Things I Have Pulled from My Dog's Mouth

We have done a pretty good job of puppy proofing our apartment. If we don't want him to eat it, we make sure it's put away or he isn't left alone with it. People who don't know me better might think I don't have many shoes, since most of them are now living behind a closed closet door. But, I can't puppy proof the outside world, and "leave it" and "drop it" are not commands that Reese is really comprehending or heeding. So, I have had the unenviable task of fully reaching into my dog's mouth to pull out all manner of debris. Here's a short list:

• Leaves (probably somewhere around 100 of them in the 3 weeks we've had Reese)
• Clumps of grass
• A rubber band
• A potato chip
• The hair from one of the stuffed squirrels that is part of one of his toys
• Sticks
• Bark
• Tennis ball fuzz (a lot of tennis ball fuzz)
• Tags from a blanket and dog bed
• Half a cookie he found in a yard while we were walking him - he tried to go back for that one

And these are just the things I have caught him eating. I am sure I have missed many chunks of trash that he's managed to ingest. And perhaps I am being overly paranoid, but I am doing my damndest to avoid doggie diarrhea. 

I can honestly say I never thought I would be so comfortable forcing a dog's mouth, sticking my fingers in there, and fishing out contraband. I guess we can call this growth?

One thing that has come out of his mouth without me pulling are puppy teeth:

 

So far, I have found three. They're so small and light - it's hard to believe that this tiny, hollow pieces of bone have left me so scratched and bruised! Hopefully as he loses the last of these guys, some of his need to chew and eat everything (whether or not it's food) will also fade away!

It's Been A Ruff Week

Reese has hurt his paw somehow - lord only knows how. It doesn't seem all that severe an injury, but the vet has ordered that we restrict his activity until it heals. That is certainly easier said than done. He wants to tear around and play, and we keep having to tell him no and confine him for fear he'll make his injury worse. We've also had to alter his bathroom route to ensure we taking him on short, quick walks - all business.

Our building has this great little dog run. It's covered in astroturf, has doggie poop bags, and a drinking fountain for the pups. It also allows me to let him off leash and get some of the energy out with other dogs from the building. But, since he can't play or walk far, we can't take him there right now. It just feels cruel.

We need that space in the building, because we live right downtown. There aren't a ton of green spaces for people or dogs. But, it so happens there is a law office with some grass across the street from our building. It's a super short walk, and I always pick up after him. Plus, this law office is clearly meant to service the county jail - we're not talking about some fancy white shoe firm trying to up its curb appeal or something. Well, we've been taking Reese there to do his business while he heals. Perhaps it's a dick move, but I always clean up the mess and properly dispose of the waste. And he likes to just sit in the grass over there in the shade and watch the world go by (sometimes too much when he refuses to move).

Today, after receiving a rather gutting job rejection email for a position I was pretty stoked about, I went to take Reese out. As he is sniffing around, this dude approaches me all heated asking me how I would feel about letting dogs use my lawn as a toilet. He goes off on me with this tirade and then has the audacity to tell me he's nicely asking me to take my dog elsewhere. I let him know he's not exactly asking nicely and leave. I cross the street and promptly start bawling.

The transition out here hasn't been easy. I have been picky with my job search, because I want to find the right position. But, not working has made it really hard to fully settle. I am starting to worry a bit about money, meeting people is a challenge, and I miss the stimulation and interaction a full-time job affords. Reese has been a good distraction, but he's also a big challenge and has severely limited my sleep.

So, I am feeling a little raw when some schlubby-looking asshole starts yelling at me about the unkempt grass in front of his place of employment dying because of dog pee.

My disappointment about this job will pass. Reese will heal. And hopefully, he will get easier to control and be able to go longer overnight so we all sleep better. But, and yes it's hack-y to say, I am currently having a RUFF time. 

Getting Out in the World

One of the things Eddie and I were most excited about when we thought about getting a dog was the idea of taking it places when the weather is nice. There are so many great restaurants and bars with dog-friendly patios. We had this fantasy of enjoying a meal or drink while our doggo laid placidly at our feet. Well, it should come as no surprise that, as with most things, the reality did not live up to the fantasy.

Our first attempt was largely a disaster. Last Friday (day 10 with the pupper) we attempted to go to dinner in our neighborhood. We have this stretch of restaurants with outdoor patios that allow dogs, so we figured we would try one out. We made sure he was fed and took care of his business before we attempted the adventure. When he seemed set, I grabbed the training treats, and we headed out. It was a mistake.

Friday night is super busy on this particular stretch, and it was a real effort to run Reese through the gauntlet of people we encountered. He was clearly overwhelmed, and it did not help that people were coming up and trying to pet him without asking us or waiting for him to approach them. But, we finally made it to a restaurant and got a table.

At first, he was fine. He sat and then laid down. I did my best to reinforce the behavior - offering praise and treats. Then, I asked the server if he could bring some sort of dish of water for Reese. He obliged by bringing a to-go carton filled with water. At first, Reese seemed appreciative and drank. But, after a couple minutes, he proceeded to knock the makeshift bowl over and tear apart the paper. So, I took that away and tried to move him to the other side of the table where there was less action happening. But, the other side of the table was flanked by large plants that proved too irresistible to leave alone. After a few minutes I found myself having to reach into my dog's mouth and pull out large chunks of leaves and other plant matter. And now matter how hard we tried, we could not get him to leave the plants alone. So, Eddie and I traded him off until I finished my entree, and I ran him home to leave him in the kennel while we finished our evening.

It was clearly too much too soon. So, this week I am working on smaller outings. The other day, I just sat with Reese in front of our building for 10 minutes. And today, we had a major breakthrough: we made it to Peet's!

Peet's is 0.3 miles walking from our apartment. By myself, it takes about 5-7 minutes to walk. With the pup, it took about 20. There was a stop to poop on the steps of the county building. There is tons of grass around, so his choice of location almost felt like a political statement. Then, we got scared by the sounds of some construction in our path, which stopped us dead in our tracks for a few minutes. We also stopped to say hello to a Husky we met along the way. But, we made it. I tied him up outside with a favorite toy and went in when I saw there was no line.

He seemed pretty distressed by my 90 second absence while I got my coffee, but once I came out he settled down. When he sat on his own, he got a treat. As he sat quietly and calmly, he got a treat. He even laid down for a bit, and he got a treat. We were able to sit there pretty well for about 20-30 minutes. Then, it seemed like his little meter ran out. Luckily, my coffee was also gone, so we headed home.

We made it home much faster than we made it to Peet's, and he sacked out from our adventure once we did. I am glad we made the trip. It was a good confidence boost for both of us. With time, I am hopeful we can make our fantasy of dining al fresco with the dog a reality!

Finding My Inner Alpha

Don't be fooled by the innocent look in these eyes: this dog can be a monster. He's a puppy. He is learning how to behave in the world. I have been trying to get him as much exposure to other dogs as possible without yet being able to take him to a dog park or big play group since he still needs his last canine influenza shot. After all, well-behaved dogs are the best teachers for a mischievous puppy.

What I am noticing is that he's real slow to pick up what other dogs (and what I for that matter) are putting down when it comes to play. He's so excited and enthusiastic that he doesn't get that bared teeth and growl from a dog means "stop jumping on my face," or that me walking away means, "I really like these jeans - stop eating them while they are still on my body."

My hands and forearms are covered in scratches from his razor-sharp puppy teeth. Several items of clothing have small holes from his repeated and insistent biting. And, there are nights that dealing with him nearly brings me to tears. I try to remember this is just a phase, and then I try to find a way to make it stop - or at least keep it from escalating to the point where I start bleeding.

All the advice I have read about physically removing myself or yelping does not work. For Reese, he just assume this is how I play. I walk away, and he thinks, "YAY we're playing chase!!!" I yelp, and he thinks, "OOOOH. I am so winning the game." I give him a toy, and he thinks, "Okay, lemme hone my chewing and chasing skills, so that we can get back to the really fun game where I bite her hands, feet, and legs." I sometimes worry our dog will develop a taste for human flesh if I don't put a stop to this and soon! So, I am working on a new strategy: showing him I am the alpha. When he starts getting really bite-y, I don't walk away. I walk toward him. I make him back away. I am calm, but I am firm - as Cesar Milan used to say on Dog Whisperer, I project "calm, assertive energy." I need to show him that I am pack leader, and I am not going to tolerate that kind of crap in my den.

While it doesn't necessarily stop play time, so far it seems to keep it from escalating. And, and this point, I will take it. He's going to be a big boy, and we need to nip all the nipping in the bud. Reese really is a sweet, good natured boy. And the sooner we exorcise (and exercise) away the demon dog, the happier we will all be! Until then, I just need to continue to show him that I am the bad bitch in the house, and he needs to respect my authoritay.

Puppy Perils

Puppy parenting is tough. I may not have kids, but I have been around them enough to know that having a puppy is combining the neediness (and frequent cleaning up of pee and poop) of a newborn with the destructiveness of a sugar-crazed toddler with scissors. We are learning that Reese is three dogs in one.

First, there is our sweet, lovable cuddler. The guy whose whole butt wags when we let him out of the crate in the morning or when we return from around a corner where he can't see us. He's our favorite.

Then, we have lead puppy. Lead puppy refuses to move for reasons that are never entirely clear. He sits or lays down and shall not be moved. The above photo demonstrates his, "bitch, I ain't going nowhere" face. Lead puppy is a real problem when we know that Reese has to go out. According to all the training literature I have been reading, picking him up is problematic. Apparently, he needs to decide that he wants to go (eye roll). While I am not sure I totally buy the philosophy, I will say that finding an alternative to picking him up would be good - he's 30 pounds of puppy now, but will probably reach more than 60 pounds of dog in a few months.

Finally, and this guy is our least favorite, we have what we've termed "Demon Dog." Reese is a puppy, and he loves to play. And when he gets really amped up, it's hard to de-escalate. He starts getting more intense with the biting and snarling, and getting him to stop when he's at 11 feels impossible. I've watched a bunch of puppy training videos, read many posts from experts, and consulted the trainer we're working with. We've tried redirecting the energy to training, which works until I am tired of making him sit, come, lie down, go into his kennel, etc. We've tried physically removing ourselves from his reach until he calms down. We've tried giving him more appropriate things to chew (bully stick, kong, toys). We've even tried corrections with the leash - that just lead him to attacking the crap out of the leash and thinking we're playing a new game. Nothing has been a silver bullet, and it really seems like the key is to try to intervene when he starts to get excited and keep the intensity level lower. But, that can be easier said than done - especially if you're trying to get something done. So, I also try to get him out of the house frequently in an effort to burn the puppy energy off. But, while he seems subdued and tired out in the world, coming through the door to the apartment reinvigorates him, and he starts tearing around like a crazy pup.

We don't totally know Reese's story. Pets in Need picks up dogs from other kill shelters and will keep them until they find their forever home. Reese was brought into a shelter in the Central Valley. It seems that someone had loved and cared for him - his ears were clean; his nails were trimmed; he wasn't dirty or mange-y. But, he had been abandoned. Someone found him and turned him into the shelter in Madera. I am guessing someone fell in love with cuddle-y Reese and couldn't manage Demon Dog. We're not giving up on him - I could never unless he really became aggressive or dangerous. But, I suddenly understand why so many rescues are utterly insane about the adoption process. They don't want people bringing the dog back - or worse abandoning it to a kill shelter.

I am getting A LOT of unsolicited advice about how to "raise" my puppy. (Side note: I can only imagine how much more infuriating it would be to get that sort of advice about a child). I am clearly no expert, but I will say think long and hard if you're thinking about a puppy and never had one. It can be really frustrating and stressful to deal with the puppy energy - and frankly painful with those razor teeth. And from what I have been reading, this is a thing all puppies will go through to some degree. So, if you're going to commit to a pup, make sure you're ready to meet and love the Mr. Hyde to your sweet Dr. Jekyll. 

Puppy Love

Meet Reese. He's our new puppy, and as the title of this post suggests, we are totally smitten.

I have always wanted a dog, but my mother was the crazy person who put in white carpet. Her vision wasn't that great when I was growing up, but she could see a speck on the carpet from 50 feet away. Her obsession with the carpet was so extreme that my father used to joke that if she ever went into cardiac arrest, someone need only yell, "What's that on the carpet?", and she would come right back to us. So, needless to say, my childhood was pet-free (save for a beta fish that lived about 2 weeks).

In college, Eddie and I adopted a cat. She was the sweetest kitty I've ever met; she absolutely loved people and attention. She would come greet us at the door, cuddle on our laps, and get very jealous when Eddie and I would hug, because we weren't paying attention to her. In fact, some of my friends even referred to her as a "dog cat." But, she HATED other animals, making the prospect of a canine brother or sister impossible. So, Eddie and I always thought we would get a dog when she was no longer with us. When we finally had to put her down in 2016, I was so shattered from the experience that I couldn't fathom signing up for that eventual heartbreak again.

We discussed it on an off for a long time - we even knew what we wanted to get: a Bernese Mountain Dog. They were big, fluffy, and lazy. Since Eddie and I both worked and were gone long hours, we wanted a dog that would just lay about while we were gone - one that didn't need marathon walks in order to behave. And, because the weather tended to be shitty at least half the year in DC, we figured the lazier the better.

But then we moved back to California, and I did so without a job. Now I am living somewhere that's usually somewhere around 60 degrees all year long, and I have nothing but time on my hands. Suddenly, a very expensive dog that doesn't want to be active isn't so appealing. Plus, I have always had some guilt about the idea of buying a dog - no judgement, I was just always a bit conflicted. So, I started poking around websites for local rescues and found one that was walking distance from our apartment: Pets in Need.

After a false start with an adorable shepherd mix the shelter wouldn't let us have (our building has breed restrictions, and she was clearly a mix of two of them), we found Reese. He's adorable. affectionate, trainable, and super charming. But, he is SO.MUCH.WORK. I knew puppies were hard - I knew they needed lots of exercise, stimulation, and to be let out to pee many MANY times a day. But, I had no concept of how hard it was going to be.

Right now he's very attached to us - and me (the one who gives the food) in particular. He follows me everywhere in our open floor plan. If I am in the kitchen, he is in the kitchen. If I am in the living room, he's in the living room. Never mind that there aren't any walls between the two. He just needs to be close. In fact, for the first time since I was potty trained, I am allowing someone to sit and watch me pee. If I don't, he just whines and gets very distressed.

We're all getting used to this new arrangement, and I am coming to grips with the fact that my home smells like dog (he's getting groomed as soon as we're done with the vaccines, and I am buying stock in Febreeze). But, even with all the work, frustration, and exhaustion, I can't imagine not having this sweet pupper in our lives. 💖

The Ultimate Sacrifice

It's a new year, which means a renewed optimism for getting stuff (like blogging) done! So, I have decided to try to recommit to writing here, and I can think of no better subject than my epic struggle to combat the weight gain that the stress of moving caused.

Being diabetic always makes weight management challenging. Insulin produces fat or something, so having a constant flow of insulin pumped into my body makes staying skinny an uphill battle. When you add the additional problem of low blood sugar necessitating extra calories (that are all sugar) to address, it becomes even more futile. But, on top of all the normal trouble I have, I sort of threw myself a several months long pity party about the move.

It's been a rough adjustment. I miss my friends, my house, and gainful employment (and the income that comes with it). Making friends has been hard here, and the friends we do have are busy with jobs, kids, or just other stuff in their lives that doesn't stop just because I'm here and lonely. I still don't have a job, so I haven't created a good routine for myself. What's more, after a long day all alone, when Eddie gets home I just want to open a nice bottle of wine as we discuss our unevenly busy days and enjoy whatever meal I've created. With the added bonus of not having to get up at any specific time the next day, the imbibing may have gotten a wee bit excessive. So, I am trying to remedy this in 2019 and am taking a mini break from booze.

This isn't a new year's resolution (because gross), nor is this a dryuary (too hard - especially with an upcoming weekend in Carmel this month). This is about trying to reset myself a bit and start the year healthier and more positive. One of the problems with drinking when you're already sad is that it can make you more sad (alcohol is a depressant after all), and I have had more than a couple wine-induced sobbing fits since settling here. So, taking a break is also helping my mood. But, and I admit this with a twinge of shame, this is HARD.

I love wine. I love the taste. I love pairing it with food. I love the warm, calming influence that a nice glass of red gives me. Also, there are certain foods and places where having a drink has become a near Pavlovian response. There is also the social element - we have cemented many a new friendship over drinks, and we're actively trying to make friends. So, going cold turkey, even for only 2.5 weeks, is rough.

I will admit I am sleeping and feeling better. And while I haven't noticed a difference at the scale yet, I am certainly hoping I will. Because even though the cold turkey phase won't be a permanent change, I do plan to try to cut back this year and only drink an amount that doesn't make me feel like I need to lie to a medical professional.

So, fingers crossed that this kick start in empty calorie cutting pays off. And hopefully the job hunt will get more fruitful soon, and the introduction of a more strict routine will bolster my weight loss efforts (see already being more positive). In the meantime, have a glass for me. Cheers!