This gallery contains 5 photos.
The vet says I have one-and-a-half days of Lexie refusing food before I should get concerned. Usually, sometime around the 24-hour mark, I’m anxious. And I begin resorting to extreme measures. This only after I have exhausted my options. Treats … Continue reading
Snapping this photo was a test of patience and vanity. Some 20 frames later, Matt and I finally settled on this family portrait.
Today we officially unveil a new blog name: Our Furever Family.
While Matt and I loved Finding Furever, in many ways it no longer fits. Our search to find a new dog has brought us Charlie. Along with our aging, somewhat sickly pup Lexie and our cat Pink Floyd, we no longer are looking for furever.
We already have it.
So to reflect this new leg of the journey, we wanted a name that showcased our new family status.
The interactive nature of this blog has allowed us to speak with many of you and to hear about what did and didn’t work for you and your pups. To help chronicle the great suggestions that you offer, I have added two more pages to the site: Resources and Books. Neither page is exhaustive; rather they serve as a starting spot for conversation or a springboard to research. I plan on writing book reviews to complement the suggested reading page. Please keep your ideas coming; this collective grows stronger with your input.
With new and old friends at home and abroad, these bonds propel us.
We’re glad to call you family.
Today marks day four of the new medication regime for Lexie. Early indications show she’s responding well. The pain medication allows her to get around the house and into the yard a bit easier, and she hasn’t peed on herself since we started the med for incontinence. Her appetite has been hit-or-miss, but mostly a hit.
I know it’s early in her treatment, but I have to cherish these simple victories. I’m sure she will not survive her kidney failure. My sweet pup is in the sunset of her life.
Snuggled in at the end of the couch — her favorite spot in the world — Lexie is content. Her eyes closed, paws crossed beneath her chin, gently twitching … she’s chasing rabbits somewhere.
Keep dreaming, Lex. Today is a good day.
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Charlie wears his Thundershirt for the last time. The chest strap proved to be a better chew toy than his many bones.
OK, so the Thundershirt lasted exactly one week.
Charlie managed the chew through the chest trap, turning it into a useless doggie tubetop. Desperation kicked in, and I thought I could salvage the destruction. I pullled the chest strap tighter, just barely fastening the gnawed remnants of velcro together. Part swaddling/part straightjacket, the shirt is designed to alleviate doggie stress. Sadly, it was no defense against Charlie’s anxiety. I’m sure it didn’t take much to pop the chest strap open once we left for Eastern Market.
The good news is that Charlie was so busy chewing his Thundershirt that it didn’t even occur to him to chew on the window sill.
Good dog. Right?
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I swear I didn’t do it. Really! I’ve just been here the whole time looking cute. (Photos by Matt Greenberg)
Whatever progress we made with the Thundershirt, quickly unraveled with a late-night car ride to 7-Eleven.
I could tell Matt was feeling hopeful, as he pulled out the red retractable leash belonging to Charlie.
“Do you want a doughnut?” Matt asked. It was almost 11 p.m., but I smiled and said “Sure.”
As they pulled away, I was relieved. Daddy spending some quality time with his boy.
Fifteen minutes later, the front door flew open. Something (possibly profane) was said about the dog. One thing was clear. The dog was in BIG trouble.
“He (bleeping) pissed on my front seat!!! Matt said, just shy of a scream. He was incredulous. “He peed on my seat when I was in the store. I can’t believe it. He peed in my truck.”
By now, Charlie was nowhere to be seen.
Looking back on it, the obvious question to ask: Was Charlie wearing his Thundershirt? The answer is no. It was just a quick trip to the store. Still it was just enough to illustrate it doesn’t take much time for separation anxiety to rear its ugly head.
Charlie resurfaced, trotting through the front room without a care. I could see the temperature rise in Matt. He decided to seclude himself in the library. It was for the best that Matt and Charlie take a breather.
Charlie remained on good behavior for the next couple days. I think he knew it was in his interest to lay low, and to administer lots of puppy kisses.
Matt and I started feeling confident again. We suited him up for a visit to see Matt’s grandma. Upon arrival, Charlie cowered and immediately peed on Matt when he picked him up. Somehow, the Thundershirt just wasn’t working in this instance.
When Matt came home, we left Charlie in his Thundershirt and went out for lunch. I didn’t notice the destruction when we came home. After all, he was wearing it. The Thundershirt. He had chewed through the neck strap and reduced it to a sweater band around his belly.
Matt was forlorn.
In the next few hours, we played with Charlie, talked about our options, then wrapped what remained of the Thundershirt around him. We were exasperated. We left for dinner, and two hours later hesitated before walking back in. The house was in one piece, and so was the tattered shirt.
Hallelujah for small miracles.
Documenting Lex in her favorite chair.
With all the hub-bub caused by Charlie, it was easy to miss something is wrong with Lexie.
Her hind legs are buckling under the impossible weight of her frail 28-pound frame. Just standing at her dog bowl, her legs slide out beneath her. We’ve placed a rug by her bowl to provide some traction, but that leads to her next problem.
Her appetite has diminished. I’ve taken to spoon-feeding her wet dog food. But the last two days, she’s just turned her nose to the food. She’s managed to get by on a handful of biscuits, a slice of turkey and a piece of cheese.
And there’s the matter of her peeing on herself. Sigh. She has no idea, but she’s been wetting her dog bed and our couch.
Lex nibbles on a piece of cheese. Apparently much tastier than mushy dog food.
I brought all of these symptoms to the vet today. She said Lexie definitely is experiencing kidney failure, which affects her urinary habits and possibly her appetite. The vet prescribed a kidney-friendly painkiller to hopefully help Lex stand without pain. Lex also will go on a med to help with her pee issues, and we added in an antacid in hopes of making food a bit more yummy.
All-in-all, we are fighting a losing battle.
The vet said many dog owners simply will euthanize their dog when it starts wetting in the house. My heart sank.
“I’ll get doggie diapers if I have to,” I offered.
Lex doesn’t have much time left.
This much I know.
This much I can hardly bear.
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The first thing Charlie did once we got the Thundershirt wrapped around him? He yawned. We both agreed he was noticeably calmer.
I have to say when we first heard about Thundershirt, Matt and I hesitated.
The concept seemed too good to be true. Eliminate a dog’s separation anxiety by wrapping a tight shirt around him? Sure. I guess I’ve heard of weirder things.
But then we got a solid recommendation from our friend Lenny Z. And we watched a favorable news report. This was followed by testimonials from a few more friends.
Charlie fit in the low end of a size medium, so he will be able to grow into his Thundershirt.
We went to the website and poked around. After seeing that Thundershirt offered a full refund if it didn’t calm our pup, Matt and I were ready to commit.
Honestly, it felt good to have a solution. Even if it wasn’t a guaranteed solution, we finally had something to try out. The last few weeks with Charlie have slowly been eating at us, like a swift river tearing away at a river bank. His destructive nature has startlingly increased, and in recent days he has taken to barking at absolutely nothing at all. Sure, he is a border collie mix, but really?!? Our nerves were raw, and we needed something — anything — that would provide a bit of encouragement.
We bought the Thundershirt at a local PetSmart, where an associate told us we were making a good purchase. Since the store started carrying them last fall, the store has only had one return. Matt and I locked eyes. Was that hope we were feeling?
As soon as we got home, I ignored the 90-degree weather and tore open the box. Charlie would at least try it on. I pulled out the shirt, and marveled at all the flaps and velcro. Part swaddling/part straightjacket, it was surprisingly easy to get on. Thank goodness Charlie did not fight me. As soon as I fastened the last flap of shirt, Charlie looked up at me and yawned. His eyes seemed a little heavier than usual. He snuggled into me.
This felt promising.
Resting with Daddy.
We kept him in the shirt for about a half-hour. It was long enough to see a change in Charlie, and to know that we would wrap him up in his Thundershirt when we went out for dinner.
As luck would have it, a loud, boisterous thunderstorm rolled through while we were dining at a Korean restaurant about 20 minutes away. Knowing Charlie was wearing his Thundershirt, we crossed our fingers and finished dinner.
Charlie greeted us at the door. We slowly walked in, scanning the couch for wood shavings from the window sill. The room was spotless. The window was still firmly affixed to the wall. Charlie was happy to see us, but not in the desperate way we has grown accustomed to. After our first day, we’re cautiously considering this thunderous therapy a success.
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https://twitter.com/findingfurever/status/231696533148532736
At first, it was really cute that Charlie follows Matt around like the Pied Piper.
Charlie will lovingly gaze up at Matt, and trot behind his every step. In the morning, Charlie will lay in his dog bed until Matt rises. During the day, Charlie will nap on the floor by Matt’s feet. Then follow Matt out into the yard. In some ways this seems a natural extension of his border collie behavior. Herding daddy.
Yes Charlie, it is appropriate to chew on the squeaky squirrel. It is NOT appropriate to chew on the rug (see lower right corner).
This lovefest started taking a neurotic turn a few weeks ago. Matt and I walked out front to retrieve something from the truck, leaving the front door open. Charlie immediately jumped up on the couch to look out the front window at us, then started barking. As we walked back up to the house, he jumped on the screen door, howling like mad. It was hard to open the door because he was pushing against it so hard and I didn’t want him to shoot into the front yard. Once I got inside, it took minutes to calm him.
Then there’s the matter of the front window. While Matt was away on business, and I had to leave Charlie home alone for the first time, I came back to find he had chewed the window sill. He did some more damage a few days ago, so we bought bitter cherry to spray on the sill. Last night while we were at dinner, he moved up to a munton/window pane divider that we did not spray and did some serious damage.
Also this week, he chewed off the corner of a rug by our front door. Matt caught him in the act, and delivered a stern “NO!” but that didn’t prevent last night’s window feast.
Matt feels Charlie has deep issues that need to be addressed; I think he needs obedience class. The discussions have been tense.
It’s funny how puppy love can lead to relationship stress.
I think we are both right. Charlie is stressed out. Possible separation anxiety. I think behavior modification will work. And yes, Charlie needs more structure in his life.
In some ways this has not seemed like a big deal to me because the behavior felt familiar. I have had many puppies, and they all go through that terrible chewing phase. I’ve lost countless shoes, books, couches and cellphones to that cause. My laid back approach to this destruction is driving Matt mad.
But I do see the troubling signs that Matt has identified. It’s not that he’s chewing, it’s that he’s chewing in response to our absence.
It’s not healthy that Charlie can’t let Matt leave the room without freaking out. What began as a charming routine of Charlie following his daddy, has become an unhealthy fixation. And his destruction when we leave him alone is not acceptable.
Unfortunately, crating is not an option.
We’ve decided to seek help from a behaviorist. Despite our good intentions, our bright ideas have not gotten us too far.
We’re hoping an outside voice will guide us in the right direction.
NEXT: An unexpected solution.
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Charlie considers his options. The toy basket is looking good.
It was inevitable.
I knew it would be a matter of time before Charlie chewed something again. The first incident was when he chewed the wood muntin/window pane divider in the front room. Unfortunately, I was not home when it occurred, so I lost the opportunity to positively reinforce the idea of eating a squeaky squirrel instead.
This time it was the edge of a rug by the front door. Honestly, not that big of a deal. But Matt was there when the destruction went down, and he swiftly delivered a stern, “NO!!!”
Being a sensitive border collie, Charlie acted like he was shot through the heart. Squeaky toys were presented as peace offerings. And soon enough, he was wiggling and snuggling like usual.
Up til now, we’ve been unbelievably lucky. Charlie loves his basket of toys. I fill it up, then he unpacks it one squeaker at a time. He’s only defluffed one toy, a squeaky giraffe, but we actually don’t have proof he did it. The alleged stuffing assault took place while Charlie and Lex shared a cabin at Camp Bow Wow. Lex has pleaded the Fifth.
BONUS FOOTAGE: Charlie bites a spider … or is it the other way around?
As of today, Matt and I still have all pairs of our shoes. And not one book has teeth marks in it. Believe me, I know that I have it good. I once owned a dog that ate my cellphone, completely deconstructed a couch and jumped through a window.
So chewing on the corner of a rug seems like small potatoes.
Still, I know it’s destructive behavior. He was bound to have some growing pains. We need to address it swiftly, in a positive manner. But Charlie is smart. With the right direction and reinforcement, he’ll continue to grow into a model canine.
In the meantime, I’ll be investigating dog obedience classes.
It couldn’t hurt.
Charlie and Lex celebrate a seat up front on the ride home from Camp Bow Wow.
It’s only been six days, and I hardly recognize Charlie.
In the time he and Lex stayed at Camp Bow Wow, Charlie grew almost to Lexie’s height. This, after gaining only 1 pound in the first month we had him. Matt and I slip away to Florida, and he experienced a massive growth spurt.
All of this fades away when I crouch down and pull Charlie into my arms. He wiggles and writhes, melting into a bumbling mess of puppy kisses.
Charlie hops off my lap and slides next to Matt on the couch. He nuzzles Matt’s ear, and Matt gives in, pulling him closer.
Oh yes, I think I recognize this pup. How could I mistake his gentle energy? His uncanny ability to love his way into forbidden territory on the couch?
Lex comes in close, and I lean down only to be intercepted by her gaping mouth boinking off my nose. I’m not sure about this move, but in recent months she’s taken to this awkward show of affection. I silently wonder if it’s a symptom of her dementia. She looks good, her eyes seem clearer than usual. And her energy level defies her 14 years; she even tries to play with one of Charlie’s tennis balls.
Matt said the reunion at Camp Bow Wow was emotional, with Lexie jumping up in his lap, then spinning in circles. It’s hard for me to imagine her this excited, but I take Matt at his word.
Getting them in the truck was a bit of work (Lex missed on her first try, and tangled her legs in the running board) but once they were in they staked out a spot in the front seat. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, and it also must make the memory grow fainter. The dogs are supposed to ride in the back seat, but Matt allowed them to ride up front for the entire 15-minute ride home.
Knowing this was a special occasion, they behaved, and slipped in a few puppy kisses.
I totally know these pups. How could I be mistaken? Upon returning, Charlie would sniff out the front room, then grab his favorite plushie toy from his toy box. And Lex would hop into her favorite spot on the couch. Matt placed their beds back in the bedroom, marveling at how they were returned in one piece (well, almost). He would later boast about how the staff members at Camp Bow Wow said goodbye to the pups, and how they told him the dogs were model campers. Awwe, proud mama alert.
Yes, I know these dogs.
I’d know them anywhere.
Matt and I spent the better part of an hour today arguing if the little brown dog on the webcam was in fact Charlie.
I won this bet. At least I say I do.
Camp Bow Wow allows us unfettered viewing of Lex and Charlie. I access the footage through an app on my iPhone, so you can guess how small the images are.
This little dog looks a lot like Charlie, but I’m saying his fur is not dark enough. Also Lexie is missing and the place has kept them together up til now.
So yes, it’s kind of odd spying on our pups like this. But it’s made our vacation so much easier, knowing we can literally check in.
Having the ability to watch them from afar, we have discovered a few things.
Lexie is much more spry than we originally thought. She may have dementia and kidney disease, but we clearly saw her trotting deep in a pack of dogs. She was keeping pace, and even initiated playing once or twice.
Charlie is a leader at heart. More importantly, he’s a border collie. There’s no more denying it. Spending his days with about 15 other small dogs, he focuses much of his energy herding them. More often than not he will gather about 10 dogs into the middle of the room and trot around them. Then he will lead them outside for a romp on the grass. Classic border collie behavior.
Perhaps I should introduce him to some sheep.
For the record, I won the bet. I just checked and a puppy that clearly is Charlie is back in the pen, wrestling with a English bulldog.
I’m betting he’ll be herding that dog in no time.
(Below, Lex and Charlie take a moment to reverse spoon. They are in the lower right corner of the frame. )
I do not have peanut butter on my face. I swear. My finger, maybe. But not my face.
Lex is in her favorite spot, serving as a footrest as Matt sprawls on the couch. When she’s ready, she’ll adjust her position, relocating behind the pillow beneath Matt’s head. Sometimes she’ll rest her chin in his hand, for as long as he’ll hold it.
She’s Daddy’s little girl.
While Lexie’s recent ailments made me hesitate about going out of town, I know I’m leaving her in good hands. I’ll be gone almost four days, then Lex and Charlie will spend several days at Camp Bow Wow while Matt and I run away to a southern beach. It will be the first major vacation for Matt and me since we adopted Charlie.
When I’m away on Vacation Part I, I’m pretty sure the kids (Matt included) will have a blast. I imagine they will have late night biscuit parties, and Charlie may even sneak up on the couch for a snuggle with Matt. Of course, he’ll never tell me if that happens.
For Vacation Part II, we’ll have a front row seat watching the pups from afar via webcam. I even downloaded the Camp Bow Wow app so we can check on them through my iPhone. Ah, yes. I do love technology. Especially now that it connects me with my fur babies.
As I got ready for the first leg of my vacation, It occurred to me that I would like a photo of me and the dogs. Then it occurred to me that I would like to have them both kissing me in the photo. This was a problem, since it’s nearly impossible to get them to do anything in tandem.
But then I got an idea. An awesome idea.
I may or may not have spread creamy Jif peanut butter on my cheeks to inspire a canine lickfest.
I’ll never tell. But this picture certainly is worth a thousand words.
P.S. I just received notice that fellow bloggers Bella and Didi have honored Finding Furever with The Sunshine Award, for providing readers with a bit of sunshine and positivity. Super awesome!
Our Furever Family 