It begins

This will be a long post, because yesterday was a long day, and it really all does go together. The local 'big city' shelter has events every other week where they host a lot of the smaller rescues and dogs from fosters out on their lawn. It's a nice way to meet dogs since they're already out and relaxed and not 'omigod someone walked past my cage'. Plus, for the smaller rescues that don't have facilities, just fosters, it's the only way to get a casual face-to-face with a dog as opposed to setting up a big 'we choose you' meeting. We went. There were a lot of dogs. It was pleasant, but nothing really said 'I'm your dog'. In truth, there weren't many dogs there at all which fit what we came in looking for. We always go into these things thinking 'danes, akitas, rotties, chows' and end up looking at GSDs, boxers and pitties because that's the closest thing there is. We do like those breeds, but...not really the same. So, we were pretty discouraged leaving there. There were a lot of dogs, and no 'clicks' which is depressing. And it's depressing to leave behind the nice dogs that just aren't the one. Really depressing. We want to get into fostering eventually to give those a chance, but for now, for our first dog, I feel pretty strongly that we should be patient and wait for the one. From there, we went to our local county shelter/pound, which is much smaller and rural-er. Our expectations were pretty low at that point since we'd already been to a big place with no results, and being a rural area, we expected beagles, hounds, and other unsuitably energetic hunting dogs to be prominent, and finally, from the vet care we'd found around here (another entry, later), we didn't expect people to really take dogs seriously. We were completely surprised. It was very, very clean. The girl at the desk was very friendly, talked to us about their procedures without being confrontational or brusque about it. The kennel itself was bright, with fresh air from an open door the end. The dogs had large-ish runs with access to an outdoor area, and a bed. It didn't smell dirty or like antiseptic, the barking didn't echo in that incredibly loud way. It was...pleasant, and I mean it. We're probably going to volunteer. They had training classes too, which we're probably going to sign up for. They also, maybe, had dogs. Yes, plural. There was actually a dane(!) who was giving all the right signals. Standing up, watching us quietly with his tail wagging slowly, but all feet on the floor. He was still waiting on a vet-check, so we will be going back Tuesday to interact with him. They also had an akita/chow out on foster that we gave our number for the fosters to call and set up a meeting time with. Finally, there was the *ugliest* dog I've ever seen. Apparently, a husky type, but stress from a combination of heartworm treatment and being in a shelter she had lost all her hair. Surprisingly, white huskies have red/dark brown skin (at least she did) so, a little, bare, brown dog with white tufts stuck to her, it was rather incredible. On the other hand, she was actually giving the right signs as far as personality too, though it seems that might be stress, since husky was a breed that we wrote off straight out the door as 'nice, but no way we can handle all that energy' so it's probably not a good idea. So, we're going back Tuesday. This is the point where I start panicking a bit again. I was up intermittently through the night with racing thoughts and a sore back* I hate the idea of having to bring a dog home in the middle of the week. We'll be going from the shelter to the pet store for supplies (we figure we'll have to go after we get the dog for the collar anyway, so why no do all-in-one?). I have all sorts of worst-case scenarios running through my mind. We won't be able to find a crate big enough. We will put the dog in the crate and leave him (because we have to work the next day) and he will have separation anxiety and hate his crate for the rest of his life. We will leave the dog out of the crate because he hates it and he will eat everything, including the cats. The fence people being around the house will terrify him, and he will hate strangers and bark at them forever. Fuu will pester him while he is in the crate (because Fuu is a jerk) and he will hate her forever, and possibly eat her. I think that's it. I'm not even worried about the real issues (he's poorly bred and will have terrible health issues which we will not be able to resolve because we can't find a good vet) it's all immediate irreversible ruination due to mistakes in the first week. Daylight makes that all seem somewhat less plausible, as does writing it out, but still. I think it actually makes it worse that the shelter is a nice place - we don't have that 'well at least it's better than where he was before' to fall back on, plus the idea of failing and having to return the dog is suddenly much more tangible and therefore terrifying than it was before. But I suppose what will come will come. I'm counting chickens and all I have is eggs until Tuesday. Maybe all the dogs will end up being jerks, and we'll drive down to another shelter on Wednesday, and another on the weekend. It's strange that in some ways the possibility of not liking the dogs is reassuring? Looking stinks, but it is familiar. Having a dog is something new, and more than a little scary. *I've no idea what I did to make my back sore. However, the cats react very strangely to you getting out of bed at three am and stretching in the middle of the dining room floor. By strangely, I mean they wake up and try to sit on you. They also seem completely perplexed that someone managed to wake up before they started pestering us for breakfast.

On getting close

I almost included this in the fence post (ha! I pun!), but that was getting too long, so I broke it out to its own entry. I think a lot of this obsessing (five feet? five and a half?) comes from the face that the longer you think about something, the more idealized it becomes. Like little kids and christmas. We've been working slowly towards this dog since before we were married. Now that we're actually getting close, it feels like everything needs to be perfect, since we took so long getting there. It doesn't help that in reading on the internet pretty much falls into two camps: 'I'm lazy and ignorant and have no idea why my outside-only untrained dog smells bad and barks' and 'I run a dog-related business from my home. Anyone worthy of a dog should be at least as perfect as me. Preferably a little more.' (ok, maybe that last part is only implied) So I get these Ideas in my head that maybe we should have a seven foot fence. With wire buried three feet underneath, plus a designated digging area, and probably a pond*. Also, unless one of us can switch to working from home ** the dog needs to go to daycare every weekday so it isn't alone. Except, there aren't any places that are either on the way to work, or have long enough hours that we could reasonably drop off before - pick up after. So I suppose I have to quit my job, which I don't want to do, particularly before we have kids. But if we have a dog, we probably can't have kids anyway, since, if a place says 'won't adopt to homes with small children' it's probably verboten to add small children after the fact as well. So, I guess we really don't deserve a dog after all. Yes, really, this is what it's like inside my head some days. Maybe I'm too crazy to get a dog. * actually, we have a small pond already, and a digging area would be completely reasonable if the dog likes to dig. ** this would be reasonable given our professions, but very bad given our work habits

Fence me in

Time to get serious again. To get a dog, we need a fence. One, because I like the idea of sending the dog out the backdoor to do his business without having to put shoes on. Two, because we are too close to the busy road for me to really be comfortable letting him free range. Three, because I hope in my silly little head that while it won't prevent deer from getting in, it may 'encourage' them to just eat the things on the side they're already on instead. (ok, so that has nothing to do with dogs) and Four, because if we end up talking to a rescue instead of just the pound, they all say we need a fence. Which brings us to the question of 'how high'? Obviously, the answer to this question is 'just a little higher than the dog cares to jump'. Which is hard to answer when you don't have a dog yet. So the better answer is 'as high as the rescue people say it needs to be'. Except that question leads you back to either the first, unhelpful, answer or 'over six feet'.* Which is nuts. I have seen a seven foot fences two places. The first is itty-bitty inner city lots where you don't want to see into your neighbor's yard, or the busy street. That makes sense. You want to keep the outside out as much as possible, and the yards are better measured in square feet than acres. The only place I have seen that tall of a fence surrounding something as big as what we are fencing is a bonafide prison. That is not happening. Because it would look like a prison and cost (I'm estimating here) one million dollars. ** So, right now we're nittering back and forth around five feet. We want the wire to go down to the bottom, so it's not overly tempting to squeeze/dig underneath. Would it look stupid for the wire to be higher than the top rail? Since the wire comes in even feet, and the rails are six inches, if the wire hits the bottom of the rail, the fence will be something and a half feet tall. Is four and a half too short? Is five and a half overkill? If we go with five and a half, we have to get the six foot posts... how much do those cost? It's terribly frustrating to be having to make these decisions based on a random imagining of how high an imagined dog might like to jump. Particularly when the contractors seem fairly convinced that a four foot fence is the best size ever, and doing something else is just plain weird. *** * Another place it might go is 'that's hard to answer before you know what rescue you're using, which is hard to know before you know which one has the dog you want, which is hard to find out before you get started on the fence that will take a long time to build, in which time the dog you want may not be there anymore' yeah, that one was helpful. ** But seriously, fences are fraggin expensive. We're looking at close to 10k for a not-seven-foot-tall one. *** And that's after they've stopped laughing at you for not wanting to let your dog run loose to begin with.

In celebration of my internet finally working...

Pictures of Mickey & Fuu!

 

Oh, did you want current pictures?

 

 

Mickey's kitten pictures were too cute, I couldn't help it.

more tasty treats: turkey liver

One of the leftovers from my parents thanksgiving were the turkey livers (apparently these are excluded from the traditional giblet gravy). And yes, it's plural. There were two birds this year. Quite a feast. We offered to take the home on the presumption that the cats would like them. This was only sort of true. The first mistake was, again, feeding alongside the regular food. I figured the liver would be a hit. Instead, the familiar canned was the most desirable. Fuu picked at it a little, mostly the attached fat, and Mickey, despite his taste for mice, was unimpressed and left. Then they both left - the first time I've seen them leave food in the bowls. The next night, the entree was just the liver, not regular food, and they did finish it off. Mickey still wasn't overly enthusiastic, but Fuu dove on in. She has the unfortunate habit of pulling food out of the bowl to eat it if there are large chunks. She mostly doesn't take it anywhere, just out of the bowl. Maybe the solution is a bowl big enough for her to sit in?

alternative foods

Warning: if you're squeamish about the activities of carnivores, this might not be the post for you...

We live in an old house. As old houses are wont to do, we have mice in the basement and attic where the cats are not permitted (we keep the cats out of there primarily because we don't want them tracking dirt all over the place. The attic is unfinished and dirty with construction rubble, and the basement has direct access to the crawlspace, which is, well, dirt)

So we set snap-traps, one was successful...and we gave it to the cats.

Honestly, we were a little conflicted about this. One one side, it is a little 'icky', to use the scientific term. Also the mice have probably been eating all sorts of unwholesome things up there. On the other hand, it's a one time thing, not a steady diet, and aren't mice what cats are supposed to eat? We know Mickey supplemented his kibble liberally during his earlier life as a barn cat. M remembers a scene when Mickey and his littermates were just weaned, adorable bundles of kitten fluff - with faces covered in blood from the chipmunk mom had caught for dinner. So in the spirit of waste-not want-not, and since the mouse was fresh, we went for it.

Mickey loved it.

Understand here, despite being the man of the house, significantly older, and at least four times bigger than Fuu, Mickey pretty much defers to her. She can stick her head in the food bowl at will, or do various other obnoxious things, and he lets her. Fuu is teh fierce kitteh, and Mickey is a lazy, easy going cuddle bum.

But not with the mouse. He grabbed it, growled at her and ran off to play with it (unfortunately we gave the it to them after breakfast). Fuu growling wouldn't be notable, but I have never heard Mickey do it. So we locked them in the laundry room, and soon, no more mouse. Guess that one was a winner.


Addendum: I re-read this and realized it wasn't 100% clear, but the mouse was already dead by the time the cats saw it. They played with it anyway. I agree that intentionally having them toy with a live or injured mouse would have been completely out of line.

not the brightest kitten in the box

I spent about an hour this weekend trying to discourage Fuu from helping herself to plates on the table. I sat in the doorway and every time she jumped up, out came the squirt gun. When we were done (no, there was not victory - M came home and I gave up) the table was soaked, the floor was soaked. The cat was distinctly damp. But she was undeterred. Really, for the entire session, she only came off the table long enough to run from the water, lick herself somewhat dry, and trot back. I'm not going for angelic behavior. Really, it's unreasonable to expect dishes full of tantalizing food will be left untouched forever. But I'm looking for some hesitation. A long enough pause for me to go get a fork from the kitchen without having my dinner ransacked for instance. But oh, Fuu learns slowly, and is hard to deter. Subscribe to: Comments (Atom) Blog Archive July (1) September (1) December (1) April (1) July (2) August (6) September (1) December (4) June (2) July (10) August (3) October (1) December (1) February (1) March (1) October (1) July (3) March (1) November (1) About Me ellipsisknits house blog: http://plantingoaks.wordpress.com View my complete profile am i doin it rong? I'm the first to admit that we're new at this. Part of my purpose in writing is to record some of the 'stupid' assumptions and questions that come up for a first time owner. If I mention something that strikes you as uninformed, dangerous, or just plain strange, lemme know! Not that I'm taking any and all advice from internet strangers without looking into it, but I do want to learn, so do speak up. Simple theme. Powered by Blogger.