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Life is Good

Cochise
Cochise tells the tale

It is Sunday. On Sundays NiceLady fixes a special breakfast that we all get to share in. Something yummy. Then HairyFace and NiceLady go to church and we dogs take a nap. When they get back we get to spend the rest of the day with both of them. That’s a treat because most days Lady goes away to work for nearly all of the day. That’s life as a People, she says. We are excited to see her again, and we miss her while she’s away. Not on weekends. Life is great on weekends. Saturdays tend to busy with chores, but HairyFace takes us on a truck ride. Blondie and I love truck rides! On Sundays Lady and Hairy rest up and spend extra time with us.

It’s getting chilly today. Earlier the wind was blowing hard, not so much now, but rain (maybe snow) is moving toward us. I can tell.

When HairyFace and NiceLady got home from church, they let Blondie and me out in the yard, then Roger, then Hairy brought in a big pile of firewood and built us a crackling fire. It’s nice and warm in here now.

I have a cushy, warm bed to lie on. HairyFace gave us a brand new hoofie to break in. I got first crack at it this week …

Earlier this morning, HairyFace was talking with a friend about pets, and freedom, and trade-offs. His friend took in a feral tom cat who turned out to have feline leukemia. Mike is providing hospice service for “Buddy” by allowing him to live in their basement (away from their other cats) but in some mighty cushy digs of his own. It’s been 13 months now and Buddy is still going strong. He and Mike have developed a close bond too. Mike’s workshop is in the basement and he spends a lot of time down there. They go out for walks in the yard (sometimes Mike has to carry Buddy), but Buddy has not made any attempt to run off. Mike was wondering if Buddy missed his feral life style: if he ever felt imprisoned.

Most of the foster dogs we take care of were picked up as strays. Some were (judging by their condition) living wild for quite some time (and not doing very well at it). When we take them in, most have no idea of “house manners”, so they have to learn from us everything they need to know to be adoptable.

Do they (we – for I was a stray once myself) miss running wild? Yes, some do. But most of us come to recognize that having a home where we have proper shelter, regular meals, toys, and someone who genuinely loves us (and who we can love in return) is much better than running wild and alone.

Some, including Blondie (aka Houdini), will sometimes slip away for an adventure, but they come back home when they get tired or thirsty or hungry. We know when we have it good. Life is much better in a home, with good peoples, than out in the wild. Even Roger agrees with that, he just wants to write his own rules!


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Time To Get Up, You!

Cochise tells the tale

It is Saturday. This is the one day NiceLady gets to sleep late — if she wants to. She can get up when she’s good and ready. Blondie and I know this and we usually oblige by sleeping in too. Or at least being quiet, if we want to get up and hang out with HairyFace.

But … it is warm out (for January) and we are eager to get started on our day. Blondie and I have both been outside to take care of business. Hairy gave us a snack, but we are still hungry. It’s time to do something.

Blondie and I sat next to the bed and stared at Lady as she slept, using our Dogi powers to induce wakefulness. That did not work.

Cochise says, get up you

Blondie said, “You stay here.” and she started bumping against the bed. When a 90 pound Pit Bull/Lab mix starts whumping into a bed, it’s a little like an earthquake. I held station by Lady’s head so when her eyes fluttered open, she saw my face staring back at her from close range.

As soon as I saw eyeballs, I started talking softly to her in my deep, rumbly voice, “Rowr, rowr, time to get up, you, rowr, gruff.” And to seal the deal I finished with a piteous whine, “We’re SO hungry!”

That did the trick.

NiceLady got up and HairyFace started breakfast and we were all happy. Except maybe Lady.

On Saturday we go for a truck ride. That’s a rule.

Today Hairy said, “We don’t have enough trash to be worth making a run. Sorry Chief.” I was very disappointed and told him so. Hairy decided he could drive into town and make a bank deposit, and we could go along. That made Blondie and me both happy.

We rode on some different roads than when we do a trash run, part of the way was the same as when we go to the veterinarian. That didn’t bother me, I like my veterinarian. But when we got to the end of the road where we have to turn, instead of turning right we turned left and went into what the People’s calls “town”. There are a lot of cars in town!

We pulled in to a big fancy building, drove around back and came to a place where a couple of ladies were inside a big wide window. One of the ladies said, “Oh, my: your doggie is bigger than you are!” and a drawer slid out from the wall. It was all so strange! I was so excited I was VIBRATING! I talked to the lady too. Not barking: just talking nice. She smiled at me.

Blondie stuck her head up between the door and the side of Hairy’s seat so her head was beside his shoulder. The second lady inside laughed, pointed and said, “Oh, there’s ANOTHER one!”

When they were finished doing whatever they were doing, the drawer came out again and Hairy took some stuff out of it. The first lady said, “There is an envelope for you and another for them.”

HairyFace opened the fat envelope and it was full of little dog cookies. We all said, “Thank you!” and Hairy gave us each a couple of cookies. We were very careful not to bite his fingers because they were quite small cookies. The ladies laughed again and we drove slowly around the building to the street. Hairy doled out the rest of the cookies as we drove home. I like that drive-through cookie store!


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Crating and Free-Play

Cochise
Cochise tells the tale

One of the things foster dogs do as they transition from crate training to house training is to get some supervised free-play time in the house. They still get time in the yard too, but we add house training to teach them to behave in a people house. There are more rules to house play than there are to yard play.

Roger has done well with his crate training. He rarely gets rowdy any more and he fusses only when he needs to go outside. He can go from the crate to the door and back without a leash, and he goes right in his crate to get his cookie. He has watched Blondie Bear and me being house dogs and has taken notes. He is still energetic, but more controlled. Sometimes he does play little games with Hairyface:

When Roger arrived here, he came with a treasured toy: Remington the Duck. A volunteer had given it to him while at the shelter. They told Hairy that Roger loved that toy so much that when they would go in to clean his run and dish up food, Roger would snatch up his duck and sit watching them with the toy clenched in his teeth, “This is my duck. You can take anything else, but not my duck.” So when they sent Roger here they sent Remington along with him.

Sometimes in free-play time they play “Retriever” (a.k.a. Fetch the Duck) and sometimes Roger just wants to play Duck-Slayer:

Even though it looks like he’s being really rough with it, the toy is perfectly intact. Roger will take our plush toys and try to rip them up (the Peoples stop him) but he never damages Remington.

These free-play times are getting longer as Roger learns to be self-controlled. He will always be energetic — that’s just Roger. But as he learns to behave well, and can show that his house-breaking is holding, he will get more and more time out of his crate. The goal is to get him to where he only goes to his crate when he wants to during the day and confined there only at night.

crate training
This silly Snoozer is obviously comfortable with his crate.

To those who think that crating a dog is cruel and unusual punishment: you could not be more wrong. If crate training is done properly, our crate is a safe-haven, a space all our own. I loved my crate while I was being house trained, and insisted on sleeping there for a long time afterward. Eventually I abandoned that for a snuggle bed, but I never viewed my crate as punishment. You have your bedroom, I had mine. That’s the way most of us feel.

Being comfortable in a crate, even if not used all the time, can also be a benefit to you if you decide to take us traveling with you. We may not be as welcome to run freely in a relatives home. If you leave us in a motel room while you go for breakfast, a crate will avoid any unfortunate surprises when you get back.

Roger does not think of his crate as punishment. He is delighted to come out and play, but when free-play time is over, he is just as willing to go back to his big blankie, his chew toys, Remington, and a cookie (for being a good boy). He knows if he fusses, he will be allowed to go outside, so it is not imprisonment. It’s just part of being a house dog.


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A Call for Help

Cochise
Cochise tells the tale

Roger got fussy around 5:30 this morning. Hairyface and I were up, the girls were in bed. Hairy let Roger out of his crate and took him to the door. Roger ran down the steps and out of sight.

A short while later Roger was back at the door. Hairy opened the door to let him in, Roger bolted back down the steps. They repeated this 4 more times before Hairy put on his shoes and went out to see what was going on.

Roger ran to the water bowl in the yard and began licking … the ICE. It was 26° outside, the bowl was frozen over, and Roger was thirsty after being in his crate all night.

HairyFace brought out a bowl of fresh water for him, Roger drank most of it then went off to do his business in the dark.

TRoger_Calm in his crate 160101 800x450he next time he came to the door Roger was ready to go back to his crate and get a cookie.

Then we all settled back into our early morning activities. The girls were sleeping, Roger remained awake but sat quietly, Hairy resumed studying, and I began a detailed inspection of the interior of my eyelids.


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