Do you have a pet? I know you do. I’ve seen them on Facebook, brown eyes shining at you as they silently beg you to stop writing and pay them attention, much in the same way the chocolate candy and coffee machine do.
Pull up a chair. This blog is for you.
Have you ever read my bio and wondered about my two partially psycho dogs? Let me introduce you to my two: Jaws, the oldest, a beautiful female mutt of indeterminate origin, probably German Shepherd mix, and Hell Hound who is two years younger, a black Lab/Bloodhound mix.
We got Jaws when she was approximately one year old from a rescue group at our local pet store. We thought her presence might perk up our old Golden, who had a limb removal the year before. When we brought Jaws into the house, she saw Tripod and immediately thought, gee, looky here, a playmate. Like all good playful dogs, she walked up to Tripod, and bonked him across the head, trying to start a game. Tripod just fell over, being a tripod and all. Jaws looked at him, looked at me, her eyes popped wide as if to say, what the heck just happened? It went downhill from there. We bought her on a Sunday; so on Monday we left for work and left her in the house. We’d been assured by the rescue company that she does great inside.
Warning to future dog owners: do NOT buy a dog on a Sunday and then leave it by itself on Monday. Just saying.
I came home from work and found the blinds on our wall of French door windows had been torn up. Clearly, Jaws wanted to see outside. So the next day I raised the blinds. Came home from work and she had eaten the wooden slats right down to the glass panes. Unacceptable.
I went out, bought a crate, and stuck her in it the next day. She was not pleased. She shredded the bedding. Next day: no bedding. She ate the plastic in the bottom of the crate. Next day: She ate the carpet under the crate. The Hubster cut an area of carpet around the crate and stuck crate on concrete. Next day: She ate 7 feet of carpet, dragging the crate forward.
Here’s some math: 1 large dog + bedding + 7 feet of carpet = explosive diarrhea. Not pretty.
I forgot to mention she howls at the same frequency as the alarm for breaking glass. This didn’t go over well with the alarm company or the local police department.
Other than her separation anxiety, we really like Jaws.
Solution to problem: installed a dog door. No more problems. At least not until Tripod passed on.
Cost of dog: $125. Cost of damage to house = $5000. Having her follow me from room to room like I’m the best thing in the world = priceless.
Hell Hound’s issues are on a whole other level. We got him when Tripod went to his eternal reward since Jaws could not handle being the only dog in the house. When he was a puppy, his doghouse burned down, killing half the litter and burning his right hip. He had skin grafts and still has a big bare spot on his back. His first owners moved and gave him up when he was eight months old. He spent the next eight months in a kennel until the rescue group got him, and then, he spent eight more months in a dog crate.
Needless to say, calling him a little wild barely scratched the surface. His legs looked normal, but apparently had been replaced with pogo sticks. Couch in his way? Not a problem. He just leapt over it like Superman. Person on other side of six foot fence? No problem. Pogo-sticks-for-legs means he jumps and can see over the fence. I bet you’ve never walked by a fence and had a 75-pound, barking, snarling and saliva-dangling-from-its-jaws, dog head clear the top.
We managed to get the pogo stick act calmed down, and then, he started growling at all our visitors. Then, he started biting them. Then, he started being stuck in a room alone when people came over. Took him to dog trainers, one of which suggested we put him down. We refused.
About this time a friend got me hooked on The Dog Whisperer (http://www.cesarsway.com/).
I started using those techniques and HH calmed down. He still operates under the misguided belief the entire neighborhood belongs to him, and heaven forbid, another dog walk in it. I’ve lost track of all the yardmen, etc. who have called and requested Hell Hound be locked in a crate when they come over. For some odd reason, they have issue with HH leaping at the windows while growling, snarling, barking and salivating. Rather embarrassing, but at the same time I feel safe.
Cost of dog: $125. Cost of training = $2000. Having dog greet me at the door ecstatically every time I come home from work = priceless.
What are some of your favorite pet stories? I love hearing about them as much as I like writing about my pets.
Thank you for stopping by today!