Dead whale, oblivious dog

Riley barks when the washer switches cycles and growls at a ticking clock when it’s quiet at night. He notices a bunny in the neighbor’s yard down the street and will chase every last bird off the beach. So how the hell did he miss this giant whale that washed up on the beach while we were standing there watching?! I don’t know. But after about a half hour he finally noticed and started barking. I guess there were more interesting smells on the beach that day than a dead whale?

City Water Taxi Dog Cruise

The last couple of months have been chuck-full of vet visists for Riley. The mites returned (or never really left), tumor removed, more stubborn mites on the paws. Now that our vet visits have dwindled to once every three weeks, Riley and I need to enjoy the summer.

I’ve come across a couple of dog-related events in the Boston-area we must attend: a harbor cruise to the harbor islands and Yappy Hour at the Liberty Hotel. And no, Riley won’t be dressing to impress for Yappy Hour.

Now if only the summer weather would arrive here in Boston….

Riley passed his latest physical exam with flying colors. His mites are gone (again), his skin is great, his hair is luxurious and his blood work perfect. Just one pesky problem: a lump on his hind quarters. The vet extracted some cells to test it, just in case. The results came back that the lump is a mast cell tumor. He’s getting it removed within the next week. I asked, “How can a seemingly healthy dog (I have the blood tests to prove it!) have all these medical issues, some that stump a vet for two years?!” Her answer, “I don’t know.”

I wonder if Dr. House takes on animal cases?

It’s been a miserable winter here in New England. If I have to shovel one more time I might hurt someone. And my feet can’t take another four weeks in a row of wearing boots. It’s sucking the life out of me. But this weekend was lovely, beautiful and WARM! A sneak peak of what’s to come. Riley and I headed out to Castle Island where he chased birds and ran on the beach. He is now passed out on his bed. I’m not sure if it’s from the chasing and running or from his barking the ENTIRE car ride to and from the beach.

A good friend of mine introduced me to CBS Sunday Morning many years ago. I mocked her and called it the “old people show.” But soon I was hooked. Interesting stories. Good reporting. And it makes you love random people. Someone interviewed Mariah Carey’s husband several weeks ago. When it was over, I said, “Wow. He’s great. I love him!” (Yes, Mariah Carey’s husband. I said random people!) And they like dogs. One of my recent favorite dog-related stories is the elephant and dog friendship. Damn it made me cry. Riley also enjoys my Sunday morning ritual. At the end of every show, they play a nature clip. He’ll wake from his morning nap to watch noisy seals hanging out on the California coast. Anything with birds gets him up off his bed and barking at the tv. It’s one of the two tv shows he “watches” with me. He’s also a big Lost fan. The jungle sounds really get him going.

Holiday Excess

Life with Riley has been a bit crazy during/since the holidays. I thing we’ve both finally recovered. He has had some serious behavioral problems that have subsided. His mites returned. And an ear infection made him extra cranky for several weeks. His illnesses, of course, compounded the behavioral issues. One such “issue” involved him biting me when I was trying to put drops in his ears. And a Riley freakout during a his weekly bath for the mites.

But I feel like we’ve turned a corner the last two weeks. His skin scrapping came back clear on Saturday. Yay! Or maybe because it’s not 12 degrees everyday and the layers of snow and ice have melted so we can actually take a walk. Who knows. But I’m keeping my fingers crossed that the calmness continues.

They're even uglier dead.

Riley recently made his first kill. Well, the first kill I’m aware of. Who knows what happened when he was living on the street. I let him out in the backyard, at night, without a leash, because I was being lazy. The door opened and he burst outside. I knew something was up, his swift motion had a purpose this time, I could tell. And he didn’t make a sound. I heard a brief scuffle, then Riley comes out of the shadows, head and tail up high, with a quivering opossum in his mouth.

He strutted over and stood in front of me, wagging his tail. I pet his head and said “good boy.” It seemed the right thing to do; he was bred to do this type of job. But then the real fun began.

Riley trotted over to the back door, kill in mouth. He wanted to bring it inside. I said “NO. DROP IT.” Well, we’ve never perfected the drop it command. As was clearly demonstrated by his stubborn insistence to keep the dead creature in his mouth. He brought it into the middle of my tiny backyard, dropped it, and morphed into a wild animal. He was protecting his kill.

My best efforts were failing. He would not budge. I grabbed a broom to try to move him away from it. He tore the broom apart. I amazingly remained calm. My next door neighbor came out asking, “Do you need some help?”

I was afraid Riley would bite him and said no. But my kind neighbor persisted. And brought his wife and father-in-law out to help. They tried to distract Riley from over the fence. Nothing. Then all of a sudden my neighbor appeared in my yard, wielding a shovel, making a low growling sound and charging Riley. With this welcome distraction I grabbed an old patio umbrella and threw it over the dead creature.

Riley backed off and nonchalantly walked over to the porch and started eating the chicken I brought out in hopes of enticing him away from his kill. My neighbor quickly scooped up the opossum and threw it in the woods over the fence. Thank God he watches a lot of Discovery Channel wild animal shows. Who says tv doesn’t teach you anything useful? And thank God for fabulous neighbors.

I checked out Psycho Pup and called my vet. He didn’t have any wounds from his scuffle and was up to date on all his shots. The poor opossum didn’t stand a chance. But Riley had gloriously failed the ultimate dog test; choosing to protect his dead prey over obeying my command.

So we are enrolling in some one-on-one training after the holidays. He has come so far since I got him, but I can’t let this incident slide. His behavior was unacceptable. And he obviously does not see me as the Alpha. The trainer believes we can turn him around, with some hard work from Riley and me. And I’ll finish reading the Dog Whisper’s Be the Pack Leader. I bought it (at Book People in Austin – great independent book store! You must go! If in Austin!) when I was away at a conference and it’s been collecting dust. Perhaps Cesar can offer me some helpful hints?

Life with Riley has been very, um, full lately. Right now we’re (yes, I can use we because we are BOTH suffering) dealing with an ear yeast infection that won’t go away. Perhaps because it’s almost impossible to get the drops in his ears and requires almost daily trips to the vet to get it done?! And his excessive rubbing from the ear discomfort has resulted in a slight skin infection around his eye. However, he was FABULOUS on Thanksgiving with the family (about 10 people); like a regular dog! But later that day he did try to take a chunk off my hand when I was trying to dispense the aforementioned ear drops. Never a dull day with Psycho Pup.

The Kong: a gift from the pet gods.

It’s been widely reported that pet ownership helps reduce stress. Hmmmm.

The first few months I had Riley were anything but stress-free. The crying (his and mine), the vet bills, the fighting, the barking, the list goes on. In the beginning, leaving my house was a painful experience for me, him and my downstairs neighbors. As I would get ready to leave, he would start whining, work up to barking, and end with growling while jumping and nipping me and throwing his body in front of the door. By the time I finally made it out the door, I would be crying (per usual) and contemplating how I could return him.

I was stressed out, man!

What the hell was I doing wrong?! My family had pets growing up, none like this. My father didn’t understand why the dog didn’t “get it” and thought I was being to easy on him. Perhaps I was because I am a big sap with the dog. But we started working out a routine. Frosty Paws were a gift from God in the new routine. He loves them. Shortly before I left, I turned on the radio and would make him go to his bed then give him the Frosty Paws. I slipped out the door without a peep from the dog and prayed he didn’t finish the treat before I made it down the street. This initially only worked with Frosty Paws and cheese in a Kong. Now I can leave whenever. Except if I’m trying to leave with another person. Then he wants to go with us. And NOTHING works!

Freshly shorn.

One constant in Riley’s crazy life since I adopted him is his groomer (the Clip Joint in Arlington). When he was still in the wild animal stage, I took him to a groomer. I was filled with dread. The knot in my shoulder was throbbing. I was on my third vet. One suggested I put him down (this was before his skin problem was FINALLY diagnosed). I arrived at our first appointment with no expectations. Well, I expected a frantic phone call shortly after I dropped him off demanding I come pick up my deranged dog.

I gave them the whole story; his behavior with the vet, his behavior with me, his distrust of EVERYONE. They said they would try to work with him, and if it didn’t work, no problem, they’d call me to pick him up. He’s so cute, they said, he can’t be that difficult!

He cried when left. I ran to my car and turned my phone all the way up. I went home and nervously awaited the call. What was I going to do with this crazy dog that let no one close to him? After two hours I called to check on the progress. He and they were fine, they assured me.

A couple of hours later I got a call; Riley was groomed and ready for pick-up. Really?! Did you drug him?! Did you muzzle him? What happened?! They bathed him then left him on the grooming table and would do a little work, then leave him, then go back. He growled a bit, but was very sweet. What?! Very sweet?! They were so gentle and patient with him, again, I cried.

His behavior at the groomer has even improved over the last few years. They no longer muzzle him and he allows them to do whatever they want – paws, ears, all the sensitive spots. My vet didn’t believe me. I still don’t think my current vet fully believes me. But they worked so hard with Psycho Pup and I am forever grateful. And they can never move!!