Tiny Terrorists

Warning: I use poop related words in this article.

Well, I went and did what my husband told me not to do. And I did it with his permission. We have more than one foster dog. In fact, we have 3. In addition to Gayla, the two newest arrivals are 7 week old puppies. We took them because it was an emergency situation. The foster who was going to take them had a current puppy she's taking care of come down with Parvo. Parvo is highly contagious and very deadly. Since the group was shorthanded (ie everyone already had puppies) we stepped in to help. These two are part of a litter that had 8. The group has been broken up between 4 different homes. Besides the Parvo concern, these poor babies have ringworm which they're on medication for. But this means they have to be quarantined from the other dogs. The reason I'm calling them tiny terrorists is because they don't like being separated from the action. So they cry. Correction, they scream. Like someone is hacking body parts off of them. And the only way to break that behavior is to ignore it. Sweet Jesus in heaven give me patience.

They are doing decent (kind of) with keeping their potty in one area of the pen. But every time I put a new pee pad in the pen they commence playing on it. This concerns me that when I'm not around they may be rolling on spots they already pee'd on. Not very sanitary.

I brought them home Saturday afternoon. I have no idea what they were eating before so I put them on the puppy food I have. By yesterday their poop was becoming less solid. This is to be expected. It's runnier today. I know this isn't unusual but I have to keep track of when I got them and their progress to make sure that this is change of food diarrhea and not Parvo diarrhea.

Just a couple minutes ago Ms. Eliza made a break for it and came wondering into the kitchen. I put her back and plugged her excape route. Now she is sitting in the middle of the pen screaming in agony and pain. At least that is what it sounds like. In reality, I'm guessing it's just her pissed off yell.

They are part malamute. It shows in their voices. One of the other fosters who got the two I was hoping to get seems to be in complete love with her little guys. Then again, hers don't have to be quarantined either. I imagine that would have made a big difference. That is all for now. Here is a picture of my terrorists.

If you look closely you can see the evil in their eyes.

Foster Dog

Have I mentioned yet that I started fostering dogs this year? Back in May, when I finished up the Spring semester I thought I would give fostering a try for the summer. I figured I would get a dog, have it for months on end and at the end of that time I'd be back at school, so that was enough for the time being. The temporariness didn't so much appeal to me as it seemed sensible. Logical even. Well, here I am 2.5 months into this and on my third foster dog. No, I don't still have the first 2. T, my hubby, set the very strict rule of one at a time. This was wise because I've got a soft spot that dogs always find and then later I can't help but wonder what the hell was I thinking.

So first there was Fiona.

She was deemed a difficult dog because she'd gotten into fights with dogs at her previous foster homes. I was her 4th foster. She was a little Terrier mix of some kind. You can't see it from any of the pictures I took, but honestly to me she looked like a tiny white Italian Greyhound. 

Image from http://www.akc.org/dog-breeds/italian-greyhound/

I only had Fiona for about a month. She and Charlotte did get into a couple rough sounding play matches, but she couldn't bully Charlotte like she had the smaller dogs she'd been fostered with. She learned with us that it was okay to share things with other dogs. She was adopted by an older couple with a dog a little larger than her. Last I heard everything was going great. Thanks again Linda and Paul for giving her a place in your hearts and home.

Next I had a choice between two that we had in the kennels at the Vet's office. One was an older girl who had come in with a litter of puppies. Her puppies had been moved out, but she was still there. She was going stir crazy in the kennel but there was  a second one that was only about 6 months old and was becoming very frightened and withdrawing into herself more and more. I picked the puppy because I was afraid that if she stayed in that environment too much longer she would become reactionary. I kept a journal of her progress for the few weeks I had her. Charlotte adopted Layla as her own. She stole our hearts. We renamed her Lulu. 

Everyone thought she was Charlotte's puppy because they resembled each other so much. 

She was adopted after her first event by a guy and his teenage son. I haven't heard back from them so I hope she's doing well. She was a really good girl. Smart and sweet. But she had a little bit of housebreaking to learn yet and she had a taste for cell phone chargers.

After Layla was adopted, the mama who was at the vet still needed a foster, so we brought home Gayla. 

She was insane for the first couple days. Couldn't stop pacing around. And so much energy. This was to be expected though because she'd been cooped up for so long. 

This picture is blurry because it was hard to catch her not moving! We've had Gala about 2 weeks now. She's turning into a really good girl too. We just have to work on her reactivity to strangers. She barks like a madman at them. She and Charlotte have gotten into it a few times, most recently over a rawhide. But jump apart pretty fast when I yell at them to knock it off though. 

I've been working on all her training with her, of course. And she's smart. She's picking up on it fast. Cattle dog mix so no surprise really. But T and I had the scare of a lifetime this morning. She got out the door on us and took off for the street. Our first reaction was to yell "Gayla! Get Back Here!" to which she paid absolutely no mind and kept going around the hedges. Thank God everything I've been studying kicked in after the first frantic "GAYLA!" that I screamed out. Against all my instincts, I stopped halfway down the drive and raised the pitch of my voice so it sounded fun instead of frantic and called again "Gayla! Come here baby! Come here!" T switched his tone to a light hearted one as well and she actually stopped in her tracks. She came a few steps back toward the yard, and then all the way into the yard, the whole time, us using our "fun" voices to call her. At that point Charlotte got out and went over to grab her by the scruff and the two took off into the yard back toward the house. Probably could have gotten her in faster without Charlotte's help, but the point of this story is that positive training worked on an unknown personality. 

Reminder: NEVER punish a dog for coming to you. I wanted to yell at her so badly after I got her back in the house and I suspect from her body language she was fully expecting a chastising. I kept my voice even and went about my business. Instead I sat down to write this instead. My stomach is still full of butterflies at the thought of what could have happened. Like I said before, thank God for the presence of mind to put my training to use. 

Right now both dogs are playing as though nothing unusual happened this morning. As it will always be for dogs.