Skippy's Holiday Trials

It's New Years Eve and we've left the dog with grandma and grandpa, yet again. This time of year has definitely been a challenge over the last few years to negotiate places for Skippy to stay. The real problem is that she is not well-behaved around infants and toddlers. Both my sister and Anna's sister have children under three, which means we've had to farm her out over the holidays.

It's kind of sad for us though. We don't get to see her much and we feel horrible about shipping her off, even though most of that time is with other family. While having Christmas with my family she was with Anna's parents, which isn't too bad for Skippy. She is knows them well and enjoys having the run of their house. While we are at their house Boxing day and the two days following, Skippy is spends time at a neighbour's house down the street, as we spend the days with our toddler nephew, whom Skippy has tried to nibble on in previous times. Maybe next year.

Although Skippy is well looked after, the constant change in venue is difficult for her. When she comes home she doesn't settle down easily and remains restless most of the night. The days of the holidays seem to blend into each other and before long it's New Years Eve and we're off again, but this time Skippy is shipped off because unfortunately, it's bad etiquette to bring your Jack Russell to New Years get togethers. I'm sure she'll settle down by Monday; just in time for me to go back to work.

Happy New Years, everyone!

Sleeping With the Enemy

My last post outlined my reasoning for having Skippy sleep in the same bed with us. This arrangement has effectively eliminated the "clickity-clack" of her claws on the laminate that would keep me awake nearly every night. But it also came with a few strings attached. It would be very easy to look at this through the lens of how I have helped the dog, but it seems more and more that Skippy is fully aware that she is obliging me. She therefore sees herself in a position to have her list of demands met in exchange for her cooperation. They are as follows in her own words:

1. I sleep on my side and don't enjoy my legs all curled up, so I'm going have them stretched out at all times. If at any time during the night I feel like this demand is not being met, I will kick you in the back or stomach. I realize this is inconvenient for you but I'm sure you'll adjust.

2. Those pillow-things that you guys sleep on? I don't need my own. I'm not unreasonable. I'll just share yours; again, I'm sure you'll make the necessary adjustments.

3. As you know, I am a tiny dog and therefore do not generate a lot of heat by myself. Also, I've noticed that you turn down the heat at night. If you are committed to this course of action then be warned that I am equally committed to staying warm. Thus, I will need to be close as physically possible to both of you. If you attempt to move me to another spot then naturally I will need several minutes to dig a new nest to find the most comfortable position. Also, when you fall back asleep I will simply go back between you. I do not have to get up for work in the morning, therefore I care not if my sleep is interrupted at night; I can make it up during the day. You, however cannot, so it is in your best interest to heed this demand.

4. I know that you attempt to dissuade me from licking fabric, but seeing as how I enjoy it and it relaxes me and helps me sleep, I will do this for around a half hour before sleeping. Again, I can wait you out, so I suggest you let this go.

5. Finally, I never snored when I slept on the floor—at least not to my knowledge. But now you seem to have a problem with this. I find this soothing. It means I am getting much needed rest. Therefore I suggest you purchase some ear plugs for the benefit of everyone involved.

"Clickity-clack, Clickity-clack"

The combination of laminate flooring and Skippy's nails makes for the most irritating sound in our home. It is so loud that guests continually comment on the constant clickity-clacking that rings throughout the house when our tiny Jack Russell wanders about. This is a sound that we've learned to tune out during the day so it's nice when others feel the need to comment on how loud it is, and then ask us if we find it annoying. And occasionally, someone will ask us how we sleep at night.

When we first got Skippy, and for probably another five years after that, she slept on the floor by our bed. Initially, she was in a crate because that's the "proper" thing to do, but after your puppy-mill-rescued Jack Russell is so determined not to sleep in that crate that she somehow claws herself free, you begin to rethink what is actually proper. And so a compromise was struck; Skippy slept on the floor in her bed. I'm sure there are many dog trainers and by-the-book owners shaking their heads at me but the decision was made and I still think it was the right one. Then about three years ago I decided that I needed Skippy to sleep in the same bed with us.

I'll pause for a moment to let everyone scoff and heap judgment on me for violating the sacred boundary between pack and pack leader...

I'll reiterate that this was my decision and it was not based on any desire on Skippy's part to join us, although she certainly did not object to the new arrangement. It came about because I need my sleep and this dog felt the need to get up a couple of times a night and stretch her legs. This was almost a year after we got the new house and the new synthetic wood floors. At the first "clickity-clack, clickity-clack" I'm suddenly awake, sitting up in my bed, then trying to guess what the dog wants. She doesn't want out, she doesn't want up, she's neither hungry nor thirsty—just taking a little stroll about the perimeter. Eventually she'd go back to bed, soundly asleep in a few minutes, while I then lay awake for the next two hours. When you're only getting six to seven hours to begin with, this puts a serious damper on your mood and your ability to function the next day.

After sharing my sleeping space with a Jack Russell for three years, I can certainly understand why these boundaries should not be disrupted. I'm getting my sleep every night, uninterrupted by incessant clickity-clacking, but it has opened the door to other minor issues that I'll get to in the next post. Our arrangement is anything but textbook but I think it really comes down to what you can live with. And what I can live with, is sleep.

Finding the Perfect Chew Toy

Since getting Skippy eight years ago we have tried several different toys to try and teach her how to play. She either seems confused or completely uninterested. When a ball or stick is thrown Skippy merely looks at me, waiting to see what I'm going to do next. Clearly the ball is meant for some greater purpose, and with a little more patience, she'll find out why it was thrown.

Even toys intended for chewing fail to entice her. I've tried one of those ropes with a big knot at one end. I think the idea is that the dog is supposed to chew on the knot while you hang on to the rope end; maybe you throw it too. It didn't matter. Stuffed animals, chew toys, and the like are all politely inspected when brought home, then promptly ignored.

I would have thought chew toys to be more to her liking. They seem pretty easy to figure out. But Skippy's tastes are not so... how shall I say this? Not so "commercial". She tends to prefer more "homemade" chew toys; the occasional pencil for example. Her most recent preference was my wife's oil paints. Luckily I removed them from her mouth before she punctured any.

As she sat there on the couch, unhappy that her new chew toys had been taken from her, she looked around for something else. Her eyes caught the alluring shape of a paper envelope, and then proceeded to destroy it. It all happened so fast. I could only sit and watch astonished that my Jack Russell was completely content to chew on paper because I took away her oil paints. Say that last sentence over in your head a few times, then tell me my dog isn't a weirdo. Or better yet, imagine me bringing home some new chew toys: "Hey Skippy, I brought you home some oil paints and stationary to eat!"

What's up with my Jack Russell?

She doesn't quite look all there, does she?

Skippy's New Digs

With the economy the way it is, we try to save anywhere we can. Turning the heat down during the sleeping hours is one recommended way to save on your gas bill through the winter months. The idea being that the house is at a comfortable ambient temperature during the day and at night you double up on your blankets. My wife has taken this logic to the next level by reasoning that we could save even more money by not turning the heat back up during the day, and keep warm by wearing sweaters (jumpers). The logic worked. We're saving money, but our tiny Jack Russell is freezing.

One tends to forget that some dog breeds don't have a whole lot more insulation than us. Skippy's hair is straight, and although the individual hairs are thick, her coat isn't. She's also very wee. I'm not exactly sure how body heat works but I can't imagine that she generates a lot of it (that being said, if I'm sick she makes a great hot-water bottle substitute). But Skippy is a pretty skittish dog as a general rule, so when we began to notice that she was shaking throughout the day, as if a thunderstorm was on the horizon, we just chalked it up to her nerves. 

Eventually we caught on that she was actually cold in our 15° C home—imagine that. We needed to get her a jumper too. So Anna picked this little t-shirt up for her, and now Skippy thinks she's so pretty. She prances up and down the length of the house, parading around in her new digs, trying to make Kitty jealous. I don't think she cares, Skippy, but we think you're cute.

If anyone at all can offer an explanation as to what this means, can you please post a comment? It has completely baffled us.

Discovering Fire

I was looking through some old camping photos and came across this one and had to laugh. She looks so young here, and very cute. It's from our first camping trip with Skippy and she had obviously never seen fire before. I remember it was a strange moment that caught me off guard. Something I had totally taken for granted—one's first campfire—was now being experienced by my dog. It wasn't until Skippy became totally captivated with the campfire that it occurred to me that this was not only new for her, but that it would also be a very strange phenomenon for a dog to see the first time.

If you happened to read my September 16th post, "That Something in the Rock," then you have a little glimpse into Skippy's ability to fixate. It's not an exaggeration to say that she stood like this the entire time we had the fire going. She occasionally moved into another position that afforded her a different view of the coals or the flame, but it always looked the same and she never tired of watching it.

Fire is old hat now. She'll still comes close for the heat, but no longer stares intently, mesmerized, as if in a trance as she did here on her first trip. I also remember Anna asking me if I thought Skippy would jump into the fire, as the dog seemed to inch herself closer and inquisitively lean her nose in just a bit further. "No, she's not stupid enough to climb into a fire and willingly burn herself." And then I thought about it a little more; my reason for saying this was that it would make no sense for any animal to do this. Animals instinctively know about the dangers of fire. They don't have to be burned by a forest fire to know it will kill them. But then when has Skippy ever obeyed common sense? I leaned closer and kept my arms free just in case our Jack Russell wanted to see what the fire tasted like.

A Will of Iron and a Bladder to Match

It's been raining pretty heavily here the past couple of days. Steadily, the water has filled the massive depressions in our driveway, not letting up even for an hour. It has periodically turned to wet snow and a mixture of shmang that melts when it lands on the deck. I would describe it as generally unpleasant. I'm not complaining, though; days of steady rain, even when it comes in torrents as it did this morning, are definitely better than days of continual, heavy snowfall. I'm sure those in the UK, who are currently experiencing the most recent onslaught of winter's wonderland, would agree. But it's during days like these, when the rain refuses to let up, that Skippy's stubborn, Jack Russell determination outweighs her physiological need to urinate.

She will hold off as long as possible, before letting us know that an accident on the floor is imminent. I opened the door for her last night and she slowly walked out onto the porch before stopping, looking behind her to see if I'm watching, then turn back to the stairs before her. The rain continued to pour. I opened the door and told her go down the stairs. These words are familiar to her. She almost expects them now after years of repetition; in fact we often need to prompt her in dry weather as well or she waits at the top, hoping for the instructions she is now so used to hearing.

It's with good reason that I now wait and watch to see what she'll do. Many times I've seen her pee right outside the door on the deck because she didn't want to get wet. I've also seen her walk down the stairs, after being inside all day, then turn around, walk back up the stairs to the door and start barking to be let in. I send her down once more. She goes down the stairs. This time she waits at the bottom for about ten seconds (don't forget it's still pouring out), then comes back up the stairs when she feels enough time has passed. We play this game a few more times before she realizes that I'm not going to let her win, and she finally pees. It has been three minutes in a cold rain storm and she's soaked and shivering.

So let me see if I understand this, Skippy: by your own choice you haven't urinated in eight hours and now you're perfectly willing to come back inside and possibly hold off for what—another eight? And not only are you determined to do this, but you are so determined that you'll spend an extra two minutes in the very rain you've been avoiding, just so you won't have to be out in that rain while peeing. Sure thing, weirdo.