Tunnel-Vision Takes Its Toll

In one of my September, 2010 posts, "Duped Again", I mention how the cat is easily able to predict and, in turn, exploit Skippy's habits for her own pleasure (see "Tag, You're It!" in the YouTube link section for a visual example). One of Kitty's strategies is to stalk Skippy from atop the furniture as she runs by unaware. Kitty, then waits for the most opportune time to descend on the unsuspecting Jack Russell, causing all kinds of commotion.

Sometimes I think it's only a matter of time before we come home to find that Skippy has had enough and killed the cat. But until then things will carry on as they have. Skippy seems to either forget that there is a world above her 10-inch frame, or she is completely unaware. I vote for option two.

Case in point: two days ago, Skippy wandered too close to Kitty's blue footstool, which Kitty happened to be sleeping on at the time. The approaching clickity-clack, clickity-clack of the dog on the laminate floor woke the cat, and never being one to pass up an opportunity, she hissed then swatted the dog. Skippy got so flustered as she tried to make a quick getaway.

Picture a tiny Jack Russell attempting to immediately achieve maximum speed from a still position, while standing on ice; her legs were moving but they were taking her nowhere. Realizing her efforts were futile, Skippy knew she had to find safety and it needed to be now. The safest spot she could conjure at such short notice flashed though her mind: Kitty's blue footstool had never let her down. And fortunately, it just happened to be right there beside her. So up she jumped.

You can't make this stuff up. What is up with my Jack Russell, indeed.

Tail Envy

Throughout the brief history of this blog I've devoted several posts illuminating the love-hate relationship between Skippy, our hopelessly devoted Jack Russell, and her older teen-aged sibling, Kitty. The hate portion of the relationship perhaps makes for more interesting stories, but the love also has it's moments simply because it is only shared by Skippy—the most recent display of this affection coming in the form of what I like to call, tail envy.

Now I'm not really sure if this has anything to do with Skippy's tail measuring just shy of three inches, but Skippy's love for Kitty's tail is on the verge of taking root as another one of her more bizarre neuroses. Things aren't as restless around the house as they have been with these two, as Kitty seems to have developed more of a tolerant attitude toward her lesser canine housemate. They can now usually walk past each other without Skippy getting hissed at or batted in the face. On some occasions, like a young preteen follows her idol, Skippy tags along close behind Kitty without incident, hoping to get feather dusted by her tail.

Even when Skippy is resting, her eyes follow the tail, casually swaying from side to side as the cat slowly saunters past. But the visual is only a cheap substitute for the real thing; for the touch of that soft fur, moving as if a mind all its own, upon the nose or as it brushes lightly across the eyes. And when the cat is perched close by, the temptation is far too great for this wee Jack Russell to resist. Skippy will move across the couch or shift in the chair just to put herself in way of the silky pendulum that swings to its own rhythm; a feeling she will never experience from her own tail that could keep time for the Ramones. What I think I find even more amusing than Skippy's obsession is Kitty's willingness to feed it. Like Hera in all her glory, she thrives on the power to hold her subjects hostage to her unrivaled beauty and grace. And Skippy is honoured to simply sit in her presence, just hoping to touch the hem of her garment.

You want this? Come a little closer.

It's not long and lavish, but it sure is fast.

A Celebration of Dogness

I want to take this opportunity to contradict the description of my blog and mention all of the neat little things that Skippy does that, not only endear her to us, but let us know that we are loved. Naturally, because this is my eccentric, neurotic, and possibly senile dog, these behaviours are consistent with her other less-endearing ones. So indulge me this once and I'll tell you why my Jack Russell is so great.

Every day I commute to work, in north Toronto, a little over an hour each way. I'm an English teacher and my wife is an artist who stays at home with our two daughters: Kitty and Skippy. Kitty is our teenager, indifferent to life outside her sphere, with little tolerance for us when the needs of our lives interfere with hers. She is only the teenager in attitude, though. Skippy, two years older, gladly plays the role of the younger sister; blindly devoted to her older sibling, despite the cat's mere tolerance of her presence. She is the baby of  the family. We stay up all night with her watching "So You Think You Can Dance", with Cat Deeley, during thunderstorms; she naps every afternoon; she cries when she doesn't understand something, and we understand these different cries; she loves to snuggle up as close as she can get; she demands our attention when not enough of it has been given; and she misses us when we are away. So she is dependent upon us. But how does she show her love?

At around four o'clock she sits in the entrance to the kitchen and stares across the great expanse of the living room to the front door. She knows that it won't be long before I come through that door and she can greet me with an unbridled barrage of barks. This can get very sad when I have to coach or have a meeting and don't make my entrance until seven. Yes, she still waits, albeit rather impatiently, and then, when I finally arrive, she will not settle until I sit on the floor, rub her belly and let her lie down beside me. When grandma and grandpa bring her home after a visit, she eagerly presses her nose up to the window of their car and whines with restrained excitement at the anticipation of coming home to see us again.

It's great to have this little bundle of joy follow me around the house wherever I go. No sarcasm here: it's actually quite cute. She overreacts when we leave her, but is so happy to see us again. Her love is unconditional. She only asks for our love in return; not in payment for her own but as a fulfilment of a basic need. As a couple with no children, and who are not likely to have any in the future, this tiny Jack Russell, perhaps in some small way, also fills a need in us.

Why isn't he home yet? That's fine, I'll just wait.

Skippy and the Bully

I would say that since the summer of this year the relationship between Skippy and Kitty has improved significantly. The direct cause of this has to do with a general improvement in the cat's temperament. It seems that Kitty no longer hisses when Skippy walks by. The two of them have peacefully passed away hours within a few feet of each other as they napped on our bed. And Skippy has been allowed to barrel down the living room corridor unhindered whenever she enters the house. Needless to say, it's been a relatively peaceful home these past five weeks. What has effected this change in our usually callous cat? I don't know; but just this week she relapsed into her old ways.

In our kitchen we have two water dishes out for the animals, along with Skippy's Brain Diet food (the cat's food is up high because Skippy was eating it). Skippy began eating, following her usual routine (totally a future blog post in itself) of grabbing a few pieces of food from her dish, bringing them into the living room, eating them and returning for more. Kitty, who was lurking nearby, placed herself beside Skippy's dish and decided to interrupt the routine. When Skippy returned for another mouthful, the cat hissed repeatedly, driving her away. Skippy tried a second time but there the cat remained, hissing over and over until Skippy skulked away, crying. She jumped up onto the couch where my wife was sitting and began to shake.

Skippy had gotten used to this improved level of tolerance and had become quite complacent with Kitty. Maybe this was intentional on the cat's part: some elaborate scheme to get Skippy to let her guard down, perhaps. It's difficult to tell with cats sometimes, how much of their behaviour is planned with an end result in mind, or how much is merely a whim. Either way, I think Kitty simply saw an opportunity to amuse herself, and us too, as it turns out; because, as much as we sympathize with Skippy's plight in this situation, we can't ignore how funny it was.

The Jealous Jack Part II: The Mope

This is a continuation of my September 17th post, "The Jealous Jack", so if you haven't read that one yet give it a quick read and come back to this one. That's only a suggestion so that you have the full picture of the type of situation I've described and am about to illustrate. Certainly no one is stopping you from reading on.

So far, Skippy's jealousy issues with Kitty have caused her to whine, foolishly jump down from the couch to receive Kitty's wrath, and roll over on her back, shifting her body to procure our attention, thus diverting it from the cat. If both of us are present, and one is near Skippy, that person will try to calm her down and explain that the cat is allowed to have love too. If only one of us is present and the cat is laying on us, the dog whines louder and twists her body back and forth in her futile effort to get us to pet her. But she is not satisfied to simply pet. To fully please this Jack Russell we must not allow the cat do any of the following: climb on us, purr while on sitting on us, or lay on us while casually licking one of her paws, thus rubbing her one-on-one time in Skippy's face. Personally, I don't think the cat cares what Skippy thinks.

What I do think is that my Jack Russell is completely pathetic, and maybe a bit mental. When her transparent attempts to distract, deter, and divide us from the cat have all failed; when it is clear that the cat has won and all hope of Kitty's rejection is lost, Skippy admits defeat. But she doesn't take this defeat passively. She jumps off the couch hesitantly, takes a few more steps before she stops in the middle of the floor. Isolated and forlorn, she looks back with one last attempt to exude her pathos, hoping that I will take pity on her and eject the cat from my presence. Dejected and determined to be alone, she trots to the door and barks to be let out. Sorry, Skippy: I'd let you out but I have a cat on me.

They Call Me Kitty

When people ask me what my Jack Russell's name is, I can give two responses: the name we gave her and the name she has given herself. "Your dog gave herself a new name? It must be really smart." I guess when you look at it that way it seems like a logical jump; that is until you meet the dog.

No, I'm afraid that the explanation is much simpler than that. Skippy's extreme insecurity as a legitimate pet in our household only intensified with the arrival of Kitty four years ago. Any attention given to the cat meant attention withheld from Skippy and therefore, signified Skippy's demotion to second pet. Skippy also began see how cool the cat was. She was amazed at how quiet she walked, how she didn't care about anything, how she didn't get scared or nervous all the time. The cat was like, "whatever" and Skippy soon came to envy the cat and became jealous of her innate coolness.

But what could she do? The solution provides us with even greater insight into how incredibly strange this dog is. Since Skippy quickly realized that she couldn't compete with Kitty with respect to her grace, poise, and overall lack of respect for authority, she decided that she would become Kitty. From that point on, she resolved not respond to her name the other 50% of the time and only respond to "Kitty". As you can imagine, this became very frustrating for us as whenever we called the cat, the dog would come running. Maybe it is because "Kitty" sounds similar to "Skippy" and the dog is confusing the sounds. I wish it were only a case of bad auditory reception. But the two sounds must be distinguishable enough to her ears because she comes to one and no longer answers to the other. I'm afraid this is a choice that is somehow meant to up Skippy's cool status in the eyes of her human cohabitants.

The decision to change her name was only the beginning of Skippy's Kitty worship. We have found Skippy sitting uncomfortably on the arm of the couch or on the back of the couch looking out the window: two of Kitty's favourite spots. Her face betrays both her eagerness for approval and her awkward discomfort, as her soft nest of blankets lies unused nearby. The cat also has her favourite stool, which she loves to sleep on. If she leaves it, Skippy immediately replaces her and takes up residence on the stool. She looks at us with a ridiculous smile. Yes, Skippy, you are just as cool as the cat.

In addition to this, I once watched the cat grab a rolled up sock out of the laundry basket and toss it in the air, then jump and catch it again. We were all amazed and praised the cat for her agility and prowess, and even took turns throwing the sock up for the cat to catch. She played along for a few more throws before she got bored and walked away. Skippy then jumped off the couch, walked up to the abandoned sock, nosed it a bit, then turned to face us, hoping to receive her portion of the praise we bestowed on the cat. We patted her on the head and told her she was pretty.

I'm not really sure how to conclude this. Skippy's strange behaviour provides us with many laughs because she's quite a pathetic little creature. She wants our approval so much that she will go to any length to obtain it; even to the point of impersonating the cat who despises her. I find it hard to believe that this is a trait common to Jack Russells, and although she had troubled beginnings, she has received constant love and inclusion into our family for the past eight and a half years. So really, what is up with my Jack Russell?

You are very pretty, Skippy; and a tad pathetic.

The Jealous Jack

I've established Skippy's troubled past. Her lack of socialization with humans has certainly left a permanent impression on this poor dog's psyche. She is continually worried about being abandoned, even after eight years with us; and despite the constant love my wife shows her, she still has a desperate need for attention. And so, enter the cat.

Kitty is an average cat in many respects. She wants and gives attention on her terms. If she doesn't want to be pet and you try to, you will most likely get scratched for your effort. But she will occasionally brush up against your leg or climb on your lap, puring loudly. If your really fortunate, she might abrasively draw her sandpaper tongue across your arm or leg a few times. As if to draw attention to herself by means of distraction, Skippy immediately feels the need to intervene.

Now let's visualize this for a moment: Skippy is on the couch resting as she does most of the day. Kitty walks into the living room and brushes by my leg. The dog jumps down from the couch. Momentum naturally gives her a few extra forward steps upon landing, bringing her within inches of the cat's behind. Skippy had obviously not fully thought this course of action through beforehand, and in her jealous haste she puts her in a situation that she had not anticipated.

There is moment of stillness. Time is stayed just long enough for her to look up. Fear and uncertainty cover her face. It is a moment of frozen panic for Skippy as she realizes what she has just done. But for the cat, there is no pause. She does not wait. She turns immediately and brings her paw across Skippy's face, breathing her hateful hiss.

Occasionally - in a rare moment of mental clarity - Skippy remembers the consequences of her impulsiveness. But not content to let the cat have her due share of human attention, she rolls onto her back, her legs inappropriately spread, and with her strained cries, gives a mighty voice to her sorrow: "Formerly abused Jack Russell over here, needing her belly rubbed. Don't look at the cat anymore, please. I'm pretty sure that cat wasn't abused. In fact, I think a few times I heard her bragging about her "no abuse" past. Did I mention that I was neglected as a puppy and am now emotionally stunted?"

What's up with my Jack Russell? Maybe in this situation the answer is clear.

Don't worry, Skippy: we love you the most.

Just In Case You Forgot: I Hate You

This little episode has more to do with Skippy's dysfunctional relationship with the cat rather than some peculiarity of her innate Jack Russell-ness. If you haven't read the previous posts on the cat you might want to just to give this a little more flavour.

As we know, Kitty has little time or love for Skippy. Although the occasional moments of peace occur between them -- when they can both co-exist on the same bed or couch without incident -- they are treasured rarities in our household. Often is the case where Skippy is hissed at for either being too close, too loud, or maybe the cat smells something our human noses can't detect.

On this particular occasion, poor Skippy was targeted for no fault of her own, but simply because she existed. She breathes the same air as Kitty and on this day it was made clear that this was unacceptable. It was a quiet afternoon. Skippy was napping as is her usual custom after long nights of licking the bed sheets, scratching herself and snoring louder than my grandfather did in his recliner. She was in her little Skippy-sized bed on the floor of our study dreaming of exotic textiles from the Far East or imagining herself running clockwise around a track, only able to make right turns.

Kitty was also napping in a different room but thought it good to get up and stretch her legs, eat some food, and make a quick patrol of the grounds before settling back down to complete the last quarter of her long daytime slumber. In the course of her rounds she happened upon Skippy sleeping so peacefully. As Kitty watched her, she was suddenly reminded of how much she hated Skippy, and of course, this was something the dog ought to be reminded of. So she walked up to the sleeping Jack Russell and gently nudged her with her paw. There was no need for claws on this occasion: just a nudge would do to rouse her. After being prodded for a few seconds, Skippy finally awoke and lifted her head to see the cat sitting in front of her. Kitty hissed, and walked away, leaving a very confused and distraught dog wondering what had just happened. She turned to my wife, hoping for some kind of explanation, but none could be given.

Poor Skippy: maybe the cat hates it when you lick fabric

Perhaps the cat did it to make her feel better about herself, as bullies so often do. But I think the explanation is much simpler: a gentle reminder of an important fact to a dog who clearly has memory issues.

This Fabric Is Tasty!

This one makes absolutely no sense to me: this being the perpetual licking of furniture. There is no possible way I could exaggerate the degree to which this both annoys and astounds me. I've heard from sources unknown that this rather bizarre trait is not uncommon to Jack Russells, but I have a hard time believing that the degree to which Skippy licks furniture and other choice textiles is inscribed in the history of the breed. Let me explain what's going on here for those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about.

The dog, lying on her stomach with her paws in front of her, licks what ever surface she happens to be on. She licks continually, keeping the same rhythm, lick after lick until something either startles her, distracts her, or she is told stop. The latter scenario only causes her to pause momentarily while she begins one more lick, stopping at the mid-point, her tongue held in a sort of stasis, exposed, frozen in time, with its end glued to the newly soaked sofa. She then raises her eyes to follow the sound of the voice that just interrupted her. She is confused. She attempts to interpret the tones and intonations of the voice but she can't seem make meaning of it. She then concludes that the person speaking to her cannot possibly be telling her stop doing what she is doing, because clearly this is completely normal behaviour and besides, the wool tastes ever so good. Thus, after stopping mid-lick and staring blankly at me, she resolves that I am clearly the one who is insane and she continues to expand the diameter of the wet-spot between her paws.

This is definitely an odd sight to behold. At first this seemed to be merely a case of tongue-going-astray while she is licking her paw. That is an odd sight in and of itself; sort of akin to a thumb-sucking toddler. She begins with the paws, licking incessantly. Eventually her mind is unable to contend with the extraordinary focus required for this task and her tongue just sort of trails off and makes its way toward the fabric where she continues to lick, seemingly unaware that she is no longer licking herself. What's the deal here? I do not have the answer.

I stated above this was what I thought at first. Now I am convinced that this was just a ruse on her part for the sole purpose of  trying to maintain an excuse for this strange fabric fetish. It is as if she was saying, "licking paw seems pretty normal. If I do that for a bit no one will pay any attention to me. Then once they're convinced that I'm not doing anything out of the ordinary, I'm going to get to work on the couch and no one will be the wiser. See, they're totally falling for it. I'm so clever." But now, more often than not, she jumps right into the fabric, getting right to the end game.

I find this beviour absolutely odd and it only contributes to the eccentric nature of this beast. It is possibly the most mystifying of all of her behaviours. Can I get a witness on this one? What is up with my dog? There is no way this can be normal; even for a Jack Russell.

Words cannot really express how strange this is to me.

Duped Again

Unfortunately for Skippy, she is a creature of habit. Again, I don't know if this strict adherence to routine is characteristic of the Jack Russell, but with Skippy, it certainly is. You would think that this would make it easier to train her. It actually makes it near impossible! That being said, her reactions to circumstances that are new or out of her control will very quickly birth a new array of strange habits (see future posts on thunderstorms and my wife's cooking).

One of these habits Kitty has cleverly figured out is that every time Skippy comes in from outside she must, as if by compulsion, blindly run as fast as she can down the entire length of the 25-foot entrance way and living room. There are several pieces of furniture that provide Kitty with ample cover and height to either hide behind or climb upon.

At different times I have seen this cat wait behind a chair until Skippy is about to pass her before she jumps in front of her and hisses her hatred. Maybe this is Kitty's way of playing, you say? I am convinced that it is; but let me continue, as her "playing" seems to take on a more aggressively vindictive nature.

When Kitty really feels adventurous she will use the furniture as a vantage point to stalk her prey; this dim-witted Jack Russell. Following the dog from her aerial vantage point, she jumps from chair to table to couch, all the while, Skippy, unsuspectingly quickly trots down the corridor, oblivious of her imminent danger. At the very last moment, as Skippy begins to decelerate, the cat descends upon her from above, sending the dog into a panic. She begins to shiver as if cold, and looks at us, her supposed protectors, with confusion and terror.

Finally, and perhaps the most playfully cruel of her methods of torment is to wait behind a chair patiently until Skippy passes, at which point she stealthily follows in behind. When Kitty is close enough she swats Skippy's hind legs out from under her. At this point all those forces of physics that I know nothing about - momentum, velocity, inertia and friction - take over and Skippy slides across the laminate flooring until she collides any number of possible objects.

Let's take a moment of pity for Skippy, our victim Jack Russell terrier.

Now let's look at this a little closer. First of all, it is difficult not to laugh when you see this unfold in front of you; actually it's quite shocking. Initially there's laughter combined with shock, followed by small amounts of guilt and pity, and you comfort the dog through your smiles and later you laugh again when she is not looking. I guess what really amazes me about these situations is that Skippy seems to have the inability to learn from them. She must run down the entire length of the room. The innocence of her expression is sad to our pitying eyes. She is the only one who doesn't see; the only one who doesn't remember; the only one who is surprised. Seriously, what is up with this dog?

I took the photo right after the cat attacked Skippy twice. Every morning Skippy comes into the bedroom. Easy pickings says Kitty.

The Love/Hate Relationship of Skippy and Kitty: Skippy Loves - Kitty Hates

When my grandmother passed away four years ago my wife and I inherited her 5-year-old cat: a beautiful calico with the temperament of a reincarnated Cleopatra. Her name is Kitty and it did not take her very long at all to decide that she hated Jack Russell terriers. This might be a generalization on my part since she has not met any others. It could very well be that she only hates ours.What makes this situation all the more humourous is that Skippy is either completely unaware of this fact as if she could not comprehend the possibility that another creature, this new addition to the family, could dislike her, or she simply forgets that the cat hates her and therefore, approaches each new day assuming that they are best friends only to receive a paw across the face or become the object of vehement hissing reminding her that their relationship is one of distant toleration.

When the cat came, Skippy tried to make friends as best she knew how, having never been properly socialized with other animals. These repeated attempts employed the same tactic of frantically running up to Kitty's face and barking in it, then running away, then back again as if to scream, "I'm here! I'm here! We're playing now, right? Yes, we must be playing! Isn't life great!"

The cat responded as many of us would: "Dude, you're in my personal space and you have really bad breath. What, you're back again? I just told you that you're in my space! How old are you? Stop saying the same thing over and over again! I told you to get out of my face! If you do that again I'm going to slap you. And you're doing it again. Here-!" (slap) "And no, life isn't great because the old lady who fed me tuna and cream, is gone."

But the next day would bring with it a new sense of optimism for Skippy, or she simply had no recollection of their previous encounters and was therefore not able to learn from them. Kitty, though she clearly had no time for Skippy, soon caught on that something was amiss: there was definitely something not quite right with this dog and she was cunning enough to learn how to exploit it for her own sadistic enjoyment.

This is good general introduction to their relationship. I'll leave it here and continue with several episodes, labled with "Skippy" and "Kitty", and where we'll ask ourselves continually, "what's up with this Jack Russell?"

Is it me or does Skippy look slightly ill at ease?