Swim or Sink, Barking Division

Day before yesterday, the new people moved into the house on the corner, two doors down from the House of the Flying Furballs.

They have a large Doberman named Vader, who does not wear a helmet or have breathing issues.

What he does have is good off-leash discipline, and his people, the past couple of days, have allowed him to lie out on their front lawn while they're with him.

This drives my Llewellyn nuts. Not only is there a new interloping canine in the neighborhood, said interloper doesn't have the grace to run away (i.e., keep going by on leash) when he barks at it. No, this new mutt just lies there and ignores him.

Must need to bark all the louder and longer:

BARKBARKBARKBARKBARKBARKBARKBARK!!!!!

Hey, that didn't work! Other dog is still there! And now he's walking around with people petting him! Try again:

BARKBARKBARKBARKBARKBARKBARKBARK!!!!!

Oh good grief, you could hear my mutt up and down the block. Ferociously. Constantly. Not something any of us can tolerate, especially not me with my nerves.

So I'm trying something. It's the basic carrot and stick approach. If Llewellyn can look at the screen door at Vader and keep his yap shut, he gets a treat and high praise for being a "Good, quiet dog!"

If I catch him barking or even growling at the Dobie, he gets a water squirt from the spray bottle and a "Naughty noise!"

We'll see how this works. The advent of this new dog may be an inadvertent blessing-- or the beginning of tumult and misery for one and all.

The Just Deserts of Greed

This is-- or was-- a coupon for dog treats. I pulled it out of Llewellyn's food cannister a couple nights ago and put in on the table till I could see what it was for.

Next morning, I came downstairs and found it in shreds, scattered across the dining room floor!

I tried to put back together, but too many pieces were missing. Llewellyn, old boy, wii haedid uz a ttreetz koopon, butt U eatid it!

So it went in the trash for tomorrow's pickup. O doggie, my goggie, now we'll never know if these were treats of bloomiferous scrumptuosity. It's back to finishing the same old nuggets from the Three Dog Bakery. Foiled by your own precipitous greed!

(And my naivete.)

(Though being such a nice momma, I did save you a wee piece of turkey from Thanksgiving at my friends' . . . )

Nip Head

Last night I was out for a few hours, never imagining I'd come home to--

THIS!!
Oh, Huw! The shame! The agony!

My little stripey cat had overdosed on--

NIP!!!

He'd obviously been rolling in it, luxuriating in it, till he could roll and luxuriate no more!

Oh! Oh! What a sad and dreadful sight! Huw, how could you?!

While I-- I brought it into the house! I never dreamed--!

(Well, I guess it was a good time to change the bed quilt anyway . . . )

Campaign Against the Fleas

The anti-flea medicine came yesterday, but I didn't get it on the beasts until today. Had the idea that I needed to go buy flea shampoo for Rhadwen and bathe her first.

Got the shampoo yesterday afternoon; did not get the bathing done.

Nor today. The thermostat is set low for economy, it's blowing and rainy outside, and it's too cold to handle wet felines.

But something had to be done. So all four of them, the dog and three cats, got their first doses of flea medicine today regardless.

And it's almost too good to be true how well Gwenith and Huw took the between-the-shoulder-blades application. Almost as if they thought they were being groomed by a very wet tongue.

Rhadwen objected, rather. I made it up to her with a dried salmon treat.

In fact, treats for all! Treats for all my good four-legged children!

Making Progress

Here's Llewellyn wearing his new training collar. He's still not thrilled with it, but at least he kept it on for about ten minutes without excessive histrionics. For awhile he even forgot he was wearing it-- when his sister Rhadwen was kakking a hairball and most of her breakfast on the mantlepiece. "Kin I have some a' dat? Smells gooood! "

Using the dry Three Dog Bakery training treats instead of the smoked sausage kept the excitement level down a notch. He loves them, indeed he does; he scarfs them down whole. But the aroma isn't quite so mesmerizingly distracting.

Maybe before tomorrow's sessions I'll actually review the instructions that came with the Halti collar, and we'll make even more progress. Day after I bought the thing, already I'd forgotten where in the house they were. Turned out, they were in the package the collar came in. Where they belonged. Right where I'd put them. Of course!

Early Days Yet

My dog Llewellyn is very strange. He can't or won't walk on a leash worth a darn. But every time I open the drawer in the little stand by the front door, the one with his leash in it, he leaps and whirls like a small tornado. "We get to go out?! O bliss! O ecstasy! We're going out!"

I find now that it's much the same with his new Halti collar. I get it out to train him on it, and you'd think he was being invited to the canine version of Disney World.

But put it on him? He's pawing, mouthing, doing everything he can to get it off. "I don' wan' this thing on me!! Take it off! Now!"

The dog trainer said only leave it on him a minute or so in the early stages, so that's what I'm doing. But as soon I take it off and he can see it in my hand again, there he goes jumping and dancing, doggie mouth grinning with glee, Mr. Excitement thinking it means something Wonderful is about to happen.

Maybe it's the pieces of smoked sausage I'm using to reward him for trying the new collar. Maybe they inspire just a bit too much rapture.

We'll keep on working on it. He needs to get used to that collar. There's no reason why he shouldn't-- After all, it's early days yet.