Pickles & Dimes

Evening weatherman: And Wednesday will bring some misty drizzle.

Shauna: Heh heh. That’s my stage name!

Jason: HAHAHAHA.

Shauna: Ladies & gentlemen, please put your hands together for Misty Drizzle!

Jason: Um…actually, it sounds more like a problem…

Shauna: Ew, you’re right. ‘Oh no, I’ve got the Misty Drizzle!’

Jason & Shauna: HAHAHAHAHHAHAHA.

With the cold weather firmly encamped in our neck of the woods, we’re experiencing the typical fallout: the aquarium heater decided to die last night; hopefully our fish can survive long enough for me to pick up a replacement after work tonight. Otherwise, I know what we’re having for dinner!

We weighed the pets last night (like everyone does, obviously) and Abby still needs to gain weight (7.5 lbs.), Sunny could lose half of herself (14 lbs.) and Shorty gained 14 lbs. (Fourteen! Pounds!) in the 4 months we’ve had him to now weigh 44 lbs. Granted, he came from a shelter, who rescued him from death from the pound, and he had pneumonia for the first two weeks after we got him, so maybe this is closer to his normal weight. But I’m thinking I’m going to have to stop with all the Snausages, even if he does cutely go through his whole trick repertoire while waiting for one. (Sit? You want me to sit? No? Oh, shake! Here’s my paw. What? No? Oh, I’ve got it! Lie down? No, well, give me the treat already then!)

Also, this cold weather makes some of the pets extra snuggly (Abby’s too good to cuddle with us). We use them for pillows:

Nap partners:

And lap warmers:

Stay warm, everyone!

OK, OK. This site is now immune to stupid spammer redirect hacks, OK? Translation: IT BETTER BE.

I had my hosting company remove a line of spammer code I had missed, I backed up EVERYTHING, I upgraded my blogging software, and then, when the upgrade turned every ™, ®, apostrophe and quote mark into a foreign character (since my theme wasn’t 100% compatible with the new software and I was determined NOT to have to customize a new theme), I ran a query in my SQL database to find and replace such instances. Do you even know what that previous sentence means? NEITHER DO I. Major time suck, there.

My brain is f-r-i-e-d. Tonight is dog training, and we have three weeks left of our training pass. We’re going try to pass onto Level 3 tonight; if we don’t, no biggie. Shorty pretty much knows all the commands we want him to (with the sad exception of “Go get me a Mountain Dew”), so even if we stay in Level 2, that’s fine.

I just hope the trainer lets the dogs have playtime, because MAN, Shorty digs that so much. We didn’t know how he’d act around other dogs off-leash (having not seen it ourselves), so when we tried it last week, I was quite nervous. Especially when Shorty went up to the largest dog there. But then he turned into a playful social butterfly, running around the room with all the other dogs following him, like a midget doggie gang leader. Hopefully, come springtime, dog parks will be plentiful in our future.

So, since it is the holiday season, indulge us again and tell us what you’re getting your pets for Christmas (if you have any).

We dive into the bedtime routine: I feed the cats while Jason gets Shorty harnessed for his walk. I pull a hat over my head, wrap my enormous scarf around my neck, fight the usual fight against my coat zipper, grab a flashlight. I hear Shorty drinking and his collar jangling. I insert my foot into Sunny’s line of vision: a preemptive strike to keep her from eating Abby’s food. I hear Shorty shaking himself off; Abby’s cue to stop eating and guard herself from his presence, a task she performs so well that Shorty is now afraid of her.

Jason and Shorty emerge. I take the leash as Jason puts on his own shoes and coat. I open the deck door and prepare for Shorty to propel himself off the deck to chase the inevitable rabbit. Tonight the yard is empty, dark clouds visible in the city skyline.

Normally Jason walks Shorty and I hold the flashlight and have poop duty. But tonight I walk him; he is springy in his step, sproinging along the road hurriedly. As we round the block, the wind kicks in. It is, as Minnesotans say ironically, a bit brisk. Shorty starts to run. He loves running and will sometimes run so fast in the yard he’ll trip over himself and roll like a ball. He looks back, seeing if we’re keeping up. I start running with him, smiling at his little legs churning blurrily. He sprints faster, and now we are laughing. My crazy-sounding giggles echo loudly in the darkness, and the sight of Shorty’s little butt running full-tilt to the stoplight makes me laugh even louder. I am sprinting to keep up with him as he pulls me along, my little knee-high sled dog. “Mush!” I cry hysterically, as Shorty puts on another burst of speed, his ears flapping in the breeze. We come to a stop at the end of the block. Shorty’s tongue is wagging and our cheeks are flushed with the cold. We are out of breath but still smiling like fools.

“Good walk, buddy,” we tell him, as he prances up our driveway.

So far, it’s been my favorite.

So…Shorty passed his Level 1 training! But it took some intervention on our part and now he has a note in his file.

Seriously. A note in his file. It’s like the Seinfeld episode where every time Elaine saw the doctor, they wrote something in her chart.

Before we arrived at training, we were pretty confident Shorty would pass. He knew all the skills:

- Stationary attention for 5 seconds
- Sit for greeting
- Take treats with a soft mouth
- Allow a stranger to take his leash and get him to sit
- Allow his ears and paws to be touched

However, because Shorty gets nervous around strangers, when the trainer (a different one from last week), clomped over to us in a giant cast/boot, Shorty growled at her. We told her it takes him a bit to get used to strangers, and after 30 seconds of her tossing him treats, he was fine. But then…a male volunteer came over and Shorty started growling and barking. And when the guy tried to engage Shorty even more, it did absolutely no good. The trainer finally had to tell him to ignore Shorty by looking away and tossing him some treats. Shorty ate the treats and started to approach the guy, who then started talking to him. Well, that set Shorty off on another barking spree.

“What’s this dog’s history?” the trainer asked.

“We don’t know.”

“I think he was hurt by a male,” she said. (Which we kind of suspected, but have no proof. Plus, he worships the ground Jason walks on (and always has), so who knows?)

After the male volunteer left, two of the female volunteers from last week came up to Shorty, and he was fine. One took his leash and got him to sit while the other handled his ears and paws. He took treats from their hands so delicately one praised him as having “the softest touch.” And, they both witnessed him doing all the skills to pass into Level 2.

And then the trainer came back over and said she wanted to hold Shorty back another week because of his reaction to her and the male volunteer.

We were disappointed, and as we watched everyone else’s dog either jumping on the trainer or refusing to perform the skills while Shorty sat quietly or performed his skills perfectly, we started to get a little mad. Why should we hold him back when all he needs is literally 90 seconds to get used to a new person? He knew all the skills; he wouldn’t be gaining anything by staying behind other than being around people he already knew.

So we stewed for awhile until the trainer came back and started going over the skills Shorty would need to do for Level 2. And Jason asked, “Why not have him go to Level 2 now? He can do the skills for Level 1. If the trainers in Level 2 have a heads-up to give him the 2 minutes he needs to get comfortable, he’ll be fine.”

She begrudgingly said she’d talk to our other trainer. And after class, as we waited among the other owners and dogs (Shorty didn’t utter a single bark, whine or growl, not even when the male volunteer walked right by him or when two dogs attempted to out-bark each other), the trainer returned to tell us, yes, she will pass Shorty, but he has to have a note in his file.

Basically, he’s on a short leash (ha). He can’t be physically aggressive toward anyone (which has NEVER been an issue) and we have to make sure to warn the trainer and volunteers that Shorty needs a few minutes of people ignoring him and giving him treats before he’s OK. Also, they need to know he doesn’t like guys that much.

Maybe this dog’s smarter than all of us. Maybe it’s an act to score fistfuls of dog treats. (It’s not.)

Regardless, he’ll now be in Level 2, where there will be new people (and more people). We don’t know if he was abused before we got him or is just nervous around men, but he’s with us now, and we’re pretty awesome. Especially on training days, when we smell like hot dogs.

I’m glad we fought for him. He deserves it.

EDITED TO ADD: I don’t want anyone getting the wrong impression. The trainer had never met Shorty before, didn’t know his story, and was trying to do what she thought would be best for him. We love the program and all the trainers and volunteers. We just didn’t want Shorty to be held back for something that would literally resolve itself in a few minutes.

Allow myself to introduce…myself. Please note I am already performing a Level 2 skill. Phhhhhbt. This is puppy’s play, guys.