Throw me a bone here, dog

Her Majesty and I are moving to Winnipeg in the new year. The decision was made October 15, but it's been a long time in the making, and part of the reason why is specifically because Her Majesty loves it here. But there are no jobs, so we have to get out of here.

Ok.

So first of all I had to dismantle our garden before it froze solid, which caused Tinky-Winky to have a meltdown and pee on everything she normally sleeps on. It was weird. But yeah, the garden was a major thing for both of us. It hurt me to have to do it, but I did it quickly and turned my back on it. Tinky-Winky took it a lot harder.

After that, I've been hesitant to make any further preparations. Tinky-Winky has never liked me opening the storage room door to begin with, because I make all sorts of loud noises that make her nervous. Now as soon as I touch that door, or try to move anything bigger than a book from one side of the room to the other (we have a bachelor apartment, you'll recall), she goes into a dark corner and shakes like a leaf until I pick her up, sit down on the couch with her, and do nothing but pet her or brush her for half an hour. And that's kind of a problem, because I need to empty the storage room completely, mark out the amount of space that's available in the car, and then refill the storage room with boxed things, ready to load in the car the day before we leave. And I can't do anything without her freaking out.

Sigh...

You know, dog, I realise that you don't know where we're going, or why, or how things are gonna work out when we get there. I realise that we've moved lots of places together and you never know how long we're gonna be anywhere, and you can't tell when we're never coming back to a place you like. I realise that you don't get to speak your mind or ask questions. I realise that you have no way of knowing how much your well-being and happiness have been at the centre of my decisions all along. I realise that you know we're gonna go for a long, long drive in a tightly packed car, again. Ok, so it is stressful. You're not in control and you never know what's coming. And yeah, we've lived here a long time, we're comfortable, and it breaks my heart too to leave it. But you're not the one who has to find us a place in Winnipeg. You're not the one who has to find a job and make this move work out, one way or another. You're not the one driving that damn car 2500 km. You're not the one who has to pack, and to leave behind the things you can't pack - yet again. None of your stuff is getting thrown out or left behind, I can guarantee you that. You're all worried, but you're not the one who has to do any of the worrying.

Ok, so I don't expect you to hold my hand and be supportive and ask how you can help today. But it would be nice if after seven years together when I've never let you down or let you want for anything, you could at least trust that I'm taking good care of you, and I always will, and if there is a little thumping and banging here and there, you don't need to make me drop everything to address your little prima donna act.

Sigh.

I think I'm gonna try to send her to Otis's people a few hours a week so I can get something done here.

A shiba is a good walk spoiled

I'm sick, and I'm tired of being surrounded by morons. But I woke up this morning around seven, and it was a gorgeous morning, and I thought The Creature and I would have a lovely off-leash walk.

Right.

On the way to the off-leashing point, we passed some garbage she wanted to eat. So as soon as the leash came off, she doubled back with all speed to find it. I followed her. She ran. I followed her again. She ran. And of course, being a dog, she has to go behind all the buildings, where all the garbage is likely to pile up. So instead of a lovely morning walk in the woods, I wasted twenty minutes following this little douchebag dog behind all the buildings downtown.

It's bad enough having to deal with idiot humans. At least I can shut them out of my house. But it really gets to me sometimes having to put up with such a disagreeable creature as my dog.

Pet your dog thin?

I was reading this book about addictions, and I learned some things. As you may or may not know, the brain, human or otherwise, secretes a variety of hormones to make us feel good or bad. I call the good ones "brain rewards". I knew this already. I didn't know that one of the brain rewards is oxytocin. One thing it does is induce labour, but also, it's a brain reward related to attachment activities, and an analgesic. And the important thing here is, attachment.

So that is to say, oxytocin is a brain reward that you get from interacting with other creatures.

What does that have to do with addictions? Addictions are a way to give ourselves brain rewards when we're not getting them through normal processes. Which is why people who say they eat to make themselves feel better aren't actually lying; they're just not creative about giving themselves brain rewards. So they eat, and get a brain reward related to eating. But that doesn't exactly replace the brain reward they're missing, so they keep eating.

Likewise with dogs.

Do I have a point? I do. Tinky-Winky and I are dog-sitting Carter again. Carter... Oh wait, I forgot to post my other post, so you don't know the back story. Anyway, Carter overeats. I explained that in the post I forgot to post. When he wants a brain reward, he eats. When he has no food, he asks his person for food, and she gives it to him.

Not me. When Carter whines, I pet him. Or I brush him. He loves being brushed. When I stop brushing him, he goes to sleep. Without having eaten.

Hmmmm...

My theory is, Carter cries because he needs a brain reward, not a food reward. If I pet him or brush him, he gets a brain reward, therefore he doesn't eat. Therefore he doesn't get fat.

On the other hand, it's also possible that he doesn't eat when I dogsit him because he misses his own humans. But I like my theory.

Doesn't matter anyway. Petting your dog lowers blood pressure for both you and the dog, and fills some time that you both would normally spend stuffing your faces.

You know what else? If you walk your dog, he gets exercise, therefore he's less stressed and difficult - and also less fat. Also you are less stressed and difficult, and also less fat.

Funny how doing the right thing for your dog also happens to be the right thing for you. Oh wait... Yes, that's easily explained by 12,000 years of living in packs together. Or maybe we formed packs together because we need the same things. Either way, spend more time petting, brushing and walking your dog. It's good for both of you. And besides, why would you get a dog if you're not gonna pet, brush and walk him?

Tinky-Winky and the foster child

Tinky-Winky and I have a little girl staying with us this week. She's not technically a foster child in that the government hasn't intervened (yet), but she kind of is in that she got dropped off with a complete stranger because none of the people who have a legal position in her life are available to take care of her. Anyway.

The thing is, little girls love Tinky-Winky, and Tinky-Winky does not like little girls. So Little Girl is always trying to play with Tinky-Winky, and Tinky-Winky is always running away from her. Most of the time I intervene, but as soon as my back is turned, like when I go have a shower, Little Girl is harassing Tinky-Winky again. Her Majesty is not amused.

Also, Little Girl doesn't really care to go for walks, and she walks really, really slow. We have to walk the dog regardless, and it's good for her since she's overweight and she insists she wants "seven big dogs". But it annoys Her Majesty. Plus today is horribly windy, so Tinky-Winky chose to come back home without pooping. Oh well. She didn't really eat last night anyway.

So, Her Majesty is out of sorts. She hasn't slept on my bed since Little Girl got here. Well, at least she hasn't slept on Little Girl's bed either. That would annoy me.

The moral of this story is, I don't think Tinky-Winky is in favour of having foster children in this house. I guess she'll be really unimpressed when the little autistic twins come sleep over. Still, I believe in putting people ahead of dogs, but this is her house and her life, not just mine. People who can't get along with her will not continue being welcome in my house. After all, she was here before them and she'll be there long after they're gone. Loyalty goes both ways.

Doggy storm shelter: success!

Finally, the dog understands the purpose of the crate. She hadn't stepped inside yet, even though I put all her shredding blankets in there. Then Monday afternoon there was a thunderstorm, and she started freaking out as usual, so I put her in the cage. She shredded for a while and then came back out. But Tuesday, when the thunder started, she went into the cage of her own free will and lay down at the back.

Booya!

Well, that doesn't look very comfortable. I've been meaning to get her some bedding in there, but I really don't feel like spending money on a dog bed and a comforter just now. So, instead I'm lending her some of my crochet blankets, thusly:


The one inside the cage is a queen-size and makes a nice thick mattress. I hope she won't tear it. Crochet blankets are much more resistant than fabric, but you never know. The one draped over the cage is mostly to shut out more light and sound and make it more cave-like, but it also makes it more esthetically pleasing to me. Better feng-shui, hopefully. Also, both these blankets are hand-made by me and have been in the house for years, and were on my bed all winter, so they should be thoroughly permeated with my smell, and hopefully that's a comfort to her when I'm not home.

This morning, the dog went to look at the cage again, and at first did not approve of my modifications. So I grabbed her and put her inside forcibly, and she lay down at the back and made herself at home. I'm not sure she likes having a blanket over the cage, actually. It shuts out some light and noise, but on the other hand, she can't see me anymore, and that always annoys her. She likes to keep an eye on me.

I'm sorry, little dog

Tinky-Winky was outside when it started to thunder again. So she came in and sat with me for a while, and then went back out and came back again looking much calmer.

A little while later, I go out to the balcony and see this:


Dang! That lawn was starting to look good, too. Oh well... That's why it's HER lawn. So I gather up the dirt, put it back in, throw down some more seeds on the shredded area. Then while I'm out there, I figure I might as well water the plants. And while I'm doing that, Tinky-Winky comes back out, goes to her lawn, and start digging again. And by reflex I said "no no no!" and she stopped.

Oops...

I didn't mean it! It's your lawn! Go dig it!

I tried to explain in words that it's ok to dig the lawn. I tried pointing at it. I tried putting her on the lawn and making her paw at it. She's not digging it.

I'm sorry, little dog. That was YOUR lawn to dig at for stress relief and I've reprimanded you, and now you think it's not ok to dig it. I'm sorry I can't explain to you that it was my mistake and you're allowed to dig the lawn all you want.

Darn. How do you un-train a dog after you've reprimanded it?