Animules – Page 10

The Foster Chronicles: Tulip, Week 7

Day 1

When I got Redford and Violet, I taught them to wait for their food. They must sit and wait until I say, “OK,” before they start to eat. I can walk ten feet away and they’ll just sit there waiting for me to give them the signal. And drool.

I practice with Tulip. I tell her to sit and start to put the food on the floor. She lunges at it.

I pick it up, tell her to sit, and bend down again. She hurls herself at it again.

Last time, same story, but as she’s bolting toward the bowl, I say, “OK,” so at least she’s hearing the signal.

Day 2

We try the food thing again. She works herself into a frenzy. I manage a quick “OK” as she catapults herself onto her breakfast.

Day 3

What am I doing wrong here? She will not wait for her food.

Nelly texts me to say her circumstances have changed and it doesn’t look like she’ll be able to adopt Tulip. :(

Day 4

I decide to create a website to help Tulip find a fur-ever home. I get as far as setting up a username.

Day 5

She waits a half second for her food!

Day 6

She does not wait a half second for her food.

I spend about eight hours making this tumblr blog. (Will you please share it on your Facebook and/or Twitter? And encourage your friends and/or followers to do the same?)

We go for a walk in the rain. Back at the house, I leave Tulip sitting on the deck step tied to the railing, as usual, so I can unleash Redford and Violet. This time, it takes a little longer than usual what with the drying off. When I go back out to get Tulip, I find she has flung herself over the railing onto the deck.

Day 7

Tulip’s out; Redford and Violet in. Redford starts agitating—grumbling and sprinting back and forth between the living room window and the kitchen door. I look out the door. Tulip is across the street sniffing around. Guess I can’t leave her on the deck by herself anymore.

I call her. She looks up but doesn’t come. I head back into the house to grab a treat and, by the time I reach the door, she’s sprinting back.

She’s really cute when she runs.

Tulip and I attend the first session of her Feisty Fido class. We both learn a lot. I think this is going to be good for us.

She waits a full one-Mississippi for her food. Woot!

The Foster Chronicles: Tulip, Week 8

Things I Find Highly Satisfying

1. My dogs.

2. My foster dog.

3.Other peoples’ dogs.

4. Neti pot. (I know I’m going to die from brain amoebae, but in the meantime, it’s really satisfying to go from not breathing to breathing with just a little bit of salt water.)

5. Pictures of dogs.

6. Roomba.

iRobot-Roomba-435-blue-281x300 — Magic cleaning robot.

7. When I drop by my sister’s house and one of the kids goes, “Nunu, could you stay for supper? Pleeeeeeaase?” like I’d be doing them a big favor.

8. Pictures of puppies.

9. iPhone.

iphone4-52_2_610x407_610x407 — Magic communication robot.

10. Hoodie-and-flip-flop weather.

11. A well-executed ally-oop.

12. A perfectly sharp #2 Ticonderoga.

13. The fact that my brother married the woman I chose for him.

14. My deck.

15. The picnic table my brother built me for my birthday a couple years ago. On my deck.

(I hope that stray puppy found a fur-ever home.)

16. The This American Life podcast.

17. Sunday brunch buffet at Geer Street Garden.

18. My sister’s cooking.

What about you?

The Foster Chronicles: Tulip, Week 6, Days 4-7

Day 4

My mom visits and gives her foster granddog a present: a soft blanky (“because she’s so snuggly”) with a picture of a doggy and a kitty on it. The doggy on the blanket is not a pit bull. We discuss the fact that they probably don’t make blankets with pit bulls on them. A quick google search proves us so very wrong.

pit_bull_pawprints_blanket_wrap — You can even get a pit bull slanket (90% fleece, 10% treacle).

My eyes!

Day 5

I awake at 5:20 to the familiar backwards-gulp sound (uh-ggg, uh-ggg, uh-ggg) of a dog fixin’ to thow up. I jump out of bed and flip on lights. Redford’s fine; Violet’s fine. Tulip has yorked a big pile of grassy mess onto her new blanky. I let her outside for a while, clean up the mess, and open the window to air out the room. Then I settle down on the couch, hoping to go back to sleep for half an hour. Tulip curls up in the crook of my knees and shnores. I lie there listening to the birds shriek at each other until my alarm goes off.

When I go out in the evening, Tulip goes in her crate with no padding over the plastic tray because it’s in the wash from the barfing. While I’m gone, she eats the damn crate tray.

It is et.

Later, I will be walking through the kitchen barefoot in the dark and kick that jagged part, slicing open the ball of my left foot.

Day 6

Tulip is outside. When I go out to check on her, this is hanging out of her mouth.

In the previous few days, I have wrestled this

and this

from Redford and Violet.

I get emotional like always. And then I go to the farmers’ market and buy chicken. I feel ridiculous.

Day 7

I buy Tulip a new pink tennis ball to play with. Within five minutes,

The Foster Chronicles: Tulip, Week 7

The Foster Chronicles: Tulip, Week 6, Days 1-3

Day 1

I send an email to the president of the foster organization:

Tulip is as sweet as can be with humans of all ages, very snuggly and lovely, but she’s still having trouble with dog-aggression. On Thursday, she got into a spat with one of my dogs and left her with several small but bleeding wounds. She wants to meet other dogs very badly, strains and wags, but the moment they don’t return her enthusiasm, she gets nasty with them.

It’s possible she’ll need to go to a one-dog household, but I thought I’d check with you about training opportunities. I’d like to take her to a class; however, she gets so riled up by other dogs that maybe one-on-one would be better…? Are there any volunteers who do this kind of thing or any funds out of which to pay for it?

Day 2

The president emails back and says that the organization has had success previously with a class called Feisty Fido and that funds will be provided. Sounds good. The only drawbacks are (1) it doesn’t start until the end of May, (2) it’s in Raleigh, and (3) I may be on vacation for two of the four sessions. Something to consider anyway.

Day 3

I let Tulip out in the yard for her morning business. Usually, she goes and then comes right back to the door and scratches. After a few minutes, I open the door to check on her

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature poodle and my foster dog exchanging pleasantries, and something that rhymes with ‘appear’

As soon as mini-poodle catches a whiff of me, he shloops through the deck railing slats and bolts. I jump back inside in hopes, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, that the little asshole will come back. Seriously, Tulip and he seemed to be having a perfectly good time!

Hope for Tulip’s having doggy friends! My heart wags.

The Foster Chronicles: Tulip, Week 6, Days 4-7

The Foster Chronicles: Tulip, Week 5, Days 4-7

Day 4

I’m so tired and so sore, from work and from workouts. I decide to take the dogs on the shorter loop.

As I leash up Redford and Violet, Tulip worries (as usual) that I might not take her this time (even though I always take her).

Half an hour later, at the back door, I must zone out for a second because, for some incomprehensible reason, I untether Tulip first. Then Redford, but by the time I go for Violet, Tulip and she are already at it. Snarling. Teeth. Jumping. Clashing.

All the articles online say don’t yell—it makes it worse—but I’m yelling. “Stop! Stop! Stop! Goddammit!” Though Violet’s still on the leash, she’s attempting to fight Tulip off, and Redford is trying to defend his sister as well. We’re all going around in circles on the deck.

The articles also say, to break up a dogfight, you need as many people as there are dogs involved. Each person picks up the hind legs of a dog and walks backward. I’m by myself, and I literally, at one point, yell, “Oh, god! Help!” Who I expect to help me is unclear, but I am so scared.

I finally wrestle Redford and Violet into the yard and close the gate, shutting Tulip on the deck by herself. I don’t know if her heart rate’s up, but mine sure as shit is. I sit on the steps and pet Redford and Violet. When I glance back at Tulip, she’s wagging. It’s been five seconds since the fight. A rage boils inside me. For the first (and, I hope, only) time, I feel violent towards my foster dog.

I don’t act on my feeling. I breathe and pet my babies, then I take Tulip inside and put her unceremoniously in her kennel. She whines. I tell her to be quiet.

Violet is licking her right haunch. I flip on the light and take a look. She’s bleeding, there on her hip, and above and below her left eye. I wash her wounds and feel very, very sad.

Fifteen minutes later, I realize my thigh stings. I look down. My pants are torn, and my leg is bleeding.

Looking back, the skirmish lasted probably thirty to forty-five seconds, but in dog years, what is that?, like a fortnight or something. It certainly felt like it.

Day 5

I notice Tulip has a scratch on her right cheek. (I guess Violet got one jab in.) I wash her wound and feel very, very sad.

No walk today.

Day 6

My thighs are covered in bruises from the spat.

I realize Tulip may have to go to a one-dog household. That, or to an owner who’s willing to do some hard work.

No walk today.

I sprint out the door to make it my friend’s birthday dinner on time, realizing on the way there that my dark purple shirt is now fur-trimmed and I don’t have a lint roller. Ah, the perils of taking snuggly naps on the couch with one’s foster dog prior to social engagements.

Day 7

Between thundershowers, I gird my loins and talk the doggies for a walk. It’s amazing to me that they can walk on the leash with their sides touching, no problem, but the unstructured meetings explode into rage-fests.

Tulip poops and pees on the walk!

The Foster Chronicles: Tulip, Week 6, Days 1-3

The Foster Chronicles: Tulip, Week 5, Days 1-3

Day 1

Cousin-dog Barley comes over for a playdate. She, Redford, and Violet are in the yard. I let Tulip onto the deck. She waaaaaaaags and runs to stick her nose through the slats to greet Barley. Barley wags too, then there’s a moment, a hesitation, which Tulip interprets as Barley challenging her innate worth, and there are teeth and snarling and barking from both sides.

Tulip goes in her crate.

(sigh)

I need help with this.

Day 2

Tulip and I are chilling on the deck in the afternoon when, what ho!, a squirrel!, running up the big oak in the back yard. Tulip catapults herself off the steps and sprints the 20 feet to the tree, then begins circling the trunk, leaping and barking. It isn’t a hunnert-yard-dash, but I’m freaking out. I call her back, take her inside, and shut her up with me in the spare bedroom. She’s panting. I lie down on the couch, pull her onto my chest, pet her, shush her. She won’t stop panting. Is this what a pulmonary thromboembolism looks like? Do I get her to the emergency vet? Is there anything they can do for her if I do?

For twenty minutes, I try to stop her from panting, when finally I realize it’s 90 degrees outside, my air is off, and I’ve got this pit bull pressed up against my warm body. Maybe she’s just hot.

I set her to my side and pet her head gently. Within three minutes, she stops panting.

Christ on a cross. I can’t feel my legs.

Day 3

We do the neighborhood loop real slow, as I have legdo from Monday’s and Tuesday’s workouts. Takes us almost an hour. As usual, Tulip doesn’t go #1 OR #2.

Nelly comes over to meet Tulip. She’s just put down a deposit on a place that allows dogs, and she’s been wanting a dog since she was six. Tulip shnurffles and kisses Nelly and luxuriates on her lap. Nelly says she loves her and she’ll let me know if the apartment deal goes through.

Later, while I’m on the phone with my sister, Tulip squats on the doormat and pees?!

I take her out to the yard, where she pees some more and poops. I guess she really had to go, and I wasn’t reading the signs. I think back; she might have been pacing while I was on the phone. I suppose I need to pay closer attention. I wish she’d just go on our walks.

The Foster Chronicles: Tulip, Week 5, Days 4-7

The Foster Chronicles: Tulip, Week 4, Days 4-7

Day 4

She eats breakfast! The other dogs are outside, so Tulip and I lie down on the couch, stomach to stomach, her head on my chest, for just a minute. Or two and a half hours. Whoa. I guess we’re both worn out. That’s fine, since she’s going to have to stay calm for the next 30 days. She can go on leash walks, said the good ol’ boy vet who did the treatment, but “Whatchu wanna ‘void is the hunnert-yard dash.”

Day 5

In preparation for cheering my friends on at the Dismal Swamp Stomp half-marathon, I drop Tulip at my sister’s house for a sleepover. (Auntie Erika will pick up Redford and Violet from my house after work, and they’ll have a slumber party with their cousin Barley.) I give my small relatives (ages 10, 7, and 2) instructions on food, petting, exercise, correction, meds, and prohibited items (chocolate, grapes, raisins, onions, etc.—things that are poisonous for dogs).

Within two hours, I get an email from Wa saying that, other than her own psychosomatic dog ticks and the fact that Tulip won’t stop humping Eldest Niece, things are going well.

Then a phone call. Eldest Nephew had dropped a grape from his snack plate, which Tulip gobbled up. He immediately held his hands over his ears in terror, as if (my sister said) Tulip might explode. (Eldest Nephew inherited the Scotts’ genetic predisposition toward worry.) I assure everybody that a single grape will not kill my foster dog.

The best part is that Tulip freakin’ adores the Scary Man, greets him with wags and kisses, and whimpers and scrabbles at the fence when he leaves.

Day 6

My sister provides me with a list of Tulip’s unauthorized snacks, or attempted snacks. In addition to the grape:

half a crayon
plastic soccer ball
mouse carcass
door mat
golf ball
large plastic egg

Might have something to do with the next email I get, which states that Littlest Niece and Tulip are in competition to see who can poop the most times in a day. They are tied at three times.

Despite all that, my sister says Tulip is really sweet, wonderful with the kids, and appropriately fierce when the neighbor-man appears suddenly over the fence.

I pick up my foster dog in the evening. She’s happy to see me, but I get the feeling she wouldn’t mind staying at Auntie Wa and Uncle Scary Man’s house.

Day 7

We take two walks with two different aunties, the first around my neighborhood which is kind of boring, the second on Duke’s campus which is full of people! and squirrels! and smells! and dogs! other dogs! Tulip wants desperately to make friends with the other dogs and responds not a whit to verbal corrections or tugs on the prong collar I’m trying out with her.

We need to take a class.

The Foster Chronicles: Tulip, Week 5, Days 1-3

The Foster Chronicles: Tulip, Week 4, Days 1-3

Day 1

We practice “sit” in the yard on three separate occasions. She sometimes still jumps for the treat but several times executes the move perfectly. Yay, Tulip!

It’s hard work, so we sit on the deck to rest.

Day 2

A volunteer picks up Tulip at 6:15am to take her to her heartworm appointment in Greensboro, which is good because I really don’t want to burn $4/gallon gasoline two days in a row.

I miss her.

I buy a car.

Day 3

I drive to Greensboro to pick Tulip up from the vet. She got way cuter while she was gone.

After covering the seats of my new Mazda in old bed sheets, I load her up. Thus far, I have refrained from mentioning Tulip’s nervous tooting problem, but it exists, and she’s always nervous in the car. One hits me as I pull onto the highway.

Rewind a sec: That morning when I post on Facebook about the car, Margo comments, “you bought a new car for 3 dogs to tear up. sheesh.” And I tell her, justifiably so, I think, to

Back in the car, much to my chagrin, I look in the rearview mirror to find that, instead of floating a nervous toot, Tulip is quite literally shitting on my happy. Guess we should’ve taken a potty break before embarking. Thank god I covered the seats. I pull over, clean up the mess, and let her pee. She futzes for the rest of the ride home, giving me tiny heart attacks that something worse will come out of the business end of my foster dog.

We get home without another incident.

She’s pitiful.

She won’t eat dinner, but at least she takes the pills tucked into a glob of peanut butter off my finger.

The Foster Chronicles: Tulip, Week 4, Days 4-7

The Foster Chronicles: Tulip, Week 3, Days 5-7

Day 5

Auntie Melinda comes over to help walk. Again, it goes swimmingly. Whoopee!

Day 6

Guess who else likes to chill on the picnic table.

Tulip and I head to Phydeaux, an independent pet store, in Raleigh for an adoption event. When we arrive, two other foster pits sit out front. Tulip is ecstatic and practically asphyxiates herself straining against her leash to get to them. There are shnurffles and butt-sniffs. She really wants to play with the other doggies and yanks so hard on her collar that she does that sneeze-cough thing and then gaks a pile of dog food right in the middle of the grassy spot we’re sitting in. I do my best to calm her down, but after a while, two other fosters arrive, both with puppies, and Tulip’s like,

OH. EM. GEE. Puppiiiiiiiies!

Yank. Sneeze-cough. Gak.

I take her for a walk around the block to calm her down. We get back to the spot.

PUPPIIIIIIIIIIIES!!!!!!!!!

Yank. Sneeze-cough. Gak.

We go home. We were there less than an hour.

Day 7

I’m gone most of the day. It’s almost 7:00 by the time I get home. Tulip’s been in her crate all day, and she didn’t get a walk yesterday what with the 45-minute drive each way and all the yanking, sneeze-coughing, and gakking. She needs a walk. Violet and Redford need a walk. I shall walk them. All of them. Together in one combustible pod.

I leash up my two in the kitchen and Tulip on the deck. Because the kitchen door opens into the house, I worry about their interacting while I pull the door to. I take Tulip out to the driveway and shut the end of her leash in the car door, go back inside, get my dogs, close the door, walk with calm, assertive eneryee out to the driveway, and release Tulip. We’re on our way.

A couple of times Tulip kisses the other dogs on the side of the mouth. Occasionally, all of them sniff the same spot. Other than that, they all just walk.

Victory.

(Still too nervous to let them hang out together at the house though.)

The Foster Chronicles: Tulip, Week 4, Days 1-3

The Foster Chronicles: Tulip, Week 3, Days 1-4

Day 1

Even before I start it, Tulip tries to herd the lawn mower, trembling madly and nipping at the wheels. No verbal corrections work. When I get the machine outside the fence and start to adjust the wheels, she yelps and yips and arfs and awwwws. In fact, I can’t believe it’s just her. It sounds like several dogs at once; I keep thinking my dogs have joined in the cacophony. It appears my foster dog is having an anxiety attack.

In the spare bedroom she goes. I open the windows, turn on the ceiling fan, and head out into the yard to mow. I hear her freaking out from inside, and on one swipe across the yard, I look up to find that Tulip is hanging halfway out the window.

I’m somewhere between that fire hydrant and that pit bull-sized hole in the screen when I see her.

I sprint to the sill and shove her back into the spare bedroom. Back in the house, I shut the windows.

When I leave a little later to wash my car, I close the blinds too. When I come home, I see that

she has, in her fashion, dealt with the blind.

Why can’t I learn my lesson about crating?

In the crate she goes when I head to the gym. By the time I get home, it’s after dark. My headlights sweep over the fence.

Guess who’s back.

Mini-poodle.

Day 2

I read online that one way to help introduce dominant dogs is walking them side-by-side. I enlist some friends to help me. Auntie Erika is the first to come over. Tulip is in the yard, Violet and Redford on the deck. I bring my dogs inside to get leashed up. Next thing I know, Tulip is staring in through the screen door. What is it with my foster dogs and parkour?

We walk up and down my street, Erika with Tulip, me with Redford and Violet. And there is excellent behavior. Mostly, we walk a couple feet apart, but a few times, one of the dogs interacts with Tulip briefly, and it is fine. Going to try this again several times over the next week. Fingers crossed.

Day 3

I babysit my oldest nephew (7) and littlest niece (2). Littlest Niece calls my foster dog Puwit.

Day 4

Tulip is in the yard, Violet and Redford on the deck. I step inside for a second and hear a thud. I peer through the kitchen window. Tulip has vaulted herself over the gate, and all three dogs are standing on the deck, alert, sniffing each other. Calm-assertive-eneryee-calm-assertive-eneryee-CALM-ASSERTIVE-ENERYEE, I say to myself… panicking.

I flap Redford into the yard. Violet is being naughty, circling the porch furniture in an effort to stay out of my grasp. Finally, I drag Tulip into the house and hyperventilate a little bit. OK, I think, that wasn’t so bad. Maybe it’s time to introduce them. I put Violet away and take Tulip and Redford into the yard. Same as last time: glee from Tulip; romping; nerves; in the end, bared teeth from Redford. Sigh.

Tulip goes to the vet to make sure she’s healthy enough to go through with the heartworm treatment and gets the thumbs-up. The treatment is scheduled for next week.

P.S. Please help if you can.

The Foster Chronicles: Tulip, Week 3, Days 5-7