A Letter to my Beloved Dog, Who is DRIVING ME BATSHIT!

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

Dear Bean,

We’ve been through a lot together in the last ten years, and all in all, you’re a damn good dog. You’re one of the smartest dogs I’ve ever had, obedient and sensitve, and you never chew on your people’s property. You’ve had some health issues in the last few years-- a leaky bladder and a tendancy to puke at the drop of a hat, but, hey, I’m willing to clean up some puddles for such a devoted compainion. It seems a reasonable trade.

But last night, I was picturing turning you into a pair of fur-lined boots. Yes, my dear, I know you cannot help it, but you’re making me canicidal.

When you were but a wee thing, you started showing signs of it. You would tremble and cry at loud sounds. I remember a trip to grandpa’s farm-- a place you previously loved to visit-- in which you went insane because we were in the backyard trap-shooting. Over time, your phobia grew to include thunderstorms. You would whine and slobber, hiding beneath my legs until it was over.

But over the last two years, you have graduated to being afraid of wind. Last night, you woke us at 3:15 A.M. I opened my eyes to find you standing in front of my face, panting as if you had just run a marathon. You leapt into the bed, and panted so hard that it bounced, with you keeping time with your whines.

Doing my motherly duty, I went downstairs and got you a tranquilizer tablet. I glanced out the window to see what sort of wild tempest was causing your distress, to discover that the windchimes were barely tinkling. It wasn’t even enough wind to make good kite-flying weather.

Of course, it takes over an hour for the tranqulizer to take effect. Your father could not get back to sleep. At 5:30, he surrendered entirely, and took you into another room, generously telling me to get as much sleep as I could.

But, my dear pet, I’m sure you’ve noticed your father leaves every morning and is gone all day. I’m sure you think he’s hunting, so that’s what we’ll call it. But lately, he’s been hunting in two locations, and as a result, he’s gone for more than fourteen hours a day. When he returns (sometimes bearing chunks of cow wrapped in cellophane) he’s exhausted.

It is your job in this pack to guard the den, fetch thrown objects, occasionally act as a foot-warmer, and to generally relieve stress with your adorable antics. Because of your age, you have mostly been excused from the antics part-- you mostly lie around and growl at the other dogs if they dare to venture too close.

I’ve tried to excuse your bitchiness to your younger siblings, because you’re old, but you’re also bitchy to us on occasion. Should we move a chair back too suddenly, or bump you while you’re sleeping, you’re likely to growl. Yes, I know, you’re old and easily startled. But its irksome. And I’m not saying this to *threaten * you or anything, but bitchy old humans sometimes get put into homes.

We’ve reached a compromise on those other issues. I love you, and I always will, but for the love of sweet Zombie Jesus, I need my sleep. I don’t want to dope you all the time, but it’s starting to approach that point. We live in a geographic area prone to wind (just thank Annubis that we don’t live in Chicago, dear doggy) but if you’re going to keep getting worse, I’ll have to.

Aaaagh!

Love, your furless mother,

Lissa

2

My dog had more or less the same problem. He’s on Prozac now, and he’s much, much better. Might want to talk to your vet about it.

3

Woof woof woof. Grrrrrrrrr woof! :frowning:
Whimper whimer woof :rolleyes: Garararoooooo roof!
Bawooo? :confused: Woof! :mad:

4

:smiley: :smiley: :smiley:

This made me laugh out loud!

5

Post as understood by beloved dog:

Blah BEAN,

Blah Blah Blah blah blah Blah BLAH blah Blah Blah Blah blah blah Blah BLAH blah Blah Blah Blah blah blah Blah BLAH blah Blah Blah Blah blah blah Blah BLAH blah Blah Blah Blah blah blah Blah BLAH blah Blah Blah BLAH blah blah Blah BLAH blah Blah Blah Blah BLAH blah Blah blah blah Blah Blah Blah blah blah Blah BLAH blah blah Blah Blah blah blah Blah BLAH blah Blah Blah BLah blah blah Blah BLAH blah Blah blah blah Blah blah blah Blah BLAH blah FETCH blah blah blah blah
Blah,

blah blah blah

Blah
(brings shoe)

6

But you gotta admit, Jackmannii, it is impressive that the dog can read.

7

Lissa, as the mom to a dog with serious Issues, as we call them – thunderstorm anxiety, separation anxiety, food issues, yes, even strong wind anxiety – may I recommend the Anxiety Wrap™? It’s done a lot to help calm our dog. That and daily doses of Clomicalm. Oh, and during storms? Canine Lullabies, aka heartbeat therapy for dogs. Makes ME want to go to sleep, too.

Email me (it’s in my profile) if you have any questions about this stuff; we’ve been dealing with all these Issues with our poor Rusty for several years now, and have become quite the experts at ways to deal with the craziness without drugging him into insensibility. Tempting though that is.

8

She won’t wear anything. Though, come to think of it, she might be distracted by trying to gnaw it off. And when I say she won’t wear anything, I mean she will not wear anything. She’s a very loving, obedient dog, but she’s also incredibly stubborn.

Case in point: she will not drink from anything other than Bean’s Approved Water Bowl ™, no matter how thirsty she gets. My husband bought her one of those waterers with the large jug resevoir. She wouldn’t go near the thing. Hubby insisted that no dog will deny itself water-- she’d drink once she got thirsty enough.

Three days later, we gave in because I was concerned she would severely dehydrate herself.

She won’t wear sweaters, obviously, and even a new collar or harness has to come off IMMEDIATELY. She’ll work at it for hours, if need be.

Putting her on a long-term medication is a risky proposition in her case. She was taking arthritis medication and it totally fried her liver. Now, I only give it to her when I notice she’s having a lot of discomfort.

9

Dear Gomez,

See here this letter the nice lady wrote to her dog? See how frustrated she is when her beloved pet keeps her up at night because she (the dog) is afraid of the wind?

Well, it’s the same for me, dear Gomez. When it rains and the wind blows and you get too afraid to go outside and as a result you POOP IN THE LIVING ROOM, I have a problem.

I love you, you’re sweet and snuggly and goofy and all things a dog should be, but for pete’s sake, please stop being so fearful. Suck it up, boy. That bird chirping in the tree next door is not going to hurt you. The noise of me dropping a bathtowel on the floor does NOT mean the imminent end of life as we know it. Further, I think after two years we can agree that the palm tree next to the front door is in no way a threat to you.

I don’t know what could be going on in your head that’s caused you to turn into such a huge wuss. I wish you could tell me what’s wrong. I would do my best to fix it, I promise.

But for now, could you please just take the pooping outside?

Thank you.

Love,

Mom

10

Well, YOU get to poop in the house, don’t you? Is he young enough to where you could litterbox train him for these kinds of days?

Bean isn’t afraid to go outside in the wind, oddly enough, but she won’t go out in the rain unless it’s a dire emergency. I’ve seen her dance and whine at the door, but when I open it, refuse to go out and get wet. She’ll then look up at me and whine as if to ask me to please turn off the faucet.

I just hope my younger two dogs don’t pick up on her habits.

11

I’m thinking the discussion this thread is likely to engender is better suited for MPSIMS. You know, helpful suggestions, shared experiences, all that crap.

12

A friend of mine had a similar problem with an older dog. She had about given up. Then she bought a crate, and crate trained him to sleep in the crate at night. It actually worked! She said her dog must have felt safe and secure there, because he didn’t complain. It took about a week, but after that, when it was bedtime, he would walk in and be fine with the door shut.

She really didn’t expect it to work, thought her dog would hate it. But she had tried everything else. And now can get a full night’s sleep with out him waking her up. Might be something to think about.

13

So Bean has been e-mailing Daisy-Diesel and spreading this horsehit, has he? Daisy-D is 8 years old, used to live in Wyoming, the wind state, for chissakes. She loved the wind. She’d hear it, whine to go outside so she could stick her head right into it [I swear it looked like she was pretending she was in the car with her nose out the window]. She was a wind loving dog.

Used to be. A couple of weeks ago I found her in the back of a closet, howling like barnyard sin because the wind was blowing at about 10mph. Thanks a lot, Bean. You have much to answer for. I have 4 wind chimes, all down now and one batshit nutcase of a dog. WTF is up with this, anyway? I’m sleeping 2 full nights out of 5 and she is showing no signs of regaining her happy-dog good sense.

14

Dear Alli

I don’t know what your life was like for the two years you existed before we met. I can only assume that your previous owners must have been home all day everyday and would pet you constantly.

Either that or you just really hate how I decorated the apartment and feel the need to redecorate whenever you are alone.

The rug in the entranceway, you apparently think looks better balled up in a wad in front of the bedroom door.

No cushion whatsoever is to be left on a piece of furniture; they all must be lovingly placed all over the living room floor.

The carpet is not sufficient. Apparently you think that the floor should be accented with torn up newspaper and other goodies from the recycling.

No decorative touches should be in place except for the nuggets of crap you squeezed out to scatter around the apartment. This is imperative. Even if you go for a long walk in the morning and left more piles then I thought could come out of a dog your sizeb you still seem to save something special to leave me as a welcome back gift.

Please, I would love to have a chat with you so we can discuss any further redecoration and come to a compromise.

Or you can realize that when I go to work I will come home. That it is ok to play with any of your plentiful dog toys, and that it is not ok to jump on the kitchen table so you can look out the window.

I look forward to our meeting

Mom

PS don’t go giving me those puppy dog eyes, they won’t help you this time.

15

Uhhh, that’s one of the things Bean refuses to do. She will not get into a confined space for any reason.

I wanted to crate train her when she was a puppy, ten long years ago, but she wouldn’t go into it. I tried throwing pieces of steak in there. No dice. I tried putting her food and water in there. Nope. I eventually got so exasperated I tried shoving her inside. I discovered at that point that she’s stronger than I am.

She won’t go in a doghouse, either. When she was only about a year old, I bought one for her and put it outside, thinking she’d be happier in a pen outside while I was gone during the day. She never approached the doghouse. I figured she’d get used to it, and one of these days when it rained, she’d go in of her own accord.

That fall, an unexpected ice storm came. I was late getting home because of the road conditions. It was dark when I got home, sleeting to beat the band-- absolutely miserable weather. I went out back to get her from the pen, fully confident I’d find her in the doghouse, snug as a bug in a rug.

Not my Bean. She was sitting in the freezing mud, her fur coated with half an inch of ice. I had to use a hairdryer to thaw her out. Luckily, she’s a cold-weather breed, so no harm was done. I gave away the dog house.

Thank God my other two dogs are not so stubborn. Both of them were crate trained, and I think it’s wonderful.

16

Last night, my frustration boiled over into rage.

She woke me at 3:00 (what IS it about this dog and three in the morning?) by panting directly into my face. It wasn’t a gentle pant like a dog gets from mild exertion, but a full-out grunting pant. She jumped up on the bed.

Probably, anyone looking through the window would have thought my husband and I were energetically fucking. The bed bounced rythmatically, with Bean keeping time with her loud “HUH! HUH! HUH! HUH!” She was practically yelling it.

My sleepy hubby kicked her off the bed, so she resorted to Phase Two Disturbance Tactics-- the piercing whine.

I surrendered, and went to get her a pill. It didn’t work.

I knew hubby had to get up, and there was no earthly way a person could sleep through this, so I took her into the library, and curled up on the chaise lounge. She jumped up with me.

Now, I’m a small person, but a sixty pound dog and a human were never meant to occupy a chaise lounge. She ended up trying to balance her curled up body on my shoulder-- uncomfortable for both of us, it seems, because she kept shifting places, all the while pounding out her 'HUH! HUH! HUH!"

I then did something pretty mean, I have to admit. I dragged her into the library and shut the door, leaving her alone. I know it’s cruel, and I can only plead exhaustion and fustration. She wasn’t in there long, anyway-- she scratched at the door and barked until I came back. There was no way to sleep with that racket, and I was worried about my woodwork.

I love her dearly, but I wanted to beat her. It seems like it’s happening every other night. I knew hubby had to get up, and there was no earthly way a person could sleep through this, so I went into the library, and curled up on the chaise lounge. She jumped up with me.

Now, I’m a small person, but a sixty pound dog and a human were never meant to occupy a chaise lounge. She ended up trying to balance her curled up body on my shoulder-- uncomfortable for both of us, it seems, because she kept shifting places, all the while pounding out her 'HUH! HUH! HUH!

I went downstairs and got her another half of a pill. She laid down on the floor beside me, and the huffing gradually decreased. As the sun was coming up, I finally drifted off back to sleep.

I called the vet this morning, and he prescribed Valuim for her. God, I hope it works.

17

I’m afraid I don’t have any suggestions to offer aside from what Mama Tiger has said about her Rusty, but since I lived with Rusty for a couple of years (he’s an absolute sweetheart, but not only does he have Issues, he has Lifetime Subscriptions, though I’m told he’s a lot happier where he’s living now) I know EXACTLY the sort of panting and climbing on you you’re talking about, and I know how infuriating it is. It’s damned hard.

If I could only have explained to him what was going on, and that it was going to go away. That was the worst, seeing him so freaked out and being unable to do anything to

18

I’m afraid I don’t have any suggestions to offer aside from what Mama Tiger has said about her Rusty, but since I lived with her and Rusty for a couple of years (he’s an absolute sweetheart, but not only does he have Issues, he has Lifetime Subscriptions) I know EXACTLY the sort of panting and climbing on you you’re talking about, and I know how infuriating it is. It’s damned hard.

If I could only have explained to him what was going on, and that it was going to go away. That was the worst, seeing him so freaked out and being unable to do anything to quiet him down and having him climbing all over me, and I only outweigh him by about thirty pounds. Ouch. Oh, do I know about having seventy pounds of freaking golden retriever climbing on my head…

I hope you can find something to save everybody’s sanity, including your dog’s! Poor girl. Poor you. Anxious dogs are, at the very least, a major handful.

19

Sure, you think it’s impressive, because you’re not the one who needs to get on the computer while the dog is tying up the line, doing vanity searches on the SDMB and unspeakable things in front of the personal ads on petster.com.

What’d be really impressive would be if the dog would just learn to clear her browser history.

20

Ack! Double post. Sorry about that.