Originally my son’s, but at 55 lbs. he is over twice as big as he is allowed to be and remain where he was. His name is Leet, or upside down 7331 or whatever the computer term is.
I am a veterinarian’s son. I was going to be a hard nose about it - 'If you can’t find another home for him, he will have to go to the pound!" Then he came, and started looking trustingly at me with his big brown eyes. And now I’m a goner. He is apparently now going to be with us for good.
Ah well.
Things Leet Has Learned Very Well
[ul][li]How not to go potty in the house. Despite the enormous size and quantity of his eliminations, he is very good about decorating the yard and not my carpet. [/li][li]Sit on command. He is very good at this. He has taken it into his head that if he sits nicely, he gets whatever he wants. (We are relying mostly on positive reinforcement for his training). So, if we are trying to have dinner, he thinks that if he gets our attention, and then Sits, he can have some table scraps. [/li]
And Dogs Do Not Get Fed From the Table. No, I don’t care that you are sitting nicely. No, I don’t care how cute you look. Dogs Do Not Get Fed From the Table. So stop looking so cute. It won’t work.
Well, maybe just a scrap or two.
[li]He comes when he is called. This he is rather good at. Even with distractions like other dogs, he will break off contact and scamper back to me. [/li][li]Stay on command. A C- at best. He sometimes forgets he is supposed to stay, and wants to wander off and play with the other dogs or whatever. [/ul][/li] Things Leet Has Not Learned Very Well
[ul][li]It’s Saturday, dammit. We do not have to get up at 6:00am. Grandpa wants to sleep another hour. Stop whacking me with your paw. [/li][li]We are fully aware of the dangers of the vacuum cleaner. It is not necessary to warn us that it might go berserk and kill us by barking continuously while it is in use. [/li]
Although my wife made a good point. “He was raised by our son, dear. He has probably never seen anyone clean before.”
[li]Yes, I know the cart for yard waste makes a scary rumbling noise. It does not deserve to be bitten for that reason. And standing in the way and barking does not stop progress - you have to get out of the way.[/li][li]When I am painting, I will not die if I go up on the ladder. You do not need to run for help like furging Lassie barking like Timmie fell down the well again just because I need to finish the trim. [/li][li]Those are whiskers you have on your face, not paintbrushes. Please keep them out of the paint. [/ul][/li]
Sigh.
A friend of mine once said “Freedom is when the kids are out of the house, and the dog is dead.” My kids are out, but this dog shows no sign of morbidity for the next several years.
After many weeks of chasing, he has finally caught his tail. Now he has to decide what to do with it.
Relations with his other toys remains mixed. His squeaky stuffed platypus is still his pal, but he has destroyed one of his tennis balls. Gardening remains a challenge, as he is very good at grabbing the branches and running away with them, but placing them in the pile does not happen consistently.
His testosterone levels are scheduled to drop sharply one week from today, when he will undergo a surgical procedure in a Highly Personal Place. Yes, it is time for him to be neutered. I have an eye appointment the same day as his neuter - I must be sure not to mix up the appointment cards.
The vet tech remarked that “boys have it luckier than girls when it comes to things like being neutered”. I immediately corrected her - there is no possible connection between luck, and having your nuts cut off. Yes, I know he won’t miss them, but still.
Currently he is lying on the floor watching me to see if I would like to share any of my breakfast. I asked him if he had anything to say to the Dope, and he replied that it was obvious.
More Things Leet Has Learned
[ul][li]When Grandpa goes into his cigar humidor, this is reason enough to get all exited - cigar = walk, and walk = fun.[/li][li]When Grandma and Grandpa start kissing and hugging, it is time to intervene. Because sometimes when that happens, Leet has to go into his cage for a half hour or so, because for some reason they lock Leet out of the bedroom and don’t like it when he barks. [/li][li]The vet is a good person. He gives treats. The vet tech is a bad person. She sticks needles in dogs. [/li][li]Ha ha ha, dog down the street - you have an invisible fence line that you can’t cross. So Leet can stand on the other side of the line and bark at you and you can’t do anything. [/li][li]The guy to fix the bathroom is a threat that must be barked at. Until he gives Leet a nice dog treat. Then he must be barked at until he gives another treat. [/ul][/li]
Regards,
Shodan
Leet is learning things. If he ever develops opposable thumbs you’re in for a world of fun. Can you wrap Leet’s leash around a tree and then watch him unwrap it?
Actually he’s been pretty well trained (by my son) to keep from getting tangled up with the leash. The only time it happens is when he feels the need to circle me (while on his leash) and then run off after a bug/rabbit/bird/figment of his imagination. I then wind up with my legs bound together and fifty-five pounds of enthusiastic doggie roping me up and hog-tying me like last year’s rodeo.
Things Grandpa Has Learned
[ul][li]Better keep the pantry door closed tight. Because little dogs can get their noses in and find the peanut butter jar. If he had been able to figure out how to work the lid, we would have been out of peanut butter. [/li][li]Leet is fast. I left my oatmeal way up high where Leet couldn’t get to it, and went upstairs to get more coffee. Thirty seconds later, I returned to find my bowl was sparkling clean, and Leet was over on the couch burping and acting casual (“Oatmeal? What oatmeal? You can’t prove anything!”).[/li][li]The timing of Leet’s bowels remains problematic. He always seems to poop about two blocks into our walk - far enough away that I cannot return to base to toss the poop easily. And I do not find the walk experience to be enhanced by carrying a bag full of fresh, hot dog doo-doo. And they stink. I keep running into neighbors I know, and I have to keep upwind of them so they don’t think it’s me. [/li][li]Walking the dog is good exercise, but this is ridiculous. I have lost four pounds already in the six weeks or so we have had him. I am shooting for (and have been making) an hour a day our goal. Leet tends to peter out after the second hour. One Saturday my wife took him to the dog park for an hour, and then I walked him that evening for an hour and a half. He kept sitting down and hoping he could go home and rest. Boy, did he sleep well that night. [/ul][/li]I was going to ask if he had anything to share, but he ran upstairs to harass my wife. She must have started dinner.
Did you have Leet last weekend when DST ended? My Labrador also has a built in alarm clock, and apparently dog’s internal clock DOES NOT adjust for daylight savings time. Her 6 am wake up/outside/feed me time is now happening at 5 am my time. And that is not cool.
I thought an hour later bedtime would help. It didn’t. Five AM a large black snout notified me that “I’m hungry and I need to go outside. Can we get up now?”
Has Leet caught any of the local critters and offered them up as trophies of accomplishment? (For that matter, what are the local critters he might catch?)
Nary a one. The local fauna (rabbits, squirrels, bugs, ducks and geese) sneer when he comes galloping after them. The squirrels don’t play fair - they run up trees, and then Leet looks up at them longingly while they cuss him out from on high. Then he looks at me like I should know how he can reach them. The rabbits duck under fences and escape. The ducks and geese swim out into the middle of the local pond and laugh at him.
He does occasionally catch a bug, but usually eats it rather than bring it to me to skin and gut.
This, specifically, is my pooch’s favorite item. It is a soft frisbee that floats if it goes into the water. It flies a reasonable distance, too, up to bout fifty yards if you hook it right.
This has a certain advantage. First, of course, that Kensington Rose is running back and forth whilst I am standing still, which wears her out faster than it wears me out. But secondly, when she launches before I throw it, and she doesn’t predict where it’s going, she gets to run up and down the yard till she figures out where it is. You can waste a good two-three minutes of full speed dogitude that way.
I have also, after many years of trial and error, found a dog toy that will not be gutted in seconds. In fact, it’s on its second month with intact squeakers. The packaging claims it’s tiger-tested. I actually believe it now.
My parents are raising their granddog. My baby sister had the bad taste to marry a guy highly allergic to her dog.
They are just happy that they got three children to 40 (well, the youngest is 38) and none of us made them raise their grandkids.
He’s adorable. And as for the freedom thing - remind your son that the dog is still his “sometimes” responsibility - when you go on vacation, he gets to house/dog sit.
