Showing posts with label puppy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label puppy. Show all posts

Sunday, 8 November 2015

House-training

House-training

House-training is defined in dictionaries as, among other things, Taming, Training, Disciplining, Domesticating, Schooling. I am immersed in the process and have been for some while as there are two young animals in the house. They are both at similar stages but I would suggest that the younger of the two is generally more reliable though still prone to occasional ‘accidents’.

‘Two young animals?’ I imagine you asking. ‘Why, yes,’ I reply, ‘Frankie and Roxy.’
Frankie with a favourite 'rocket' ice lolly
Roxy
Roxy, Lolly (Bethan's dog) and Frankie last week
They are two young animals, just not of the same species. Frankie is a human animal and we will be celebrating his third birthday in three weeks’ time. Roxy is a chocolate Labrador and she will be eight months old in two weeks’ time.

There are advantages and disadvantages in the training of each of these animals. A young puppy, a ‘baby’ puppy, must be taken out to relieve itself after every meal and every time it wakes from its frequent sleeps. This includes the wee, small hours, a particularly inviting time to stumble from the comfort of one’s bed in the chilly pre-dawn or post-midnight to carry the warm, cuddly, licking, squeaky bundle of soft fur downstairs and outside. Small puppies need reassurance, encouragement and company and must be accompanied in all weathers. It is advisable to have them safely secured by a slip lead in case they disappear into the usually damp gloom of a shrubbery or a dark corner in an inaccessible part of the garden.

Even if you opt to confine your puppy to the ground floor, usually the kitchen, you will still have to get up in the middle of the night to let it out. If you don’t you will be greeted in the morning with a task that cannot be delayed, especially if the puppy has, shall we say, spread it around a bit . . .

When Roxy was a baby, not so very long ago, her night-time ventures coincided with the nocturnal visitations of our local rat population. These rodents, sleek, bold and well-fed (on fish food and bird cake), orchestrated the evening air with shrill squeaks and squeals. Our adult dogs would have had no truck with them but Roxy was simply curious, her head tilting from side to side as she attempted to catch sight of the creatures making such interesting noises.

However, a human baby is rather easier in that it can be enfolded in a nappy, at least the bits that leak so haphazardly. Certainly it must be kept as dry and comfortable as possible and when very new it requires food at irregular intervals throughout the day and predominantly, or so it seems to the sleep-deprived parents, through the night, As it grows, the intervals between feeds and nappy changes lengthen and parental dreams of periods of sleep longer than two hours may be realised. When it has entered toddlerhood the challenge of ‘potty-training’ arises. Talk at toddler groups centres on the relative success or failure of these still young and innocent human animals to master the whole messy business – and it can be very messy. Gone are the days of lifting your charge into the air to sniff its behind to ascertain whether a change is optional (wet) or essential (more than wet). Now the focus is on the manner of the toddler’s fidgeting punctuated with, ‘Do you want a pee/ poo? Oh, too late, never mind,’ as the third or fourth set of clothes of the morning are removed and replaced.

Now, there are certain problems that arise when toddlers and animals live together that may not present themselves in solely human homes. Roxy piddles on the floor, an accident that would have been avoided if we had only been paying attention. Frankie piddles on the floor – another accident that would have been avoided et cetera, et cetera.

It is not just in the matter of ‘hygiene training’ (how euphemistic can you get?) that toddlers copy pets. Frankie kneels on the floor and drinks from the cats’ and dogs’ communal two-gallon bucket of water – it’s fun and he enjoys it and the water is clean . . . isn’t it? On other occasions he climbs into Roxy’s indoor kennel (crate) to lie down on her bedding. It’s cosy, it’s comfortable and it’s got some really interesting toys in it and he can carry them in his mouth, just like she does. Out for a walk in the forest he copies Roxy and picks up a stick - and puts it in his mouth.

More worryingly, and this is why toddlers and animals should never be left unsupervised together, he gets down on all fours and pushes his head against hers. She’s a puppy, she loves it and responds like a puppy but puppies play roughly and have sharp teeth and so we intervene, Frankie is learning – and so is Roxy.

So, in the matter of house-training, Roxy and Frankie are making progress but it’s easier with puppies than humans, I think.  Nonetheless, I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before I sit Roxy on the loo and put Frankie outside to relieve himself.



Wednesday, 22 February 2012

The Adventures of Frodo the Faller - repost

This is a republication of a post from my early days of blogging and is the first of a series about our remaining Dalmatian. He is ten years old now but it tells of him as a pup.
When Frodo was a little chap, before he became a Faller, we would occasionally take him to dog shows. He was always very excited to see all the different breeds of dog and could barely contain himself. Eventually it would be our turn to enter the ring – yes, Frodo is a dog. What did you think? Who would call a child Frodo? J.R.R. Tolkien did, for one, although now I come to think of it Frodo Baggins was a Hobbit, not a human. I digress – something I frequently do. I ascribe it to having had four children and spending my entire working life with young children. It’s almost impossible to hold one’s train of thought when interruptions are frequent, repetitive and insistent. Many are the profound ponderings, grand philosophies and life-enhancing schemes that have been half-developed and abandoned; rather like a lovely dream from which one is abruptly woken and to which one longs to return but cannot, or like the floaters in your eyes that you can never quite focus on. Maybe the fruition of such deliberations would have proved them to be half-baked so better they were left embryonic. The first time Frodo and I ventured into the ring – on which occasion, by the way, he qualified for Cruft’s, the supreme beauty show of the canine world, though for a puppy to qualify the requirement is a first, second or third place in a class, so it’s not very exacting. Why should it be? A puppy is full of promise. To resume, the first time we went into the ring, neither of us had much idea what we were supposed to be doing although we had attended Ringcraft classes – well, only one actually, as Frodo was five months old when he came to live with us and his breeder had already entered him for his first dog show just after his six-month birthday.
Not wanting to disappoint and convinced we had a puppy that was going to become an instant star we bravely went along. With hindsight we would have let the breeder down less if we had not fetched up at the show at all. Notwithstanding, we galloped around the ring, Frodo leaping and prancing like a circus horse and biting his lead, me trying to look as though I was in control. Finally, we were called to a halt so that the judge could ‘go over’ the puppies. I was now an unattractive shade of puce, which clashed with the purple jacket I was wearing, and panting heavily. In fact, I was panting more than the puppies. All the other handlers looked calm and collected. With good grace Frodo allowed himself to be handled. This could be the start of something big! During subsequent shows, however, it became apparent that Frodo was enjoying the whole shooting match rather less than I was (and I was not happy to be careering round in front of so many people – I’m not a shrinking violet, but I don’t like to be on public display) My handling abilities had not developed noticeably and added to the requirement to keep Frodo moving at a steady pace, showing off his superb conformation, gait and spotting (he’s a Dalmatian) was the necessity to prevent him taking lumps out of the other exhibits as we charged past. The final indication that the show world was not for Frodo was when the judge was gently examining him and he growled (Frodo that is, not the judge) – a soft, back-of-the-throat, please stop growl, a warning that he was not enjoying the whole experience. So our beautiful boy was to be for our eyes only, never to receive the highest accolade in the show dog world, Cruft’s Supreme Champion. As it was, it would never have happened anyway because shortly before his third birthday Frodo became a Faller, of which more anon.

Friday, 9 September 2011

Allegro


The challenge at 'imaginary garden with real toads' was set by Laurie Kolp. Her word, 'allegro' was to be incorporated in an eight-line stanza that had to be written in one minute. 
As she said, 'To sum it up: One word (allegro), one octave, one minute.'



I said, ‘Allegro’ to my pup -
‘Twas meant to make him hurry up,
But he just rushed straight back indoors
With lightning haste and muddy paws
And jumped into the litter tray
To piddle quickly. Now each day
He turns his nose up when it’s wet
And pees inside, the little pe(s)t!


Wednesday, 1 September 2010

ABC Wednesday G is for Gus


Denise Nesbitt and her Gallant Group Gaily organise and host this weekly meme. Want to have a Gander at what others have Generated? Click here.
Augustus Lazarus Cooke, usually known as Gus, Gus-Gus, Gussy or Gustopher, will be one year old next Monday, September 6th. How can he ever have been smaller than our cats? I used to carry him downstairs in the middle of the night when he wanted to go out – I can't lift him now. 
He has grown from an adorable small puppy into a handsome, athletic, large dog. He hasn't finished growing yet and will broaden in the coming months. His Labrador instincts are fully developed, evidence of the fine working stock from which he comes. He is intelligent and quick to learn, naughty when the mood takes him (when he hasn't had enough exercise!) and a great smiler.

Wednesday, 4 November 2009

ABC Wednesday Round 5 - P is for puppy!

P Is for PuPPy - Augustus Lazarus Cooke










































Thank you to Mrs Nesbitt for hosting this meme. Click here if you're as nosy as me and want to see what others are up to.