Ryan and I had been talking about getting a dog for a long time. I would much prefer a cat, but between Ryan's allergies (currently under treatment with shots - which seem to be working quite well) and those of his family (he wants them to be able to come visit/stay), a cat is out of the question. Even though they are low maintenance, often look after themselves, generally don't maul their owners (too badly)...
Never mind about cats.
In an effort to meet both our wants/needs in a dog (he wanted something lazy, I wanted something to skate with, neither of us really wanted *big* since our yard is small, but we couldn't go too small because it gets really cold...) we were looking at Swedish Vallhunds, and had gotten ourselves on a waiting list with a breeder in Wisconsin. They're basically Corgi sized German Shepherd or Wolfy looking dogs. Being herders, I would be able to take it along skating, and it would likely have been trainable enough to get it to lay around when he needed it to - plus being Nordic by ancestry it would do fine in the cold.
Then I looked at the Star of the North Humane Society website - the shelter is just down the street from where we used to live... and saw this:
Well, OK - I lie. What I actually saw was a very similar puppy, but she was brown & white rather than grey & white, and her name was Poppy, not Velvet. Very typical boxer colors, plus shar pei wrinkles. She was really, really cute. That was a Friday afternoon. That night, we talked about it. Could we deal with a puppy so soon? (The litter from WI wasn't due until early May, so we wouldn't get a pup until mid-summer or so.) What did we need to get? Who had things on hand that we could borrow?
We went to the shelter at opening time Saturday morning. Poppy was nowhere to be seen - already adopted out, but the website hadn't been updated. There were still five puppies in the kennel though - out of the litter of 10 (nine female, one male)! Some had been sent to Duluth, since the shelter didn't have room for all of them. Pepper, Ebony, Velvet, Clooney (the male) and ... and ... I've forgotten the last one's name. Velvet and Ebony had the wrinkles, the other three were more Labbish. Website had said the pups were from a shar pei father and a lab-mix mother. (We have since decided that the mother was likely a lab-boxer (laxer/blabber as Linda says) mix.)
Of the five pups, there were really two that stood out to us. Pepper - obviously the more dominant of the group - always at the front, the most energy, etc.; and Velvet - obviously the runt - always at the bottom of the pile, smaller than the rest by about 30%, but very patient. We got them both out of the kennel, one at a time to take them into the office area and get to know them a little better. Pepper zipped around, paying little attention to us. Velvet... she was more interested in us. Once she was away from her siblings, her meek attitude warmed, her tail wagged, her demeanor brightened. This was the one. We turned in our adoption application, complete with references, and were told we should be able to pick her up the next day.
We needed a name. Velvet? That's a bit heavy of a name for such a little pup. (Admittedly, that was what she felt like - and mostly still feels like, particularly around her face/belly.) I wanted a flower name. Girl dogs do well with flower names. Lily? Myrtle? Violet? Daisy? Ooh. Daisy. Hey Ryan - Daisy? Yeah, that could work.
We also needed supplies. Off to the store, where we picked up a little bed, a food dish, water dispenser, some toys, food, treats, a gate for the kitchen doorway...collars, leash Off to Linda's, where we picked up a couple of crates - a really little one to start with, a bigger one for the future. Off to home, where we attempted to at least partially puppy-proof the house.
Oh, boy. Are we (am I) really ready for this?
Sunday morning, March 21 we go to pick up Daisy (formerly Velvet). Our references have been contacted, we've been given a glowing recommendation, and they're ready to give Daisy her booster shots and send her out the door (after the appropriate payment, of course). We get in the car, put her in the little crate, and head for home.
Yikes! This crate thing is not so good... Ryan took her out and held her for the rest of the ride home, so she'd cease bashing her nose (and that adorable little nose wrinkle) against the door. Introduce her to the house, give her a bit of food, show her the water dish. Then... well, we've got to go show Linda the puppy she's lending her stuff to - off to town! Ryan holds her for this trip too. We visit the station, Pat's house, a couple of stores... big day for a little pup.
Out of curiosity, we weigh her when we get home - she's 8-9 weeks old, and a touch over 5 pounds. Over the next few days, she gains a pound and a half. She eats an incredible amount, but typically leaves some in the bowl, so she's not just stuffing it all in for the sake of stuffing it.
We took her in to the Vet on the 24th for more shots and a general first checkup. All is well! She's a little behind on development - likely due to being the runt and being the last in line at the food dish. Vet and all the staff in the building immediately fall in love with her. She takes a turn around my office, and gets more aww and praise.
At this point, she mostly just slept, ate, eliminated, and tried to adjust. The first few nights in the crate were really rough. She'd bark and yowl for 40 minutes, then 20 minutes, then 10, then 5, then 2, then just a few whimpers... after the first week or so, she understood that being in the crate meant it was bedtime, and she should can it/stuff a sock in it/hush/hey, we're trying to sleep here! She much preferred to sleep on (in priority order): one of us (which we tried to discourage), her blanket, her bed... even more so if any of those happened to be in a sunny spot. With some work, the crate became good enough. (Until Ryan's family came to visit and let her sleep in their laps all day... then we started all over with the yowling and carrying on at bedtime - for a full hour before she finally gave up!)
We also started going for walks - mostly to tire her out so she'd sleep (more). To the Post Office, around the block, past the Bar... people really love her at the bar - we can't really walk by without stopping if they're open - somebody always wants to see Daisy! Her stamina wasn't so great at the beginning, but we were gradually able to walk further and longer before she'd just sit or lay down and not budge. Only had to carry her home a couple of times. We now walk probably at least 2 miles a day, often more. She and I did the Marble-Calumet walk on the trail earlier this week, which was a touch over 3 miles in one go.
After about three or four weeks of gradually lengthening the time between wake-up calls to take her outside (that whole young bladder thing), she was able to sleep through the better part of the night. Phew! She hasn't woken us up before about 6:15 in quite a while, and is generally happy to go back to sleep for a little while after that. Too long, and she wants breakfast. She's even let Ryan sleep until nearly 8 a couple times. I haven't been so lucky, but have made it until a few minutes after 7:00.
Now... the reason I called this blog Learning to Love my Four-Legged Buzzsaw:
Daisy loves to chew. Thankfully it's on things she's supposed to chew. But as a wee pup, she went through first the puppy size Flexi-chew Nylabone, then (2 of!) the regular size, then straight through the "Souper" size as well, in very short order. She'll go through a 3" square of baked pigskin in a matter of minutes (if she's feeling the vibe). The 'healthy edible' nylabone things disappear at an alarming rate if they're not taken away after an inch or so goes down. Greenies? Poof. Pegebles (veggie shaped treats - fairly tough)? Poof. Anything rubber designed for puppies? Poof. Well, OK - she doesn't eat those, they just get so full of tooth-holes so fast that we have to take them away before they collapse from the lack of structure. Her food disappears at an alarming rate, but she's never made herself sick from eating too much/too fast. Sticks, bark, branches - all get reduced quickly to fine mulch or sawdust. Pine needles, pine cones... Roses or anything else with briars... she really doesn't care. Dead fish, snails, frogs, birds, mice... (these are the only things that have made her sick, and that was only once.) And ice cubes... she loves ice cubes. Teething is pretty much done except for the big canines.
Amazingly, the soft toys - the various fleecy, fuzzy, squeaker laden toys have survived. She still has everything she started with, and they're reasonably intact. Tennis balls hold up fairly well - she doesn't try to strip the fuzz off of them. Unfortunately, terrycloth seems to be a target... our new robes, the bedding from her crate... so far no real destruction, but there's potential. She also seems to have a thing for flapping bits of clothing. My baggy long sleeve shirts, my robe, even my jeans - she seems to think I'm hiding toys (tennis balls, most likely) in my kneecaps.
So it's "Ow! No bite!" Tackle. Growl. "No bite. Gentle." I am the leader, you are just a dog in the pack. You listen to me, you mind me.
We're working on it. Sit, Lie Down, Stand, No Pull, Off, Leap! are all pretty well learned. Learned, not always listened to. Wait, Stay, Heel - working on it. Trying to learn Shake. Occasionally follow through on Shimmy (shake off).
We're two and a half months in. I feel like she should know more tricks and be better behaved by now, but Ryan assures me she's doing really well for a puppy. She's gone from a 5-pound weakling to a 28.3 pound muscle-bound little dog, strong enough to pull me over if she had a mind to do so (and strong enough to carry around 10-lb dumbbells, too). She's friendly to a fault with people and dogs... people so far not a problem - we're doing our best to keep her from jumping on people ("OFF!"). But dogs - she assumes every dog is a friend and wants to play, and has gotten chomped a number of times for it. None too seriously, and none that have changed her optimism, but she does approach with a little more care than she used to.
Oh. She snores. Lots.
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