Goings On

Baxter

Since we got our puppies our whole world has become less tidy, less predictable, and exponentially more noisy. I expect that once we are past puppyhood, life will be at a new, more dignified level. But for now we have writhing, growling, cat-chasing, yipping and yapping, punctuated by heart wrenching whines and crying. How can this be possible?

Why is it that every time I open the gate going into the kitchen, I have four little feet up on my leg and pleading faces begging for immediate attention? (They are learning what Down! means, btw). Why is it that when I'm cooking at the stove I will suddenly see two furry little grey feet up on the oven door handle, and there is a little body stretched up as high as it can go to see what is on the stove? Why is it that when I let them out to pee, that they do their business and then continue working on the tunnel to China that they have out in front of the lemon tree? And what could possibly make them think that the livingroom carpet is the place to pee rather than the grass outside?

What possibly could be so entertaining as to dig under my legs (when I'm sitting on the floor) and whine and yip at each other underneath my knees? It is a most hilarious sight--both of them wild-eyed, mouthing each other, showing their teeth and whining for all their worth.

Why must Charlie scoot across the floor on his bottom right in front of company? (and no, he most assuredly does not have worms!)

Today I took the boys up the hill for a walk. We've been taking them both at the same time, which is an exercise in upper body strengthening in itself. Both pull at their lead and me alternating a good firm jerk on the lead and a strong "Wait!" followed by a "Good Wait!" all the way up the hill. They are doing better. The problem though, when you have two dogs is that they attune to each other and not the humans. So they are eyeing each other on the walk and almost completely ignore me. A good jerk on the collar brings them back to their senses and they might look up at me. Or, they sit down immediately. On the way back down the hill, Baxter took off like a shot. He's so fat and short-legged that he seldom is out in front. But here he was, running along, close to the ground. I gave him a good jerk on the collar with the repetitious, "Wait!" and the collar snapped off and fell to the ground. Flimsy little thing. Off Baxter shot, out into the street, as fast as he could go, with Charlie pulling to run after him. I was frantic. He wouldn't come back to me and there he was, buggety-buggety-bug, pell mell across the street and then circles right in the middle of the street. We came to a stop on the sidewalk and I crouched down like I had a treat. He rushed over to me and was had. Whew. Baxter didn't seem to mind being carried all the way home, like a little prince. He nestled all 18 lbs. into my arm and looked over at me like I was his lackey.

This afternoon he got a one-inch wide, bright blue collar. Charlie got a new black collar. They'll not be pulling out of those anytime soon.

Charlie with Brianna

We also have some very exciting moments in regards to Otis and the boys. For some reason, they just love him, but they get so excited about him that they bark and he shoots off across whatever is closest, just to get away from the noise. For the first two months Otis was rather depressed and stayed upstairs on our bed most of the day. Slowly, he has been coming downstairs and now he is actually sleeping on the couch in the den where the savage-breathed, licking, disgusting dogs plague him every now and again with a leap up next to him. I'm not sure why they want to stand on top of him and lick him, but he likes that like a death sentence. I'm not at all worried that they'll hurt him, but they are a bit rough at times. When that happens, Otis will reach forward and grab the shocked dog on either side of the face and grimace at him. The puppy will be so stunned that Otis immediately has the upper hand. They stop their foolishness and sit down. But as soon as Otis walks off, they nose him in the bottom as a parting shot and his dignity askew, he leaps over the back of the couch.

Last evening I decided that they needed baths. It has been raining here for a week and between the wet grass and their tunneling activities, they were a mess. They have not yet been allowed upstairs, so just bringing them upstairs to my bathtub frightened them. I did one at a time, needless to say. They'd cling to me and look miserable. When they saw the bathtub they allowed themselves to be put in it but they looked so awful and bedraggled. Afterward, they loved when I wrapped them in a couple towels and ran them downstairs to dry them off on my lap. It was a case of traumatic bonding for us, I'm sure. There was whining and Baxter looking up at me through his long eyelashes with a pained expression. How can you do this to me? Today they are bouncing around and driving Sam to distraction with their sparring, humping, and chewing of everything. They are babies still--just five months and a week old. Very sweet and I wouldn't trade them for anything. We are sleeping through the night now, and they are somewhat responsive. Otis is beginning to relax a bit. Life is on track once again. But I look forward to them being adults!