Today I saw a man milling around the kennel, and I asked him if he needed help. He said that he needed to get the registration papers for two dogs he had purchased from the store.
This happens a lot. People absolutely have to have their purebred dogs, they make a big fuss about them being purebred and having to have those magical "papers," and then they never even come pick the damn things up. We have thousands, literally thousands of unclaimed registration papers.
I asked him how long ago it had been since he purchased the dogs, and he said one was purchased last year, and one was purchased four years ago. I winced at hearing "four years," because that means the manager who handles such things would probably have to climb a mountain of boxes of paperwork and sift through hundreds to find the right one.
And then he said something about having lost them the first time.
Okay, that changes everything. We only ever get one copy of registration papers. If you lose that, you're up the creek. We don't have any others. No spares, no secondsies. I asked him what registry his dogs needed papers for. The ACA. Of course. I tell him he probably needs to contact the ACA for copies. He says he did that, and the ACA told him that we had to contact them, since the dogs are currently registered to us.
No no no no no. Not sure where THAT information came from, but the puppies are never at any time registered to us through the ACA. Maybe that's how other stores do it. Not how we do things. I tell him this. I tell him the papers always come to us with the dogs still registered to the breeder, never to us. So if the ACA is telling him to contact the person to whom the dog is currently registered, he'd need to track down the breeder.
He stared at me blankly. "How'm I supposed to do that?" Well I have no idea. You're the one that needs the papers. There is such a thing as the internet. You might try the ACA again and see if they have an address for the breeder or something. How the hell should I know? I didn't lose my dog's papers. I've never been in the situation before. Finally realizing that we really couldn't help him any more, he thanked me dejectedly and left.
I didn't know it at the time, but this guy is the husband of a lady who made herself so notorious with the staff for being downright nasty that the language used to describe her I will not repeat here, despite the adult content warning. This started way earlier in the spring when this lady called saying she needed registration papers for her two Boxers, male and female, and she needed them like YESTERDAY. Because they couldn't register the puppies until they got the parents registered. Yes, that's right. They bred two unregistered dogs and not only that, but they waited until the puppies were on the ground to start worrying about it. Then they wanted it to happen instantly. According to the two managers who dealt with this lady, she blamed us for all her problems, despite the fact that they lost the original copies of the registration forms that we gave them. She would not hear that we can't do anything for her, and she made it into something personal with whoever answered the phone, even if they were just a part-time college kid who only worked ten hours a week. All this, after they had signed their names to our warranty which clearly states that our puppies are NOT breeding or show quality, are not guaranteed for either purpose, and should not be used for breeding. If you are looking for a dog for breeding purposes, do NOT buy a dog from our store. (Exact wording.)
I doubt they still have the puppies just because they couldn't get them registered. I have no idea what they told the people who bought them. The fact that they're still trying five months later suggests to me that they probably promised they could get them.
There are other reasons why a purebred dog might not have papers. Lots of times people breed dogs without knowing anything about how the registries work. They'll breed an AKC registered dog to a dog from another registry, thereby ensuring that neither registry will recognize the puppies as purebred. It can be done, but most of the time these people want to register the puppies with the AKC and the AKC is kind of uptight about those things. I think the ACA would register a donkey as a Labrador even if you sent them a picture of it.
Sometimes people completely ignore the breeder's wishes, and the little Limited Registration box checked on their dog's papers, and breed them anyway. Limited Registration, with the AKC, means that the dog can compete in AKC events but cannot be bred. The AKC will not register puppies bred from a dog with limited registration. I'm not sure what those people think when they do this. Maybe hoping that the AKC forgot or something.
Really, I'm not sure what all the fuss about papers is anyway. The papers are not really proof of anything. You can get an AKC registered mix. It's very possible. I know of a lady who bought a "rare long-haired Pug" from someone. This breeder had a male and a female Pug, and also a male Pekingese. Her "rare long-haired Pug" looked exactly like a Pekingese. But it was an AKC registered Pug. I'm not even entirely sure that this breeder did this on purpose to cheat anyone. Perhaps the breeder didn't know that litters of puppies can have more than one father, and thought that after her male Pug mated her with female Pug, that was the end of that. For all I know, half of that litter really were purebred Pugs. Not that one, though. That one looked so much like a Pekingese that I thought it was a purebred Pekingese when I first saw it.
So what do the papers mean, then? Not a whole lot, unless you're planning on showing or breeding your dog. If you aren't, then don't worry about it. Just enjoy your dog.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
The Yorkus Lady and Other Stories of Sheer Madness
One day a few months ago, I was standing out in front of the puppy window, looking over the kennel. I do that sometimes just to get my thoughts in order. This disheveled looking lady came up to the puppy window, made a bee-line to a black and tan Chihuahua puppy we had and said, "Is that a Yorkus?" That's how she pronounced Yorkies. So it rhymed with orcas. Yorkus. I learned long ago never to correct someone's pronunciation. People who say dash-hound are convinced that it is supposed to be pronounced dash hound and no crash courses in German or the meaning of the root word "dach" in the word Dachshund is going to make a difference. Same with people who refer to millet spray as mullet. No use telling them mullet is a fish, they don't care. The world, in general, likes to remain ignorant. So I just said, "No, that's a Chihuahua puppy."
She was unconvinced. "That don't look like no Chihuahua. Looks like a Yorkus to me. You sure that's not a Yorkus?" Please note, there is a cage card that says, very largely, CHIHUAHUA. Also be aware, this dog looks exactly like a damn Chihuahua and nothing like any Yorkie you've ever seen. She was a smooth coated Chihuahua, not even a long-haired, so the lady didn't have that as an excuse, either.
I just said, "Yes, I'm very sure. That's a Chihuahua puppy."
"Someone could have made a mistake," she says confidently.
"Nope," I reply. I'm getting sort of amused at this point. "That's a Chihuahua. Other dogs besides Yorkies can be black and tan."
"Oh I know," she snaps back, peevishly. "I've had lots of 'em. I even had a white one, oncet."
A white Yorkie? Ooookay. Sure. "Oh?"
"Yeap. And dont'cha know, I bred her to my male.. Oh, lots of times. Over and over and over again, but not one of them pups ever come out lookin' like a Yorkus?" This said with a slightly probing questioning tone, as if she might like me to throw light on the mystery of why her extraordinarily rare white Yorkus never produced pups that looked like a purebred Yorkshire Terrier.
"You don't say," is all I would give up. I wasn't about to tell this lady that if her dog was pure white it was not a Yorkie. I'll let someone else fight that battle. Clearly, she wouldn't know a good looking Yorkie if it bit her in the ankle since she's convinced that a Chihuahua is a Yorkie, so what's the point?
"Nope. I could only ever get 'bout 150 dollars for 'em," she said sadly.
I didn't reply, and she didn't say anything for a minute or two, inspecting all the puppies. Suddenly, she hollers over her shoulder at me, accusingly, "What they doin' for water if you let 'em sleep in their water bowls?"
This mistake happens frequently. For the little dogs, I put very large dog bowls in their cages to sleep in. For some reason, people only see the puppy sleeping in a very large dish, completely ignore the other dish filled with food in their cage and the water bottle hanging on the outside, and freak out, saying things like this. Why people think that we would give a 2 pound dog a food bowl big enough for the largest Great Dane in the world, I have no idea. But they do. All the damn time.
"That's not their water bowls. They have water bottles on their cages."
"Well what in the hell is it in there for, then?" She demands.
"For them to sleep in."
"... Oh." At this, either she felt extremely foolish or she had run out of things to say, because she wandered away, leaving me wondering what in the hell just happened here?
Way back in the winter, probably January or February, we went through this period of a few weeks where this crazy woman kept bringing us dead lovebirds, wanting someone to sex them for her. Seriously. The first time she did it, she made a beeline for my friend S, and said, "Can you tell me if this is a boy or a girl?" and held out the deceased avian. S sort of recoiled, and said, "Um. I can tell you it's dead." At which point the lady began stroking it and crooning to it. She did not reply to the fact that it was dead, saying instead, "Isn't it pretty? Isn't it pretty?" A bunch of us at the time were putting away an order that had just come in and we sort of paused and watched the strangeness for a minute before all of us quickly dispersed, lest we become the object of the lady's attention. Yes, we have no shame. We all completely abandoned S to her fate with the crazy dead bird woman. "We" in this case includes the owner of the store. We regrouped behind an aisle of dog food to blink, wide-eyed at each other and whisper things like, "W. T. F., dude," and twitter over the fact that when this was all over with, S was going to curse us all out for leaving her like that. Which she did.
This happened, I kid you not, three more times. Each time, she hunted S down like an S-seeking missile and wanted S to pet and praise the dead bird. (She didn't.) I have no idea why she was so fascinated with S, but it's like the rest of us didn't exist to her. Finally, S got extremely exasperated with it all and told the lady, "Look, it doesn't matter if it's a boy or a girl, it's DEAD." You notice people like that when they're repeat offenders, but somehow you don't really notice when they stop coming around. You only notice when they pop back up again, and the memories click and you realize who it is you're talking to.
That happened to me last week. I was helping an older couple with a white Poodle or possibly a Bichon or mix of the two with collars. The problem with the collar they had was that the dog kept slipping her head out of it, but they flatly refused to get a smaller one. In fact, they wanted a bigger one. Reason? "It has to be big enough for when her hair grows in. She's shaved right now, you know."
Err.
"No, sir. It has to be small enough that she can't slip her head out of it no matter how fluffy she is, or she's just going to keep getting loose."
Logic, they defy you! If the dog can slip out of a loose collar, then a harness is the answer! What's the difference between a properly fitted collar and a properly fitted harness when her hair grows back in? They couldn't tell me, they just knew that a harness was the answer to all their problems. Okay. It's not my job to talk sense into people who aren't making any when they want to needlessly spend money on inanimate objects. You want a harness? You got a harness. Through most of this, the man had been doing the talking and the woman had sort of been nervously hiding behind him. When I went to fit the harness on the dog she said something inane to me and I looked up and my blood ran cold. OMG. It was the Crazy Bird Lady. And her husband was just as nonsensical. Great. They didn't know how to put a harness on, so I showed them. I also showed them that there are instructions on the back of the tag for how to put it on, and advised them not to throw it away so they could refer to it at home. Right-o. Off they go with a new harness.
On Sunday, they were back. I had 3 customers waiting for my attention, and employees of the store kept interrupting me to tell me some lady was looking for me. Okay, okay. Jesus. Just let me get finished with the three people ahead of her. Finally, she just interrupted my conversation with a customer who was concerned about a new momma rat. It was Crazy Bird Lady and her Only Slightly Less Crazy Husband, and their dog. They couldn't figure out how to put the harness on. So I showed them. Again.
"I just can't put it on myself because when I try to bend down, I can't breathe and I almost pass out," she tells me.
"Well, then perhaps you could sit and have her sit on your lap to put it on," I suggested.
No, my goodness no, that's logical. We can't have that. "I can't put it on because I have cancer," she said to me. I'm pretty sure at this point she's making things up to try and evoke my sympathy. But I also know that she's as mad as a hatter from the dead bird experience, so I didn't reply to the cancer statement. They rambled at me for a few more minutes a bunch of things that didn't make sense and finally said, "I guess we'll just have to come back every day for you to put it on her."
Whoa whoa whoa wait. Wait one minute. I said, "But I'm not always here." It's true. I have a life outside of the kennel.
"Yes, but we have no one else to help us." So.. you could just learn to do it yourself. But no. They pay no attention to me when I try to explain again how to put the harness on. They just keep making lame excuses as to why they can't learn to do it themselves.
Monday morning, they were back again. The new girl huffs back into the kennel and says, "Those people with the harness are back again, they want you." OMFG. You have got to be kidding me. I have a kennel full of cages to clean, and not only that, today is a vaccination day. So I have to rush to get the cages all clean so I can rush to get all these dogs their vaccinations and wormings that are due. Add that to the fact that there are now about 19 slots taken up on the med chart, and I'm going to be lucky to get everything done before I leave at 3 to get my son off of the bus. I don't have time for this shit! Really. I'm not technically SUPPOSED to be helping customers, just working with the dogs. I help customers when I can, but seriously, nobody ever expected the kennel manager before me to deal with customers. He never did. You know why? Because he didn't have time for that shit, that's why. So that's what I tell the new girl. "Sorry, don't have time for that shit. Those people are crazy."
So a guy named P tries to help them. Unfortunately, he also has no idea how to put a harness on a dog. (Really, why was I the only person in the store that day who knew how to put a harness on a dog?) Finally, after he begs me, I come out, and show them how to put the harness on. Again. This time she says, "I can't do it, you see, because I'm a Holocaust survivor." Swear. She said that. Lady, I don't care what kind of survivor you are. Hurricane Katrina, Holocaust or reality TV show, you can still learn to put a harness on your own dog. First you can't do it because you can't breathe, then you couldn't do it because you have cancer, now you can't do it because the Germans tried to kill you sixty years ago. WTF. I know you're crazy but that's just.. that's just crazy. I said, again, "You have to learn how to do it. Really, because there is going to come a time when you need it on her and nobody is going to be there to do it for you. I'm not here all the time, and I'm not always going to be working here." And then I left them standing there.
They didn't come in today until after I left. I got a text message at home from P:
P: Yo it's P. [4:15pm]
Me: Yo [4:20pm]
P: The old couple is back about that harness lol [4:27pm]
Me: See! I told them I wasn't always going to be there! [5:05pm]
P: lol they're tryin to find you. lol [5:11pm]
Me: Spot's hot [5:12pm]
When I told one of the general managers about this problem and that it was the Crazy Dead Bird Lady, she said, "I knew she looked familiar! And you know what, she was after me about that harness, too, but she told me she couldn't learn to do it because she has Alzheimer's. Then a few minutes later she said she couldn't learn to do it because she has diabetes."
I don't think she has cancer, diabetes or Alzheimer's, but there is definitely something wrong with her. Yep. Nuttier than a fruitcake.
She was unconvinced. "That don't look like no Chihuahua. Looks like a Yorkus to me. You sure that's not a Yorkus?" Please note, there is a cage card that says, very largely, CHIHUAHUA. Also be aware, this dog looks exactly like a damn Chihuahua and nothing like any Yorkie you've ever seen. She was a smooth coated Chihuahua, not even a long-haired, so the lady didn't have that as an excuse, either.
I just said, "Yes, I'm very sure. That's a Chihuahua puppy."
"Someone could have made a mistake," she says confidently.
"Nope," I reply. I'm getting sort of amused at this point. "That's a Chihuahua. Other dogs besides Yorkies can be black and tan."
"Oh I know," she snaps back, peevishly. "I've had lots of 'em. I even had a white one, oncet."
A white Yorkie? Ooookay. Sure. "Oh?"
"Yeap. And dont'cha know, I bred her to my male.. Oh, lots of times. Over and over and over again, but not one of them pups ever come out lookin' like a Yorkus?" This said with a slightly probing questioning tone, as if she might like me to throw light on the mystery of why her extraordinarily rare white Yorkus never produced pups that looked like a purebred Yorkshire Terrier.
"You don't say," is all I would give up. I wasn't about to tell this lady that if her dog was pure white it was not a Yorkie. I'll let someone else fight that battle. Clearly, she wouldn't know a good looking Yorkie if it bit her in the ankle since she's convinced that a Chihuahua is a Yorkie, so what's the point?
"Nope. I could only ever get 'bout 150 dollars for 'em," she said sadly.
I didn't reply, and she didn't say anything for a minute or two, inspecting all the puppies. Suddenly, she hollers over her shoulder at me, accusingly, "What they doin' for water if you let 'em sleep in their water bowls?"
This mistake happens frequently. For the little dogs, I put very large dog bowls in their cages to sleep in. For some reason, people only see the puppy sleeping in a very large dish, completely ignore the other dish filled with food in their cage and the water bottle hanging on the outside, and freak out, saying things like this. Why people think that we would give a 2 pound dog a food bowl big enough for the largest Great Dane in the world, I have no idea. But they do. All the damn time.
"That's not their water bowls. They have water bottles on their cages."
"Well what in the hell is it in there for, then?" She demands.
"For them to sleep in."
"... Oh." At this, either she felt extremely foolish or she had run out of things to say, because she wandered away, leaving me wondering what in the hell just happened here?
Way back in the winter, probably January or February, we went through this period of a few weeks where this crazy woman kept bringing us dead lovebirds, wanting someone to sex them for her. Seriously. The first time she did it, she made a beeline for my friend S, and said, "Can you tell me if this is a boy or a girl?" and held out the deceased avian. S sort of recoiled, and said, "Um. I can tell you it's dead." At which point the lady began stroking it and crooning to it. She did not reply to the fact that it was dead, saying instead, "Isn't it pretty? Isn't it pretty?" A bunch of us at the time were putting away an order that had just come in and we sort of paused and watched the strangeness for a minute before all of us quickly dispersed, lest we become the object of the lady's attention. Yes, we have no shame. We all completely abandoned S to her fate with the crazy dead bird woman. "We" in this case includes the owner of the store. We regrouped behind an aisle of dog food to blink, wide-eyed at each other and whisper things like, "W. T. F., dude," and twitter over the fact that when this was all over with, S was going to curse us all out for leaving her like that. Which she did.
This happened, I kid you not, three more times. Each time, she hunted S down like an S-seeking missile and wanted S to pet and praise the dead bird. (She didn't.) I have no idea why she was so fascinated with S, but it's like the rest of us didn't exist to her. Finally, S got extremely exasperated with it all and told the lady, "Look, it doesn't matter if it's a boy or a girl, it's DEAD." You notice people like that when they're repeat offenders, but somehow you don't really notice when they stop coming around. You only notice when they pop back up again, and the memories click and you realize who it is you're talking to.
That happened to me last week. I was helping an older couple with a white Poodle or possibly a Bichon or mix of the two with collars. The problem with the collar they had was that the dog kept slipping her head out of it, but they flatly refused to get a smaller one. In fact, they wanted a bigger one. Reason? "It has to be big enough for when her hair grows in. She's shaved right now, you know."
Err.
"No, sir. It has to be small enough that she can't slip her head out of it no matter how fluffy she is, or she's just going to keep getting loose."
Logic, they defy you! If the dog can slip out of a loose collar, then a harness is the answer! What's the difference between a properly fitted collar and a properly fitted harness when her hair grows back in? They couldn't tell me, they just knew that a harness was the answer to all their problems. Okay. It's not my job to talk sense into people who aren't making any when they want to needlessly spend money on inanimate objects. You want a harness? You got a harness. Through most of this, the man had been doing the talking and the woman had sort of been nervously hiding behind him. When I went to fit the harness on the dog she said something inane to me and I looked up and my blood ran cold. OMG. It was the Crazy Bird Lady. And her husband was just as nonsensical. Great. They didn't know how to put a harness on, so I showed them. I also showed them that there are instructions on the back of the tag for how to put it on, and advised them not to throw it away so they could refer to it at home. Right-o. Off they go with a new harness.
On Sunday, they were back. I had 3 customers waiting for my attention, and employees of the store kept interrupting me to tell me some lady was looking for me. Okay, okay. Jesus. Just let me get finished with the three people ahead of her. Finally, she just interrupted my conversation with a customer who was concerned about a new momma rat. It was Crazy Bird Lady and her Only Slightly Less Crazy Husband, and their dog. They couldn't figure out how to put the harness on. So I showed them. Again.
"I just can't put it on myself because when I try to bend down, I can't breathe and I almost pass out," she tells me.
"Well, then perhaps you could sit and have her sit on your lap to put it on," I suggested.
No, my goodness no, that's logical. We can't have that. "I can't put it on because I have cancer," she said to me. I'm pretty sure at this point she's making things up to try and evoke my sympathy. But I also know that she's as mad as a hatter from the dead bird experience, so I didn't reply to the cancer statement. They rambled at me for a few more minutes a bunch of things that didn't make sense and finally said, "I guess we'll just have to come back every day for you to put it on her."
Whoa whoa whoa wait. Wait one minute. I said, "But I'm not always here." It's true. I have a life outside of the kennel.
"Yes, but we have no one else to help us." So.. you could just learn to do it yourself. But no. They pay no attention to me when I try to explain again how to put the harness on. They just keep making lame excuses as to why they can't learn to do it themselves.
Monday morning, they were back again. The new girl huffs back into the kennel and says, "Those people with the harness are back again, they want you." OMFG. You have got to be kidding me. I have a kennel full of cages to clean, and not only that, today is a vaccination day. So I have to rush to get the cages all clean so I can rush to get all these dogs their vaccinations and wormings that are due. Add that to the fact that there are now about 19 slots taken up on the med chart, and I'm going to be lucky to get everything done before I leave at 3 to get my son off of the bus. I don't have time for this shit! Really. I'm not technically SUPPOSED to be helping customers, just working with the dogs. I help customers when I can, but seriously, nobody ever expected the kennel manager before me to deal with customers. He never did. You know why? Because he didn't have time for that shit, that's why. So that's what I tell the new girl. "Sorry, don't have time for that shit. Those people are crazy."
So a guy named P tries to help them. Unfortunately, he also has no idea how to put a harness on a dog. (Really, why was I the only person in the store that day who knew how to put a harness on a dog?) Finally, after he begs me, I come out, and show them how to put the harness on. Again. This time she says, "I can't do it, you see, because I'm a Holocaust survivor." Swear. She said that. Lady, I don't care what kind of survivor you are. Hurricane Katrina, Holocaust or reality TV show, you can still learn to put a harness on your own dog. First you can't do it because you can't breathe, then you couldn't do it because you have cancer, now you can't do it because the Germans tried to kill you sixty years ago. WTF. I know you're crazy but that's just.. that's just crazy. I said, again, "You have to learn how to do it. Really, because there is going to come a time when you need it on her and nobody is going to be there to do it for you. I'm not here all the time, and I'm not always going to be working here." And then I left them standing there.
They didn't come in today until after I left. I got a text message at home from P:
P: Yo it's P. [4:15pm]
Me: Yo [4:20pm]
P: The old couple is back about that harness lol [4:27pm]
Me: See! I told them I wasn't always going to be there! [5:05pm]
P: lol they're tryin to find you. lol [5:11pm]
Me: Spot's hot [5:12pm]
When I told one of the general managers about this problem and that it was the Crazy Dead Bird Lady, she said, "I knew she looked familiar! And you know what, she was after me about that harness, too, but she told me she couldn't learn to do it because she has Alzheimer's. Then a few minutes later she said she couldn't learn to do it because she has diabetes."
I don't think she has cancer, diabetes or Alzheimer's, but there is definitely something wrong with her. Yep. Nuttier than a fruitcake.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Camping With Shibas
Back from my camping trip, hullooo out there in teh interwebz! I hope you all were warmer and happier than I was this weekend, but that doesn't seem likely because I was freezing and happy as all get out for most of it. I'm like my dog: I relish the cold weather. I get frisky and sleep better. Cold is good. Let's all move to Baffin Island and call it a job well done.
I tell people we took the dog camping and the universal reaction is a raised eyebrow and "Oh yeah? And how did that work out for you?"
Shibas make camping legit. No, really. You're not really roughing it unless you have no electricity, a roaring fire, and a primitive dog sitting just inside the light of it. Pleading with his eyes for marshmallows. So he can thrash them around, pounce on them, thrash them some more, and "kill" them for 7 or 8 minutes before he finally eats them.
Yeah, it's like that. As Kitsune fiercely dispatched the first marshmallow, my SO calmly asked me, "What the hell is he doing?" My only answer: I dunno. You get the Shiba in the woods and apparently they feel the need to kill everything before they eat it.
They also feel the need to defend the new home-place from every comer. This isn't the first time we've taken Kitsune camping. The first time we went to Cherrystone, VA in the summer and the hot Shiba dug himself many cool, damp sand den places all over the campsite, and enjoyed lurking under the car to dart out and scare passerby silly. This time, I forgot that we no longer have a tie-out stake and upon arriving at the campground, discovered that dogs are not allowed to be attached to any posts, poles or trees currently existing in the campground. Well, now what? Luckily enough there was a huge (seriously HUGE, about 60 pound) log at our site, and I just wrapped a leash around that. He still managed to drag it around some, but it slowed him down significantly enough that he couldn't terrorize the entire state park.
Kitsune sat there next to his log and made us feel like we were really surviving. He was quiet until the sun went down. Then some other doggish camper came walking by in the night being towed along by some large-ish whitish colored animal, and mine started sounding the alarm. Of course, dogs began to answer all over the campground, reminding me of the barking phone-tree scene from 101 Dalmatians.
"Now look what you started," I told him, and he quickly glanced at me and then back out into the night, chuffing for that last word in. He barked a few more times at people walking by. He really got started when the guy in the next campsite over would raise his voice. Most of the time that guy was talking in a normal tone of voice and I couldn't hear him at our campsite. I'm sure Kitsune could. Every once in awhile, he raised his voice pretty loudly and very suddenly, and his tone would get sort of hostile, and Kitsune would go berserk. When Kitsune is truly concerned by something like that, it's very hard to settle him down. Shibas take commands like, "Quiet!" with a grain of salt anyway, but when they're certain that life and property may be in jeopardy, there really is no stopping them. With the people just walking by who needed to be warned, telling him, "Hey. They're allowed to be here. Enough," is all it takes to bring him down from brass section to piccolo solo. With the guy in the next campsite, Kitsune just launched an all out verbal assault. Shock and awe, baby. That'll show him. He won't think about coming over here with that tone.
Putting him in his crate in the tent settled him down pretty good for the night. He let off one more tirade at the guy in the next campsite, and was quiet for the night. For the most part.
Around 4:30 in the morning, I had to pee really bad. It was really cold, about 39 degrees, and I did not want to get up and go trekking across the campground in the dark to the bathrooms. As I laid there in the dark trying to talk my bladder out of exploding, I heard a subdued yodeling howl that dissolved into the chirping noises dogs only make when they're dreaming. Even sleeping Kitsune is not a quiet dog. Finally I decided to get up and just go already. When I came out of the bathhouse, there was some guy waiting for me. (This always happens to me.) His friends and I were probably the only people awake in the campground and in the course of talking to me he offhandedly mentioned, "Yeah I just heard someone's dog whimpering and howling. It probably needs to go out." I almost giggled because I know what he'd heard was Kitsune's dreaming noises.
Kitsune gets progressively better as he adjusts to new surroundings. The next night there was much less barking at the random people. The guy who freaked Kitsune out was gone and replaced by two other guys and their kids, and these guys didn't suddenly and loudly become annoyed in the course of a conversation, so Kitsune didn't suddenly and loudly bark as much.
He did decide that his collapsible bowl needed to be killed, and this sparked a Shiba 500 around the 60 pound log that was so comical my SO almost spit his cigarette out of his mouth.
He also laid down by the campfire, curled up so tightly, and in such a heat efficient manner. He had his head resting on his pads so they didn't get cold, and he was balled up so close he could put his nose under his tail, so his nose didn't get cold, either. Shiba tails are not very long. Making himself small enough to put his tail over his nose was pretty impressive. Kitsune likes to curl up in the house but I've never seen him really bed down like that before. I told him, "Now you're prepared for a snowstorm," and he pointed an ear in my direction.
We sat around the campfire, drinking fire warmed apple cider with cinnamon sticks in it, talking and eating and watching the Shiba, until we were tired and had no more wood.
Bliss.
I tell people we took the dog camping and the universal reaction is a raised eyebrow and "Oh yeah? And how did that work out for you?"
Shibas make camping legit. No, really. You're not really roughing it unless you have no electricity, a roaring fire, and a primitive dog sitting just inside the light of it. Pleading with his eyes for marshmallows. So he can thrash them around, pounce on them, thrash them some more, and "kill" them for 7 or 8 minutes before he finally eats them.
Yeah, it's like that. As Kitsune fiercely dispatched the first marshmallow, my SO calmly asked me, "What the hell is he doing?" My only answer: I dunno. You get the Shiba in the woods and apparently they feel the need to kill everything before they eat it.
They also feel the need to defend the new home-place from every comer. This isn't the first time we've taken Kitsune camping. The first time we went to Cherrystone, VA in the summer and the hot Shiba dug himself many cool, damp sand den places all over the campsite, and enjoyed lurking under the car to dart out and scare passerby silly. This time, I forgot that we no longer have a tie-out stake and upon arriving at the campground, discovered that dogs are not allowed to be attached to any posts, poles or trees currently existing in the campground. Well, now what? Luckily enough there was a huge (seriously HUGE, about 60 pound) log at our site, and I just wrapped a leash around that. He still managed to drag it around some, but it slowed him down significantly enough that he couldn't terrorize the entire state park.
Kitsune sat there next to his log and made us feel like we were really surviving. He was quiet until the sun went down. Then some other doggish camper came walking by in the night being towed along by some large-ish whitish colored animal, and mine started sounding the alarm. Of course, dogs began to answer all over the campground, reminding me of the barking phone-tree scene from 101 Dalmatians.
"Now look what you started," I told him, and he quickly glanced at me and then back out into the night, chuffing for that last word in. He barked a few more times at people walking by. He really got started when the guy in the next campsite over would raise his voice. Most of the time that guy was talking in a normal tone of voice and I couldn't hear him at our campsite. I'm sure Kitsune could. Every once in awhile, he raised his voice pretty loudly and very suddenly, and his tone would get sort of hostile, and Kitsune would go berserk. When Kitsune is truly concerned by something like that, it's very hard to settle him down. Shibas take commands like, "Quiet!" with a grain of salt anyway, but when they're certain that life and property may be in jeopardy, there really is no stopping them. With the people just walking by who needed to be warned, telling him, "Hey. They're allowed to be here. Enough," is all it takes to bring him down from brass section to piccolo solo. With the guy in the next campsite, Kitsune just launched an all out verbal assault. Shock and awe, baby. That'll show him. He won't think about coming over here with that tone.
Putting him in his crate in the tent settled him down pretty good for the night. He let off one more tirade at the guy in the next campsite, and was quiet for the night. For the most part.
Around 4:30 in the morning, I had to pee really bad. It was really cold, about 39 degrees, and I did not want to get up and go trekking across the campground in the dark to the bathrooms. As I laid there in the dark trying to talk my bladder out of exploding, I heard a subdued yodeling howl that dissolved into the chirping noises dogs only make when they're dreaming. Even sleeping Kitsune is not a quiet dog. Finally I decided to get up and just go already. When I came out of the bathhouse, there was some guy waiting for me. (This always happens to me.) His friends and I were probably the only people awake in the campground and in the course of talking to me he offhandedly mentioned, "Yeah I just heard someone's dog whimpering and howling. It probably needs to go out." I almost giggled because I know what he'd heard was Kitsune's dreaming noises.
Kitsune gets progressively better as he adjusts to new surroundings. The next night there was much less barking at the random people. The guy who freaked Kitsune out was gone and replaced by two other guys and their kids, and these guys didn't suddenly and loudly become annoyed in the course of a conversation, so Kitsune didn't suddenly and loudly bark as much.
He did decide that his collapsible bowl needed to be killed, and this sparked a Shiba 500 around the 60 pound log that was so comical my SO almost spit his cigarette out of his mouth.
He also laid down by the campfire, curled up so tightly, and in such a heat efficient manner. He had his head resting on his pads so they didn't get cold, and he was balled up so close he could put his nose under his tail, so his nose didn't get cold, either. Shiba tails are not very long. Making himself small enough to put his tail over his nose was pretty impressive. Kitsune likes to curl up in the house but I've never seen him really bed down like that before. I told him, "Now you're prepared for a snowstorm," and he pointed an ear in my direction.
We sat around the campfire, drinking fire warmed apple cider with cinnamon sticks in it, talking and eating and watching the Shiba, until we were tired and had no more wood.
Bliss.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Dog Food Recipe
Going to be away from the computer starting tonight into Sunday night. The SO, myself, our son and Kitsune are going on a camping trip to celebrate the SO's birthday. (Happy Birthday!)
Just thought I'd toss up a recipe before I go, since I'm currently making a batch of Inu-Food for the Kitsune monster.
This batch was
1 15oz can of whole mackerel
1 3.9oz tub of Mott's Healthy Harvest Blueberry Delight applesauce
2 cups of long grain rice, uncooked
1/4 of a 15oz can of Libby's pure pumpkin puree
A tablespoon of ground ginger
A teaspoon of ground star anise
Cook the long grain rice. I use a rice cooker. It's easy. You just dump in the rice, water, and push a button. Presto. Rice. This'll make about 3 cups of cooked rice.
Mix all the other ingredients in a large bowl.
*Usually, I grind up cleaned eggshells in a coffee grinder and add that, because of all the things the dogs need, calcium is IMPORTANT. Since the mackerel is whole and whole includes bones, I didn't this time, but if you use any other kind of fish, you have to add the calcium some way. The fish bones in the mackerel are softened by the canning process, so they are safe. You can smoosh them with your finger.
Once the rice is done, put it in the large bowl and mix it all together. It stinks, I know. It smells like licorice-y fish. That's why dogs love it.
I use a metal 1 cup measure and press the mixture into that and then pat it out into 1 cup patties. Kitsune eats 1 or 2 of these patties per day. This batch will make about a week's worth of food. If you use this as a supplemental food, which I strongly recommend, it will last even longer. If you have a smaller dog, use a metal half-cup measure. If you have a teeny tiny dog, use a quarter-cup measure.
I freeze the patties in zip-loc baggies. In the summer, I'll just give him the whole frozen patty and it's like his favorite ice-cube treat and dinner all in one. In the winter, I let it thaw out overnight or during the day in the fridge.
**Once again, this is only for supplemental feeding. It's great for getting a dog with diarrhea back to solid stool or for picky eaters, but you need to feed a can of commercial or dry at least every other feeding or so.
Soon, I'll post up a good recipe you can use for every day.
Just thought I'd toss up a recipe before I go, since I'm currently making a batch of Inu-Food for the Kitsune monster.
This batch was
1 15oz can of whole mackerel
1 3.9oz tub of Mott's Healthy Harvest Blueberry Delight applesauce
2 cups of long grain rice, uncooked
1/4 of a 15oz can of Libby's pure pumpkin puree
A tablespoon of ground ginger
A teaspoon of ground star anise
Cook the long grain rice. I use a rice cooker. It's easy. You just dump in the rice, water, and push a button. Presto. Rice. This'll make about 3 cups of cooked rice.
Mix all the other ingredients in a large bowl.
*Usually, I grind up cleaned eggshells in a coffee grinder and add that, because of all the things the dogs need, calcium is IMPORTANT. Since the mackerel is whole and whole includes bones, I didn't this time, but if you use any other kind of fish, you have to add the calcium some way. The fish bones in the mackerel are softened by the canning process, so they are safe. You can smoosh them with your finger.
Once the rice is done, put it in the large bowl and mix it all together. It stinks, I know. It smells like licorice-y fish. That's why dogs love it.
I use a metal 1 cup measure and press the mixture into that and then pat it out into 1 cup patties. Kitsune eats 1 or 2 of these patties per day. This batch will make about a week's worth of food. If you use this as a supplemental food, which I strongly recommend, it will last even longer. If you have a smaller dog, use a metal half-cup measure. If you have a teeny tiny dog, use a quarter-cup measure.
I freeze the patties in zip-loc baggies. In the summer, I'll just give him the whole frozen patty and it's like his favorite ice-cube treat and dinner all in one. In the winter, I let it thaw out overnight or during the day in the fridge.
**Once again, this is only for supplemental feeding. It's great for getting a dog with diarrhea back to solid stool or for picky eaters, but you need to feed a can of commercial or dry at least every other feeding or so.
Soon, I'll post up a good recipe you can use for every day.
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