figuring it out...

First came the change, now comes the figuring it all out. The impact of having a new puppy is of course huge. I could (and did) plan for some of it, but much has to be thought out anew with each day. For example, I would not have anticipated that Millie would roll in with an upset tummy that only got worse as the day and night progressed. It's hard to house break a puppy who has a constant urge to do something. I've been using a lot of enzyme puppy accident treatment! Luckily she has kept it off the carpeting upstairs, but still, the surprises keep coming.

This problem made for an interrupted night. She just had to go at 3 a.m. Knowing that she was in dire straits, I threw on a jacket and grabbed her from her sleeping crate. As I stood outside in the drizzle with bare legs (who wears long stuff to sleep these days!) I had to smile at the ridiculousness of it all. 

In the morning, she woke before me, but this time, I managed to pull on my sweatpants in addition to my jacket. The workmen had started their construction work across the street. It wouldn't do to repeat the nocturnal disrobement.

It's a cold morning, and Millie was not going to be cajoled into a longer walk. Just a visit to the grassy spot by Sally's House, thank you.

(where are those eyes??)

When I knew I was getting a pup on April 4th, I resisted the urge to buy doggie sweaters. First, I thought, it'll be April, so a good bit warmer, and, too, she has all that fur! I realize now that this was a mistake. We're in for some pretty cold mornings. And her fur seems to not offer enough protection. She doesn't expand enough energy to stay warm. When the wind picks up, she is shivering from the cold. Back to Amazon we go. Something cheap, something that will come in the middle of the night so that we can at least be ready for tomorrow's walks.

Since Millie was not gaining control over her digestive issues, I switched her food to a prescription diet left over from the days of Henry's stomach problems and called the vet requesting more of it. Millie seemed delighted with the wet food option. Maybe a win for now?

And in general, she is starting to relax more, play more, find joy in the small world around her. 

(is that a smile I see?)

And it is a small world: she can do a handful of steps, but as yet, she hasn't attempted the stairs to the second floor. Nor is she eager to visit the front room where the kids often play and where the big two dogs hung out to bark at anyone doing anything outside. Millie limits herself to the kitchen and the living room, a.k.a. places I hang out in.

Breakfast? She rests at my feet. Routine established.

 

The biggest challenge comes with errands I have to run and kids that need after school care. I'm hesitant about shuttling her to seven different places (yes seven!), with a 40 minute "layover" at my daughter's house (especially with Millie's tummy issues). But this is Monday for you. Until she is well and potty trained, I cannot leave her with anyone and certainly not the doggie daycare, which would totally overwhelm her. So it's travel with me or stay in a crate. That second option may work down the road, but I do not want her to grow to hate the crate and I do not want her to have accidents in the crate, so here I am being the chauffeur to my passenger extraordinaire. 

The kids, of course, are happy to see her. 

 

 

 

And it's good for her to be with them too. That goes for my errands as well: visits to the vet pharmacy, to the UPS store, to the pet store -- all new for her. I carry her in --- my light little butterfly -- and I feel her relax. She's learning to trust other people, to face new adventures with greater confidence.

 

  

 

(Sparrow is determined to teach her to "stand-up," with some modest successes!)

 

 

 (Snowdrop prefers to just snuggle...)

 

 

It was in the end a great day. Millie's number of accidents is going down. Her tummy is mending. She saw a bit of the world today. And the kids were happy campers. 

Because we're all never satisfied, let me put in a plug for warmer weather. Millie is not a fan of gusts of wind messing with her walks. And her hair!

with so much love... 

 

Sunday

Happy holidays, if you are one who celebrates Easter or Passover or simply the unfolding of spring. May you find pockets of joy, may you feel loved on this day, on all days that follow.

It is my first full day with little Millie. After a bout of tears at bedtime (do dogs shed tears?), followed by a cuddle with me, she settled beautifully into her crate with her Snuggle pup and slept until I got up at 7. Perfect pooch! Well, except for the fact that she regards my two beautiful Turkish rugs (the small ones) as puppy mats -- perfect for a poop or a pee! Millie, we need to work on that!

I take her out at wake-up of course. Immediately. And it's so easy with this little pup. Pick up, place down, pee, come inside.

So, how about breakfast? 

And let's get some routines going here. How about a longer walk? Like, to the end of the block and around the corner and back?

(she looks like a blur of fuzz in the wind)

I see that my exercise steps are going to plummet with this dog. I must rethink my strategy going forward. This girl takes baby steps and not very many of them!

We start in on some basic training. She knows nothing -- a clean slate as it were. So, let me explain sit and come! 

And yes, now it's playtime. Millie likes the toys that look like her.

As for chewing Nylabones? She prefers the coffee table legs and twine. We'll work on that one too! My bitter apple spray and enzyme stain spray bottles are at the ready. Oh, you puppy, you!

 

 

  

The day is made up of small snippets. Just like this small dog of mine: never more than a small handful of minutes for anything. Big dogs equal big play and big naps. This little girl cuts that all into little pieces. 

Eventually I take my attention away from her and focus on the dinner for tonight, all the while wondering how this pup will handle the burst of energy that will come through the door in the early evening.

*     *     * 

Ed calls in the early afternoon. Want to go to the dog park? It's such a beautiful day.  No, really not. She's not ready for it, even for the small-dogs one. And she doesn't need the run.

All morning I'd been thinking that having a little dog is an entirely different experience than having a big one or even a medium sized one. It's as if I had a different species of animal here. There's very little match between Millie and my two big guys.

When I worked as an au pair for the New York family in my last college years, I got to know small dogs. My charge's mother liked Yorkies and had one, and then another. I can't say that I found them to be thrilling. Yappy and indifferent to everyone except the mother. Millie isn't like that. And she'll grow to be three times the size of a Yorkie (the average weight of an adult Yorkie is 4 - 7 pounds). But I have noticed that she can suddenly appear at my feet and I wont hear or see her. She's easy to trip over! 

And she's easy to pick up. If Henry didn't want to go somewhere, there's nothing anyone could do to make him do it. I famously sat for 30 minutes in the vet's office trying to get him on the scales. We all tried everything. No luck. Millie? She doesn't have a choice! Swooping her up with one hand at this point is easy.

What I've noticed, too, is that nothing of the stuff I bought for the big guys is appropriate for her. The bed, the crate, the carrier. The dishes, the leashes (too heavy), the sweaters, the collars of course. The treats, the car restraints, the chewies. They don't work for her. Meaning, she's a whole new expense for me.

On the other hand, day care costs will likely go way down. Food costs, treat costs -- a fraction of what I needed for the big two.  

The differences extend, of course, to our walks. I suggested to Ed -- in the alternative, rather than the dog park, let's do our old reliable county park. On a leash with her.  

(first car ride in small dog car seat)

 

I wasn't sure she'd manage. There are things that she just cannot do: she's not potty trained (or she is heavily regressing). She is not used to the leash. With big dogs, you walk briskly to keep up with their slow pace. With Millie, she trots to my steady walk. And I cannot push her beyond 25 minutes (the rule of 5 minutes for every month is a good one I think). 

But she does manage, and she appears happy to be out with us.

 

And we have some first encounters. With another little pup -- her size, and also named Millie! With two other people. She is shy. No running up to anyone. And she backs away from the little dog, barking a bit fearfully. This girl hasn't seen many dogs (or people) beyond her own household. It's my job to introduce her calmly happily to as many as I can. 

She does get tired at the top of the hill. Ed carries her for a bit.

And then she's down again, trotting daintily next to me.

I drop Ed off at the farmette. He wants to finish listening to a podcast in the car, so I take Millie for her first inspection of the farmette lands.

She is content to explore with me. She's a little uncertain when she sees the chickens. A few woofs to frighten them. Ineffective, but better than chasing them!

Driving home from the farmette, I see that Tati's Cafe is open. Let's keep those new experiences rolling in! Millie, how about a pause here?

A delightfully chill girl.

We go home. I warm up a croissant from Bloom's Bake Shop and open the jar of jam from Nice. Strawberry and fraises des bois. Utterly delicious. And I see that the smell of croissants is a real temptation for my little one! She gets a small corner, but just that. 

*     *     * 

In the evening, the whole gang comes over, Ed included. Goose included.  I put up the gate for Millie to protect her from the onslaught. 

It was unnecessary. The kids loved, simply loved holding Millie, petting her...

 

 

 

 

 

 

Millie felt safe with them. 

And fearful that Millie was of a tiny dog on a leash, she was fine with Goose. We kept an eye on the two of them, and it is true that Millie was not confident that all this was heading in a good direction, but she sweetly accepted it. Including the gentle giant that came with the pack.

 

 

 Millie's love of kids is obvious. And if they come with a big dog -- so be it. 

A joyous Easter dinner!

 

 

 

 (from the March trip across the ocean -- both the chocolate eggs and the Eze plate)

 

 

(and the cake from Bloom Bake Shop tasted way better than any of us would have believed, given the abundance of buttercream flowers... not too sweet, plenty chocolaty)

 

 It was a full Sunday. A beautiful Sunday. A spring Sunday. With sunshine. And family, Ed, and Millie.

and so much love... 

Millie

When you bring a dog home, you begin to form a picture of that pup's personality. You make predictions about how your life will unfold now with the new member of the household. You recognize the splendid characteristics that made you take this animal in to begin with. You are convinced that you've got this one under control. It will work out beautifully!

I re-read the Ocean pages of the days following the arrival of Henry. No barking, no aggression to anyone. Shy, to be sure, but everything else was just an example of typical canine conduct. We would work on it! I enrolled him in two training classes -- he was a champ! And then slowly, things changed. The elevator, the noises out in the hallway, the people on the street. He couldn't manage them. I realized this in January and quickly moved. And still he grew worse.

When Sadey came to live with me in mid February, I saw her as she was described in the Texas shelter materials: total sweetness. I saw nothing else but the strong affection she bestowed instantly on me, wanting nothing more than to be near at all times. My first surprise came weeks later when I took her to the vet and she lunged at the technician who then asked me to please restrain this ferocious dog. I shrugged it off. Dont all dogs hate visits to the vet? 

The idea of total sweetness was so ingrained in my head that to this day, I still see her as such, licking, jumping on the couch with me the minute I sit down, wagging, smiling. I called it smiling, though later on I learned that a dog that pants for no obvious reason is a dog in distress. 

Sadey began to bark at people on our walks early on, but again, barking is a dog thing. So what, I said to myself. Maybe she wants to make friends with everyone? 

It wasn't until that fateful visit to the dog park after the blizzard, when, given freedom, she chose to chase down people, not all, just some, and bark fiercely at them up close. And finally -- way too close. With a nip at a guy's leg that left me shattered. And then suddenly it was so obvious: sweetness at home, holy terror out in the real world of real people. Well, perhaps not totally a terror. Yet. But, there it was, barking fiercely at dog owners who came to pick up their pets at daycare -- this is where Henry lost it completely and now here's Sadey, getting too close, threatening others so that the daycare people had to ask owners to wait outside until she was safely out of the way and in the car. 

 

I'm thinking about all this today -- the day when Millie joins me here at Sally's House. Do I have now a new apprehension when I bring her home? 

Here's my simple answer: I do not. Adopting a dog is an act of hope. It comes with the belief in friendship, in love. In hard work that brings rewards. I am 100% hopeful, no less so than I was on October 19th, when Henry came to live with me, or on February 13th, when Sadey joined us.

 

*     *     * 

I went to bed so late! I was immersed in dog literature and suddenly it was no longer Friday but Saturday and there I was, still poring over stuff out there, on dogs, puppies, you name it. And in the morning, I am up at my usual time, reminding myself to do the last minute details in preparation for the arrival of my new pup. Roll up the carpet in the play area. Put up a gate by the stairs. And eat breakfast.

 

Let me say just a few words about Millie (a name chosen not by me): I found her online of course. There is always a risk in getting a dog in this way, but enough of the safeguard boxes are checked, so that I feel fairly confident that I'm not being duped into some shady operation. 

She is a mix of course, but her genetics are well known -- golden retriever, poodle. I picked her because she was still looking for a home at age 4 months. Most pups get adopted at 8 weeks and here she is, still without an owner at nearly 20 weeks. (She is 4.5 months today. She's not a runt -- though I would have taken a runt! --it's just that she wasn't posted online until the day I happen to be searching.) Something about the dogs that need a home that pulls at me. I feel that she is old enough to have made great progress on potty training and chewing everything in sight, but young enough that I can really attend to her socialization needs.

Millie comes from Milwaukee, but they are bringing her to Madison today so I dont have to travel far to get her. Just before noon, I set out to pick her up.

(car ride home)

 

 

*      *      * 

There are 360 recognized breeds of dogs out there, according to the AKC. Mix up these guys and you have millions of permutations. With that you have temperaments that run the gamut. I took Millie from the arms of her dad's owner and right away I knew that she was her own dog. Not a whole lot in common with my two big ones. For one thing, she must weigh about 9 pounds (4 kg). She'll double that weight eventually, but right now, she feels so... tiny!

She settled in to rest in the crate on the ride home. I carried her up to the house, then outside right away, then back to the house. She jumped up on the couch, wagged her tail, and slept some more. I'd been prepared for frantic puppy play. Instead I got a small dog who responded to stress by sleeping.

 

Playing a little...

Then napping again. 

She is an entirely different kettle of fish. Whereas Henry loved every treat I ever gave him and Sadey snatched them out of my hand before I was ready for her, Millie eventually took one treat, one treat, played with it some and only then slowly ate it. I'd gone through bags of treats quickly. The supply I have for Millie? It will last years. (I do realize that a food motivated dog is easier to train, so we will see how that goes. Way too early to tell.)

 

 

The conventional wisdom about dogs of Millie's type is that these pups love it when you laugh. They'll do a lot to get you there. And so often, they succeed! I can see that side of Millie even on her first day with me. The girl who loves a good laugh! My laugh.

 

Ed comes over in the evening. She assesses the situation... and deems him to be safe.

We eat supper, I take her out a lot, she has one accident, but no more than that. Walking her is... funny. We go out, I put her down, she does her stuff and is ready to call it a day. True, it's windy out there and it has to feel like a gust could lift her off her paws. Still, she is not in need of a good run, that's for sure. No two dogs are alike!

Ed and I rework mistakes in my tax forms, Millie snoozes. Such a calm evening! For all of us.

with so much love... 

mixed

Must everything be a mixed bag of the sweet and the sour, the beautiful and the gross, the joyful and the sad? 

In the early afternoon, I came over to the farmette. I have to do my taxes today. There's no other time for it before April 15th. If I want Ed to answer questions for me (he's much more finance-smart than I am), if I don't want interruptions, this is the time for them.

But on the short walk from the driveway to the farmhouse door, I paused and looked around me.

It feels so... bucolic here!  

 

 

 

As if I stepped out from the concrete world of an urban landscape into a nature preserve. It's all new growth, old growth, wood chips and old trees bent in weird shapes, it's out of control Scilla Syberica -- that blue flower that peppers the lawns and invades the flowerbeds and I dont mind it a bit, because it's so pretty. It's also creeping charlie that I see is a real threat this year in my flower beds, because I didn't pull it out last fall. Snowdrop's mom told me that the girl misses more than anything (more than her favorite deceased cat, more than my two now missing dogs) being at the farmette, like in the nearly 11 years of her life, with all flowers blooming, Ed taking up the couch, but always offering her a spot on it, the chickens even -- those poop generating machines that forced me so often to wash the bottoms of the kids' shoes because inevitably they would step in the chicken messes. I get why she misses it. As I look out at the hundreds of daffodils now ready to pop into bloom...

... I think -- I miss this landscape. And then I bend down to pull out just a handful of weeds at my feet (there must be millions begging for my pull) and I think -- why didn't I notice how much work there is here? Did I block the time suck, the oppressive feeling of never being done? Or was it that the moment of bliss, out on the porch at breakfast, when I would take in the beauty of it -- made me believe that it was worth it?

*     *     *

I wake up at the usual early hour but I force myself to stay in bed for a while. I had a month, just before the arrival of Henry, where I had mornings like this one -- no dog to walk, no chickens to feed, no reason to rush out of the comfort of the bed. I liked it, but after a while, I got nervous with that idle wake up. Each time, I had to come up with a reason not to linger just a few minutes more and sometimes that reason wasn't so obvious. Ed often works or reads from his comfortable nighttime spot (and he falls asleep in his comfortable couch spot). That would drive me nuts. I am like a little puppy that likes routine and predictability -- at least enough of it that I can do the daily stuff on autopilot, though always leaving lots of time to come up with new ideas for the day. And to daydream.

Breakfast, a meal I used to hate in my childhood, now my favorite...

... and then I head out to the bakery because it is, after all, Easter weekend and the family will be over on Sunday and I should do something over and beyond the usual.

And then to the farmhouse.

*     *     * 

I dont know about you, but I am not a fan of doing my taxes. It takes so long to do it by hand! And yet, today, it was kind of okay. I was back in the farmhouse, spending time there over and beyond time I usually spend on a visit. Ed and I would put in a comment, he'd add some advice, and the rain pounded outside and the cats moved freely from one spot to the next. What's there not to like?

*     *     *

Big day for me tomorrow. It's been such a mixed week, a tough one in fact, but I am not giving up on working with dogs, though this time, I'll be bringing home a pup that is very young, so that I can take charge of her socialization. And she is of known parentage. There are a lot of good, calm, friendly guard dogs that make great family pets. Mixes of Rottweiler, Pitt bull, Doberman, German Shepherd, Chow Chow, Belgian Malinois -- the dominant breeds identified in my two pooches. But there are also too many that are too protective, too reactive, naturally defensive given their histories and their DNA.  They deserve great homes, and love, and calmness, and patience. And some will be saved (Sadey). And sadly, some wont (Henry).  But that sadness I feel for my two lovely big dogs cannot stay with me as I turn toward Millie, who is coming tomorrow. She deserves a joyful welcome and 100% of my attention. And she will get it.

 

with so much love... 

wet

I know, I know -- April showers bring May flowers. I suppose I should consider myself lucky -- we have entered a period of daily rain and at the moment I do not have a dog to walk. At least not in the physical meaning of ownership. Sadey is still constantly on my mind. Getting up without her greeting, taking a shower without her licking the shower door, going downstairs and ... not going out immediately for a walk with her. Okay, so the rain and mud outside make this part at least a bit of a relief. Short-lived. Breakfast without Sadey is a sad state of affairs.

I've paused my usual reading to dive more deeply into dog books. I used to do this with dogs I cared for many decades ago, but I haven't gone back to it this time around. People are much more likely to watch video clips that address particular dog issues that worry them, but we don't look for a comprehensive overview anymore. Much of what I've learned about today's science on dog care and dog training comes from dog classes and dog people I've met out there. With the occasional video and online report thrown in. But the book approach is so much better! It gives a fuller picture, covering topics you don't know are relevant until you read them and think to yourself -- wow, that' useful information! Lesson learned: just because you raised dogs in the past does not make you well equipped to raise dogs today. The science has changed. Dog ownership has changed. Dog availability has changed. It's a brave new world out there!

Just before noon, I meet up with Ed for lunch at Tati's. His idea and one I like. Our neighborhood coffee shop is adored by residents, but it's a very theoretical adoration. The place is almost always empty and they have been cutting back hours as a result. If we don't use it, I'm sure we'll lose it. 

And then I'm back on kid duty: pick ups, feedings, and transports to Sally's House. 

(yellow boots on a gray day)

 

 

 (at Hubbard Diner)

 

 

(running in the rain)

 

 

(Sally's House games)

 

 

Because I do not have a dog at doggie daycare, I let their dad pick the kids up here. Funny how much Henry and then Sadey shaped my day! Transporting them to the other side of town took time. And yet, I felt I had to give them that play experience. You learn a lot about dog socialization in the pup literature of today. A quiet home for the day is not exactly a great way to get your dog to feel comfortable with other canines or their owners. Doggie daycare isn't just there to address their separation anxiety. If done well, it serves many good purposes, in the same way that schools, when done well, are essential for a kid's full development. And indeed, both Henry and Sadey were exceptionally adept at managing play with other dogs. My next dog will most certainly have doggie daycare hours as well.

Ed comes over while the kids are still here. Sweet guy is helping me put together a lawn mower. (Okay, "helping me" is inaccurate -- I'm not doing any of it.) The young two leave, he and I linger on the couch, I fix a light supper. Like old times, though once the strong storm warnings come at us, he's off to look after the farmhouse animals.

A quiet evening for me. To reflect, to read, to burn my candle -- of hope this time. For the well being of sweet Sadey. I love you, old girl, I really love you.

with so much love... 

April

I had a debate with the kids yesterday in the car -- isn't April the best month of the whole lot of them? That was my position. Perhaps not the first half of the month. Not in south central Wisconsin. But once you've filed your taxes (April 17th this year), you are on the path to the sublime.The kids argued in favor of May. I get it. May is beautiful. May is warmer. May is colorful. But that first blush of the growing season is downright inspirational!

Only today doesn't feel especially inspirational. After bouncing around in all directions, the temps settled down to a cool range that feels more like early March. And this is the day I'm to place Sadey in her new digs. It's a gut wrenching move for me, driven more by my aversion to risk, rather than my conviction that this is absolutely the best move for her. I think it is, but I can't be sure. Which makes me feel awful. Because what if it isn't? What if her new people dont love her as much as I do?

I take her for a longer morning walk than usual. To the bike path and prairie fields that spill out toward the farmette. There was a prairie burn here a few days ago. Sadey takes in these new surroundings.

This is as close as she will ever get to the farmhouse, which is sad for me. Though I suppose no dog will ever feel at home there. Ed has stuff scattered all over. Not in a dog friendly fashion. And of course, the cats rule there now -- all three (Dance, Unfriendly, and Pancake)  regard it as their domain. Three cats that do not want to make friends with any human (aside from Ed and me), let alone a dog.  

At home, Sadey and I go through our breakfast routine...

And then we do her version of a photo session. Henry sat still for a photo shoot. Sadey runs and jumps and cavorts all over the place, regarding this as a joyful event, all about play rather than some silly picture taking moment.

(How about some selfies, little pup? I can't stop photographing you today...0

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She rests next to me, we go out for another walk, I give her a favorite toy to lick and then we head for her new place. 

(the famous Sadey smile)

 

 

I wont expound on the sadness that I feel -- different than the overwhelming grief I had with Henry, but no less intense. Sadness at not having her on the couch next to me. Sadness of not burying my face in that wonderful smell that is uniquely hers. Sadness because she loved me and I loved her. Sadey Sweetness, Sadey Sadness -- one and the same for me.

 

I go to the farmhouse, I hang out with Ed, leaning heavily on his shoulder., I return home. Yukky empty place without a dog in sight. Quiet and lifeless. April coming in with a slump. 

On the upside, the farmette showed me the first daffodil in full bloom.  

 

 

And a Lenten Rose.. 

 

 

Sigh... I do have great hopes for the girl. I must. And there will be a dog here soon. Not a rescue, because I just cant face another traumatized pup. Their anxieties have overwhelmed me. Turns out I'm not made of hard stuff after all. I'd make a lousy foster parent to canines. Letting go is not a skill I possess.

with so much love...