"It's Not Easy Being You".

As I stroked the little head of our newest family member, a 7-month-old rescue beagle/hound, as he slowly fell asleep, I was suddenly overwhelmed by what little 'Emerson' had endured before we got him. He had endured much. Many rescues do!

The little guy had been tried on for size, twice, returned, eventually, then sold to our son who found this precious little gem, online. (A puppy is neither a solution nor a cure for anything.) Emerson had been 'accosted' often, by others of his species, during his second audition. He was not one of them. He was a perfect fit, however, for the single life of a former owner of a rescue cat who had passed away, suddenly, from a congenital defect, years earlier.

Our son had been away on business, travelling with his brother, when the tragic news arrived, in the wee hours of the morning, that his beloved rescue kitty had to be euthanized. His sudden paralysis forced us all to face the reality that we were about to lose a special kitty we all loved. The tears rolled out. In a family of dog lovers, that was something. 'Tommy' was surrounded by those who loved him as he left us much too early in life. He had given us everything. He was a unique sort of kid. We miss him today, still.

The time had arrived to find another companion, one that could easily and safely travel with our son. At this stage of life, that was a must. Travelling with his newest rescue, an adorable one at that, he remarked, made the trips enjoyable. Whenever emergency care was needed, family was there. It does take a village, after all. Mr. Wiggles wondered 'out loud' who this little mate was? Could he keep up with him? With a new unneutered male encroaching on his terrain, Mr Wiggles was on guard for life and liberty. He simply did not understand. He was a puppy once. (Still is, I might add). 

Emerson was now in 'canine' country, inside and out. But he was with extended family, he slowly began to realize. The 'words' came easily for him. There was no hierarchy here only people who cared about each others' welfare. As he lay on his bed yesterday evening, his first weekend stay since that week long visit a few weeks ago, I suddenly envisioned a vulnerable little puppy who had suffered much, with little notice, from those previously in charge. He had been passed around from pillar to post. He'd had no say in the matter. Animals never do. But for now, he was all mine this weekend. Had Emerson wondered, as he began to fall asleep, if he would remain with these 'nice people'? He was ours, no matter what. We took pet ownership very seriously. (Five rescue animals now formed the nucleus of our love 'affair'.) The cage was moved so as to give him more 'privacy' in a room where two retrievers slept, toys abounded with fresh water, nearby. He was number one!

The little beagle danced as I made his first meal. His 'dad' had bought him the best: freeze-dried turkey with sardines, mixed in with Origen dry puppy food. With simple gestures encouraging him to sit and stay, Emerson had passed the first test of many: sitting quietly for 2 seconds before devouring his food. As time passed he began to sit longer knowing he would be fed sooner, if he listened. Such a sweet boy! 

 

Outdoor fun was an exhilarating time for Emerson, the little puppy. As he carried his short squeaky outdoor stick,  my Mr. Wiggles stole the moment trying to acquire this newest toy. And so they ran and ran. But the king of running and carrying all things, the Wiggler, could not keep up. As the moment began to escalate to a fever pitch, it was time for one of us to grab a dog, the easiest one to catch. (thank goodness for harnesses) Mr. Wiggles was escorted inside for a temporary respite from the excitement of the afternoon. Sally, our patient, could not yet join them. Earlier this year, she could outrun them both. But not today. 'Tomorrow', she would show them how a marathon should be run. She was a professional, after all, a true gold medalist.

Our little Emerson is learning quickly. During the nighttime hours, he 'squeaks', in rapid succession, to be let out for those personal times. He returns to his soft, freshly laundered bed to resume his sleep. As morning arrives, he awakens and waits to be let out when it is his turn. Then breakfast happens. He is becoming perfect.

Here at the house of Momsey, Emerson gets extra food. He is a growing puppy. His caloric demands are quite basic: Lots of exercise, outside. Food is given inside. He loves to run, jump and look skyward. He moves to the absurd much like our Wiggler, only faster. A bear hug, here and there, renews his faith in his newest family. He knows they love him. He knows they care. He'll be staying.

After eating a snack of homemade sweet potato fries,  sliced cukes, apple slices, strawberries and specially formulated meals, Emerson knows 'she' is the best restaurant in town. ... "Go to sleep, my little one. It's not easy being you. I know. But soon, it will be, because, here, you matter, are understood, noticed and wrapped in love. "That is all any of us want, my precious little pup"

The Amazing World of Canine 'Higher' Education!

As I looked towards the spot where Sally, our 8 year old retriever had just released her bladder's 'puddle', Mr. Wiggles and Mall Cop, the males in the group, had arrived, moved into position, to 'wrap it up'. They marked her spot, each covering the scent of what she had just deposited to keep 'others' at bay. Then little Ella arrived to add to the 'discussion' and 'punctuate' the spot. Seeing was believing!

Unusual animal behaviour had occurred. The act of bodily elimination is a daily occurrence in all animal kingdoms. With a male dog, it was common to see him protect his female companion by covering her scent with his to keep 'others' at bay. What made today's event so unique was Ella's interpretation of her older brothers' protective behaviour. He was always doing it, moving from tree, to grass then back again, to protect his domain. Mr. Wiggles had followed suit. He was a male after all. Occasionally, a 'collision' between Mr. Wiggles and Mall Cop's head was on course. But both males managed to go their separate ways. Soon the unexpected began to happen. Ella began to play follow the leader, lifting her hind leg, in accordance with male house rules, masking the scent of her male counterparts. It was odd behaviour even for odd Momsey to witness late in the life of little Ella..

Ella had learned to behave like a male and did what males do when other females are around, marking territory, covering the scent of the female. Who's scent was she covering, I wondered? Ella's actions were a remarkable feat of learning. I had never witnessed such misdirected allegiance to behaviour not ingrained in the female. Our little Ella, a 17 pounds, 4 year old dynamo, was acting like an 'interim' male, thanks to the teachings of her brother, Mall Cop, alias the professor. I recounted the event to her parents. They had seen it, too. In over 40 years of raising male and female pairs of retrievers, I had never seen such a feat of learning. Ella was an A student. I was in awe of her plastic burgeoning brain.

The adult female mini schnauzer had learned a behaviour unbeknownst to all of us. (The brain is this incredible plastic organ, command central, always changing, always 'learning'). In the mind of Ella, she was simply following her brother's lead. Her 'mom' told stories of Ella performing this 'masking' act, often, with her male sibling, during walks in the neighbourhood where other dogs lurked. I'd noticed this behaviour only while dog sitting the four of them. Ella was an interesting subject, always encouraging her brother, Mall Cop, the professor, to move or else. (I think he worried about what the 'or else' would mean. So he invariably moved to the absurd). I watched in wonder at these two. But then I watch in wonder at all of them including Tiggy, our miracle cat. I was observing and learning much from our furry four-legged teachers.

Dogs give us so much while telling us their story. I watch and learn and now know that an inert male canine trait can be taught, unknowingly, to a close canine sibling. Learning can occur in the absence of pen, paper or textbook. Let that be a lesson to the educational community. The young child comes to mind. We must allow the unconventional to be included in the curriculum in order for conventional learning to occur. Ella was now a most unique canine subject.

Recently, our middle son, the 'healer', adopted a rescue, a 6 month-old beagle. ('Adam' chose this precious rescue pup in spite of a long awaited business trip, to San Diego, planned months earlier). Family is now caring for this newest member during his absence. Dogs will surprise you when you least expect it. With a new puppy, in an excitable state of mind, around other more mature dogs, not of his species, our little 'Emerson' is learning quickly in his precocious puppy world. Mr. Wiggles is not far behind. After watching me place a rubber 'lady bug ' partly through the enameled wire top of the puppy cage, little Emerson began to pull it through. (Was someone else watching me, too?). I left for the kitchen, a few feet away, when something caught my attention. I returned to the cage to find our Wiggler's plush teddy, on top of the cage, partially through, next to the rubber lady bug, left by me, moments ago. Without missing a beat and behind my back, our wiggler had been studying me, followed my lead by placing his favourite teddy he'd been carrying, on top of the cage, near its center, in the hopes that Emerson would have another 'object of play' to pull through, in a new puppy game of brain stimulation. Emerson had learned a simple lesson taught by a member of his canine species. So had Mr. Wiggles! (Me, too!) (Little Emerson is given plenty of supervised outside time, with numerous squeaky balls of different shapes and sizes, to 'exercise' his 'freedom').

I was astonished but not surprised. Engagement had inspired learning. Little Emerson, the 6 month old beagle, had begun his apprenticeship program. In the world of canine behaviour, anything was possible. With Ella, Mall Cop, Emerson and Mr. Wiggles, I now realize, the games have just begun.

His 'Toy' Du Jour

I awoke to the waving of his toy from the Wiggler. Months of sleeping on the sofa preventing our canine patient 'Sally' from jumping onto it, has made my life seem funny at times. Our wiggler is an easy guy to live with his easy come hither look. As my husband moved about, that early Monday morning, 'John' suddenly realized that Mr. Wiggles was awake earlier than usual, with the latest 'toy du jour', he remarked. I laughed. Mr. Wiggles is our morning cup of caffeine-laden coffee.

Today, it was Reggie, the rhino, adorning my air space, as I lay on the sofa readying myself for another leash walking day with my 'patient'. On previous 'visits', our pink retriever had offered his squeaky silicon ball with its easy grip handle as his special gift to those near. Then there is Rudolph, the tiny reindeer and numerous other 'fluffy' characters to have and to hold, all over the place. The louder the squeak, the better, he thinks. The turbo soccer ball is ready for outdoor play whenever he stops eating grass. (I chase him for that). The rubber melodic indoor doughnut pleases us all as he walks and walks for all to see and admire. He squeaks it hoping the photographer is on site for that perfect moment. He aims to please, after all.

We admire Mr. Wiggler's skill for all carrying things. No pet predecessor has had this profound need to carry, squeeze and give. The monster ball red ball, with an attached handle, is his most cherished toy, used outside, as he attempts to pickup the turbo soccer ball, too. Mr. Wiggles is an all-purpose performer. With three red balls, in diminishing sizes, our wiggler has a number of aerobatic outdoor stunts to perform.

I take pictures, all the time, for personal use only. It is an addiction where my pets are concerned. They do funny things. With a human grandchild in my world, now, pictures with our wiggler are beginning to mount. Children and dogs, oh so predictable and natural, but also a dangerous kind of thing, too. Supervision is an all day thing. We must teach these new humans, even from the age of 6 months, how to pet gently and softly and be ever so kind with the animals in our midst.

Our wiggler has no time to talk as he must get ready to carry his noisy silicon 'water bottle', his favourite, today. He is a forever sort of entertainer, always finding the appropriate toy for every occasion. He has the squeaky indoor worm for his amusement, while outdoors, he has yet another all-weather version, a silicon worm toy for holding and for previous training to walk with me. He holds on to one end; I, the other. And so we walked, walked and walked. Repetition is the name of a dog's training life game. With deer antlers-a-plenty, he chews till it is time to find that perfect soft toy to squeak. When visitors arrive, he runs to get either the worm, the water bottle, the donkey or the red doughnut. He is one busy boy. Comedy is his talent though he does not see it that way. Gifting is his job.

In the dining room, I see that our canine visitor has been here. What toy has he left behind? Is it a deer antler today or the huge silicon orange-coloured football with a handle attached? Each toy has its own unique characteristics and he hopes his selection will please his human family. It always does. He adores his walks through the kitchen to this special eating place. Sometimes, he has scrambled eggs, there, this superfood of superfoods. He is in motion ready to please and carry.

So many toys and so little space. He runs hither and thither, hoping for attention. He always gets it. He needs it. He's quiet and oh so patient. He waits. Cradling something is a must for him. Never saw anything like it. He's a one in a million. When he is especially lovable, he will jump on sofa to meddle in my face, staring at me with that mature look of adoration. I love it so. Am I on vacation? Must be,'cause I think I am. I haven't noticed the difference. What is a vacation but a place or a moment in time where good things happen. It is a frame of mind. Living with 'them' is like being on vacation though I haven't been on a 'real one' for years. No time to dither. Time to carry, one more time.

It is night time now. Time to relax and slow down. Not so, with our wiggler. He is too happy to sleep. Where is Reggie? The rhino is under the bench where the squeaky football is lying. Things to carry, things to find, things to offer to us. The toy du jour is wiggler's happy frame of mind, a place we visit when he is near. Little does he know or understand that he is the gift, our precious toy du jour, each and every day.