Have had 2 dog poo related incidents this week. Shall I share? One is definitely more disgusting than the other. Still want me to share? OK.
The first was on a walk in the woods. We'd just arrived, moments behind another man with two beautiful Golden Retrievers, one white, the other golden, both long, lovely, CLEAN silky fur. It was apparent that they'd both just emptied their bowels, as the owner was trying to open a poo bag (if you've ever tried prising open those flimsy poo bags, you know how IRRITATINGLY annoying they are). Cue Brody's entrance. Another dog! Pant pant - excitement! Race over to play. The dog with the lovely WHITE fur also gets excited and starts to jump around with Brody, having a good play, edging ever closer to the big steaming smelly pile of poo. Woop! Up jumps Brody onto the other dog. Woop! Down goes the dog on her own pile of plop, and then has a good old roll around in it. "Oh no" emanates from both me and the other owner, and I quickly interject the playing to grab Brody by his collar before he too turns from golden to a lovely shade of brown. I apologise, and quicken our step to escape...
The other incident happened just this morning, so it is horrifyingly fresh in my mind. We were on a walk along a grassy hilltop, playing with the ball, when Brody has the poo urge and coopies down. Now, he has a lot of tummy trouble does our Brody, so I am often studying poo to note colour, consistency, etc. This one was passable, and I was just delving in with the poo bag when Brody started swinging his body around still in the squat position. Oh, still more to come then, I think. It is only on the second spin when he also squats to try to chew his bum that I see what is causing his anxiety. A poo joined on to long strands of grass which are still attached to his inner bottom. He clearly doesn't know what to do. I do. My doggy nurse poo assist skills sweep into action. With poo bag in hand, I quickly pull on the offending dangly poo/grass - yank! I expect a smooth slide, but instead the grass breaks off with a tearing noise, but Brody, after the initial shock of what has just happened, seems happy and wants to continue with the ball playing. I'm still grimacing now - after much hand scrubbing.
Friday, 14 June 2013
Sunday, 26 May 2013
Sunday May 26th
I've had an on/off friendship with Brody this week. Thursday was definitely an off day. It'd been going so well, up until the afternoon. I'd decided to take him out on grass instead of the beach, wanting to avoid families on holiday. On the stretch of grass where we walk, there are two shelters. I'd been throwing the ball for Brody and had just told him 'game over', which is usually the cue for him to stop prancing around our feet waiting for the ball, or to stop nudging our hand with the ball in his mouth. In this instance, it was his cue to go darting off toward one of the shelters. I could see 2 bicycles leaning against the wall, and could vaguely make out a couple of people inside. "This way Brody" I call, which usually makes him curve round and head back to me. But not this time. Straight into the shelter he went and jumped up on people inside. It was at this point that I ascertained two things : 1) the people inside had food; 2) from the high-pitched scream that emanated there was a small child there also. I ran towards the shelter calling Brody's name, watching the people inside stand up and try to push Brody away as he continued to jump up on them, trying to grab the sandwiches from their hands. When I got to the shelter I could see that the child was just a baby of about 10months propped up on the bench between her mum and dad, screaming hysterically. I managed to grab Brody and put his lead on, apologising profusely to the family and making sure the baby was ok. Lots of telling off for Brody and the silent treatment from me for him for the rest of the day. How to spoil the day for many people. Long lead on walks from now on I think.
Friday, 10 May 2013
This week we have been mostly....losing things. Last Sunday Steve had the complete misfortune of having his rucksack 'stolen'. He'd taken Brody for a walk, and was putting him back into the car. He put his rucksack on the floor to shut the boot, got distracted, then got in the car and drove off. On the way home, had sudden flashback to said rucksack on the floor, so u-turned and went back. In the 5 mins he was away, the rucksack had been taken. Now this was in a car park of an area well known for dog-walkers and lovers of beach air, surely the honest, well-meaning type? Perhaps not. In the rucksack was Steve's sunglasses, waterproof jacket, brand new dog lead, and ball thrower. A sign was put up and the police alerted, but nothing. On the Tuesday morning, I was driving along after school drop-off when in the opposite direction there comes a male cyclist wearing a rather familiar looking jacket and on his back a rather familiar rucksack. Now, I'm sure there's quite a few red jackets and silver rucksacks out there, but on the other hand...Well, I didn't about turn and race after him a la Starsky and Hutch mainly because that didn't really cross my mind at the time and I'm sure a bicycle tyre mark across the length of my body wouldn't have been a good look (not many people like to be falsely accused of theft).
Anyway, I was left with a frisbee and a tennis ball to entertain Brody on the beach. Off we go on our morning walk, down the steps onto the beach, oh I know, a few throws of the frisbee onto the rocks will be good for starters, Brody loves climbing over rocks. Off it goes up up into the air, down down behind some rocks, Brody bounding excitedly after it, leaping over the big rocks, disappearing out of sight. Just wait for him to reappear....just a few more seconds.....where is he? "Brody, fetch frisbee!" Nothing. "Brody, where are you?" Nothing. Slight panic. Start climbing over the rocks when a little head pops over the top of one - minus the frisbee. "Where is it, Brody?" I reach the spot where he is frantically pacing round, tail wagging furiously. It is the deepest rockpool in the world, and there at the bottom staring up at us frustratingly unattainable unless you're equipped with full diving gear, is the frisbee. Brody launches himself in with a huge splash, which I must admit I'm quite impressed by seeing as a) he hasn't always liked the water, and b) even though it is deep, this rockpool is not wide, so immediately upon entering, his nose smacks against the rock. He does this a couple of times, but I don't think dogs are able to nosedive about 6ft under are they? He just assumes by jumping in and swimming round in tiny circles that he'd be able to reach the frisbee. We have to leave it there. While walking away, Brody keeps looking at me expectantly - where's the frisbee mum, go and get it then. I start looking back over my shoulder to see if I can grab some poor unsuspecting surfer as he races down the steps and along the beach to get into the sea as quickly as possible (by the way, why do surfers always run on dry land? The waves will still be there in 2 mins time). Well, if they're going to get wet anyway and they're dressed for it, why can't they help me get the frisbee? However, I discard this idea and just try to get Brody to run around on his own for a bit.
The next morning (Wednesday), we go back to the same beach with a tennis ball. We start making our way down the many steps to the beach, Brody with the ball in his mouth, when he decides half-way down should be the place to drop the ball. It all happened in slow motion. Ball dropping from his mouth, bouncing a few times perilously close to the edge of the high steps with the drop of the rocks down to the beach below. Off it rolls....plop, over the edge onto a grassy shelf at the top of the rocks below. I look through the railings in despair and stare at the ball sat snuggled comfortably in the grass. Brody pops his head through the railings and stares at it too. Well, it is possible, we could climb up the rocks from the beach to reach it. So down we go, and start climbing up. Brody races up in a matter of seconds and stands in the grassy ledge with the ball in his mouth. "Good boy Brody", I say from below, balancing on a slippy mossy rock, "bring it here then!". Brody wags his tail, drops the ball back on the grass, and runs back down the rocks. "No Brody, go find the ball!" He looks at me questioningly, as if to say "You know where the ball is, you just saw me with it, it's just up there", and he points with his nose. Ok, I'll get it then. He follows me right at my heels, almost tripping me on my way up and back down. I also retrace our steps from the day before, and go back to the rock pool, but the frisbee is no longer there, and there's no sign of it being washed out further up the rocks by the tide. Oh well, that's that then. Need to purchase a new frisbee.
Anyway, I was left with a frisbee and a tennis ball to entertain Brody on the beach. Off we go on our morning walk, down the steps onto the beach, oh I know, a few throws of the frisbee onto the rocks will be good for starters, Brody loves climbing over rocks. Off it goes up up into the air, down down behind some rocks, Brody bounding excitedly after it, leaping over the big rocks, disappearing out of sight. Just wait for him to reappear....just a few more seconds.....where is he? "Brody, fetch frisbee!" Nothing. "Brody, where are you?" Nothing. Slight panic. Start climbing over the rocks when a little head pops over the top of one - minus the frisbee. "Where is it, Brody?" I reach the spot where he is frantically pacing round, tail wagging furiously. It is the deepest rockpool in the world, and there at the bottom staring up at us frustratingly unattainable unless you're equipped with full diving gear, is the frisbee. Brody launches himself in with a huge splash, which I must admit I'm quite impressed by seeing as a) he hasn't always liked the water, and b) even though it is deep, this rockpool is not wide, so immediately upon entering, his nose smacks against the rock. He does this a couple of times, but I don't think dogs are able to nosedive about 6ft under are they? He just assumes by jumping in and swimming round in tiny circles that he'd be able to reach the frisbee. We have to leave it there. While walking away, Brody keeps looking at me expectantly - where's the frisbee mum, go and get it then. I start looking back over my shoulder to see if I can grab some poor unsuspecting surfer as he races down the steps and along the beach to get into the sea as quickly as possible (by the way, why do surfers always run on dry land? The waves will still be there in 2 mins time). Well, if they're going to get wet anyway and they're dressed for it, why can't they help me get the frisbee? However, I discard this idea and just try to get Brody to run around on his own for a bit.
The next morning (Wednesday), we go back to the same beach with a tennis ball. We start making our way down the many steps to the beach, Brody with the ball in his mouth, when he decides half-way down should be the place to drop the ball. It all happened in slow motion. Ball dropping from his mouth, bouncing a few times perilously close to the edge of the high steps with the drop of the rocks down to the beach below. Off it rolls....plop, over the edge onto a grassy shelf at the top of the rocks below. I look through the railings in despair and stare at the ball sat snuggled comfortably in the grass. Brody pops his head through the railings and stares at it too. Well, it is possible, we could climb up the rocks from the beach to reach it. So down we go, and start climbing up. Brody races up in a matter of seconds and stands in the grassy ledge with the ball in his mouth. "Good boy Brody", I say from below, balancing on a slippy mossy rock, "bring it here then!". Brody wags his tail, drops the ball back on the grass, and runs back down the rocks. "No Brody, go find the ball!" He looks at me questioningly, as if to say "You know where the ball is, you just saw me with it, it's just up there", and he points with his nose. Ok, I'll get it then. He follows me right at my heels, almost tripping me on my way up and back down. I also retrace our steps from the day before, and go back to the rock pool, but the frisbee is no longer there, and there's no sign of it being washed out further up the rocks by the tide. Oh well, that's that then. Need to purchase a new frisbee.
Thursday, 25 April 2013
Thursday 25th April
It was really misty on the beach this week. On Tuesday, Brody and I reached the top of the sand dunes leading down to the beach, and you could hardly see the sea! Even Brody did a double take, and I half expected him to say - in Scooby Doo style - "Huh? Where's the sea gone?"
Brody had another first experience Tuesday evening. I'd just come back from the theatre (yes, I do get out about once a year), it was about 10pm, so dark and a bit damp outside. I opened the back door to let Brody out. About 10 seconds later I glanced out to see him stood still with his tail wagging frantically, head down looking at something on the patio. He nudged whatever it was with his nose, then the tail stopped wagging, and he froze for a good 15 seconds. Then he pranced around, barked a couple of times, wagged the tail, did the front part of the body on the ground but back legs straight stance, all the time looking at something on the ground. Time to investigate a) because it was late and he was barking and I didn't want the scene you always see in American movies - sash window lifted up (always that type of window, isn't it? Never a clean, double glazed, open with a handle type) head stuck out "Shut that dog up" "Keep the noise down" "Don't you know what time it is ?!"; and b) because whatever was exciting him was so miniscule I couldn't see it from 5 feet away, and how embarrassing to be the owner of a dog who is scared of a dot.
It was a snail. A very frightened snail. He had snuck back into his safe shell-home and was wishing for the nasty loud dog to disappear. But the nasty loud dog was very inquisitive as to how one minute a little creature was there, the next it'd gone. Anyway, I picked it up, then wondered what to do with it. Steve appeared and tried calling Brody over to distract him, so I quickly threw the poor snail towards the grass - not too close to my flower borders because even though tiny and frightened, it will quickly recover and eat all my nice juicy plants. However, I threw it a little too hard and a little too close to the fence. Clunk. Sorry snail.
Brody had another first experience Tuesday evening. I'd just come back from the theatre (yes, I do get out about once a year), it was about 10pm, so dark and a bit damp outside. I opened the back door to let Brody out. About 10 seconds later I glanced out to see him stood still with his tail wagging frantically, head down looking at something on the patio. He nudged whatever it was with his nose, then the tail stopped wagging, and he froze for a good 15 seconds. Then he pranced around, barked a couple of times, wagged the tail, did the front part of the body on the ground but back legs straight stance, all the time looking at something on the ground. Time to investigate a) because it was late and he was barking and I didn't want the scene you always see in American movies - sash window lifted up (always that type of window, isn't it? Never a clean, double glazed, open with a handle type) head stuck out "Shut that dog up" "Keep the noise down" "Don't you know what time it is ?!"; and b) because whatever was exciting him was so miniscule I couldn't see it from 5 feet away, and how embarrassing to be the owner of a dog who is scared of a dot.
It was a snail. A very frightened snail. He had snuck back into his safe shell-home and was wishing for the nasty loud dog to disappear. But the nasty loud dog was very inquisitive as to how one minute a little creature was there, the next it'd gone. Anyway, I picked it up, then wondered what to do with it. Steve appeared and tried calling Brody over to distract him, so I quickly threw the poor snail towards the grass - not too close to my flower borders because even though tiny and frightened, it will quickly recover and eat all my nice juicy plants. However, I threw it a little too hard and a little too close to the fence. Clunk. Sorry snail.
Monday, 22 April 2013
Monday 22nd April 2013
Got back from work, and within 5 minutes Brody had executed 2 huge no-no forms of behaviour. Number 1) Steve was preparing tea for us - he was going to have the left over roast chicken from yesterday, and I was to have the left over chilli. (You can see where this is going, can't you). Steve carefully arranged his left over roast chicken pieces on his plate, with the best white chicken breast pieces taking pride of place on the edge of the plate, and the slightly less scrumptious but still completely edible redder meat on the inside. He positioned the plate - rather thoughtlessly in hindsight - on his plate mat on the edge of the dinner table. If he knew that a pair of beady eyes and twitching nostrils were just inches away he would not have performed the next action. Steve TURNED AWAY WITH HIS BACK TO THE CHICKEN and continued to warm up my chilli. A slight scuffle and chair scrape was heard, followed by the ominous swallowing sound (no chewing involved obviously) and Steve swung back round to see a rather empty plate and Brody licking his lips with a satisfied gleam in his eye. Loud shouting ensued, followed by the back door slamming.
When Steve had got over this startlingly cheeky behaviour, he let Brody back in, only for Brody to execute big no-no number 2) He slunk into the living room, straight onto the settee and settled down quite cosily. More loud shouting ensued, followed by the back door slamming.
We've both decided that Brody will learn nothing from these episodes other than thinking to himself "I'm not touching that boiled chicken rubbish ever again - gimme roast every time."
When Steve had got over this startlingly cheeky behaviour, he let Brody back in, only for Brody to execute big no-no number 2) He slunk into the living room, straight onto the settee and settled down quite cosily. More loud shouting ensued, followed by the back door slamming.
We've both decided that Brody will learn nothing from these episodes other than thinking to himself "I'm not touching that boiled chicken rubbish ever again - gimme roast every time."
Sunday, 21 April 2013
Sunday 21st April 2013
Seeing as it was last November when I last wrote a diary entry, and it's now April, that's a whole lot of catching up to do. So I'll just try to precis in as few sentences as possible!
Brody is now 8mths old, he's had a few health issues - well, mainly one. He's got an enflamed stomach lining. He seems to be either allergic to certain types of food, or his stomach is unable to absorb certain types of food elements. This has meant many trips to the vet, blood tests, scans, changes of food and mainly lack of money. He's on hypersensitive food, and we can only give him small bits of plain boiled chicken now and then as extra. As a result, he's growing upwards but not outwards - his ribs are plain to see, and many a dog-walker can be seen staring at him (the half-shaved patchwork puppy effect doesn't help), wondering what on earth this breed is - a new Skelelab? Skinnylab? Ohmygodthey'restarvinghimtodeathlab?
The vet said we have to make sure he doesn't eat anything on his walks - as any dog owner will know, THAT'S NIGH ON IMPOSSIBLE! Just when you think he's wandered off to have an innocent sniff of a seemingly innocent blade of grass, gobble gobble yum yum, oh there goes a half-eaten KFC chicken leg, or off he trots towards another dog on the beach to have a lovely play, when there's a quick, sharp diversion to the left to snaffle up a half-rotten fish carcass.
Anyway, all this covert snaffling has today ended in a rather unfortunate but foreseeable incident - the endless vomiting. We are now aware of the signs (the first took place inside the home, on the lounge carpet, the other 3 times outside in the back garden) - looking sheepish, licking of lips, contortion of lips, then the heaving, then the gagging, then the bleuggggghhhh. Oh, and then the gobbling up of said vomit. Probably the reason for the remaining 3 sick-ups.
Other memorable moments over the past few months? Well, there was that time we met a young boy on the beach who is terrified of dogs, and boy did he let the whole beach know about it when he encountered Brody. What he didn't know was that Brody tries to comfort people who seem upset by circling them and licking them. The boy nearly died of fright - oh, and his mum fell over on the rocks when Brody pushed past her to get to said boy. What a lovely day that was. Then there was the time Brody was introduced to a badger - rather unexpectedly, not on purpose. They both froze, then the badger about turned and trundled away, followed by a rather inquisitive Brody trotting behind. Another near-heart attack moment for the other party. And of course who could forget the elderly man out for a walk with his dog, holding his camera in such a way that the long neck strap was dangling near the ground. Brody raced after the man's dog, managed to loop the camera strap round his (Brody's) own neck and carried on racing after the dog with the camera bumping and banging round his neck and across the ground. Oh the joys of dog ownership.
Anyway, I'll leave it for now. Megan has a friend over - they're baking cakes. Megan has just dropped a whole tube of silver ball cake toppings all over the floor, and Brody is trying to break the world record of how many silver ball toppings you can eat in 2 seconds. I think the record's his.
Brody is now 8mths old, he's had a few health issues - well, mainly one. He's got an enflamed stomach lining. He seems to be either allergic to certain types of food, or his stomach is unable to absorb certain types of food elements. This has meant many trips to the vet, blood tests, scans, changes of food and mainly lack of money. He's on hypersensitive food, and we can only give him small bits of plain boiled chicken now and then as extra. As a result, he's growing upwards but not outwards - his ribs are plain to see, and many a dog-walker can be seen staring at him (the half-shaved patchwork puppy effect doesn't help), wondering what on earth this breed is - a new Skelelab? Skinnylab? Ohmygodthey'restarvinghimtodeathlab?
The vet said we have to make sure he doesn't eat anything on his walks - as any dog owner will know, THAT'S NIGH ON IMPOSSIBLE! Just when you think he's wandered off to have an innocent sniff of a seemingly innocent blade of grass, gobble gobble yum yum, oh there goes a half-eaten KFC chicken leg, or off he trots towards another dog on the beach to have a lovely play, when there's a quick, sharp diversion to the left to snaffle up a half-rotten fish carcass.
Anyway, all this covert snaffling has today ended in a rather unfortunate but foreseeable incident - the endless vomiting. We are now aware of the signs (the first took place inside the home, on the lounge carpet, the other 3 times outside in the back garden) - looking sheepish, licking of lips, contortion of lips, then the heaving, then the gagging, then the bleuggggghhhh. Oh, and then the gobbling up of said vomit. Probably the reason for the remaining 3 sick-ups.
Other memorable moments over the past few months? Well, there was that time we met a young boy on the beach who is terrified of dogs, and boy did he let the whole beach know about it when he encountered Brody. What he didn't know was that Brody tries to comfort people who seem upset by circling them and licking them. The boy nearly died of fright - oh, and his mum fell over on the rocks when Brody pushed past her to get to said boy. What a lovely day that was. Then there was the time Brody was introduced to a badger - rather unexpectedly, not on purpose. They both froze, then the badger about turned and trundled away, followed by a rather inquisitive Brody trotting behind. Another near-heart attack moment for the other party. And of course who could forget the elderly man out for a walk with his dog, holding his camera in such a way that the long neck strap was dangling near the ground. Brody raced after the man's dog, managed to loop the camera strap round his (Brody's) own neck and carried on racing after the dog with the camera bumping and banging round his neck and across the ground. Oh the joys of dog ownership.
Anyway, I'll leave it for now. Megan has a friend over - they're baking cakes. Megan has just dropped a whole tube of silver ball cake toppings all over the floor, and Brody is trying to break the world record of how many silver ball toppings you can eat in 2 seconds. I think the record's his.
Tuesday, 9 April 2013
Friday 16 November
Gosh, I haven't written anything for ages. So here's what I remember.
On about the Tuesday 6th November, Steve phoned the Devon vet (the one used by the breeder) about the jabs. Apparently, it's always the procedure that the pups have 2 single jabs the first time, then 2 weeks later booster jabs of those two and also single jabs of some other stuff. They can then go out a week after. Steve then phoned another vet in our area who said the same as our own vet - boosters of all jabs are needed, then a 10-day wait. Doesn't seem quite fair that if we lived in Devon Brody would be out and about, whereas we have to wait another 3 weeks. Anyway, this other local vet agreed that the window of opportunity for socialising Brody and getting him used to different surroundings is shrinking and said we could take him out places where we know lots of dogs aren't taken to limit the risk.
So on Monday Steve took Brody out early to the beach as the tide was going out and stayed on the newly wet sand. Brody was a bit nervous, but seemed to love it. He stayed on the lead and remained right by Steve's side. Steve took him out the next morning too, this time with Megan in tow, but it seemed it hadn't registered in Steve's mind after reading the tide table that it was a New Moon and the tide was at its highest. Therefore, not much room to manoevre especially when a big wave comes in - which it did. Not too bad if you're a grown man with wellies accompanied by a big dog. But here we have a grown man with walking shoes with a tiny pup off the lead. That plus big wave equals soaking wet trousers, shoes and socks, and a half-drowned puppy, now a nervous wreck and scared stiff of the sea.
When they get home, poor Brody was stinking. Straight in the shower - not keen. Tries to escape. Not that keen on being rubbed down with a towel either. Damp dog for next hour - not a good smell. He was starting to shiver, but I covered him with his blanket and he was as snug as a bug in a rug.
Steve took Brody for another social visit to Olly the spaniel. Another full-on play/fight session. But that evening, Brody can't stop licking and biting all his paws. I look it up on the internet (not always a good idea for ailments). Apparently it could either be a)he's stepped on stinging nettles; b) he's allergic to something in the friend's garden - grasses, plants, etc; c)stress; d)sore paws after playing. We keep an eye on him for the rest of the evening. It's really troubling him - he even whines when he's licking or biting which makes us think there's a cut there somewhere. But the next day he has improved considerably. Panic over.
His training is coming along well. He can 'say hello' by touching your hand with his nose, answer to 'paw' and doesn't jump up when we give him his dinner bowl. The two things we have to master are 'leave' and 'down' when jumping up at the table.
He had his third set of jabs, so we only have to wait now until next weekend. I hope it's not too late.
I took him to meet Poppy, a spaniel cross bitch, 2 years old. The meeting didn't go well. At first sight of Brody (in my arms), Poppy starts to growl, and when I put him down with Poppy's mum holding on to her collar she starts to sound even angrier, so we go into her kitchen for Brody to have a sniff around while Poppy remains shut outside with her nose to the glass back door, snarling and showing her teeth at Brody. Oh dear, not a good introduction to the female of the species for Brody!
Megan and I were getting into the car today with Brody on Megan's lap in the front passenger seat, ready to take Megan to school. Suddenly Brody did his manic excitable jump to the face with mouth open to Megan, causing tears, a split lip and a nose bleed. Luckily Steve was hanging around by the car, so he took Brody back into the house and got tissues to block the nosebleed. Poor Megan, not a good start to the school day. By the time we get to school she's calmed down (but a little quiet) and the bleeding has stopped. Of course, Brody doesn't realise he has done anything wrong, he's still only a jumpy puppy, and he won't understand that he's instilled a bit of sadness and wariness of him into Megan. I hope she understands. Steve and I decide it might be time to put him in the back of the car for journeys.
Today it was sensory overload for Brody. It was near lunchtime, I was preparing tonight's tea, while at the same time stripping a cooked chicken carcass for my sandwich, and also trying to make Brody's lunch. He was going mental yelping and barking and jumping at the table. I had to lure him outside and shut the door while I finished everything - I felt a bit bad as he was crying and pawing the back door, but needs must.
On about the Tuesday 6th November, Steve phoned the Devon vet (the one used by the breeder) about the jabs. Apparently, it's always the procedure that the pups have 2 single jabs the first time, then 2 weeks later booster jabs of those two and also single jabs of some other stuff. They can then go out a week after. Steve then phoned another vet in our area who said the same as our own vet - boosters of all jabs are needed, then a 10-day wait. Doesn't seem quite fair that if we lived in Devon Brody would be out and about, whereas we have to wait another 3 weeks. Anyway, this other local vet agreed that the window of opportunity for socialising Brody and getting him used to different surroundings is shrinking and said we could take him out places where we know lots of dogs aren't taken to limit the risk.
So on Monday Steve took Brody out early to the beach as the tide was going out and stayed on the newly wet sand. Brody was a bit nervous, but seemed to love it. He stayed on the lead and remained right by Steve's side. Steve took him out the next morning too, this time with Megan in tow, but it seemed it hadn't registered in Steve's mind after reading the tide table that it was a New Moon and the tide was at its highest. Therefore, not much room to manoevre especially when a big wave comes in - which it did. Not too bad if you're a grown man with wellies accompanied by a big dog. But here we have a grown man with walking shoes with a tiny pup off the lead. That plus big wave equals soaking wet trousers, shoes and socks, and a half-drowned puppy, now a nervous wreck and scared stiff of the sea.
When they get home, poor Brody was stinking. Straight in the shower - not keen. Tries to escape. Not that keen on being rubbed down with a towel either. Damp dog for next hour - not a good smell. He was starting to shiver, but I covered him with his blanket and he was as snug as a bug in a rug.
Steve took Brody for another social visit to Olly the spaniel. Another full-on play/fight session. But that evening, Brody can't stop licking and biting all his paws. I look it up on the internet (not always a good idea for ailments). Apparently it could either be a)he's stepped on stinging nettles; b) he's allergic to something in the friend's garden - grasses, plants, etc; c)stress; d)sore paws after playing. We keep an eye on him for the rest of the evening. It's really troubling him - he even whines when he's licking or biting which makes us think there's a cut there somewhere. But the next day he has improved considerably. Panic over.
His training is coming along well. He can 'say hello' by touching your hand with his nose, answer to 'paw' and doesn't jump up when we give him his dinner bowl. The two things we have to master are 'leave' and 'down' when jumping up at the table.
He had his third set of jabs, so we only have to wait now until next weekend. I hope it's not too late.
I took him to meet Poppy, a spaniel cross bitch, 2 years old. The meeting didn't go well. At first sight of Brody (in my arms), Poppy starts to growl, and when I put him down with Poppy's mum holding on to her collar she starts to sound even angrier, so we go into her kitchen for Brody to have a sniff around while Poppy remains shut outside with her nose to the glass back door, snarling and showing her teeth at Brody. Oh dear, not a good introduction to the female of the species for Brody!
Megan and I were getting into the car today with Brody on Megan's lap in the front passenger seat, ready to take Megan to school. Suddenly Brody did his manic excitable jump to the face with mouth open to Megan, causing tears, a split lip and a nose bleed. Luckily Steve was hanging around by the car, so he took Brody back into the house and got tissues to block the nosebleed. Poor Megan, not a good start to the school day. By the time we get to school she's calmed down (but a little quiet) and the bleeding has stopped. Of course, Brody doesn't realise he has done anything wrong, he's still only a jumpy puppy, and he won't understand that he's instilled a bit of sadness and wariness of him into Megan. I hope she understands. Steve and I decide it might be time to put him in the back of the car for journeys.
Today it was sensory overload for Brody. It was near lunchtime, I was preparing tonight's tea, while at the same time stripping a cooked chicken carcass for my sandwich, and also trying to make Brody's lunch. He was going mental yelping and barking and jumping at the table. I had to lure him outside and shut the door while I finished everything - I felt a bit bad as he was crying and pawing the back door, but needs must.
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