Author Archives: ourfureverfamily

Cheating time

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Lexie’s favorite spot in the whole world is serving as a pillow under Matt’s head.

Now that all the new puppy hubbub has settled, one thing has become very clear.

Lexie is failing.

At first I noticed she wasn’t able to completely jump onto the couch. Then she started laying at awkward angles, with her back legs splayed. Today I winced as her hind legs barely supported her body.

When we took her in for her annual shots a couple months ago, Matt and I mentioned we were looking for a second dog. The vet strongly suggested that we not get a puppy. She said Lex was looking great for her 14 years. Still, her body was delicate, and probably not up for puppy play.

There’s also her recent diagnosis of doggie dementia to consider. She’s in the early stages, but starting to show more symptoms. Sometimes I’ll find her staring into a corner; other times she won’t respond when I call her name. I never thought to ask how a puppy could affect this condition.

Somehow the vet’s great advice faded when we found Charlie. He was gentle. She would set a great example for him as he matured. He would inspire a little spunk in the senior Lex.

Now as I watch her struggle, I can’t help but wonder if I hastened her decline. I pray that I am wrong.

I made an appointment with the vet for tomorrow morning. I’m hoping she’ll tell me I am overreacting. That Lex is just tired. That I can’t expect her to always keep pace with a puppy.

Time is not on my side. So all I can do is hope.

Home alone

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Throw the fluffy bone again! Please!?! Pretty please??

I would be lying if I said I didn’t worry.

You see, today was not an ordinary day. It was the first time we left Charlie alone all day long.

I’m not on the couch. Seriously! I’m not on the couch.

I imagined a hole in our couch. Teeth marks on my Mission-style furniture. A fresh pile of poop on my bed.

Instead, I was greeted by a wiggly Charlie, who begged/dared me to give him an “I’m home!” rub. He triumphantly waved a chewy bone in his mouth.

Not a thing was disturbed. In fact, neither Lexie nor Charlie even touched a morsel of their kibble. Hmm. Impressive.

We moved to the yard, so I could throw the fluffy squeaky bone to Charlie. Somehow, this is his favorite toy for fetch. It’s absolutely awkward: a stuffed bone that weighs next-to-nothing and is almost impossible to throw more than 10 feet. Still, the sight of it makes him jump up and down like … a puppy!

Lex saunters at her own pace in the yard. Her wrestling days are over.

We tried tennis balls, but Charlie soon lost interest. He would zoom after them, then take a sharp right turn and attempt to tackle Lexie. Now that she’s a delicate 14 years old, we were not going to allow any of those shenanigans. We quickly declared Lexie a no-fly zone, and ….

Hey! What are these wood chips on the couch? And what happened to the front picture window? Are those teeth marks in the wood? What the ….???

So yes, just as I was about to present myself with the Most Awesome Puppy Owner award for Least Destruction in a Single Workday, the ceremony was quickly aborted. I couldn’t deny it, or even hide it. Charlie had chewed the front window.

The evidence.

The good news is that this window and sill were significantly damaged many years ago by another unruly dog. And I plan on replacing the entire unit with something without teeth marks (and more energy efficient) in the next year or so.

The problem is that for the next week, with Matt out of town, I have no way of correcting his behavior. I could hope really hard that he just won’t find the front window tasty anymore. Scientifically, I think that’s my best bet. In fact, right now I’m closing my eyes and thinking NO EATING THE FRONT WINDOW! and amazingly, Charlie has not left his bed.

See? It’s already working.

While Daddy’s away …

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I’ve got a Nylabone, and I’m gonna chew this instead of the couch. I puppy-paw swear!

Since we adoped Charlie, Matt has been a constant in his life.

And now, for the first time since Charlie has lived with us, Matt is going away on business. For a week. How on Earth will Charlie survive?

Rumor has it, Charlie has plans. Like sitting on the couch. And sleeping in a human bed. And eating lots of cat food. Maybe even pooping on the laundry pile.

Matt’s eyes turned red when I disclosed Charlie’s itinerary.

“That’s my greatest fear! That you will undo all my hard work and training!” he accused.

The truth is it would be a lot more trouble to let Charlie run wild, than to continue with his training. He craves discipline, and is eager to please. And who can resist the wiggly puppy dance from a dog who just mastered “sit” for like the hundredth time?

Certainly, not me!

I imagine I may allow a short nap on my belly, and perhaps some surprise table scraps, but I’m expecting nothing out of the ordinary.

Since buying separate dog beds for Charlie and Lex, they both sleep comfortably on the floor next to us at night. We’ve fallen into an easy routine, with the dogs sleeping in their beds (with a few choice squeaky toys for cuddling, of course!) until morning. Then I usually get Charlie out in the yard for his morning potty. I learned a lesson by opting to change some laundry first thing the other morning, and Charlie trotted down and proceeded to pee all over the blanket at my feet.

Well, it was in a pile waiting to get cleaned anyway. Sigh.

The point is, I feel I have things under control. The only thing I’m really concerned about is the time when I go to work. We’ve successfuly left Charlie and Lex alone for a few hours, but nothing like 10 hours straight. I’m concerned he will miss me, or his buddy Matt. I really hope he won’t cry. Charlie, that is.

Dog days of summer

So Matt is leaving for a week, and the heat wave is in full blast. Like much of the nation, we have had countless days in a row of 100-plus degree weather. To help keep us cool, we bought a wading pool at PetSmart. It even comes with decorative bones instead of fish. Ya know, because dogs can tell the difference.

I couldn’t wait to get home, and actually called dibs on filling the pool with water. My eyes glazed over as I imagined Lex and Charlie diving in, frolicking in the water. As soon as the water filled up close to the rim, I called Charlie over. He sniffed at the pool, then backed away. Matt scooped him up and placed him in the water, sure he would bounce around. Instead, he promptly hopped out and rolled in some sun-burned grass.

Lex walked toward the pool. She really surveyed the situation. I was hopeful. She took a step right to the side of the pool, lowered her head, and took in a long slurp of water.

Lex had just discovered the largest water bowl in Detroit.

What? This is supposed to keep me cool? Slurp-slurp. Ya know, you’re right!

Meeting and (not) greeting

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Wishing you accidental table scraps and lots of squeaky toys on this great Fourth of July!

Today Charlie and I had a visit from my friend Ron, his wife Michelle and their new baby. While I was excited to meet their new addition, Charlie disappeared behind the coffee table.

He was terrified.

Matt and I experienced his fear of people a few times already, and didn’t know what to make of it. Charlie even shivers when he’s around Matt’s sweet grandma. Since we are not behaviorists, we’re not quite sure what to do.

So Charlie hid behind the table, and lifted his head once to let out a tentative “Woof!” before ducking down again. I picked him up and let my friends pet him, but I could tell he was still freaked out by it all.

In the evening we’ve been taking him for walks, in hopes of meeting neighbors out on their lawns who might be up for petting a cute puppy. So far, it’s been hit-or-miss.

I’m sure all of this has been hard for Charlie to take in. His humble and terrifying beginnings at a Kentucky shelter, his rescue and eventual adoption that brought him to Michigan. It’s a lot for anyone to go through, let alone a lil puppy.

It’s a coin toss if Charlie will take to you. Some people he loves, others he hides from or he cries. I imagine he has trust and abandonment issues that I’ll never quite comprehend. Learning to peel back these layers is a lesson in patience … and compassion.

I must say Charlie is gentle, and loving and the best puppy I could ask for. He loves Lexie above anything else, and listens to us extremely well. He just is super shy around some people. He is young, and I figure much of this will sort itself out on its own.

We plan on taking Charlie to our family barbecue today, and hope more social time will help him. We’re leaving Lex behind, so she can have some puppy-free time and stretch out in the sun.

Puppy-free afternoon? Sheesh, I’m taking a nap in this crazy heat.

Kibble wars

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Charlie caught in the act — stealing kibble from Lexie’s bowl.

We told Charlie, “No cat food for you! One year!” Clearly he didn’t get the “Seinfeld” reference. He still sneaks and nibbles.

If he’s not taking Pink’s cat food, Charlie will grab a mouthful of Lexie’s kibble. This pushes Lexie to the puppy chow. And Pink has been spotted gobbling out of Lex’s bowl.

Quite simply, feeding time in our house has turned into food wars.

Charlie came with a yummy bag of puppy kibble, and instantly turned his nose at it. He’s much more interested in the food that isn’t his. Lexie’s run-of-the-mill dog food is gold to him. Pink’s kibble is divine. Her wet fishy-smelling cat food? Charlie is over the moon.

All the while, his puppy chow sits untouched.

The finest puppy kibble couldn’t lure Charlie to his bowl.

So we went out and bought some Eukanuba puppy chow. It didn’t take long before he was sneaking over to Lexie’s bowl and grabbing a mouthful.

Lexie seemed unimpressed, and nibbled at Charlie’s food, wondering what the big deal was all about.

Since the cat isn’t a complainer, it was probably days before we realized she hadn’t eaten. Charlie had been devouring the dry and wet food, and by then Lex has joined in on the kibble larcenies. Pink watched from atop her new cat tree, and plaintively forced a weak “mew.”

Matt hatched the plan. He grabbed a cardboard box that already had an entry spot and an open top. We put Pink’s food in the box, and she could climb in, with protection on three sides. This seemed to work, until Pink followed a floating fuzzball into the front room, leaving the kibble open for the taking. Charlie and Lexie were eager to munch.

Realizing I had to do something, I took on a new persona: Jillian the lunchlady. I’d like to think I’m a bit cuter than the school marms at my alma mater Field Elementary, but I held firm to their discipline. The approach was simple: Put treats in each pet’s bowls to lure them there, then stand in the middle to monitor as they ate. Hopefully from their own bowls.

Pink prefers to dine at a Paul Newman establishment. Lex and Charlie prefer to eat her leftovers.

Honestly, Lex always has been a self-regulating dog when it comes to her food. So getting her to eat on command was more of a wish than a command. Surprisingly, the organic blueberry treats (!) were a hit, and she lingered to eat some of her kibble, as well. Charlie powered through his treats, and ate most of his puppy chow.

Pink was extraordinarily interested in her food for about a minute, then retreated back to the tree. Of course, Charlie made a beeline for her bowl.

“NO!!” I screamed.

He stopped in his tracks. And went back to his bowl.

A rare surveillance photo of Charlie eating from his actual bowl.

Thinking things were under control, I went to the front room to watch some television.

A few minutes later, Charlie rushed in, and spilled a mouthful of Lexie’s kibble at my feet.

Clearly we’re not close to an armistice in this food war.

As we’re finding with our puppy training efforts, these things take time.

Learning to love the crate … or not

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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

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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

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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

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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 …

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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.