit of kibble before we realize she’s in the wrong bowl.

And given that she’s a tad underweight, I’m tempted to let this play out.

In the meantime, Charlie is busy emptying the dog toy basket. The same basket that sat idle in my house for years. He’s discovering the red squeaky bone, the two-foot ropey, the stuffed giraffe, the Kong. He pulls them all out, piling up his favorites on the dog bed, then squeaks the giraffe for like 10 minutes straight.

Oh yes. Music to this mom’s ears.

Veterinary adventures

Posted on by
18

I’ve got worms in my where?!?

Charlie has taken to pooping in the spare bedroom.

The lil’ stinker manages to hold his pee for outside. But on more than one occasion we have discovered presents waiting for us in our back room. So this morning, when he disappeared for exactly 60 seconds, then casually trotted back into the front room, something told me to go check things out.

I looked under the dressing table (he’s scouted that spot before) and all was clear. However, my nose told me otherwise. I scannned the floor, then looked up on the bed. Oh. No.

Not the bed.

Right where the cat usually spreads out in the sun, Charlie had left us a couple of his finest specimens. A friend had told me the best way to deal with this was to grab the dog and the poo, then take them outside to show the dog where to properly make a deposit. So I grabbed Charlie, plopped him up on the bed and prepared to pick up the tootsies to take outside.

Until, the poop moved.

I blinked real hard. Yes. It was definitely moving. I screamed.

Matt ran into the room asking what was wrong. I pointed at the pile of poop, and screamed again.

“Worms!!”

I thought about the massive puppy makeout sessions I had with Charlie, and wondered if his kisses would give me worms, too. I immediately bagged the offending poo in a ziplock and called the vet. After securing a visit, I demanded to know if I could get worms, too. I mean, I had let Charlie lick my face after, ummm, I presume he licked his bum. I know, I know! Why would I do that?!? I had always heard that dog’s mouths are cleaner than humans. I believed the hype, until I got a dog with worms.

After getting a vague answer about my condition (because clearly it was all about me, at this point) I called my personal physician and asked the same question. At first they referred me to a vet, then acquiesced to my pleas and dug up an answer. The succintly told me that I would probably be OK as long as I didn’t eat the poop. Phew. For once, a problem I don’t have.

So Charlie went to the vet. And the bottom line is this:

Worms are no big deal. Really.

I guess it’s common for puppies to get these squiggly white things in their poop. I had no idea. And honestly, I can’t remember the last time I had a puppy. Lex was 1 when I adopted her. The same for Lili. Still, my friends and the vet assured me this is a normal complication. We even received a concerned text from his foster mom, Gail!

The vet checked his vaccination history, and while Charlie had been dewormed once, it was time for another treatment. While we were there, we got his next round of puppy shots.

And we had the vet settle a bet.

When we first saw Charlie’s profile, it said he is a border collie/brittany spaniel mix. I can totally see it. Matt is convinced that Charlie is border collie, but mixed with beagle. And for some reason (mostly I think because of his coloring and his size) a lot of people who meet him instantly ask if he’s a beagle.

So without any hints, or looking at our chart, we asked the vet to give us her opinion. Right away, she said border collie, then she paused. She then offered brittany spaniel or German shorthaired pointer.

Matt and I looked at each other and laughed.

“Definitely, a Heinz 57,” she decided.

And my name is …

Posted on by
2

It was a three-way race to the end but one name emerged victorious.

Meet Charlie “Scout” Greenberg.

Charlie is sitting in Lexie’s spot, but she’s OK with it.

This name won by a nose.

At first it was a strong two-name race, between Charlie and Walter. They duked it out. Then, out of nowhere, Maxwell entered the race as a dark horse. They remained basically in a three-way tie almost to the end.

My favorite, Henry, came in dead last with two votes. I’d really like to meet the other person who cast a vote for Henry and shake his or her hand. I still stand by my vote.

Ira came in just ahead of Henry. But Matt and I were a bit relieved, and both agreed that name would be best saved for someone’s first born, rather than a cute pup.

Click on the image above to see the final poll results.

I would be remiss is I didn’t mention the Scout contingent. You were loud. And persistent. And honestly, if Scout — the name he came with — was an entry on the pool, surely this would have been one helluva four-way race.

As a nod to all ya’ll Scout-heads, we will keep that as a middle name, to be used at our discretion. Most likely when I really need to get his attention. Like when he’s eating a pair of underwear or pooping under my dressing table (OK, that only happened once, so far).

Charlie seems a perfect fit. He’s already turned his head when Matt called out his new name.

We’re off to a good start.

You want to know his name? Cast a vote!

Posted on by
6

How much is that puppy on the counter? More importantly, what is his name? Vote now!

Matt and I spent Father’s Day weekend, appropriately enough, becoming puppy parents. The both of us lost our fathers three years ago, just three months apart. The unimaginable grief of suddenly losing my dad was only compounded by the loss of Matt’s dad to cancer.  These experiences tested us, and in the end cemented our relationship.

So on this holiday of ties, fishing lures and barbecues, Matt and I turn the page. We created our own celebration, thinking of how our fathers would have loved to meet each other. And to hang out in our yard and throw the ropie to Scout. Or gently rub Lex behind the ears.

We are honoring their memories by becoming the best parents we can be.

Time to pick a name

The Dog Formerly Known As Scout soon will have a new name. The pup couldn’t believe it when I told him ya’ll submitted almost 20 name suggestions for him. We were surprised by how many people suggested keeping Scout. It’s a fine name, really, and I have known some legendary Scouts in my time.

But I’m thinking there’s a better fit for our little dog.

We’ve prepared a poll featuring five names we selected from your great submissions. Please take a moment and cast your vote.

This little fuzzball wants a name soon, so vote and be counted!

EDITOR’S NOTE: The poll has closed. The name will be revealed tonight! (June 25)

First bath, well earned

Posted on by
1

Getting him into the bathtub was easy. Keeping him there was another story.

First bath. Squeaky clean.

Once he was wet, Scout orchestrated a couple greased-pig-style escapes. Matt thought ahead and closed the bathroom door so he couldn’t get far. After placing him in the tub one more time, he froze as the warm water hit his small body. Scout’s legs stuck firm in cowboy pose, and his muzzle never left the tub’s ledge. His eyes gazed off to a far away place, and he didn’t seem to notice to ruckus on the other side of the door.

Lex avoids eye contact after doing a cannonball off the side of a pontoon boat.

Did we mention that Lexie got her bath first? And after drying her off, we opened the door and she never looked back. We didn’t hear much of the chaos until a loud crash from the front room, followed by frenzied paw steps up and down the stairs going to our bedroom.

I focused on the task at hand, giving Scout his first bath. Considering we have had him for a little more than 24 hours, the lil fella totally trusts us. After washing Scout, I handed Matt the towel to dry him off and opened the door to see what Lex was up to. I found her on the couch, cradling a hurt paw. There was blood on the couch, and somehow she had managed to clear off the entire coffee table onto the floor … including a full cup of coffee (obviously Matt’s, because I would never leave a cup of coffee to languish).

It was shocking Lex had such an energy burst, especially after spending the day at our friends’ house. Josh and Holly live on a lake, and have a gentle giant of a dog, a Newfoundland named Byron.

Lexie and Scout play in a lake.

Actually, Lex had more bizarre behavior at the lake house. When we were loading up to go on our friends’ pontoon boat, Lexie jumped through a tiny hole above a metal door, right into the lake. Specifically, right into a pool of muck. She landed with a big splash, disappeared under the muck, then resurfaced and promptly went ashore. A couple hours later she dove head first into the muck again, this time from the dock as we were exiting the boat. I guess you gotta know Lex to understand this is not normal for our prim-and-proper princess. She’s all about protocol.

I fear these may be symptoms of the early-onset dementia our vet recently diagnosed Lexie with. I’m not sure. But her behavior isn’t sitting well with me.

For now, I’ll just think it has more to do with Scout, and the youthful energy he’s brought to our family.

Could it be this puppy has put a little pep in her step?

Gosh. I sure hope so.

Puppy love

Posted on by
7

Within minutes of arriving, Scout was chasing a large tennis ball in our backyard. Bounding, prancing, awkwardly hopping the way a young dog does. Matt and I looked at each other without saying a word. There’s no other way to describe it than … puppy love.

Before we tell any more of this story, we have to thank the people that made this happiness possible: the wonderful volunteers at True Heart MinPin Rescue. Based in Richmond, Ky., foster mom Gail drove almost seven hours to Michigan this morning with precious cargo.

As Scout hopped out of Gail’s car, we noticed he didn’t look much like his online profile pic. He was much thinner (his puppy paunch was gone), his nose seemed more slender and in general he seemed smaller than we expected. And, to top it all off, he was beyond adorable. In a way a puppy profile would never be able to accomplish. Puppy love, indeed.

While we were all standing in the yard, Gail confessed that her husband didn’t want Scout to go. They had become close buddies in the last couple months, and her husband told her, “No one will be able to take care of him the way I do.”

With the compassion of an animal rescue worker, she assured him Scout will be OK, that she was sure of it. And by him letting go, that opened a spot to save another dog. I tried to imagine myself letting a sweetie like Scout into my home for a couple months, knowing eventually he would move on to a loving adoptive home. I don’t think I have it in me. The loss and grief would be too much. Gail and her husband are cut from a special cloth. She told me the first time she and her husband turned over a dog to a new family, they drove a block away, pulled over and sobbed. She said it gets easier, especially knowing when a dog is going to a great home.

See Scout. See Scout play.

Lexie is nonplussed. In fact, she’s taking a snooze right now. Their initial meeting went well, and it was followed up by a thorough butt sniffing in the back yard. Ya know, pups need privacy. You can’t just make a move like that on the front lawn!

And Pink could care less. She seemed more interested in snagging some of his puppy chow than hanging out.

And Matt seems content to have another furry friend to share the couch at naptime. As Matt took a catnap this afternoon, Scout lined up several squeaky toys and ropies along Matt’s belly.

Good dog.

Help us rename Scout!

When I told my mom we planned to let ya’ll pick Scout’s new name, she laughed.

“But you already have the name picked out, right?” she asked.

“No, we’re asking for suggestions, then we will put the top names in a poll. Our blog readers will select the name.”

I can’t remember her response, but I’m pretty sure my mom said we were crazy.

Perhaps, but we’re more than happy to involve you in our puppy journey. I mean, you’ve been here this far; I can tell you are invested. So why not help with the name?

Send us your suggestions, either in the comments below, on the Finding Furever Facebook page or by emailing us at findingfurever2012@gmail.com.

We will pick the top names then post them in a poll, where you will make the final decision.

So far we’ve received a few interesting submissions, including Kitty, Walter, Rocket and Mocha.

Keep ’em coming.

EDITOR’S NOTE: The poll has closed. The name will be revealed tonight! (June 25)

I beg your paw-don, but I need a new name

Posted on by
Reply

What’s in a name? Well, apparently … everything!

With it looking like Scout will soon join our family, we’re looking to you to help us choose a new name for this pup. Not that there’s anything wrong with his name; we just don’t think it’s the right fit.

I need a biscuit. And a new name.

This is where you come in.

Send us your suggestions, either in the comments below, on the Finding Furever Facebook page or by emailing us at findingfurever2012@gmail.com.

We will pick the top names then post them in a poll, where you will make the final decision.

To help you in your task, we plan to take copious notes, plentiful pictures and lots of video footage when we meet Scout. We’ll post fast and furious.

You’ve been here for the journey, so we’re honored to have your help in renaming our dog. Or at the very least, providing a nickname to use when he’s chewing our shoes!

EDITOR’S NOTE: The poll has closed. The name will be revealed tonight! (June 25)

Mending fences

Posted on by
Reply

What you need to know is that we told Lexie she may get a little brother.

It’s a delicate balance, not wanting to get her hopes up too high. But in all fairness, we had to tell her.

Since Lili died, she has gracefully matured into an elder dog, easily ruling the roost. She controls the couch, and easily snatches a mouthful of Pink’s wet cat food before I shoo her away. Lex trots into the yard when she wants, plopping down on the perfect swatch of grass to soak up the sun.

Lex waits for her little brother to arrive.

All of that will change if Scout joins the family.

Lex is OK with that. In fact, she’s sure of it.

Since Lex has it so together, that allows Matt and I to focus on prepping the house for tomorrow’s home visit. The biggest project we had to tackle was our fence. My neighbor to the west replaced my Wild West-style fence with a modern cyclone version a couple years ago. But my fence to the east is just terrible. The posts are wood, and completely rotted at the base. The chain link is all rusted, and the top is connected by rotted two-by-fours. Uuugh. Needless to say, the fence was swaying back and forth, and probably could be toppled by a rambunctious puppy.

Matt and I did our best to fix this last weekend by pounding in tall metal stakes, then hooking them to the fence. Believe it or not, it worked. It now runs straight, and I think could withstand jumping by a moderately excited dog.

Other things we need to do are obvious: clean the house, pick up the library and organize the spare bedroom. I even emptied the litter box last night, a task alone that surely should earn me a new puppy.

Also, we need to wash up the medium-sized crate. My large-sized crate already is clean and prepped, from when we thought we would have Ranger. But it seems way too big for a puppy. In all the hub-bub, I forgot to ask a couple important questions. Like how big is Scout? Is he crate-trained? Sheesh. I don’t even know if he’s housebroken. This whole thing is quite a mystery.

Last night, Matt looked me dead in the eye and asked what we would do if we didn’t like him. I told him there was no way that would happen. But worst case scenario, I guess we could ship him back on a round-trip car ride to Kentucky.

That thought made us sad. We agreed something terrible would have to happen for us to not take him. And chances are, even then we couldn’t be swayed.

We are ready to welcome Scout home.