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3/18/2007 Morning PetsIt is a cruelty of life that pets love mornings. Especially when both B and I are NOT morning people, if we can help it. It's a real injustice in life when a person (me) absolutely loves animals, (hence I have two cats, Simon and Earl (currently being cat-sat by a friend), and of course my Chihuahua, Precious (or, as she's curently nick named, Preshie Freshie Mama's Girl) and our newest addition (because there will ALWAYS be new additions) Elvis (named, of course, by B), but is NOT a morning person.
There is nothing I can do about that love... I can't help myself... yet each time I bring a new addition into the house both B and I suffer. We lose sleep (which for us is difficult...our schedules make us sleep deprived already) and we argue over the rules and the raising of that new addition. Some couples argue most over finances, or jealousies... not us... not any more. Those things have been mostly resolved, and other than us "playing" at being jealous (though I think sometimes B isn't playing), we trust each other sufficiently not to be sitting around wondering WHO the other is with, and WHAT they're doing, when we're not together.
B and I are sleeper inners... if it's at all possible... if we don't have some appointment in the morning that we HAVE to attend... we like to sleep in. This used to be possible. Well, with Precious, who is 9 years old, it's easy... she's learned to be a sleeper inner too... she actually gets grumpy if we have to wake her up early because our schedule demands it. Years with me has taught her that if I'm still sleeping, don't bother me. She'll get tons of attention AFTER I wake up, and I'll be in a much better mood too. She knows to go outside to do her business, and she knows when to ask for her meals. Life with Precious is smooth and fun and loving.
When we adopted Simon, our "second born and first son", we went through the whole training period, B and I, for the first time together. I learned that B has absolutely NO tolerance for "potty mistakes"... he has this aversion to any type of pee or poop, or even throw up... be it human or animal. He's disgusted that they don't seem to understand exactly WHERE it is appropriate to go without repeated training reminders. (By now it should be obvious to anyone who has any knowledge of pet ownership at all that B did NOT grow up having pets... he was essentially petless almost all of his life... well, until meeting me.) So, I was elected, by default, to be the ONLY one who cleans up such messes. No exceptions, and that rule seems to apply forever... nothing has changed, and Elvis is trainee number three, since B and I got together.
However, it's not just the potty training issue... it's also the morning schedule issue. Until our new additions are made to understand that mornings are NOT the time to bother mommy and daddy, we are sleep deprived. Simon used to wake up in the morning, almost always around 7:30 or 8 am, and he'd begin to chew on whatever body parts B and I dared to have outside the blankets... and kitten teeth are VERY sharp! He'd get up on top of my head and begin to knead my head with his claws open while "cleaning" my hair... nibble nibble nibble... puuuullllllll.... nibble nibble nibble.... puuuullllll... until I was sufficiently awake to grab his tiny body and hurl him to the bottom of the bed, or over to B's side. He mistook this for playing however, and he would then attack anything that moved under the covers, which, on several occasions turned out to be... ummmm... parts of B's anatomy that are WAY too sensitive to be clawed or bitten by a kitten. This would result in B jumping, horizontally, from the bed, at least a foot in the air, the quick grab of Simon and removal from those parts, and the hurling of Simon, usually toward me. We played kitten catch, partially in our sleep, most mornings for about the first month of Simon training.
I know that in most people's cases this would have resulted in making the animal sleep elsewhere. I can't do that. I can't stand to hear a baby cry... even if it's a kitten or puppy... I just lose it. We did try it... for about an hour. B could see by my face that I was suffering far more than the pitiful mewling baby kitten who was so lost and scared and all alone, that B actually went and brought our Simon back to bed with us... he was resigned to suffer through it for my sake. That's love.
With Earl, our second "son" and adoption, it was much the same thing, only, not so much biting... more lay on your face and purrr kind of torture... of course... first thing in the morning. He was easier to morning train because he is just a mush... all he ever cares about is that he's somehow ON me, and that I'm touching him... petting or just have a hand on him. It was easier for me to get used to hearing Earl purring in my ear than it was for me to get used to Simon biting my head. It was also easier for B because it wasn't HIS ear Earl was purring in.
Now, we have Elvis. Elvis's mama is full Pitt Bull, and his papa is full Bull Dog (either way he's full of Bull... tee hee). I was exiting Walmart one evening and there was Elvis, in a storage box with 6 of his brothers and sisters, hopping around trying to get out, and drawing the attention of everyone passing by, including me. I reached down and grabbed him up... the first one my eye was drawn to because first, he had the exact coloring of Preshie's daughter Cossette (she's dead now), and second, because he looked right at me... not whining... just standing against the side of the box looking at me. The owners told me about him, and that he actually had 9 brothers and sisters but they'd already given away 3 of them, and that Elvis (no name at the time) was the smartest. He was the only one who'd figured out that by standing on top of his brothers and sisters he could hook his paws over the edge of the box, pull himself up and out and escape. I picked up a couple of others, got puppy kisses and all kinds of warm receptions, but Elvis just kept looking at me from his box, and I couldn't ignore him.
I called B and told him to come to Walmart right away, and he arrived a few minutes later (after a little bit of persuasion). I convinced him to get out of the truck and "look", and then thrust Elvis at him to hold. He got puppy kissed and Elvis tried to climb up onto his bald head, and I think he was hooked. Still, he left and said I was crazy, and that I could "do whatever I wanted"... but with attitude. So, I left.
I felt guilty that I wanted another mouth to feed... another "body" to live with us in our temporary living quarters at my job... a large closet really with alot of our "stuff" squeezed in there with us. I couldn't let it go though. I called B, a bit emotional because I really really thought that Elvis would be an awesome dog... that B could make him HIS dog... he'd been saying he wanted to get a bigger dog for himself anyway. B told me to go back and get him... there's that Love again. I asked if he was sure... I didn't want it to be just because I love animals... I wanted B to really want THIS particular dog. He said get back there and get him before someone else did... if he was still there get him, if not, then he didn't want any of the others. I went. Quickly. I got Elvis (who was later named that by B).
I did the research on line... how to raise and train a Pitt, and how to raise and train a Bull Dog, and I printed it all out for B. I force-read some of the most important (to me) parts to B, and then left the almost one inch high stack of papers on B's table for him to refer to whenever he wanted (I knew that he'd read it on his own...when he could feel he was doing it himself, because HE wanted to, rather than because I wanted him to.) I can tell, since then, that he has done some reading.
We established that Elvis would be B's dog... that HE would decide what food Elvis got... that HE would decide how Elvis was to be trained and what tricks he'd learn, etc. It was also established that I would get the potty training detail. This means that I have to be very puppy aware and sensitive to any possible sign that Elvis has to go potty. I quickly realized that if Elvis took a nap...even if for only five minutes, he had to go immediately after he woke up. No time for me to put shoes on... no time for me to put him on the floor and get him to follow me out the door...nope. Grab up puppy the second he's awake and rush him out the door... I'd barely get to put him down before he was squatting.
Elvis was one day shy of 7 weeks when we got him. He just turned 9 weeks old (yesterday). He's almost potty trained. I'd say he's a pretty smart puppy. He climbs onto my head in the middle of the night if he needs to go out... it's good that he's getting someone's attention, but it's always ME... more sleep deprivation. Of course, he still has the occasional accident... if we leave him alone he has no "holding it" capacity yet. If I'm distracted at the time he awakes from his naps then he'll usually whine at me to go out, but if I don't move fast enough... well, clean up time. If I'm not around, B is not so aware, and so there are accidents... which infuriates B and results in Elvis having his nose pushed into it and him being ejected from the room to the back yard. It's getting better though, and I think B is learning from my example the best ways to get Elvis to learn... and Elvis is learning not to mess with B... this is a good thing.
My Preshie is suffering through it too. She's 9 years old. Elvis is 9 weeks old. Preshie has no patience for a bouncy, jumpy, teething, wants to play all the time puppy. She yipes at him frequently. Elvis doesn't care. He sits on her when she's in her bed... she'll be snarling and yiping at him... reaching around her shoulder to nip at him... he's sitting on her with a nonchalant look on his face... practically yawning at her. He'll finally get off of her and begin a darting in and out type of attack with her... nipping at her cheek and darting away... biting her bottom, then darting away... he'll high-squeek bark at her several times, and then start over again. She's exasperated at him, and often sends me these pleading looks that say "mom... could you PuhLEEES get this pest off of me?", and then I pull Elvis away and let her have some peace. B thinks it's all great fun and laughs and laughs at Elvis's bullying... I think he identifies with it (from his wilder days).
I'm sure we'll all adjust in time, and Elvis will learn to sleep when we do and be awake when we are, just has Preshie learned to do. I believe that the more control Elvis learns the more time he'll get to spend with B... probably ending up being one of those dogs that ride around with it's owner all the time and makes the back of the pick-up his second home. At least I hope so... B needs that kind of love and adoration from something smaller than him and huggably fuzzy... I think everyone does. There's nothing quite like the unconditional love of an animal. No matter what you do, how much time you spend or don't spend with them, whether you feed them on time or not, whether you remember to get treats or not, no matter WHAT... an animal who loves you just does... no questions asked. It's a nice feeling.
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