T-minus 5...

Just chewing on an old trumpet vine pod

Contented dog days of autumn

How can you help not wonder what is going on behind that stare?

Tuesday afternoon and the south wind has a bit of a breath on it. Patchy clouds allow enough warming rays through to make puttering around the yard comfortable with a long-sleeved flannel shirt.

Opal Hound bounds through clumps of leaves collected by the wind, searching for a communal, ratty old tennis ball. She brings it to me, hesitates only slightly before releasing the ball when told to "let go", then leaps expectantly for me to toss it across the yard. Once launched, she is off like a shot to beat Beano to it!

A couple or three rounds of the ball usually is enough for her. She takes it to a spot on the grass and begins gnawing on it, holding the ball between her over-sized front paws.

Two and a half weeks isn't much time to teach a rambunctious pup, even if you know what your doing and have all day,every day to work on it. We are not professional trainers. Our goals--make that GOAL--were simple; get Opal comfortable enough being in a crate for a 5-days road trip.

I think we're there. Just now, as I type, Opal silently slipped onto Beano's crate beside our computer station. She's now snoring softly. Nor is this new behavior. Still somewhat reluctant to enter her borrowed transport crate at bedtime, she will take short naps in Beano's two or three times in a day.

Sometimes you just feel compelled to gnaw on a stick.

We have played some with the leash. Opal is less than enthusiastic about being collared and tends to roll onto her back, refusing to cooperate. Once collared and out the door, however, she is eager to explore.

Opal is curious about other dogs and people encountered along the way, but we keep her a cautious distance from strangers, canine and otherwise.

We also have worked with two simple commands, "sit" and "let go." Appropriate responses to either is spotty, at best.

Again, I'm aware the fault lies with the trainer, not the trainee!

Sick as a Dog X 2

Well, hell, we've got two sick dogs.

Of the two, Beano Boglen, our resident terrier, is down the hardest with symptoms of an upper respiratory infection, but Opal Hound has been wheezing and sneezing as well. Having multiple dogs is a lot like having multiple human offspring; if one picks up something, they all share it around sooner or later.

One of the conditions of fostering is that signs of illness must be reported immediately to the Humane Society (HS). Technically, the foster dog remains the responsibility of HS, including any necessary medical care. Additionally, any dog scheduled for transport to New York must pass a final health certification exam.

Opal--aka "Olive", aka "Elvira", aka "Li'l Sister"--is scheduled to board the transport a week from tomorrow, and final medical exams must be done by no later than Thursday. Five days.

Can't say enough about the quick response from Jan Herzog and Cheryl Miller. We had antibiotics for both dogs in under two hours early on a Saturday morning. Only time will tell now if Opal makes her departure date.

In From the Cold

Shoe??? What shoe???

Beginning Week 2

Someone left the north gate open last night, and an arctic air mass came roaring in on 30 mph winds. That's what's known as a blue norther in these parts, but seeing as how it blew in after dark, there's just no telling what color it was.

Opal Hound and her little buddy Beano have been confined indoors more than any of us really like. The dogs enjoy their romps in the back yard, exchanging rumors on the Bow-Wow grapevine with other hounds of the hood. Nor do we two-leggeds have to spend quite so much time "domesticating" a 50-pound puppy with a penchant for chewing when we can declare "exercise time" in the yard.

This chewing thing, common among puppies, did not manifest itself until the past couple of days, right at one week since she checked in to this fostering canine bed & breakfast. Along with the chewing--first on Annie's slippers--came exploring under our bed and snooping into nooks and crannies in the back catch-all room and closets. We're pretty sure she bribes the cats to open the doors for her!

Opal, I'm told, also whines briefly at the front door any time I leave and do not take her, and she usually come bounding across the hardwood to greet me when I return. I'm certainly no dog expert, but to me these recent behaviors indicate Opal Hound is feeling "at home".

Damn dog!

On the one hand, I'm thrilled she is settling in and feeling comfortable. She is a great dog, deserving of a great home. What she doesn't know, however, is that she is not there yet. This place to which she is growing more and more accustomed is a way station at best.

So begin the separation pangs.

She had a home once upon a time. Then for reasons we will never know, she lost that home, ending up in a shelter, anxious and frightened.

Now we have returned her to a happier place. She's playful, often more playful than Beano cares for. Her appetite is healthy, even if we can't turn our backs on the kitchen counters when preparing meals. And she's feeling safe and secure enough to be the puppy she still is. Never mind she's bigger than most Shetland ponies!

Tearing it up out back in warmer fall days...like yesterday!

That all changes in under two weeks when she will leave this place she has come to know as home. We can only hope "our" Opal Girl--who's real name is secretly Olive--finds a final, forever happy place after her long trek to New York.

I don't know how long dogs remember. I do know, though, that when she boards that transport one slobber soaked, eagerly chewed gray leather slipper will go with her. I can only hope it helps. 

When Dogs Collide

This was bound to happen, sooner or later, and no one was at fault except myself. Beano and Opal Hound got into it last night. No injuries were sustained in the brief scrap that points out how essential it is to fully consider the personalities, likes  and dislikes of every member of the pack.

It's MY bread dammit!

Since Opal came to stay with us, Beano has received precious little ink in these pages, even though he is an essential player in fostering. So let's start off this Sunday morning by getting to know a little boglen terrier full of sass and attitude!

Beano has been with us going on four years, now, having been adopted from a co-worker two days after his birth. He is intelligent, loving, does not take kindly to bathing and can be extremely poutish when things do not go his way. I guess you could say Beano is the typical four-year-old...human four-year-old, that is. It's all about him!

Beano gets on well with Annie's four cats who tend to tolerate him. At least, they've stopped hissing and raising a clawed paw when he passes too near, and we have even caught Simba and Beano being almost playful toward one another. Cats being cats, of course, the playfulness comes to a screeching halt as soon as Simba sees they are being watched.

Beano is very open to other dogs, although Opal is only the second dog with which he's had the chance to bond. Our daughter's chihuahua-terrier mix, Patti Mayonnaise--yes, named after the Patti Mayo--is an occasional playmate. Both seem to enjoy their irregular play dates immensely. Beano is always totally tuckered after one of Patti's visits.

Opal, on the other hand, is the first dog to come into the pack and not leave. Therein lies the rub. Beano is territorial and terribly possessive, particularly when it comes to food.

On more than one occasion we have seen him stand guard over a crust of hard, dried out bread he clearly had no desire to eat (photo above). Yet he would give his Back Off! glare and a low, throaty grumble to anyone, man or beast, who dared approach his hoard.

So it was yesterday evening. The trigger was food. Annie had cooked a turkey breast and was slicing the meat from the carcass. The aromas alone were more than sufficient to get both Beano and Opal highly excited. 

Now, Opal stands a good two feet tall at the shoulder, and can clear a table or counter top before you can holler DOWN! Hollering does no good, anyway, as Opal, like most hounds, has excellent selective hearing. So working on the turkey with Opal at her elbow was a new and potentially frustrating challenge.

So to take the pressure off Annie, I collected several scrap bits of bird. Soon as I started for the back door both dogs knew what was up. There excitement peaked a whole 'nother level. It was when we stepped through the door onto the patio that Beano lunged into Opal.

Beano's attack was Pearl Harbor all over again without the carnage. He went straight for the throat, and caught Opal completely by surprise! At first, she tried to back out, but Beano pressed on. With a single swipe of a right paw she had Beano pinned on his back and abject terror in his eyes!

Ever try to separate two tangling dogs with two handfuls of turkey scraps? Lord, it must have been a sight for some ten or fifteen seconds!

After getting them apart, both dogs remained highly agitated. Neither, however, received a scolding. We just talked about it calmly and soothingly as I fed bits of roast turkey to each dog in turn. Each got a morsel. Each got quiet praise. Each got acceptance and understanding, and so it went until the last bits were devoured.

Dogs do not come into this world vicious. They are not haters from birth. Beano's hoarding behavior over food links back through his canine genes to ancestral wolf behavior. If there is fault here, it lies squarely on the shoulders of his human pack alphas. 

Look what followed us home!!!

Opal found us on Facebook.

Opal (front) and Beano take a brief break from The Sniffing Game"

One of the Humane Society of Wichita County's best friends posted Opal Hound's pic on her page with a brief synopsis of her plight. That dog had me at first glance.

We do not know much about her back story. And we have a little over two weeks to build a file about her before she goes to a permanent home in New York.

NEW YORK CITY!??!

No, thank heavens. I wouldn't wish relocation to New York City on .... a cat! No, Opal Hound is destined for the upstate woods and countryside.

Our mission--before the transport departs--is to learn as much as we can about Opal's likes and dislikes, her level of training, her habits and behaviors. Is she housebroken? How does she relate to other creatures on her turf? What is her tolerance for small humans totally lacking in social skills?

And between bouts of observing and reporting, get her crate-trained for the long relocation road trip ahead.

Crate training may be the biggie here. She has no love for The Box. That was evident when we loaded her aboard the Blazer to bring her home, and again, just moments ago, putting her to bed in her new (to her) borrowed bedroom.

For all her dislike of being crated, though, she is profoundly silent about it. Once inside, she accepts her fate, calmly and quietly. So somehow we need to broaden her acceptance to entering the crate mostly on her own without gentle-yet-assertive persuasion. 


So as Day One comes to a close, what have we discovered?

Opal is a sweet-tempered dog. She gets on well with other animals, although she is a little leery of cats.

"She has obviously had dealings with cats at some point," Mrs. Miller adds. "She is leery, but not the least bit aggressive toward them. She hasn't shown any signs of aggression toward anything."

Annie also noted that she car rides well.

She likes playing ball even though her ball-handling skills are slightly north of tripping over her own feet.

She is keenly alert to her surroundings, her attention peeked at any new sound.

"Even when other dogs are barking, Opal remains quiet," Annie says. "This may change as she becomes more accustomed to her new surroundings, but so far she has not barked at anything."

Brought into a strange environment, her first task is a thorough investigation of the turf.

She is affectionate. Wouldn't take much to make a lap dog of her, but it would require one strong and ample lap! She does have a desire to jump up on you once she gets to know you a bit, but she remains hesitant to do so. When she does climb into your face, she is easily dissuaded from doing so.

She is able to negotiate terms with at least one other dog sharing her "home" turf.

As for the cats...well, she'll just wait for them to come around to her.

Day 1

Excuse me, but is there a big old sign on my back screaming in all caps, "KICK ME!!"?

Mrs. Miller and myself brought Opal home this afternoon. Opal is a rescue hound from the Humane Society of Wichita County, and what she lacks in grace, she more than compensates for in subtle seduction. This gal, young as she is, knows how to win friends.

Her ungainlyness stems from her, well, stems! She's pretty much all legs and too-big feet, so she's still a growing girl. She is mostly hound with a black and brown blend coat that would do any bloodhound proud. Still, her pedigree has to read "mixed blood". Little to nothing is known about her former family.

Opal Hound is New York bound!

This decision to foster a dog was not taken lightly. Anyone who has ever lived with and lost a friend knows parting is much more than sweet sorrow. It hurts like hell.

Annie and I have talked about it for a few months at least. She, of course, was ready to try it long before I was. Separation anxiety aside, our household supported two elderly humans, four cocky cats, a lonesome cockatiel and one adolescent boglen terrier. I had some concerns about, shall we say, logistics?

Hey! I got an idea!! Let's throw a strange animal into the mix and see how many feeding, watering, peeing, pooping, sleeping, ball chasing, cat baiting routines we can upset!!!

And it's not like you introduce the outsider into the pack and let her figure things out for herself. This is NOT YOUR PET! She is a guest, if you will, a sojourner in transit from Wichita Falls to Whoknowswhere, NY. She'll be a fleeting foster member of our pack for three weeks.

Three weeks. Then she's gone. Damn Dog!

So why do it? All kidding aside, for a moment. Why would any sane person volunteer to have their heart slammed full between a rock and a hard place?

The late Joe Brown once said, "I can't do a damn thing about hunger, poverty, or war or any of the big problems like that. I can help this one dog here, though, which should be good enough for both of us."