Puppy Update

It's been quite a week. At the risk of sounding like a boring first time parent who strings out every detail, I have to say something about what we've been going through with these little guys. Sam and I are trying to accommodate the needs of these puppies and it's pretty overwhelming to be fully responsible for two bored, whining, yipping, crying babies with unreliable bladders. Baxter and Charlie are now nine weeks old and it seems that they've grown this week already. I will try to post some pictures in the next couple days. That will require time and concentration, neither of which their demands have allowed.

We've fallen into a daily pattern: whining at 5:00 a.m. means that they need to get outside right away to "do their business." After running through the backyard sampling every piece of chipped bark they can pick up from the flowerbeds, they frenziedly lick dried earthworms off the sidewalk, find bird droppings in the grass to roll in, then go on a romp under the trees. Of course, I stand on the porch and cheer them on so they'll pee before they come inside. As they squat in the grass, they turn to look at me and get my approval. Baxter has big soulful cocker spaniel eyes, and to see him peering back over his shoulder as he does his business, always makes me laugh. Three cheers for going outside and not inside on the carpet!
We then go inside for their breakfast, which they eat in between trying to tear each other's ears off. That comes with barking, whining, and all sorts of growling noises. Just as they sound as though they will kill one another, they suddenly head for their bowl and have a few more mouthfuls of kibble. Then it's off to the races once again.

We have a variety of toys: little fuzzy squeaky (annoying) toys that they love to play with and fight over. And I do mean fight. There are clear rubbery bones that they chew on, and a canvas octopus with squeaky parts in every tentacle and the main body. That is quite a noisy invention but they love it. Funnily enough, their favorite toy is an empty Arrowhead water bottle. It crunches and cracks as they both try to bite on it with their tiny razor teeth.

They play with their toys for awhile before edging over to the tassle on my persian rug. This is where they've learned the word "No!" as they chew and then look over at me to see if I notice what they're doing. They tear in and out of their doggy playpen, roiling across their blanket and chewing everything they come in contact with. Even while you hold them and look at them, they're trying to chew the air, your nose, their own foot or tail. They're typical babies: everything goes into the mouth. I'm continually pulling landscaping bark out of their mouths, and lilly fronds from them. What the fascination is with these things, I do not know.

After about 20 minutes of being occupied by their toys, they get bored and start throwing themselves at the wall of their playpen, trying to get out. They either clamor over the barrier, or squeeze past the ottoman, and tear off into the living room. This is precisely the time they should go back outside, I've learned, as I've cleaned up little suprises that they've left under the table, in the corner, or even in the middle of the living room floor. (glad they're not Great Danes!) They check out the place where Otis' food dish used to be, sniff around Stepdaughter's bedroom door and whine a little bit, before wildly chasing each other through the living room, around the couch as fast as they can go.

At some point they come back to their little enclosure and flop down on the floor where they fall onto their backs or lie halfway under the couch, dead to the world. For awhile they lie on the tile floor, but then they gravitate together and lie curled up together. They really love each other and it is evident. Other than hiccups or flailing legs in their puppy dreams, the house is quiet for about an hour. thank goodness--I can get something done and even leave the room while they're asleep.
If you multiply this series of activities by 20 times, this is what life is like for these dogs every day. We are utterly worn out.

Little Baxter is stocky--a real butter ball. He has shorter legs than Charlie, and is really a beautiful puppy with those soulful eyes of his. He has a very sensitive temperament and if you scold him, he looks like he might curl up and die. Yesterday I swatted him with a piece of paper--one piece of paper! --to penalize him for chewing off the tassel on the area rug. I thought he might collapse. He dashed around behind his puppy carrier and cowered, looking at me through his eyebrows with the most dejected and pained expression. I was absolutely stricken.
Charlie, on the other hand, is a natural guard dog but has the build of a poodle. He stood, stiff legged at the edge of our lawn when my 300 lb. neighbor stopped in his driveway yesterday to say hello. "Oh, such vicious attack dogs!" he said of my 5-lb. ferocious dustmops. Funny, cockapoo guard dogs, I know. But they bark at Otis, at anyone who comes to the door, and at the neighborhood dogs that he hears. They even bark at our reflection in the sliding glass window at night. Charlie is full of spunk. Baxter, our little fat boy, just sits and ponders--I think he has a therapist personality. (We should get along just fine!)
If I go upstairs to get a shower, the place turns into the house of howling, wailing, and gnashing of teeth. You would think someone is killing them. and of course, if one howls, the other chimes right in.
Last week we had a woman with a 16-month old son stop in. The dogs were terrified of the little boy, probably because he squealed in excitement and his arm and leg movements were pretty unpredictable. As we went out into the back yard, the boy squealed, Charlie let out a blood curdling scream, peed himself and lay like he was dead under the lawn chair. Across the lawn, Baxter began screaming right along with him before he could even see what was going on. I wonder what the neighbors thought. Poor little enmeshed things!


They have the most ear rending little barks you ever heard. Otis thinks so, too. He hardly comes downstairs during the day when the boys are out because they see him and bark at him. He's coming ever closer, as I think he realizes they are just babies. But when they bark, he lets fly with a string of feline expletives and shoots over the back of the couch and back up the stairs. I think we're going to need to do some intentional damage control so he doesn't become a recluse who lives on the guestroom bed upstairs.

To be honest, I wonder what in the world we have done. This morning at 3:30 all I could think of was getting them back to the breeder as soon as we can. They are such noisy, inconvenient little things that I love more than I wish I did. It almost breaks my heart to hold them at night and see their little eyes looking up at me and feel their cheeks against mine. Maybe I don't want to love anything this much (this is the therapist speaking...) or maybe this is normal for parents of little puppies. I just wonder how on earth I'm going to do this when I go back to work in the fall. Maybe I can take them to class with me--until the Dean finds out.
In the meantime, we need to put our off-white sectional upstairs in the sitting area of our bedroom, along with the leather ottoman. They will shred these things. We'll get a couple rocking chairs and a cheap sofa, a cheap rug, and install a gate across the entry way into the kitchen/den area. Then they can have space to run around and if they have an accident it won't ruin the rug. Maybe the time will come when they can be trusted to go into the livingroom without leaving little piles under the end table or behind the couch, and without chewing everything in sight.

They are darling and they will be wonderful companions for many, many years (they live up to 20 years). But getting to adulthood is almost a dream that we don't think will ever come true right now. They are so cute and we love them so much. We are also very tired. Otis' nose is out of joint and he's on his last nerve. New little lives take a lot of energy and patience.