Well, I gave her a test Valuim last night, and boy howdy, I wish I could give it to her every day. I didn’t realize how much age had changed her until last night.
She chased her tail. She played with the younger dogs. She tossed toys into the air and attacked them. She actually kissed the youngest dog on the snout. I haven’t seen her so playful in years. She must have been a really happy doggy. It didn’t make her sleepy and droopy the way the other pills did.
Now, I’ll just have to wait and see what happens during a wind storm.
I’m glad the Valium worked, Lissa. There were times when I was so exhausted, I’d put a leash on Rusty, hold it about a foot from his neck, and just make him lie on the floor next to me while I tried to sleep on the sofa. Regular doses of Clomicalm do help keep his anxiety to a liveable level, but in our case the best thing we ever did for him was move away from south Louisiana, to an area that doesn’t have thunderstorms boiling up overhead almost every day.
Rusty also won’t go in a crate or dog house, and won’t go outside if it’s raining. But he holds it. Longer than I thought possible – we call him Rusty the Camel at times. He once refused to go out and pee for 24 hours when we were having a tropical storm and got 24" of rain in that 24 hours. I even leashed him and dragged him around the yard, to no avail, because it was still raining. When the rain finally slowed down, Papa T. finally put him on a leash and walked him down the block, and he stopped in one spot, peed for nearly a full minute, then went another 50 feet and peed for nearly ANOTHER full minute. We have enormous respect for his kidneys!
I hope you can figure out what it takes to calm Bean’s fears. In the six months we’ve been in Maryland, Rusty has turned into a dog we never thought he could be – happy, silly, playful, fun. It’s really been wonderful. He’d been all of that in small doses in Louisiana, but he’s just blossomed away from the constant thunderstorms.
I love you. My friend’s daughter and his girlfriend called me up while they were keeping you and offered to pay me double what I bought you for. When I came to pick you up, Loren was outside crying because you would be going away. So they love you too.
My neighbors love you. All except for one or two. They called the Hound Pound on you and Daddy had to come pick you up before you got sent off to the Science lab. SO YOU NEED TO QUIT DIGGING OUT UNDER THE FENCE!!!
Daddy doesn’t like keeping you in a cage while he’s at work. Daddy would rather you play around in the back yard all day without a care in the world. But you get too bored, dig your way out no matter how good I’ve got the fence barricaded, and find other dogs and people to play with.
It’s a good thiing I’ve got my cell phone number on your collar. Lots of nice people have called me to tell me you’re in their yard. They’ve even called from the dog park, which you managed to find from two miles away. Daddy is proud of you for being so smart, but not when you’re smarter than he is.
So stop digging under the fence and escaping. I know you’re bored, and I will pet you, scratch you, play with you, and take you to the dog park when I get home every day. But in the meantime you gotta stay put or I’ll have to get an invisible fence next. And Daddy doesn’t want you to get shocked.
My dogs are diggers-- one of them is an obsessive digger. My back yard looks like it was carpet-bombed. Craters and “landmines” of doggy poo. Others have been aghast, but the way I look at it, the front yard is kept nice for show-- the backyard is for my family to enjoy. My family just happens to enjoy excavations.
I tell people that my dogs are ametuer archaeologists. So far, they have uncovered a broken shard of pottery (circa 1950) and a steak bone. Alas, *National Geographic *did not express any interest.
My trainer recommended putting the dogs’ poop in the holes, and swore that would take care of the problem. My dogs, as always, are exceptions to the rule.
I suggest you get another dog. That will take care of Lita’s lonliness. An electric fence only works with some dogs. Some will just “take the pain” if they feel the reward is great enough.
A friend of mine rigged up a complicated set of elevated wires for his dog, and attatched a long leash to them. The dog could explore the entire yard, but couldn’t escape. (The leash was long enough to ensure the dog could not possibly hang himself.)