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HAPPY DAYS 1 October 2006 "Happy days are here again...." Mini was spayed yesterday. In one way, I was sorry I had no camera with me when I picked her up at the vet. She looked like she had a hangover. If a short haired dog can have hair that looks "mussed," she did. She was just coming out of the anesthesia, so her eyes were slits and she looked disoriented. And she's an old lady, so she really hurt from her incision. In fact, she bit the tech at the vet's office and she bit me when I tried to carry her to the car because we were hurting her. (They told me to check her stitches, but she won't let me anywhere near her tummy and I've been bitten several times now, even when I try to pet her on the head, far from her stitches.) I put her in the cage immediately after we returned from the vet so I didn't have to worry about Sheila hurting her and so she could sleep off the anesthetic. They had said she'd probably wake up around 8, but they meant p.m., not a.m. and she didn't stir until 8 a.m. this morning. By that time she had been more than 24 hrs without food or water and I knew that she needed to move a bit at least. I opened the cage door and she staggered out, walked as far as Kimba's old bed, flopped on it and went back to sleep. She will be moving to her permanent home on Saturday.
Friday morning, Ashley brought "Happy." Happy is a Benjy looking terrier, full of life, and running Sheila ragged. Sheila has drunk an entire bowl of water in the brief time Happy has been here. The two of them have been racing around the yard, in and out the dog door and blissfully happy. Before Happy learned about the dog door, I had closed the back door and then looked and Happy was leaping at the door. And I mean LEAPING!
Now that she's discovered she has control over coming in and out, perhaps she won't feel the need to leap at the door. She learned going in fairly easily--just followed Sheila. But it took a bit longer to get her to go out, and that was a lesson Sheila decided to teach her, by inviting her to play, then running out the door, turning around and waiting for Happy to join her and, when she didn't, running back inside again, inviting her again, running out the door and waiting for her. Happy finally got it. We had a flurry of activity about Happy, though. Walt was leaving for work. The dogs were playing in the house. I was here in my office. Suddenly I heard this blood-curdling scream from the carport. Happy had slipped out when Walt opened the door. She had immediately raced up the street, waaaay farther than I could run to catch up with her. I sent Walt off on his bike and I got the car key and went to look for her. A girl passed by on her bike, going in the other direction. "Is that your dog?" she asked. "Yes," I replied. "Well, you'd better catch her; she's running in the street." Gee. Thanks for the help! Walt rode everywhere. I drove everywhere. No Happy. When you chase a dog, you are limited to streets, while the dog is free to run into people's yards, hide behind trees, and really disappear just about anywhere. I knew that since Happy had been here less than an hour, there is no way she would wander home and I finally gave up the search. What could happen? Either she'd get hit by a car, or she'd get picked up by Animal Rescue, in which case we'd get her back eventually. After I got home again, suddenly Sheila started barking and barking and barking. Hoping against hope, I went to the front door and there was Walt, with Happy in the driveway. She had found her way back, but wouldn't come to him if he called her. But when I opened the door, she walked in as if there was no problem and she owned the place.
I realized that you really have to watch her carefully because she followed me out the door, too, when I went to pick the mail up. Fortunately, with me, she stuck to my feet and didn't run off, and just followed me back in the house. But clearly, some "don't go out the door until I tell you it's OK" lessons need to happen very quickly. After watching her and Sheila chasing each other around for awhile, I finally admitted that this is exactly the kind of dog I had in mind as a second dog after Kimba died. Smaller than Sheila, small enough to be a lap dog, big enough to play with Sheila. She seems to have a calm disposition, but also has her energetic side. (The family that adopted her first returned her because she "played too much.") And so far she hasn't shown any interest in chewing anything. I have no idea what bad habits will begin to emerge as she feels more comfortable here. But then she hasn't even been here half a day yet.... We'll have to see if she's still as appealing when the newness wears off and she starts testing limits. |
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This is Journal entry #2376
9/16/06
