The Spotty Hooligans and Visitor

Things with our visitor, Kiana, are going well. The first 48 hours she was clearly distressed, but now she has settled in and learned the routine here.

Dexter is looking less emo about Kiana staying with us. He has even stopped shooting me pleading looks when Kiana takes his favourite spot on the sofa. He's also playing with her more.

Fig and Kiana are requiring less play breaks to keep play from escalating to insane levels of excitement. (They had one small tiff the other night. Things have been considerably calmer since then.) We even had two tiny puppies visit for a play date without incident. (Five dogs in my house? Oh my!) Fig did require a couple of reminders about wrestling with puppies on top of humans. (We discourage wrestling on top of people.) Kiana needed a reminder about not stepping on tiny puppies. (Um, ow?) Meanwhile, Dexter managed to not drop his brain, minding both his manners and where his paws landed so no pups were squooshed. (Hooray!)


All three dogs playing nicely. Joy!

Breed tests -- What are you, Dexter?

Last month I surprised my husband with a very early Christmas gift: a DNA test to determine Dexter and Fig's breeds. I have seen some wild breed results with these DNA tests so I admit I'm rather skeptical. I've seen a Pit Bull come back as predominantly Saluki and a Retriever mix come back as a Basenji. They're supposed to be accurate, but they warn against testing purebred dogs. How can they confidently tell me what my mutt is when they can't guarantee they can tell a purebred Labrador Retriever from, well, any other breed?

At any rate, I ordered the DNA tests and sent in the swabs. It's for my husband so I don't need to believe in their accuracy.

When the results came back I kind of giggled. According to the Wisdom Panel Dexter was at least 12.5% Bull Terrier. Bull Terrier? If it had said any other bully breed, I'd have bought it. But Bull Terrier? Really? He doesn't appear to have any of their characteristics.

Then a friend showed me photos of Bull Arab dogs. Bull Arabs are mixed breed dogs originally bred in Australia to hunt pig. One of the breeds used to create this breed-in-the-making was the Bull Terrier. Why is this relevant? The dogs my friend showed me looked like Dexter. Some even had his colouring. Suddenly his DNA results didn't seem so ridiculous.

I asked myself: Could Dexter be a Bull Arab, whether in part or in whole?

Dexter was born and raised in Hawai'i. Hawai'i is a rabies free state so animals imported to Hawai'i must go through quarantine. There are a few exceptions, one being jumping through months of hoops to prove your animal is not a threat to Hawaii's rabies-free status. Another exception is any pet imported from Australia. A number of Hawai'i pet stores get their puppies from Australian puppy mills as a result. A Bull Arab imported from Australia was definitely a possibility. It wasn't even a difficult possibility.

Feral pigs are a problem in Hawai'i. They damage land and threaten endangered species of plants. Hunting feral pigs is not uncommon. In fact, it's not uncommon to see pickup trucks loaded with hog dogs any day of the week. Hunters can and do use many breeds and mixes. Some are always on the lookout for the next awesome hog dog and will go to great lengths to acquire one.


So I began looking for Bull Arabs in Hawai'i. And with a few quick clicks I found forums where Hawai'ian hunters were showing off their Bull Arab dogs. One even had a litter for sale that looked like Dexter, right down to the colouring. There were photos of the litter's older half-siblings who also looked like Dexter. Wow.

I thought I adopted an Australian Cattle Dog (also known as Red Heeler or Queensland Heeler) mix puppy in October of 2007. But maybe what I adopted was a Bull Arab puppy, some hunter's reject. It's certainly possible. It also explains the similarities he shares with the Hawai'ian hog dogs I'm accustomed to seeing.

If nothing else I did manage to adopt a very mixed mutt who has Bull Terrier ancestry. That much seems clear to me now.

Visitor update

Kiana, our golden visitor, has settled in nicely.



See? She's in Dexter's favourite spot. (Don't ask me how he feels about this. I had to remind him that in this house we do indeed share. He showed me that he understood by taking MY favourite spot. Nrf.)

A visitor to the House of Spotted Hooligans

The dog on the right is Kiana, a 1.5 year old Lab mix. She's staying here with us from Dec 15 to Jan 7, 2011 while her family is away for the holidays.

Dexter is not entirely thrilled. At first, he was excited beyond thinking at a new dog in the house. And then he realized she wasn't leaving and started giving me these sad expressions. He's spending most of his time tucked away at one end of the house. Occasionally Kiana solicits play and Dexter responds kindly, but it doesn't last long before he's headed back to our room.

Meanwhile, Fig alternates between being thrilled at someone new to wrestle with and being disinterested. One minute, Kiana is the Best Thing Ever™ and the next Fig just wants to nap, please.

Kiana is settling in pretty well, though I can tell she misses her family. She's a sweet dog with soulful eyes; it's hard to miss how she's feeling.

Wish me luck! I am so thoroughly outnumbered that it's scary. ;]

Snow day!

It has been snowing all day. It's the first real snow day we've had since Figlet came to be part of our family. As you might guess, this meant there had to be photos.



There's lots more photos to be viewed--if you're so inclined--at Flickr. Click on the photo of Dex and Fig to head that way.

Dogs on death row in Broward County, FL going home for the holidays

Earlier this year a Siberian Husky being walked on a leash encountered a small Poodle who was off-leash. There was a fight--or attack, depending on whose story is to be believed--and the Poodle died at the hands (paws?) of the Husky. Despite the fact that the Poodle's owners were in violation of the county's leash law it was the law-abiding Husky (and her family) who was punished. Brandie, an 11-year-old Husky, was labeled "dangerous" and later sentenced to death.

Brandie's death sentence turned into a lawsuit, soon to be followed by more law suits, a country-wide plea to change the one-strike dangerous dog law and save Broward County's death row dogs.

Now Brandie and Gigi, another dog sitting on Broward County's doggie death row, are going home. Just in time for the holidays.

See http://weblogs.sun-sentinel.com/news/politics/broward/blog/2010/12/broward_county_releasing_dogs.html for more information.

This is one of those stories that I cannot help but feel strongly about. I have found myself in a similar situation more than once. Just this past week I was walking Dexter, my delightfully doofy dog, on a 6 ft leash when a dog charged down his driveway at us. Dexter is a very non-confrontational dog; I've seen him diffuse some pretty sketchy situations by displaying appropriate body language, he will walk away from dogs who are bothering him, and would rather give up his prized bone than fight over it. But he's not a total push-over. The second time he was attacked by another dog he actually fought back. He will do what he can to keep his hide out of trouble, but when push comes to shove he will defend himself.

So as I turned to face this cream coloured dog barreling down the driveway straight for Dexter I wasn't sure whether Dexter was about to run the other way or stand and defend himself. And I didn't want to find out.


The good news is that this time the dog was more scared of me acting like a crazy person--limbs flailing and voice booming threats--than intent on harming Dexter. And Dexter got away without a scratch on him (probably because he tried to stay behind me) that I could find. I got away with a twisted ankle and no bite marks. But it could have been worse. Dexter and the aggressor could have tangled in a deadly fight. And what if Dexter defended himself successfully?

This is not the first time we've been attacked by an off-leash dog while my dog was on-leash. It is unlikely to be the last. And it is one of my worst nightmares that one day, despite all of my efforts to raise my dogs to be safe, polite members of society, that I could lose one to someone else's negligence and irresponsibility.

Leashes and fences exist for a reason: let's use them. Use them so we don't scare or harm people or their pets. There's no excuse to let dogs roam at large, threatening children, pets and wildlife. Your dog may pay the ultimate price. Or someone else might instead.

We all need to be considerate of those around us and responsible with our pets.


My leash keeps me safe. It looks pretty snazzy, too!

Late night walks and Christmas lights

A number of the neighbors have begun decorating for Christmas, which has inspired me to take more late night walks with the dogs (to enjoy the lights). It has also inspired me to put blue-and-white lights in the front windows and garden.



Behold! Figlet and Dexter photographed separately after their walks. (We usually go on separate walks for one-on-one time). Apologies for the quality of the images. Hopefully the cute subjects make up for it. ;]

Conversations dogs inspire -- unsavory topics ahead!

Dogs inspire a lot of things, from art to knitted sweaters. They also inspire some very odd conversations, conversations that only other pet owners or perhaps parents could understand. One such conversation I've been having a little too frequently over the last year is what a "bully stick" is and what it's made of. (And why I would give one to my dog.)

If you aren't aware of "bully sticks" you may be one of the blessed few who are ignorant of this fascinating item and conversation piece. Or you may just call it something else.

Bully stick, bull pizzle, steer stick, bull stick, bullies, pizzles, pizzle chews; these all refer to the same dog chew. But what is it?

"Pizzle" is an old word for "penis," and that's the first unsavory hint at the chew's origins. It most commonly refers to a bull's penis, but may in fact be the penis of any animal. What this means is the chew your dog delights in devouring (likely in record time) is a piece of bull penis that has been stretched and dried. 


Om nom nom. Can we have another pizzle treat, please?

Now try to explain that to a first-time dog owner or someone who grew up only feeding rawhide chews to their dogs. Better still if the person you're talking to is male. Yeah...Welcome to the wonderful world of Dogs.

I hope your Thanksgiving was better than this.

This puppy (<1 year) spent Thanksgiving in the cold, pouring rain. He alternated between pacing and pawing at the objects keeping him from entering a warm, dry home. He tried to jump the gate, dig under it, and when he failed he cried.

I hope your Thanksgiving was spent warm, dry, and surrounded by loved ones.

Have some early Christmas cheer

After last Christmas I caught some items on sale, one of which was a pretty little knitted sweater for dogs. The size guide said a size large would fit a dog with a chest girth of up to 34". Well, Mr. Dexter has a 30" chest and would look quite smashing in a knitted Christmas sweater. Part of me said the size guide didn't sound right (usually Dexter is considered an XL or XXL due to his deep chest), but I bought it with the justification that it was cheap as dirt (no, really, it was. Clearance sales can be awesome).

Back at home I excitedly tried it on Dex and found I couldn't even get it past his shoulders. Nice. I kept it, figuring that either I'd give it to someone with a smaller dog or keep it until we had a smaller dog.

Little did I know that not two months later a Heeler mix half the size of Dexter would waltz into our lives. A Heeler mix who would also look smashing in a knitted Christmas sweater.


Fig tries on her Christmas sweater. It fits!

Never underestimate a dog's memory.

One night last month I spontaneously decided to train with Fig around midnight. What I did not anticipate was that one random training session would turn into Fig insisting--yes, insisting--that we train every night at around midnight.

Witness the second day after our spontaneous midnight training session. Fig is trying very hard to tell me something really important. And despite being human and therefore entirely disconnected from what dogs really want, I manage to figure it out. Enjoy:



Who is training whom, anyway?

Adventures in Shaping -- Will work for scritches!

Many years ago I saw clicker training in action on the set of a movie. I was impressed but since I didn't have any pets at the time it was easy to let it slip from memory. It wasn't until sometime after 2005 that I learned what that trainer on set had been doing was called "clicker training." I also learned that it had many practical applications for many different species.

In 2007 my husband and I adopted our first dog and tentatively tip-toed into the world of clicker training. It took some practice to develop better timing and coordination (to handle leash, clicker and treats), but I got the hang of it. The more I practiced the better I got. The better I got the easier it was to teach my dog new things and that's when we really started having fun with training.

I'm pretty good at capturing--where you capture a behavior as it's happening--and luring--which is where you lure the dog into a position or behavior and reward. Shaping is another way to teach a dog a behavior. It involves using approximations to achieve a certain behavior. I find it difficult to approximate what my dog needs to do and what I need to do to shape a behavior. I often find our progress going in a different direction than I had intended. As a result, I tend to rely more on luring and capturing.

About a month ago I set out to practice shaping behaviors with Dexter. (I REALLY need the practice). So I taught Dexter to open his mouth on cue as our first exercise.

I have no idea why I chose to teach him to open his mouth on cue. I wish I had a good reason, an answer that would make you go, "Ahhh... Makes sense!" But I don't. I don't have any reason. I suppose it's just one of those things that happens when you spend too much time with dogs. But let's pretend that I set out with a well thought out plan. And that plan was to teach Dexter to open his mouth so he can portray a talking dog in the movies. That sounds better than, "I dunno why I taught my dog to do that..."

At any rate, I did teach him to open his mouth on cue. We're now at a point where I don't need the clicker or treats (as you only need those when you're teaching and perfecting new behaviors). His reward for doing as I ask is praise and scritches.

And now, without further ado, is a video of Dexter opening his mouth for scritches:

I've been neglecting this, but with good reason.

Well, mostly.

Back in September my husband came home on leave from Afghanistan. We had just over two weeks together with nothing to do or get in the way. Needless to say, my priorities changed instantly and drastically.

By the time he had to go back I had fallen out of the habit of writing here. I had formed new habits which took precedence and kept blogs out of mind. Once I had the time and mind to update this blog I didn't much have the desire. (And the dogs rejoiced! For computer time is lame time to the spotty duo.)

But here I am, back again. With photos and video!

Witness the spotty duo welcoming their favourite guy in the whole wide world home:

(Dexter had already welcomed him home when this video was taken. This was Fig's turn and Dex did NOT want to be left out. I can't say that I blame him.)

Water hound invades shower

My dogs are spoiled. They eat before I do, empty bladders before I do, and play before I get to. They also get to use the shower first:



Some people have shared feelings similar to horror over the level I indulge my dogs. But my dogs indulge me, so I indulge them. We have fun together and make life much better. Why wouldn't I indulge them?

Attack of the Zoomies! / Snake?

Fig gets a mild case of the "Zoomies" immediately following a bath.

In other news: Fig found a snake. The snake found a toad. The toad had a bad day that ended early. (Don't click if you dislike snakes, toads or toads being eaten.)

Allergies

Late spring Dexter began licking himself more often than normal. He's always been rather cat-like, enjoying a good bath in the evenings after dinner and late night before bed. But this was different; more vigorous and he spent more time at it. It didn't take long before his paws began showing wear and tear from all the licking. Conveniently, the dogs were scheduled to see the vet a few days after Dexter's paws became red and inflamed.

"Allergies," the vet said. "Contact allergies." Crap.

Thus began a frustrating and tiresome journey to discover how best to prevent bad flare-ups.

Today we're pretty used to our routine of baths and ointments and booties to minimize the damage. We know what doesn't work (Benadryl, prednisone) and what does (natural, oatmeal-based shampoos, anti-itch soaps and creams and sprays, preventing contact with grass). It's become a part of our lives (but hopefully only for the rest of summer).

Just as things began to get easier for Dexter and I a certain black and white spotty dog began itching, too. I assumed it was fleas despite the fact that the dogs never miss their date with Frontline Plus. After a flea bath, I hoped Fig would stop itching. But we had no such luck. Fig is developing the same red spots Dexter has, but in different areas.

It's beginning to look like both dogs have allergies.

Since my husband and I also have pretty nasty allergies, I guess we are destined to be a family of sniffling, sneezing, and itching.

Adult dogs need toys, too.

I've noticed a tendency for people to stop buying new toys for dogs once they reach adulthood. It seems that more people understand that puppies need toys than realize that dogs still need them.

Adult dogs need environment enrichment, too. It keeps them young in mind and body. It makes life something to be enjoyed rather than survived. Considering all the things dogs do for us--from lowering blood pressure to helping us get more exercise and socialization--we should strive to improve their lives however we can.

I try to keep this in mind and so I periodically put old toys away (so they will be forgotten and become "like new" again) as well as replacing old toys or trying out brand new ones. In an effort to enhance my two spotty hooligans' lives, I finally picked up a "Holee Roller." I've seen them around but, for whatever reason, never felt compelled to buy one. I purchased one this past month and could not be happier that I did.

The toy has become an instant hit, inspiring hours of fantastic play. The dogs share it well. It is fetch toy, tug toy, multiple-dog toy, and pool toy all in one. (It's also fascinating to my neighbor's toddler. She says it's hers.) And it's holding up well to their abuses.

But I am not writing this to encourage anyone to buy a "Holee Roller." I share this as a reminder to try new things with our dogs. It might just make their lives--and ours--that much better. Also, I wanted a reason to share the cute photo of Dex and Fig playing with their toy. ;]

Comments appreciated, responses stalled.

I can't seem to respond to comments anymore. I was able to a couple of weeks back and now it's acting like I'm not logged in when I am. Peculiar.

Until I figure this out just know that you're not being ignored.

Here, have a picture of a pretty red lady Pit:


Last friday I went to Riverside Park without the dogs (I know, I know--that was pretty mean of me!). 3/5 of the dogs visiting the park that day were Pit Bulls. Incidentally, they were the most outgoing and well behaved dogs I saw at the park. Even when children were hanging from their ears.

The difference between play and fight

Dog fight! Or is it?

 Sometimes it's hard to tell a play fight from a real fight. In what could have been a simple misunderstanding of dog behavior and difference in play styles, a dog named Bear-Bear lost his life. From HometownAnnapolis.com:

"Shepherd claimed he shot Bear-Bear because the animal was attacking his German shepherd, Asia, and he feared for the safety of himself, his wife and his dog. The man who was watching Bear-Bear at the park, Stephen Kurinij, claimed the officer overreacted and that the two dogs were just playing."

We may never know whether Bear-Bear and Asia's play had turned into something more serious or if the officer was just unfamiliar with Bear-Bear's play style. But one thing is clear: Someone at the dog park that day was ignorant of canine behavior.

 Thankfully, most misunderstandings of this nature don't involve such a tragic ending. But misunderstandings are surprisingly common considering an estimated 39% of U.S. homes have at least one dog (approximately 77.5 million owned dogs).* Many Americans grow up with or around dogs yet we struggle to understand them.

 Most of my neighbors have dogs--and the majority of them have two or more--yet I have had people shoot worried glances at my dogs as they wrestle in the backyard. Online I have received concerned comments over photos of my dogs at play. At the dog park it can be worse with people labeling dogs as aggressive and shaming owners for their dog's perfectly normal behavior. Sometimes things even turn physical. Once a lady grabbed my puppy by the throat and screamed in his face because he was play growling.

  So how do you know when it's all in good fun or something scary? It takes equal parts of reading dog body language and knowing your dog. It also helps to be able to tell the difference between various vocalizations.

 There are websites, books and videos available at various sources that can explain canine body language. Take what you learn from these sources and apply it at home with your own dogs. Watch them and practice reading them. You can take this on the road and visit places where dogs are--places like dog parks, pet stores, vet clinics and training classes--and practice there, too. What are the dogs' bodies telling you?

  And for those of us who share our lives with dogs that prefer rough play styles: We need to know our dogs and stand up for them. A play growl is not the same as a serious growl. Our dogs are not dangerous just because their play style appears aggressive. Don't let ignorant people threaten, scare or shame you or your dog.

 Also, please do be aware that not all dogs like your dog's rough play style. Supervise your dog and know when to separate dogs or enforce breaks in play.

*Source: http://www.humanesociety.org/issues/pet_overpopulation/facts/pet_ownership_statistics.html 

Peace and puppies

Picture, if you will, the following: It's early Saturday morning. Quiet. Peaceful. (Yet still way too damn early to be awake, but I'm not about to argue with a dog's bladder.) In our little backyard--a slice of heaven reserved for us--Fig romps with a visiting 7-week-old black Labrador Retriever puppy. The play breaks up for a brief rest. Puppy is getting tired. He's very young so his bursts of energy last an hour before he needs a forty-minute nap.

Puppy plops his tiny puppy bottom down in a shaded spot for a breather. A strange scream is heard. High-pitched, almost wailing. It sounds muffled, yet still loud enough to disrupt our peaceful Saturday morning. Puppy looks startled. Fig hears the noise and rushes at puppy. Puppy looks confused. Fig shoves puppy out of the way and throws herself down on the spot puppy had occupied. The screaming grows louder and, if possible, frantic.

By the time I made it across the yard to investigate Fig had a giant cicada sticking out of her mouth. She was gritting her teeth with a determined look on her face.

So wee puppy had sat on a cicada, who had screamed in protest, and ended up locked in the jaws of an angry Fig.

And if you're wondering whether I'm the kind of fruit who saves insects from dogs, I won't keep you wondering: I did make Fig hand over the cicada. She was not at all amused about having to give it up. The cicada was not amused at being sat on and then glomped. I was not amused at having to fish a cicada out of a dog's mouth.

I learned two things: Cicadas sound really creepy when sat upon and Fig needs to work on her "drop it" cue, as it doesn't work on cicadas.

Summer evenings with Fig

You can't water your yard without Fig getting involved. For water hounds--like Fig here--running water is an open invitation. This is also why I can no longer take private showers unless I close the bathroom door. If there wasn't a lid on the toilet every flush would be followed by the sound of frantic splashing. (And possibly human screaming).

My dogs get their own visitors

Most dog people I encounter on walks learn and memorize my dogs' names long before mine. I'm "Dexter's Mom" or "the lady with spotty dogs," depending on how you tend to encounter me. I've had people call across a four lane road, "Where's your dog?!" As if I'm not supposed to leave my house without something furry in tow.

Despite these experiences I was still surprised when people began coming to my house to visit my dogs. From adults to children, Dexter and Fig's friends (fans?) invite themselves over for a visit: with my dogs. People politely ask to setup play dates with my dogs. And the dogs? Well, they think it's grand.


Here Figlet gets a hug from a friend.

How we have fun and stay cool in summer

With temperatures nearing triple digits it was time to bring out the kiddie pool so the dogs could have some cool fun. Today's pool time was a bit different, though. I decided to add ice cubes and baby carrots to the water. The ice cubes would serve two purposes with the spotty duo: First, keep the water cool (though not for long). Second, it gives them something to hunt for and destroy. The carrots would distract Fig, my female Australian Cattle Dog mix, while I grabbed more ice cubes. (Dexter, my male Australian Cattle Dog mix, will take carrots hand-delivered to his mouth or not at all, thanks very much!)

Pool fun was periodically interrupted by spontaneous bursts of run-and-tackle games.


Fig can fly!

And then they would be back in the pool again.

Why puppies need supervision

Some days puppies seem almost angelic. They play sweetly and pass out on your feet. They lick your face and roll over to show their wee puppy bellies. You coo over them and snap pictures you will forever treasure. And then they have one of those days where you could pull your hair out and scream. But that would just mean you'd have to deal with naughty puppies AND clean up additional hair.

In one morning when Levi and Myrl were still puppies they managed to:
Bark at insane o'clock in the morning, repeatedly, disturbing everyone's sleep and our quiet neighborhood; pulled potted plants out of their pots and chewed both pots and plants; made strange scratching noises that turned out to be the exact sound a puppy makes as he claws his way under the 3" gap of the gate; ran free and thought it was AWESOME (thankfully came back when called); played "musical dog food dishes," resulting in 21 lb. Levi eating twice the food as 31 lb. Myrl; chewed the support system of several favourite orchid plants, resulting in plants falling over; chewed several favourite orchid plants; dug a huge hole in the pristine lawn and rolled in it; got covered in mud only three days after their last bath; and played with the outdoor solar lights (and by "played" I mean yanked them out of the ground and chewed on them).


Fourteen potential chew toys in this picture and not one of them belong in a puppy's mouth.

And now for some math my dogs taught me:
Two puppies + no supervision = destruction.

Puppies: Furry evil geniuses in training? You be the judge.

In 2002 I was living at home with my family. My parents bought a house with a fenced yard and promised my sister and I that we could get a puppy. In a decision that was both sweet and--unbeknownst to us at the time--stupid, somehow one puppy became two. The puppies my parents purchased for us--an Australian Cattle Dog named Levi and an Australian Shepherd named Myrlhin--would teach me a lot about puppies and dogs.

For example, did you know that every puppy is a furry evil genius in training?


This is the face of an evil genius in training.

When Myrl and Levi were puppies they were mostly outdoor dogs. This meant there was a lot of time they weren't supervised, which meant they got into a lot of trouble. I couldn't so much as take a shower without one of them chewing something, knocking something down, pulling up potted plants, breaking planters, digging, or otherwise destroying stuff. (They taught me that dogs belong indoors with their families. And that puppies need lots of supervision in addition to lots and lots of toys to distract them.)

With no one there to guide him but his boredom, Myrl developed a particular taste for chewing up the solar lights in the backyard. One day my father looked out the back door to find Myrl proudly prancing through the yard with yet another solar light in his mouth. "Hey! Put that down!" came the booming voice of my dad. Myrl wandered over to Levi, dropped the solar light on the ground in front of his paws, and ran away as fast as his clumsy legs could carry him.

All Levi could do was muster a confused expression.

Life with dogs

Every now and then life throws you a curve ball. If you happen to share your life with dogs that ball may be covered in slobber. Or poo.

This is about the good, the bad and the downright goofy parts of life with dogs. The things no one shares with you until you're already in over your head and drowning in chew toys. The moments, from sweet to frustrating, that may get overlooked in the rush of life. The memories that time makes fuzzier each passing year.