Behavior Modification LIII

Before we left for Mass tonight, I carried little Schuster's cage into the living room.  I had trouble opening the door to the cage and happened to notice that little Schuster was patiently standing behind me waiting for me to open it so that he could enter.  This from the little dog who is patient about nothing. Bounce, bounce.

I felt guilty, yet the only reason we "crate" him is that he can't be trusted not to tear the house apart when we aren't here.  He even tears things up when we are here if he knows we aren't looking.  He got a magazine cover again last night.  Or early this morning as he apparently got up this morning before I did.  Lately, he seems to be able to distinguish between that text which will get him in serious trouble and the text that will bring forth only a mild reprimand.  He's so cute!

Well, when we returned from Mass, he bounced in his cage till we got there to release him; once released he dashed out as usual, did a quick turn around to go back for his toy tiger, but then he did a new thing.  He grabbed the toy tiger and brought it to me to play with him.  Delighted I grabbed the tail and gave it a couple of tugs, got it away from him, tossed it across the room.  He chased it and brought it back to me so we could do it again.  Oh joy.  Little Schuster is becoming a real pet in the best sense of the word.

When he is resting on top of the aptly named love seat, and I stop to stroke his soft back, he will even turn over now secure in the knowledge that a belly rub will be forth coming.  Little Schuster!

Behavior Modification LI

Ha!  We fixed the little monster two days ago.  We took all four dogs for a very long walk, Schuster pulling on his lead all the way out and all the way back.  He continually tries to catch up with Frollie or Dexter who are not always tethered.  That night, scattered around the living room, four very tired dogs, and no bounce, bounce, bounce at all.

Incidently, Schuster usually sleeps on top of the love seat in the groove between the rigid back and the soft pillow.  He reminds me of Snoopy on top of his dog house, except that Schuster sinks down into the groove, and since he is almost the same color as the love seat, sometimes it is difficult to tell whether or not he's really there.  

Another benefit of his presence up there is that I can stop on my way to the bathroom and pet him from head to tail.  Even with my ruined hands I can tell that he's soft as an eiderdown pillow.  He makes me think he's the kind of dog a hobbit would have if a hobbit would have a dog.  It's the very hairy feet.

Behavior Modification: Chapter XXXVIII

When the older, less playful dogs have had enough from the youngster and they retaliate with force, Schuster always invokes the Schuster defense:  roll over on your back, wiggle back and forth like a fish out of water, and wave your feet in the air.  It works for him every time.  I'm just saying, it works for him.

Behavior Modification: Chapter XXXVI

Dachshunds!

The first really cold night this week we were hunkered down in the living room, watching something or other on TV, when Simon suddenly hopped down from the sofa, walked over to the piano and lifted his leg, letting flow a mighty stream.  Yes, he peed on the piano leg in the living room.  Mary shouted an obscenity at him (she was closest), grabbed him and hauled him to the kitchen door, and pushed him out into the bone-chilling overnight.  

Schuster seems to have learned where to do "it" in under a year, with the help of "pet pads."  Simon, in almost 5 years, may have learned where to do "it," but the willful little dog obviously chose not to act on that knowledge, either that, or he has acquired an early onset of doggie Alzheimer's.  In any case he is not telling, and since then, we are watching him closely and making him go out regularly.  I go along to make certain he actually gets off the deck and does something "meaningful" while he is out there.

The minute the yelling began that night, Frollie and Dexter started slinking toward the door with their tails tucked between their legs.   Not Simon.  "What?  Who me?  I did something wrong?"

Dachshunds!

Behavior Modification: Chapter XXXI

Simon and Schuster can be very entertaining.  Simon, as I have reported, likes to bury himself under a blanket on our sofa.  Schuster has discovered this behavior, and likes to harass Simon.  He gets on the sofa, uncovers Simon, digs him out, then chews on his ear until Simon attends to him.  Schuster sits on top of Simon and chews on Simon's ear as if it were a piece of rawhide.  Uncovered, Simon at first tries to keep sleeping, which, of course, is difficult when someone is chewing on your ear.  Eventually the two dachshunds end up on the floor, wrestling and chasing one another around the front room.  Watching them turns out to be more interesting than watching television, except, of course, when it's The Blacklist.

Behavior Modification: Chapter XXX

Side bar: one terminally cute, destructive, little red dachshund--Schuster.  Mary is home; now we can trap him between us again, though he may actually have figured out that it isn't curtains for him if we pick him up.  Besides, he loves to eat and that helps us secure him too.   

What delights me no end though is the way he lies down.  Standing in front of me when I am sitting in my chair, eating, he keeps his very short little legs straight and simply collapses backwards onto the floor.  He  was up; now he is down, and he does not lose eye contact should the person before him decide to charge.  

When I collapse onto the floor someone calls for an ambulance.  

Behavior Modification: Chapter XXIX

It is difficult to write anything when you have, as they say, an embarrassment of riches from which to choose.  Schuster, for example, should have been called Havoc, given that that is the way he leaves the house and what he makes me want to do: "Cry Havoc!".  Mary is/was in Texas; I am/was on my own with 4 dogs (well, 6 counting Schuster), Pinkie the cat, Dusty the outside cat, and Possibly the possum (Possibly the outside possum).  

My body does not work well at all anymore.  I cannot catch the little beast.  I cannot crate him at night.  He mocks me daily.  He pees on the floor beside the pad instead of on the pad--well, half the time; thus the mockery.  He figured out how to get into the blocked-off upstairs carpeted rooms by crawling under the sofa by the door.  At first I thought he jumped over the barrier.  Who knew he could get that close to the ground though and wiggle through.  Inside the room, he tore up a series of decorative lamp shades, some odd colorful costume material (not mine), a collector's outfitted teddy bear (also not mine), and he pooped on the floor.  He POOPED on the floor!

The last I saw he was outside on the deck wrestling with Simon.  Simon on the inside attacks only pillows and he does that right in front of us.  Well, that is not quite true.  I was remembering Frollie's and Dexter's food bowls which he also attacks, as I have explained before.  

In any case I am exhausted.

However, now it is time to feed everyone, all "6" dogs, Pinkie the cat, Dusty the outside cat, and possibly, Possibly the outside possum.   

Behavior Modification: Chapter XXVIII

Schuster, as of last Wednesday (I think), underwent the operation.  Schuster now has low T.  It has not, however, slowed him down any.  Not even from the start.  He still calls Dexter "Uncle Dexter," and Uncle Dexter usually tolerates that as just one more of those things in life that he has no control over.  Schuster, ignoring the rejection, climbs up on the love seat (a nice irony there), gets as close to Dexter as he can, and goes to sleep.  Precious.

Behavior Modification: Chapter XXVII

Simon: he sits with me for only the first half of the evening; he sleeps alone overnight on the sofa under pillows and blankets; he mostly determines how long walks last and where we will go.  However, when Mary is vacuuming the house and the sweeper roars, he comes to my chair at the table and begs to be picked up and held tightly, and I am happy to oblige.

Behavior Modification: Chapter XXVI

Schuster is adapting to the household, though he still prefers the company of other dogs, especially Dexter, to people.  All things considered, that is probably sound.

We have to crate Schuster "overnight," as the meteorologists say, since he is very quick and quite destructive.  Everything on the floor is at risk: magazines, books, electrical cords, etc.  He hits a room like a cyclone, with equal destructive power, if we do not watch him.  We have the "crate" in the bedroom now next to Dexter's bed, which seems to keep Schuster quiet, at least.  When we had the crate in the kitchen he howled and carried on something fierce.  He sounded like a caged demon, not that I really know how caged demons sound.  But it was fierce.  So, he won; mostly.  Five of us are in the bedroom (three dogs and two people), the cat is in the laundry room (our choice), and the Little Master, Simon, chooses to sleep on the sofa, under covers and pillows, in the living room by himself.    

Behavior Modification XXIV

Real behavior modification: Mary bought a red, long-haired dachshund, whom we (I) have named Schuster, or Schuey (Shoey).  We found the seller in the Cracker Barrel parking lot.  There it is, a new addition to the Little Master's household.  He is not troubled, for now we are Simon and Schuster, the red and the black.

In fact, the only troubled (I watch "Haven" on Friday nights) creature in our house is Frollie who growls at Schuster every time he passes by.  And then there is Schuster who came into the house troubled.  He is eight months old and apparently has known only his litter mates up until we bought him and, according to our vet, created a separation anxiety.  The little guy won't let us pick him up.  He's okay when he's in our arms (all nine and a half pounds of him), but before that happens he runs.  He'll come close but he doesn't want anything to do with being picked up.  He'll sleep between us on the bed, but before we can hold him, we have to catch him.  I can scarcely walk on my own let alone catch a small (did I say nine pounds and a half?) red streak flashing by my feet.  "Schuey, oops, damn!  Missed him again!")  I tried getting down on the floor to see if I could entice him to come with a tidbit.  He grabbed the tidbit and ran.  I think I heard him giggle.  Then, of course, I spent the next half hour trying to get up off the floor.

At this juncture, Schuster is the canine version of those people who think everything going on around them is about them.  Walk into the room where he is lying down and off he goes, even if you just want to sit down too.  Go to the kitchen for a drink of Ocean Spray Cran-Grape and he dashes into the bedroom. In fact if someone just looks at him, he runs.  And so on.  (And no, Ocean Spray is not paying me.)

The oddity is that he has, of course, bonded with the most neurotic dog in the house, Dexter the Beagle.  It occurs to me that Dexter will just reinforce Schuey's neurotic tendencies.  Dexter is afraid of almost any man who comes to the house, as well of many other things.  It took him two years to get over his fear of me.  Fortunately he did get over it, perhaps because I am the person who feeds him Alpo every day.  Dexter's response to Schuey is mostly toleration.  Schuey thinks Dexter's food bowl is also his, apparently, for when Dexter gets his bowl of food, Schuey rushes in and sticks his nose in the bowl too, though of course we don't let him do that.  Dexter, the gentle giant, just backs away as if that's simply the way the universe works: the little dog eats the big dog's food.  Frollie would have snapped his ear off, and I am not sure what Simon would do since his food never lasts long enough for anyone to find out, but Simon isn't food aggressive.

Interestingly, Simon was asleep on the sofa two nights ago when Schuey, who was up there with Mary, crawled over and fell asleep stretched out next to him, the black and the red, Simon and Schuster, too cute.  Apparently Simon hadn't known that Schuey was asleep next to him for most of the evening, for suddenly he woke up, saw Schuster beside him and jumped down to the floor as quickly as he could move, which isn't all that quickly anymore.  I keep cutting back on his food, but he is still a slightly tubby little dachshund, and maybe Simon is just a tad troubled by the new addition, though he doesn't growl at him.  

Behavior Modification: Chapter XXIII

Tuesday, 8/17/2013.  Simon!  At home the little rascal wanted desperately to go along, barking and carrying on with the other two dogs, but when we got to the trail, he wouldn’t walk.  First, he would not cross the street to get to the trail.  He would not go right to go up the hill toward town.  He would not go left to take the park trail around the BMU building.  Then he heard Dexter baying off in the distance where the others were. 

So we crossed the road and started down the Memorial trail, for a bit, presumably to find Dexter who had quit baying.  Suddenly Simon seemed to realize where he was and that he had determined not to go there.  He stopped and gave me the look.  I tugged.  He froze.  We turned around and went back to the parking lot.  This time he would not turn right to go up the hill as he usually does.  Instead, he started across the parking lot.  I thought he was going to the car and wanted to go home.  By this time I was ready to oblige.

However, he walked past the car, kept on going across the parking lot, through the grass, across the black-topped trail, and up to the tree and shrub line.  From there we followed the shrub line right, along the creek and around the bend to the bridge.  At the bridge I got him to cross the road and follow the creek and tree line on the other side of the road around the wide grassy field. 

A woman with two dogs in the field got his attention.  He was willing to turn right to walk toward the swiftly disappearing woman with dogs.  He issued a few perfunctory barks, went back to the tree line and moved toward the street.  I thought I had it made.  We will get to the sidewalk, go up the hill, and we will get to go home.  I should have known.  He’s a dachshund with his own agenda.

When we got close to the sidewalk, he started to romp, through the grassy field, here and there, nose to the ground, snuffling into holes, sending up bugs and seeds, having a marvelous time.  I was like the foot of a compass; he was the pencil that made the circle.  I tried to move him to the sidewalk to no avail.  He was determined to romp.  I began to worry, for if Mary did not come with the car, I had no idea how to get him to move toward home, and we had been walking and romping now for a good 45 minutes. 

But Craig went up the hill in his truck with his dogs; I yelled at him to call Mary and tell her to come get us.  He did, she did.  She was still in the parking lot on the east side of the building, talking to two dachshunds, fortunately.  I was in the grassy field on the west side of the building talking at one dachshund. She saw us, I waved, she waved.  She sent Frollie racing down the walk to us.  Simon saw Frollie coming, sat down in the grass and was at least interested.  When Frollie (such a Sweetie) reached us, Simon decided he could follow her down the long trail to the car.  We did. 

I have no idea what provoked such behavior.  The heat and humidity were bad again, and I know he does not handle those conditions well.  There were other dogs on the walk which sometimes he is okay with, sometimes not.  I thought perhaps his feet were sore, but he did not limp and two days earlier, we walked a mile and a half on city sidewalks without any trouble.  This time we managed to do a good mile, according to my pedometer, just romping in the doggone field, so to speak. 

The next time we will start from the house and, as Yoda might say, we either do or not do.   No more parking lot follies.

Behavior Modification: Chapter XXII

At 2 in the morning, Simon, walking in the kitchen for a drink from the water bowl, looked out the glass back door, saw his reflection looking back from the overnight, and barked ferociously, loudly, whereupon chaos ensued.  

I turned off the bright inside light whereupon the outside dachshund disappeared and peace was restored.  Blessed are the peace-makers, I hope.    

Behavior Modification: Chapter XXI

With Simon I never quite know where to begin.  For example, he just showed up to finish my oatmeal/banana mid-afternoon snack; he'd been having his mid-afternoon nap on the sofa.  I was reading at the table, as I usually am, and eating when I looked down to see Simon staring up at me.  He had, apparently, heard my spoon clacking against the bottom of the bowl.  I finished my last large spoonful, left him a generous taste, and put the bowl on the floor.  The bowl is now clean, except for one oatmeal flake struck to the bottom.

 

This morning all 3 dogs showed up to lick my Yoplait yogurt container.  I gave it to Simon, of course, no contest, but then I had to get up to find some dog "snaps" to give to the other two who also had great expectations.  Guilt is an effective motivator.  Dexter and Frollie had been there before.  We have played out this scenario often.  Like Simon they just stare at me.  I get up and get the treats, by which time Simon is back to get one too.

Simon and Frollie are very clever.  Each has learned how to chew the bottom of the yogurt container until it loosens or comes off.  There is good yogurt left around the bottom and under the edge, apparently well worth the effort unless I am passing out snaps.

Last evening Mary came home with groceries from Walmart.  Simon always comes downstairs to see what we are doing.  He goes into the garage, investigates the car with its open doors, sniffs the laundry room where I am restocking shelves with the 9 bottles of Ocean Spray Cran Grape that Mary just brought home (yes, we drink a lot of Cran Grape; I'm having one now).

Meanwhile Mary had been putting bags of groceries at the bottom of the stairs.  She moves bags from car to stairs, from stairs to kitchen.  While she was making the second trip from car to stairs, Simon found the bag with the leftover chicken drumstick from the Walmart deli.  (Mary had gotten hungry "out there.")  Dexter and Frollie had noted the bag and left it alone as "people business"; they are like that. Simon being Simon stuck his nose in the bag, found the drumstick, hauled it out, and raced upstairs eating it as he went.  By the time Mary caught up with him, he had eaten the drumstick, bone included.

With Simon there is no real distinction between people business and Simon business.  Everything is Simon business; there is nothing he won't stick his handsome dachshund nose into and investigate, and act if he determines the situation warrants it. 

Behavior Modification: Chapter XX

One evening last week Simon and I walked almost two miles on the hiking trail, from green gate to green gate and back. 

Then, when we got home, I made his favorite supper of a little Beneful, a little Moist and Meaty, and, best of all, filet mignon-flavored Alpo, all stirred to perfection.

Next, we sat in the big-dad chair to watch the news and evening shows, Simon on my right, while I had my supper of salmon patties with creamy cheese sauce (one of Mary’s specialties), french-style green beans with almonds, and buttered cut corn.   I, of course, shared my precious salmon patties with Simon, and when I finished, I let Simon lick my plate, being sure to leave him a little sauce and salmon.  He likes the green beans too.

Food gone, he jumped down from the chair, crossed the room to the love seat, hauled his full little body up, burrowed under the blanket and disappeared for the rest of the evening.

I was devastated.

Two nights ago I shared with him my Kahn’s thin-sliced bologna and provolone cheese sandwich with Catalina dressing.  I tear off the bologna that sticks over the edge of the sandwich for him; all right, I also let him have a bite of the sandwich from time to time.  He stayed longer.  But not much.

Last night, however, after an invigorating walk (he chose all the turns and directions), and after sharing my tortilla and polska kielbasa with hot sauce supper, Simon stayed most of the evening, left about midnight; he even licked up the hot sauce.  At least he doesn’t leave to sit with anyone else. 

I have discovered that in order to get him back, quickly, all I have to do is go to the kitchen, get several Kraft mozzarella cheese sticks and a box of almond-nut thins, mostly gluten free.  Before I can return to my chair he is there.  It never fails, no matter how sound asleep he is.  He is like Gromit the dog, Simon loves cheese; I suppose it helps that sometimes I say, “cheese, Simon, cheese,” before I leave; but whether I do or not he knows.  Behavior modification!  I guess I should take some comfort in the fact that he doesn’t sleep around.

Behavior Modification: Chapter XVII

We were just past the bridge on the hiking trail when Jose and his dog Jake caught up with us.  Simon was immediately offended for some reason.  He planted his feet and gave me the look.  Since Jose decided to wait for Wayne, whom he had just talked to on his cell phone, I suggested he and Jake turn around and walk back to the bridge.  They started back, Simon unplanted himself and off we went.  Wayne and Jose joined us later, and all was well.  The little dickens never knew.  Tricked him, I did.

Behavior Modification: Chapter XIV

I was standing behind the sofa behind the table behind the chair behind the table behind the sofa when I became aware of a pair of bright black eyes, just barely visible, regarding me over the sofa seat.  The top of his black head was visible too and his ears were perked up.  Simon wanted up on the sofa, but Dexter the Beagle was already there.  Given the look I was getting, Simon clearly wanted me to correct the situation in his favor.  

While I was considering the eyes considering me, Dexter got down and left the room.  Simon jumped up on the sofa, pulled a blanket over himself and disappeared.  Crisis averted.  Still, seeing a pair of eyes regarding me over a sofa seat was somewhat unnerving.

To recover, I walked back to the bedroom to take a nap on our new mattress.

Behavior Modification: Chapter XIII

I knew it was Simon when I found a dog on the sofa, even though only his butt was visible with his short hind legs sticking in the air; his body from his hind legs on was covered by a brown blanket which he had wrestled over himself (I have seen him do that before); and, when I peeled back the blanket, I saw that he had shoved his head completely under a soft red pillow with little wavy things on one side that resembled some kind of deep sea sponge.  The pillow was up against the end of the sofa.

He is a very secretive creature when it comes to sleeping.

Behavior Modification: Chapter XII

The Question of the day: "Is there anything That Dog won't bark at?"  Mary asked that about Simon, of course, after he startled her, once too often, in the middle of the evening, with two very loud barks that set off my pacemaker and, I am certain, ripped the fabric of space and time.  For a Little Guy, Simon has a very loud bark.  

For example:  I stay in bed later than my wife, for I go to bed later, usually around 3 a.m.  In the late morning, 10 a.m. for instance, if he is not in bed with me, and if he believes (I assume) that I have slept long enough, he stands, feet firmly planted, just inside the door to the bedroom, and he barks once.  Loudly.  Even with all my physical ailments, I rise off the bed like some Hindu mystic.  One Simon bark is all it takes for him to wake me, or any sound sleeper, I imagine.  His barks shatter and penetrate.  In fact, since we discovered their power, we have had to put up the good wine glasses for fear of damage.

Think then how someone might respond caught up in the action of an exciting and suspenseful TV show like Castle or Justified or The Glades.  Mary is rather easily spooked anyway, as is Simon, apparently.  Simon doesn't miss much.  He barks, she yells, I giggle.  She yells again for me to "mute" the TV; she means "pause," for obvious reasons, but she has trouble keeping the two functions straight.  "Just do it!  You know what I mean!"  I do it.  And, as Tonto says in The Lone Ranger movie, "NOTHING!" of course.

Well, sometimes we hear a car going by on our otherwise quiet street, but usually nothing, for which we are all profoundly grateful, except Simon, who would always appreciate another excuse to bark.

Behavior Modification: Chapter XI

A garden snake and a frog live by or in the back pond.  Simon, from time to time, has seen the snake.  One evening not too long ago, the snake was in the water.  Simon saw the snake and tried to catch it.  The snake escaped and disappeared under a rock.  Simon, in true dachshund fashion, would not give up looking for the snake. 

Simon frequently sees the frog who lives in the pond.  The other night the frog was sitting in the middle of the pond at the end of a very long strand of pond plant.  Simon immediately saw the frog.  Dachshund instincts kicked in and the relentless chase began.

The pond is lined with rocks, and Simon climbed on the rocks to pursue the hapless frog, to no avail, of course.  Every time we go back to the pond, Simon climbs on the rocks to pursue something only he can smell—the invisible snake, the disappearing-into-the-water frog, or perhaps something else that visits the pond in the mysterious “overnight” the meteorologists are so fond of talking about.

Simon precariously circles the pond on the rocks, slipping, knocking rocks into the pond, sliding toward the water.  It is impossible to see how such a long dog maintains his balance and does not fall into the water, but he does.  Both ends work hard: his nose is constantly sniffing and snuffing while his tail wags rapidly—fwip fwip fwip.  (That’s the sound Earl’s tail makes in Mutts when he wags it rapidly—fwip fwip fwip.)  And so does his underneath—his four short but very sturdy legs and feet.

He goes back there to search for things even when we are not out there with him.  I’ve heard the rocks moving as he circles the pond.  What if he falls in and I am not there?  Mary thinks he can climb out without any trouble.  What if he can’t?  What if he panics?  What if he slips back in trying to get out?  Worries, worries, worries.  It is not easy being owned by a dachshund.