Have clippers, will cut

 Katie needed a haircut.

About two months ago, we took Katie to the PetSmart grooming salon, where she was pampered with a bath, haircut, and pedicure. Cost for seniors? $46. We wouldn’t go the poorhouse spending that much every two months, but it would be nice if we didn’t have that expense. We thought we would try grooming her ourselves.

Years ago  I would periodically shear my little poodle-Chihuahua mix, Poochi. His face resembled a poodle, with curly hair on top. The sides of his body with more Chihuahua-like, soft and long. He did not shed. I confess that it never occurred to me to take him to a groomer. Instead, I would plop him on the floor and take out my scissors and trim him. He was my beloved little Benjie-dog.

Yes, that is a picture of me, holding Poochi, around 1986. 

Poochi really was a Benji-dog. He needed a trim here.

When we decided to adopt Katie, we knew she would need regular grooming. We thought we would take her to a professional the first time and then see if we could do it ourselves. As you know, we are big on DIYing.

Unsure how our grooming experiment would turn out—whether she would be patient with us and if we (Jim) were adept with the clippers—we decided initially to use the equipment we had on hand. Jim rigged up a stand to hold a leash on his potting bench, and we got out the electric hair clippers I use to cut Jim’s hair.

This was the start of our Great Experiment. Jim rigged up a leash by his potting table.

The first phase of our experiment went well: Katie was patient, and Jim was mastering the cutting technique. However, we quickly saw that our Gerry-rigged leash stand needed to be improved, and we should get cordless (and quieter) grooming shears. After one clipping along Katie’s backside and a bit along her legs, the hot sun got the better of us, and we decided to postpone the rest of the grooming until after we purchased better equipment.

Fast forward one week: Amazon delivered our new equipment and we were ready to try it out.

Success! I can’t say Katie was particularly pleased with the leash stand (we finished the pedicure and face-grooming on the ground), but she was good. And the clippers! Wow. It was like shearing a sheep, the way the fur came off.

We are pleased with the results of our grooming experiment. I don’t think we will go into the grooming business, but we will recoup the cost of the equipment with the next haircutting we give her.

Such a pretty girl!

Until next time,

 

Your Reluctant ROVER,

Linda

Play time for Katie?

Katie is an awesome dog: She is smart. She is loving. She loves her walks. She lavishes me with affection whenever I am gone more than 15 minutes. She rarely barks, except to tell us she needs (or wants) to go out or if she wants to play.

Playing to Katie means going through her training routine; it’s a game to her.  “Katie, come!” “Katie, sit!” “Katie, place!” “Katie, up!” She especially like “Katie, up!” because this give her permission to jump up onto a chair or couch. (She rarely does this on her own.)

I sometimes get down on the floor to play with her, but this play is very limited, since she does not know (or care about) tug-of-war or fetch. I’ve purchased several different balls to try to get her interested in playing fetch. The only one she liked was a solid rubber one, which she started chewing. Rubber is not good for the digestive system, so that ball has been put aside.

Play time started to change last week after Jim and I adopted a kitten from the Humane Society.

Lex Luthor

I think the “play gene” is activated as soon as a kitten is born. Lex Luthor (the name the Human Society dubbed this tiny, 10-week-old black kitten) flits from one toy to another—or creates his own by grabbing (and untying) shoelaces, swatting electrical cords, and chasing himself around the house. He especially likes to play with little balls— fluffy greens ones, crinkly rosy ones, and plastic red ones with bells inside.

Katie has decided that if Lex wants to play with a ball (especially the red jingle-bell balls), she wants to play, too. 

As soon as she hears Lex batting the ball around the floor, she comes up to him (no fear of cats) and she noses it away from him, nabs the ball with her mouth, and then tosses it into the air! When it lands, she quickly grabs it before Lex can get to it and takes it back to her “place”—an area rug behind the couch where we keep all of her chewies, unused toys, and grooming equipment. Once she has brought “her” toy “home,” she chews on it for a few minutes, and then disregards it. Play time over. A bit of jealousy?

It is fun to watch Katie and Lex together. As I have mentioned in other blog entries, Katie was raised as a breeder dog. She had no social skills—with people, nor with other animals. She barely knows what to do when she meets another dog. When she spies another canine down the block while taking a walk, she eagerly trots up to within a few feet of the dog. Then she stops. She lets the other dog sniff and check her out. Only occasionally does she reciprocate.

Because of she was cloistered for her first three years, she  does not know that dogs naturally chase squirrels, lizards, and cats. The squirrels and lizards in our yard are safe. When we come upon a cat during our walks, she stops to look but does not do anything else.

Given her lack of experience with cats, we were not concerned about her accepting even a grown cat, although an adult cat probably would not want anything to do with her. So, we decided a kitten would be a good choice.

Lex doesn’t know he is supposed to be afraid of this gigantic canine, and Katie doesn’t know she is supposed to chase this tiny feline. (Perhaps that will change if or when Lex lets her feel his claws.) The two are not best friends, nor are they yet especially playful with each other. But the friendship is new, and it is fun to watch as it grows.

Until later,

Your Relucant ROVER,

Linda

An Awesome Dog, Despite Her Beginnings

Before adopting Katie, our rescued Bichon Frise, who was raised as a breeder, I had had only two exposures to dog breeding. The first was about 50 years ago. Our next-door neighbor had purchased an English Sheepdog, a big, beautiful, gentle animal with a full, bushy coat. She was a pet, but the neighbor also intended to breed her and sell the pups. I don’t know if he ever did, since we moved out of the neighborhood before she was bred.

Fast forward to last year: We were storing our truck camper in the backyard of a lady who bred dachshunds. At that time she had a female wiener dog and five offspring. The female was her pet, and I believe she intended to keep most (if not all) of the current litter. She raised the dogs with love and kindness, because they were her friends first and an income source second.

Periodically I had read about puppy mills; there are many in the rural areas of Florida and southern Georgia. These animal farms breed for profit, at the cost of humane care for the dogs. Females in puppy mills are forced to reproduce each time they are in heat, until they can no longer bear. The dogs live in tiny cages, receive little care or exercise, and have no interaction with people. Often their cages are filthy, and they lie in their own excrement.

According to the Humane Society, most dogs sold in pet stores or online are bred in such deplorable conditions.

Katie was raised to breed, but she did not come from a puppy mill. The “dog lady” (the head of Wags-Rescue, in Jesup, Ga.) said she had developed a unique relationship with a local breeder, who had approached her to adopt out dogs when they reached the end of their breeding—five years. The dog lady said the breeder had a dedicated barn in which she raised many different types of dogs. Each dog had its own kennel as well as a dog run and was able to exercise. All of the dogs, male and female, received regular shots and veterinary care. The dog lady had inspected the breeder’s establishment and was satisfied that although the dogs were not pets, they were cared clean, manicured, and cared for. Consequently, she often had purebreds available for adoption.

A very scared Katie, the day we picked her up from the adoption agency.

A key phrase in this description is “not pets.” I didn’t realize the implication of that phrase until we brought Katie home.

On the drive home, I held her on my lap; she trembled the entire two-hour ride to her forever home. Car rides were foreign to her. At home, she quickly learned where her water and food bowls were. And she acclimated to her new bed in our room.

But she had no social skills, actually no “dog” skills either.

You know how dogs are naturally curious and chase squirrels and anything else that moves? She didn’t. I don’t know if she had ever been exposed to a squirrel or a lizard (or even other dogs, except for male breeders), since her life had been limited to a dog run. It was a couple weeks before she was willing to take a walk on a leash. (During the first attempt at a walk, she froze after about 25 feet. I had to pick her up and carry her home.)

For weeks when we took walks, she would stop abruptly whenever she saw another dog, cat, or human being. She would refuse to move until the “creature” went away. 

Fortunately, Katie is learning how to be a "real" dog. I am happy to say that now she is not spooked as often by human beings who are out taking a stroll or bicycling the neighborhood, and although she still goes on alert when she sees another dog, she is willing to passively make friends with it.

She loves to be outdoors, but she still does not venture out on her own, despite our encouraging her by keeping the back door open to our fenced-in yard. Freedom is apparently a learned thing.  

As time passes, however, Katie is gradually coming out of her shell, and her personality shines. My husband said it best: “She is an awesome dog.” More about that later.

Until then,

 

Your Reluctant ROVER
Linda