Cockapoo

The Nurse Dog

The holidays mean a two week vacation and usually Izzy loves that I’m home.  This time, he liked it even more because he got to cuddle with me constantly, because I’ve been sick.  That’s also the reason for the lag in blog posts.  That said, he did have a good time on Christmas Eve/Christmas Day with my daughter’s two dogs. They were in the kitchen (my grandson loves to grab at them, so no need to tempt them).   Here’s a pic to make up for my silence.  Izzy’s lying on the floor next to Gordon, a Cockapoo, and Wilson (a Rat Terrier mix) is sitting in the background.

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Birthdays and Visits and More Car Rides with a Terrified Dog

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Izzy didn’t want to get out of bed this morning, probably because he thought I was going to force him into taking another car ride.

Yesterday, I put him in his ThunderShirt and took him for a long walk before getting into the car to head for my daughter’s house.  Izzy shivered so much, I finally pulled him onto my lap for the ride.  That’s something I never do, but driving for almost an hour and a quarter with him shivering and drooling and sliding on the glove box didn’t seem like a good idea.  He was a bit more comfortable on my lap, but I can’t say that I was.  I don’t like driving that way, even though he was completely still and didn’t impede me at all.

The up side of the ride was that Izzy got to spend the day with Gordon and Wilson, my daughter’s two dogs.  Gordon is a Cockapoo who thinks he’s human, and Wilson is a rescued Rat Terrier mix who was even more of a mess during his first year than my Izzy.  The three dogs played in the fenced in yard while I helped my daughter, who has thrown her back out.

It was my grandson’s birthday, his first birthday, so we played with his new toys, I read him the books I had bought him, and we had some cherished ‘grand’ time.

When we left, Izzy just about turned himself inside out to get his leash on, but when the ThunderShirt was introduced, he knew what it meant:  the horrible red car.  The ride home.  Facing his fear.  As soon as he saw my red sedan in the driveway, he sunk his butt down and refused to move.  Normally, I’d take him for a walk and get rid of some of that anxiety, but it was early evening, starting to rain, and I was tired.  We drove home with him on my lap again and shivering — though not as much as earlier.  By the time we were halfway home, he had his head on my arm, a bit more relaxed.

This morning, we put on the ThunderShirt to go for our early morning walk because it was raining . . . and because I don’t want Izzy to see it as a negative or as a clue that we’re going for a ride.  He won’t have to worry this afternoon, because I’m going back to my daughter’s alone and he can stay home and enjoy napping on this gray, rainy day.

A Dog’s Story: What Could They Tell Us?

I’ve been thinking a lot about narrative therapy and how it helps people to tell their stories.  It helps to heal and to move on and to let go of the past.  What if dogs could do that?  Would it help a dog who was antisocial to be able to tell someone exactly why they didn’t trust humans or other animals?  

Izzy’s story could probably be a country song.  “My ma left us, broke and alone.  My brother went blind and I had no bone.  Awwwww, woe is me.”  Other dogs would do a rock and roll love song or an aria howled in the highest notes.  Some would simply speak their story in rambling, incoherent sentences while others would be Virginia Woolf-ish and let their story fly via stream-of-consciousness.  But I don’t think the little ones would moan about being the smallest in the pack and the overweight dogs would not express their frustration about losing weight.  A dog’s story would be simple.  Direct.  To the point.

Would a Pitbull trained for the ring discuss his post-traumatic stress?  How about a Lab trained for sniffing out bombs?  Would she cry about the stress of the job and the horrible things she’s seen?  Would a Cockapoo feel left out because he can’t identify with just one family?  And how about a Poodle?  Would she write about how no one is as beautiful as she is?

Stories are important, but the thing about dogs is that their story doesn’t last longer than this moment.  No rear view mirrors for dogs.  Now.  The moment.  Dogs are true Buddhists.  Dogs are cool.  

Here’s Izzy being cool.

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