How smart is our dog?

You just have to wonder.

Winston has figured out how to jump the kitchen gate. He knows to go in his crate if he sees a purse slung across my shoulder. He pulls Krista by her leash to get her to play.

This is him in the entry way, growling, whining and barking..........wait for it.........at the paper Homecoming Mum hanging from a corner of the furniture. It had been there for days.

Day 4

At least the dogs enjoy the weather. After three days of ice, with temperatures staying in the teens, a layer of snow arrives to top it all off.



It's another day of school closings. Never in my fifty something years have I had four straight days of school closings. But it's the right call - the school parking lots and drives are still covered in thick sheets of solid ice.

My boys have gone a little stir crazy. Brian actually went to work yesterday, but the office was virtually empty. In desperation, today he entertained himself with the remote control to his new ceiling fan, running around the house to see how far away he can be and still turn his light off and on. His room is designed such that the regular light switch is outside his door. Now he can get in bed or sit at his desk and control the light. Sometimes it's the simple things that mean the most.

Wiley has gone for walks and enjoyed taking his car on short errands. We even let him drive a couple of blocks.

But mostly we're trying to appreciate the change of pace and ignore the endless Super Bowl hype.

A week for the record books, that's for sure.

Black Gold

I've called Krista our golden dog, particularly because of her early battle with the parvo virus. She has cost us thousands of dollars. But it was so much fun having a dog that we got a second dog last May. Surely, with our hard won knowledge on how to protect a puppy, Winston would be affordable entertainment.

Winston was my Mother's Day gift. He should be this year's Christmas gift as well and probably next year's birthday gift, too, because Winston has created a whole new set of expenses.

Winston is exuberant! A few inches taller than Krista, he easily leaps over the baby gates placed to keep him in the kitchen. He is still in the puppy stage of chewing. He has chewed numerous papers and boxes, dog beds, my new boots and the cushion of our brand new couch. Fortunately, the couch was new enough I could order a replacement for the cushion and the boots were on sale when I re-purchased them.

And then there are the little things. Winston chews through his leashes and pulls the stuffing out of his toys. I give him "bones" to chew but Krista, ever the boss, takes them away. Fortunately, Winston likes his crate, since that is where he has to be when no one is in the house. Krista won't follow him into the crate, so he can chew in peace when he has a favorite treat. We go through lots of treats, enough to justify our Costco membership, for sure.

The other line item now in our grocery budget is Cheerios. Need Winston and Krista to settle down? Throw a handful of Cheerios on the kitchen floor. Need to work on good behavior? Feed them toasted oat by toasted oat. I should buy stock in General Mills.

But mainly I just enjoy our dogs. They are gorgeous. (And here they're sitting, quivering, intent on the next Cheerio!)

It's a great Christmas week so far. Kelly's full time job is going great. (Man, that sentence sounds good!) All the kids are fine, as a matter of fact. Ricky finished the Christmas shopping yesterday - that has to be a record, done three days before Christmas. Can't say too much about that now, though.

All in all, we are having one of our most blessed holidays ever.

Merry Christmas, Y'all!

Humans 1, Winston 0

We spent the weekend wearing Winston out. He slept fine. Of course. And our older dog goes to bed around ten at night and usually sleeps until about nine in the morning. Nice schedule, if you can get it.

Monday was a little busier, so Winston did not get as much attention during the day.

Putting him in the crate at bedtime was fine. But as soon as his peanut butter was gone (doesn't everyone go to bed with peanut butter?) the yips started.

I chased my daughter upstairs for the night, told my son to not worry about keeping the dog quiet for our sakes, and then went to bed and shut the door.

About fifteen minutes later, the yips subsided and he (Winston and my son, too) stayed quiet the rest of the night.

It only took raising four toddlers to figure out how to deal with a puppy. One night in the recliner with special treatment is all you get.

Back to normal

There is no normal, none at all.

You think it is waiting for you just around the corner, but instead there is only more craziness. Eventually you realize there is no set pattern for weaving through life.

I think I thought some day I would have the stress free lifestyle of Claire Huckstable* - with a professional career, a great sense of humor, a rich and entertaining husband, a gorgeous (clean) house and children that "oohed and aahed" over the wisdom I imparted.

Ha! Those TV shows and commercials and movies, they're all fakes. Even the more realistic shows can't mirror any one family's life, and certainly not mine.

I have almost eliminated the bad habit of assuming things will be simpler in the future.  I appreciate the classic story of "The Station," believing you just need to reach  your destination to have it made, but then realizing that the trip, the journey, is the actual destination after all.

With us, it's thinking that our schedule will get easier, more manageable.....after our jobs settle down, our kids can dress themselves or drive themselves, or after we've run out of life's surprises.

My first three kids are four and a half years, five school years, apart. I knew that as they moved in a pack through middle and high school that our lives would be hectic, but by the time our fourth child came through six years later, it would be a piece of cake. Right?

Now our baby is in high school. We've just finished marching band season, three months of 7:00 am rehearsals and extra evening and Saturday practices. And when your child does not drive, his schedule is your schedule, in addition to your own. In a two week period we made two round trip trips to San Antonio, several community rehearsals and performances and ended up last weekend for the final competition in Indianapolis. The band leaves on buses on a Wednesday night and arrives in Indianapolis Thursday evening after stopping for  a three hour rehearsal in Illinois. I flew up Thursday night, Ricky came up Friday afternoon. The band performed Friday morning and scored well enough to advance to the next round on Saturday. Saturday's performance put them in the finals on Saturday night. They finished third out of ninety plus bands. Each performance was better than the one before and Saturday night was awesome. After their final performance, the kids loaded up buses, leaving Indy about three in the morning.

Ricky and I floated back to our hotel room, pleased with the results and pleased with the end of band season. Life would once again be normal after our flight on Sunday.

At 1:30 a.m. the phone rang. Our son back in Texas had arrived home to his apartment to find the door kicked in and his electronics gone. Pretty devastating for a kid whose whole life is, or was, stored on his computer. Thank God he is safe and it was only stuff that disappeared.

Later in the day we got home (with only one TSA full body screening,) looking forward to no more 7:00 a.m. rehearsals. So the dog decides to go wonky on us. Winston, feeling ignored, quit sleeping peacefully through the night in his crate. It escalated during the week until Friday night, when I ended up rubbing his tummy for an hour, punctuated by putting him back in his crate, going back to my bed only to be summoned by his shrill, ear piercing yips. I ended up spending the night in the recliner, not that uncommon for me except this time I had a dog leashed to me. Unbelievable.

Now it's the weekend and holy crap! Thanksgiving is here! When did that happen? Obviously when I wasn't looking.

We made our major grocery runs on Saturday, the bird is in the house. And out of nowhere, a fabulous holiday is shaping up. My married kids had a change of plans so they will be able to share the day with us. My parents are heading down from Oklahoma. My older, single kids are a joy to have around, sharing in holiday jobs and dog duties. We are privileged that our older son is going to hang out here for a while, where it's safe and he can be secure while planning his next steps.

So life is back to our normal - a wonderful, wacky, wildly unpredictable normal.



* The first one of my kids to comment correctly on who Claire Huckstable is wins a prize.

Just wait 'till your father gets home......

Four days to go to the last deadline of the year.

Taking a short break last night with the dogs in the back yard, I stepped in fresh poo.

Left my office for a few moments this morning and came back to a cat's hairball on my desk.

Just now took the dogs for a brief walk to stretch my legs.

Returning to the front yard and taking a few extra moments of autumn sunshine, Krista got mad for some very good dog reason and started a fight, a war, really. Fortunately they each weigh less than twenty pounds, were on leashes and I was wearing jeans instead of shorts.

Now Krista is in her crate. Winston is in his crate. I'm back at the computer with an ice pack on my knee.

No more work breaks for me.

The (other) dog ate my homework

How quickly we forget, or block, those inconvenient memories.

Our six month old puppy is a chewing fiend these days. His adult teeth erupted at once a couple of weeks ago. They're all in, but he still thinks he's teething.

He has shredded his bed, the wall, three leashes and his toys. He would shred his sister if she didn't bite him on the legs. All for love, of course.

This evening Ricky gave Winston a new toy - a stuffingless snake with three squeakers inside, guaranteed indestructible. The squeakers would continue working even when punctured. Winston loved the new toy. Note the past tense. It took Winston about ten minutes to chew through the snake and pull out the first squeaker. The squeakers do not work once their ends are chewed off.

Watching "The Amazing Race," we left him in the kitchen to destroy the rest of the snake. I should have paid attention to the cessation of sound. Going to check on him, the snake, minus the second squeaker, had fallen over the gate. He was happily occupied eating the workbook from our Dave Ramsey financial class.

(The snake and the 2nd squeaker is re-placed in this picture.)

I made the mistake of setting the book on the kitchen desk. Winston can reach the kitchen desk. I have been warned. Perhaps Winston was concerned we might start cutting back on doggie treats while following Dave Ramsey's plan to become debt free.

Don't ya' love me?

Converted

Brian stopped by today to pick up a few things and get a haircut - going from the "hawk" look to a number two buzz. As I cut his hair on the back porch, the dogs chased each other. Brian is still amazed that we have not just one, but two family dogs.

I snootily preferred cats over dogs for decades. I was woefully misinformed.

Our cats lounge around, tear stuff up when no one's looking and take over entire rooms. They only come around us when they want something or it's the middle of the night and they need to check in.

Our dogs play. They prefer to play with one of us. Next best is playing with each other knowing we are watching. Right now they are having a blast playing in the rainy back yard while Ricky is home base on the patio. They want to be with us or asleep. And they sleep in their beds.

Teenagers vs. toddlers.

Enough said.

Getting the kids ready for camp

Bedding washed - check.

Food packed - check.

Medicine packed - check.

Toys gathered and packed - check.

Nails clipped - Winston, check.

Nais clipped - Krista, no way. The groomer and then the vet together were able to clip one nail. Krista did not want her nails clipped, thank you very much.

Crates cleaned and packed - check.

I've enjoyed the last few years of family trips when everyone could pack themselves. Getting the dogs ready for "Camp Tami" was a harsh reality check.

We left Thursday morning for a short trip to Charlottesville to watch our daughter graduate with her Master's degree. Before heading for the airport, we took the dogs to my friend's house where she will spoil them with attention. I only hope they will take us back on Sunday without too much resentment.

We left Krista with Tami last summer while we went to London. She was going to keep Krista again and Winston, too, this summer for ten days, but cancer surgery wiped out our Florida trip. (I'm still bitter.) So the pups have to settle for three days instead. It's a good thing. Packing up two dogs seems exponentially more consuming than packing up one dog, and if I'd had to pack stuff for ten days instead of three...... Now I know why so many people take their dogs with them when they travel!

A Diva Doesn't Share

Wiley is a trumpet player. Our shibas sing along - every time. You might say they have a racket going.

Krista is an outstanding yodeler. (I've posted about her "singing" before.)

Winston is figuring it out, but so far he just barks. And for a puppy he barks LOUD. I have to put him outside now when Wiley is practicing. But it doesn't matter where the dogs are or where Wiley is, they accompany him.

Today Wiley had been practicing outside, working on his combination of marching and playing. You could hear the dogs, in the kitchen, all the way to the street.

Wiley came inside to give them an encore.

But by this time Krista has just about lost it, she is so mad at Winston for ruining the harmonies.

Listen if you like, but you may want to put on ear muffs.

Obamanomics at work

This is my studly husband, laying flagstone to convert a dead space to useable patio. Several mornings our son has helped, and the dogs are always ready to dig in. Winston likes to get his nose up to his eyeballs in sand. We have to throw him in the pool before letting him back inside.

Ricky's also stained 220 feet of fence and helped our sons remove about 75 feet of shrubbery in an effort to update the looks of our 25 year old house. When we get ready to plant, he will do much of the labor then, too.

A few years ago we might have paid to have most of this work done. We have the resources to hire it done now. Our jobs are somewhat recession proof. Schools and, unfortunately, the IRS are permanent institutions. He's a teacher and I prepare tax returns.

But tax rates are rising, our retirement investments are a little shaky and we still have another child's college to fund. We also need to start saving for when we are in our 70's and have to go to Costa Rica to buy the health care procedures we won't want to wait for. So we are retrenching and doing more ourselves.

Government economic policies really do affect behavior.

Domestic Engineering

See this sweet baby? Don't be deceived. His middle name is "Houdini." You leave him angelically sleeping, gated in the kitchen. Then, fifteen or thirty minutes later, you realize you are hearing (untrained) puppy noises from the living room.

The first time or two, I thought someone left the gate ajar. Then reality hit, the reality of a motivated puppy, hungry for attention and aware of the other dog free in the house, squeezing through slats faster than a shiba chases a cat. It was hard to get a picture - he could be all the way out before the lens focused and the shutter snapped.

So I applied my fancy education, and started counter tactics. After all, I spent my first two years of college as an engineering major. Surely I could outwit a two month old puppy.

Pretend the pictures below are time lapse photography. They recreate the battle which escalated over several days.

First, I set up basic obstacles to block the biggest gaps, using a trash can, a printer still in the box and Wiley's trumpet case.

Winston liked the new game. He would push the trash can or the printer box back to make room for his escape, not even a challenge. I replaced the trash can with a box of copy paper and swapped the printer box with the trumpet case.

The box of paper was only a slight deterrent. He got his teeth into it, pushing it back, once again able to slide through. I used a spare cat litter pan, held in place by the box. He could not penetrate the heavy plastic. Instead, he climbed over the trumpet case.

I added a cookie sheet, to increase the height. So now I'm barricaded out of my own kitchen, waiting on a puppy to grow.

Unfortunately, this puppy has morphed into a teenage boy, skinny and all legs. After a trip to the hardware store, we added a plastic barrier, which he chewed through within a couple of hours. (I left the boxes in this picture so you could see how much he chewed them.)

Adding a layer of chicken wire to the gate finally did the trick.

That's where we are now - wishing Winston would widen.

A bad combination

What do you get when you cross an unsupervised puppy with the cats' automatic water dish?

A swamp.

The Wonderful Week of Winston

Getting a new puppy is a lot like bringing home a new baby from the hospital, except that you get to put the pup in a crate for the night and whenever you have other things to do.

The first week has been busy and delightful for us but not nearly as interesting to the rest of the world, so I'll tell you about it now, get it out of my system and then move on. (Promises, promises.)

Kelly went with me to the airport Saturday night to pick up the puppy. Fortunately, there was no stormy weather, so the pup's flight from Spokane to Seattle to Dallas went without a hitch. We had to wait about 45 minutes for the plane to be offloaded and the pup brought to the cargo hangar.

Interesting place - a cargo hangar on a Saturday night. I listened to the stories of the manager - talking about the little Yorkie delivered at Christmas time. The family let him out on the patch of grass outside the building before heading home. After four hours, the family and airline employees gave up the search. That must have been heartbreaking. Another story about a pallet of about fifty animals being transferred from plane to hangar - the pallet falls and broken crates and loose animals are everywhere. More stories like this - all interesting, but not very comforting as I waited for my pet to arrive.

But then the crate was handed over. Opening the door, the little one eagerly came out. We passed on the bathroom break in the grass and headed home. He was a live wire, the metronome tail tick-tocking at about 200 beats per minute, curious about everything, showing no fear. Our other dog couldn't wait to check him out, so after about an hour I let them in the same room.

After three hours, I passed the puppy torch to the boys, home from Wiley's soccer tournament. Five pounds of puppy love can wear you out!

This whole week has been awesome, and I've spent my time enjoying and burning memories into my brain. Chances are, we won't have another puppy, and the first one had a steep learning curve, with the parvo and the accidents, so this is a time to relax and enjoy. It reminds me of how careful and serious we were with our first baby compared to the "let it be" attitude we had by our last baby.

So what were the highlights of the week? My husband named him Winston on the second day - a tough, sturdy, solid, conservative name. He slept through the first night in our room. The second night he fussed until we moved him to the kitchen, where he's slept through the night ever since. Krista taught him to respect his elders when dog treats are involved. Winston can walk under Krista. He likes to grab her leash and pull her around. Winston can squeeze through 2 inch wide bars to get out of the kitchen, so we have boxes stacked in front of the gate until he gets a little bigger. The two shibas play at every opportunity - nipping and herding and wrestling, punctuated with games of tag and tug-of-war. It's just a joy to watch. The little one squeals when the disadvantage is too great and runs for our feet, only to immediately return to battle. Behind my back, Winston lept into the swimming pool and swam to the edge. That was shocking, since our other shiba avoids the swimming pool like it's a snake. Winston seems to love water.

The best part is Winston's exuberance. He is so wiggly and excited to start each morning, we can hardly grab him to take outside, even as he's trying to jump into our arms. The tail doesn't slow down - at least until he finally collapses for nap time here and there. And why shouldn't he be exuberant? Why shouldn't we be exuberant? (Perhaps if it would ever quit raining and being unnaturally cold here in north Texas it would help!)

We're smiling a lot these days. The exuberance is growing.

So here are some videos from Winston's first few days in our family.

A dog and his pet boy.......

Another video from Mother's Day, playing with my daughter Lindsay..........

Also from Mother's Day....... the dogs got into a series of shouting matches. In this one the shouting is short, so you can safely watch it without ear plugs.

And finally, I told you Winston likes to play in the water (much to Krista's consternation).......

Shiba inus - they're like potato chips - you can't have just one!

How much is that doggie in the window?

Two years ago I generally detested dogs. The best dogs, my friends' dogs that left me alone, were tolerable. The rest - meh.

But something softened my heart over the past few years. Part of it is being so long from having little ones around. Part of it is turning fifty and wondering about some of the things I've not done in my life.

Every one of my best friends has been or is a dog owner. My life long friend Sherri had two dachshunds when we were in high school. My friend Tami had, until old age took her last year, a yellow lab. My friend Sherrie has her family dog who is her husband's hunting buddy. My friend Sally was absolutely nuts over her two cats and dog, spending thousands of dollars and tons of time nursing her dog through old age. He had to be put down shortly after Sally died.

If all these people, who I love and admire, like dogs, then there must be something special about having a dog. Did I want to try it, at least once?

These were the thoughts swirling in my brain, privately, in December, 2008. I tentatively mentioned the idea of getting a dog to my younger son, the only child still living at home. When he was little and wanted a dog, we always told him we would get him a dog when his brother and sisters were gone and he was home alone. So did he want a dog now? I asked him to think about it and, of course, hounded him for an answer.

He didn't seem particularly enthusiastic about the idea. I kept at him, wanting him to make a decision for me. A friend's dog was having puppies around Christmas time and that would give us plenty of time to prepare and educate ourselves for dog ownership in February. I showed him pictures of what the puppy would look like - a cross between a poodle and a cocker spaniel. The bottom line? My son said "meh." He was neutral about getting a dog, particularly a girly "cockapoo." If he was choosing a dog, he preferred a dog that looked like a husky.

But husky type dogs are big and shed a lot. Cockapoos are smaller, don't shed, are friendly, easily trained and good for people with allergies. What else matters?

Finally he said, "Mom, it's okay to get a dog if you want to get a dog. I don't really care." But how could I want a dog? I'd always disliked dogs. Was I crazy to want to get a dog when no one else in the family was that interested? It's not like any of us were just sitting around twiddling our thumbs.

Talking it over with my husband, he said go ahead, don't worry about it. So in a matter of days I went from detesting dogs to determined to own a dog. (I usually don't waste time on decisions.)

On the Friday before Christmas I went to the local pet store. They happened to have an older cockapoo puppy that I could show Wiley in order to get him more interested in the upcoming litter. Then I noticed an unlabeled puppy in the window. It looked just like a husky. I visited with each puppy. They were both unbelievably cute and friendly. The husky type puppy, I learned, was a shiba inu. In all my internet research, I had not run across mention of a shiba inu.

Back at the house I researched. Shiba inus are small, fastidious, cat-like, spirited, loyal to their owners, smart and sassy. That sounded good. They don't drool and don't have an odor. That sounded very good. They shed heavily twice a year. Okay, that's manageable. I conveniently glossed over the reports that shiba inus are not recommended for first time dog owners and shiba puppies are often described as "feisty little furballs from hell."

I emailed shiba inu information to Ricky at school. I picked Wiley up from school, the last day of school before the two week Christmas break, and took him immediately to the pet store. He loved the shiba inu. Ricky came home, exhausted and ready to relax after dealing with hyper teenagers all day. "You have to come to the pet store and see this dog." He rolled his eyes, but he went with me to check it out.

With everything happening for the Christmas holidays, there was no way I could bring home that dog that day. And there was no way I would leave a dog at the pet store that was going to be mine. (That particular puppy did get purchased by a family the next week.)

Back at the internet I found a shiba inu puppy, just sixty miles from my parents' house, that would be ready for us to pick up when we were there the next weekend. By Saturday I had purchased a puppy.

The next Sunday we picked up our new puppy and brought her home. Her first night with us our devil cat Addie hissed at her when she wouldn't shut up and so the puppy went right to sleep in her crate. The second night the puppy cried the entire night, in the crate in our bedroom, like all the books said would be best. By the third night we discovered our puppy did just fine with her crate in the kitchen, under the desk. With kids home from college, there was someone around to soothe her even in the middle of the night, and she quickly settled in.

Not too long after, she got sick. Taking her to the emergency vet on a Sunday night, we found out she had the parvo virus, often deadly for little puppies particularly. The next five days were horrible, with the vet recommending at one point that we let her go. But we did everything money and love and prayers could buy, and brought her home on the sixth day. She still had to go back a couple of times a day the next few days for breathing treatments since she had developed a little pneumonia, but she survived.

Three days after her homecoming I knocked a basket of books off a stool while she was underfoot. A cat would have jumped out of the way. The basket landed on her leg and I heard my first shiba scream. We scrambled to the vet again and came out with pain medicine and a splint on her leg. The x-ray was inconclusive. So that required a trip across town to a dog orthopedic specialist, who determined ultimately that her leg was okay.

I joke now that we have a golden dog.

Since then we've learned a lot about dog food, dog treats, leashes, crates and poop scooping. We've also learned about tail wagging, yodeling, tug of war, head tossing, following commands and cat chasing.

How much is our doggie in the window? Priceless.

For everything else.......

Cost of the dog $XXX

Animal hospital $XXXX

Vet specialist $XXX

Regular vet bill $XXX

Monthly dog stuff $XX

Cost of a playmate $XXX

It's just money.

Three more days 'till the new puppy.

p.s. During the Christmas holidays in 2008 my husband told our new son-in-law......"One of the great things about being married - you can live with someone for thirty years and they can still surprise you. I never thought I would ever hear the words 'I want a dog' from my wife's mouth. An alien has arrived and taken over my wife's body."

I guess you can teach an old dog new tricks.

Houston, we have a .......

Tail!

This black and tan bundle of attitude is headed my way!

He'll go ferociously with the red bundle of attitude we got eighteen months ago.

And eventually we'll have two buddies enjoying a fun game of "keep away."

Meanwhile, we're keeping our fingers crossed that Krista doesn't eat the new pup before she learns to love him.

Missing in action

Well, our puppy has eyes and ears. Still haven't seen that curly tail, though. Less than two weeks now.

Star Wars revisited

This picture brightens my day. Our puppy has eyes now, but no ears.

My boys think we're getting a baby Ewok.

Promises, promises

I am supposed to get updated pictures of my new puppy on Friday. I can't wait! The breeder says his face is starting to take shape and the pup is going to be pretty.

It was fascinating to watch the snout grow on our first puppy. I had just assumed puppies arrived in their grown-up shape and simply got bigger. Instead, they arrive flat faced and then do a Pinocchio routine.

With a shiba inu, the color of the coat fades over the first few months, too, particularly around the muzzle. Our new little black puppy will end up with a mostly tan face and tan legs. I bet God had fun with that.

This is a picture of our new pup's daddy.

Meanwhile, on the cat front, we are in full battle mode with Addie, our devil cat. After two weeks of medication, she should be past her UTI. But bad habits take work to break.

She is locked out of our bedroom for the foreseeable future. We've added another litter box. And she's wearing a special collar that guarantees to soothe the stressed out cat and eliminate the inappropriate eliminations. Hmmmph.

The things we do for love.

Takin' Life Easy

Nine days old, but who's counting?

Me, of course!

Counting, I do that for a living, so it needs to be fun. I'll be counting to 56 this time. (And I even did that without a calculator.......an inside joke for us CPAs.)