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29 March 2006
Fudge and I took a nap together yesterday morning. He was wandering around...kind of staggering around. I picked him up and, like Dandy had done, he cuddled into my neck with a contented sigh. I decided he needed "mothering"...and, frankly, I needed sleep, so we both slept for an hour.
When I woke up, he was still sleeping. In the meantime, Greta had let herself into the house and was very happily prancing about the place. I put Fudge down and he immediately found Sheila's bed and went back to sleep.
Greta climbed into the cage, of her own accord, and went to sleep as well. The "retarded ones" (the two who haven't figured out the dog door yet) slept outside.
(Blackie is determined to figure out the secret of The Magic Wall, that place from which dogs appear and disappear. I saw her take a flying leap across the patio and hit the dog door head first. It moved a bit, but she didn't figure out that if she pushed her head in farther, she could actually come inside. I'm not encouraging them to learn this little secret yet!)
I tried offering Fudge food again, but he wasn't interested. I found the Prescription Diet canned food that I had left over from Dandy and mixed some of that up with chicken broth to make it taste better, but again, he wasn't interested. So I got out my trusty syringe and gave him a few squirts -- about 1 oz total. He wasn't happy about being force fed, but he did eat it, unlike Dandy, who who had been just too weak to swallow.
By the time I decided to see how that would set on his tummy, he and I were both covered with liquid dog food. (Later I force fed him a lot more, which he hated, but at least a lot of food got into him, because I was very worried that he was starting to look a bit lethargic.)
I am definitely not fit for polite company these days, what with my clothes being covered either with dog food or dog shit--or both, my house smelling like an outhouse, my toilet overflowing.
A telemarketer from the Police Department called around dinner time and I hung up on him saying "I'm up to my elbows in dog shit and I can't talk right now." He probably thought I was kidding!
Good thing Lynn was here last week, and not this week.
Greta has decided the dog door is a wonderful new toy. I watched her go in and out of the door four times. I think she's trying to perfect her technique. So far none of the others have successfully made it inside, though Blackie gave a running leap at the door and managed to move the flap, but didn't follow through to actually looking inside. I'm calling Blackie and Curly the "retarded ones" because they can't seem to figure the dog door out (and I have to admit that I am definitely happy about that!!)
In the afternoon the puppies began to learn about boundaries. Kimba, who hates having puppies around, but who is less angry about it than she usually is, is growling and/or barking whenever they come near her bed, though she gives them plenty of time to get off. A couple even climbed into bed with her before she let them know she was NOT happy to share her space.
Sheila is fine until they come near something that she is eating and then she lets them no in no uncertain terms that this is not acceptable. This afternoon she was eating a Milk Bone dog biscuit and dropped part of it. I didn't realize the puppies were in the kitchen or I probably wouldn't have given her the biscuit in the first place. If you were as small as these guys and Sheila were standing over you, pinning you down and snarling, you'd learn pretty fast too. You never saw three puppies scurry away so fast, tail between their legs, yiping and yiping and yiping.
(I imagined it was the puppy equivalent of "I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry.")
After that I separated them all. Sheila went upstairs, Kimba went to her bed, and the puppies went into the cage so that everyone could have a much needed "time out."
When time came for the puppies to have dinner, the pan I've been using to feed them with was outside in the rain, so I got the next largest size. Curly (the biggest pup--I should have named him "Hogan," since he's a real Hulk) was the first in the kitchen. He put his paws in the pan at one side, slid all the way across the pan so that he was spread-eagle and his entire body covered the food, and then he started to shovel the food into his mouth and growled at anybody who tried to come near the pan. I had to pick him up and reposition him so the other puppies could have dinner too.
After his force feeding, by "dinner time" Fudge was back to his lively self and even ate some kibble. Now it's Greta who is refusing food, so she has had her first dose of antibiotic and I expect that she will be much better by morning...or else I'll have to force feed her too.
PHOTO OF THE DAY
Greta, Fudge, Blackie