Tag Archives: dogs

Dancing Puppies

Posted on April 7, 2013 by rachelmankowitz

Always stretch first

Cricket first came home as an eight week old puppy, in September of 2007. She was adorable and tiny and running in every direction and we took her to puppy class that October, determined to start her off right. She needed socialization, and manners. And we needed some idea of how to make her stop biting us.

Every Monday night, after class, we drove home discouraged, and turned on the TV for some relief. I don’t remember if I’d watched Dancing with the Stars before that season, but it was on after class and it was undemanding, so it became a staple.

I picked up my exhausted, angry puppy, and we learned how to dance. She liked the calm, slow, up and down twirls of the Waltz. I liked the sharp, staccato turns of the Tango, paw in hand. But her best dance was a free form mix of the Latin dances. She loved to shake her tushy. I held her in the air and twisted her to the right and the left, shoulder shimmy right and left. We sang the “I like big butts” song and the “My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard” song, though Cricket does not have much of a milkshake.

Cricket demonstrates a dance lift

Each week, we danced with the contestants and tried new rhythms and new lifts, and the dancing bonded us in a way the class, with its forced sits and holding-puppy-on-her-back to get her calm, never could.

I’ve tried to teach Cricket some dance moves she can do on her own. There’s the slow turn on two feet, and the two-steps-forward-two-steps-back, and the sit-down-stand-up-jump combination. All held together with chicken treats. But, honestly, she’d rather be getting scratchies.

Cricket mid-spin

When Butterfly first came home she wasn’t up to dancing. She’d been living in a crate for her eight years at the puppy mill and needed to start slow. The first step was to get her moving, just walking around the block, using her legs, climbing curbs and steps. She learned about jumping for treats from Cricket, and she taught herself how to twirl, just for fun.

Butterfly learns by watching Cricket

Now that she has all of her dance steps, she prefers to dance on her own instead of with me. She has a very specific, well choreographed poopy dance. First she starts to run, back and forth, back and forth, to warm up. Then she starts to hop and skip in circles, in one direction and then the other. Then there are the spirals. She ends with a few small, hopping circles, lifting her hind end up and bouncing it off the ground.

Then, finally, she stops and poops.

Butterfly mid-dance

It’s possible that Butterfly’s puppy mill was near a ballet school. I can’t imagine how she had the room to develop this dance routine living in a crate all day, day after day. She must have been dreaming this dance her whole life.

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Cricket and the People Bathroom

Posted on March 31, 2013 by rachelmankowitz

“There must be something good in here.”

“Or here?”

Early on, Cricket, my fourteen pound Cockapoo, found the whole idea of a closed door, with her on one side and me on the other, highly offensive. Mom’s door is rarely closed, especially because there’s an ironing board attached to it and telephone cords running under it and pocket books hanging from the door knob. My room has no door at all, just a door way and a set of stairs leading up to the attic. So the bathroom is a room that is uniquely closed off to Cricket when in use, and she hates it.

The door was already not quite level, because the whole apartment is kind of tilted; which explains why a pan on top of the stove tilts all of the oil to one side, and the dust bunnies in the Living Room roll down hill. When Cricket started to throw her body against the bathroom door, in a panic at not being able to reach me for two whole minutes, she managed to make the lock pop open.

She was shocked at her power. She stuck her nose into the little space she’d created and then jumped back when the door opened even further.

We added a latch to the door, but even with the latch she can get the door open about two centimeters and stick her little black nose into the space. The funny thing is, when I leave the door unlatched, like when I’m brushing my teeth, she’s too wary to walk in. She doesn’t know what to make of all of that freedom. It makes me wonder if she really wanted to be in the bathroom with me, or if she just wanted to be in conflict with the door.

Cricket is a connoisseur of the people bathroom. It is as much her as ours, because she has her wee wee pad in front of the bathtub. She relies on the wee wee pad, especially when she uses up her outdoor time chewing on sticks and forgets to pee. She also takes advantage of the convenience of peeing in the middle of the night when getting her people to take her outside is an impossibility.

Before Butterfly came to us in November, Cricket used to stay in bed with Grandma in the mornings, guarding her head, until Grandma finally woke up, and then they would walk to the bathroom together for a morning pee duet. Then the caravan moved on to the kitchen for coffee, and then to the coat rack, for Cricket’s leash, and an outing.

Guarding Grandma

But now, with Butterfly here, I do the first walk of the day. Butterfly insists on getting up very early and stares at me until I give in. Cricket hears the footsteps and the leash rattling and relinquishes her guardianship of the grandma to come outside with us. As soon as we come back inside, Cricket runs, leash and all, back to Grandma’s bed to continue her vigil. Then, when Grandma wakes up, the routine continues as before, with bathroom visit and coffee caravan intact. But now Butterfly has added herself to the team and all three of them trail into the bathroom together.

The caravan

Butterfly and the people Bathroom

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Butterfly’s Weird Health Problems

Posted on March 24, 2013 by rachelmankowitz

Butterfly’s First Day Home

Butterfly refused to take pills. The veterinary technicians at the animal shelter couldn’t get her to take her de-wormer pills before sending her home with us in November and she wouldn’t even chew the new de-worming medicine that comes in a tiny meatloaf shape. We tried wrapping it in turkey, crumbling it into chicken soup, spreading it with peanut butter. Nothing worked. She ate the turkey and spit out even the smallest crumb of the medicine, which Cricket made every attempt to steal, because she loves the stuff.

We finally found these Pill Pocket treats the other day. They look like gummies and stretch to fit the medicine. It took four treats, but for the first time in three months, Butterfly got her whole dose of medicine down. I could finally stop imagining the slithering little worms crawling around and sucking the life out of her from the inside.

My fear isn’t completely unwarranted. Butterfly’s heart is already fragile. She was diagnosed with a level four Mitral Valve Insufficiency, which the vet told us could develop into congestive heart failure at any time, requiring daily medication. If she continued to spit out even the easy medicine, no telling what she’d do with actual pills. The fear of her developing serious heart problems, or any other health problems for that matter, has been hanging over me from the first day we brought her home. I watch her anxiously every time she sneezes or coughs or seems to sleep too deeply.

The anxiety blossomed about a week after she came home, She was shivering in the doorway of the living room and I picked her up to comfort her and saw this lump protruding from her lower belly. I pressed on it and it moved around under her skin. Mom thought it could be a hernia, or just constipation pushing forward. Butterfly was coughing and shaking and I was worried, because the vet had warned us that coughing could be a sign of congestive heart failure. We called the clinic attached to the shelter she came from, but couldn’t get an appointment for another two days. The clinic had her records and was inexpensive and had just seen her a week before, but I was starting to panic. I was afraid we’d have to rush Butterfly to a doggy emergency room first thing in the morning.

I brought Butterfly upstairs and put her on my bed. She fell asleep and then, finally, I did too, but I woke up when she vomited, and then stayed up with her as she vomited three more times. I was getting ready to look up numbers in the phone book, wishing for a doggy ambulance because I was too freaked out to drive, when she started to walk around. Then she ate her breakfast as if everything was fine. I kept checking her protrusion as the day went on, and gradually, it disappeared. Coincidentally, she pooped five times that day. Really big pooping.

We cancelled the vet appointment, because I didn’t want to stress her out with more doctor visits than necessary. But, also, I was afraid they would dismiss me as a hysterical dog mommy imagining problems that weren’t really there, now that the evidence was gone.

My Happy Girl

And for a month, Butterfly was fine. Then, one night, I noticed she was licking her lips obsessively and having trouble sitting and lying down. She was having muscle spasms around her waist that were rippling down her back. I worried next to her overnight, feeling incompetent and in over my head. But the protrusion and the spasms disappeared by the morning and haven’t reappeared since.

In fact, after all of the awfulness, wherein I felt suicidal for clearly failing my dog, Butterfly was back to smiling and being happy and ready to play. If all of that vomiting and coughing and spasming had happened to me, I would still be moping and cursing God months later, but Butterfly just shook it off and went back to being a dog.

I worry that I should have taken her to the vet anyway, even though there was nothing left to see. I worry that she needs a special doggy nurse, and a doggy psychiatrist too. I keep worrying that I’ve taken on a situation that is too big for me, and the after effects of her life in a puppy mill will pose too much of a challenge, and I will fail her. But then she makes me think it over again.

The other night we had a lot of wind and rain, and my bedroom, the attic, is like a wind tunnel, so the sound was exaggerated, and Butterfly was frightened. She woke me up at three o’clock in the morning trying to stuff her head into my armpit. I used to do that with my Mommy when I was little too. She crawled over me and around me and curled against me, but she couldn’t find any position that worked for more than ten seconds at a time.

Finally, by five a.m., she sat down by my chest and stayed there for the rest of the night. She seems to think I’m trustworthy, and I’d like to believe her judgment is sound.

Butterfly really likes her scratchies.

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Posted in dogs, memoir and tagged dogs, health, memoir, mitral valve, pets, pills, shelter. Bookmark the permalink.

The Goop Stealer

Posted on March 17, 2013 by rachelmankowitz

Cricket, before her morning makeup

Cricket. Oy.

I am the goop stealer. Goop is my highly technical term for doggy eye snot. My battle is to keep my dogs’ eyes open and seeing, but they do not like this at all.

Cricket’s goop is especially sticky and kind of like hardened rubber cement. I should be able to sit her on my lap, grab a tissue and wipe off the goop before it hardens into stalagmites in her hair, but Cricket hates being futzed with. If I go near her face with the tissue, she bites my fingers, and grabs the tissue, and jumps to the ground with her treasure. It’s sometimes possible to do a sneak attack and grab the goop with my bare hands, pinching it off like a tick, but if it’s stuck on, or I’m too slow, this can be very dangerous.

This is how she reacts to the toothbrush, just imagine if I tried to get closer

I’ve tried special eye cleaning pads on her, but she acts like the cleanser on the pad is burning her eye. The way she reacts, I can almost hear the sound of sizzling acid burning through her skin. She’s very convincing.

Cricket hiding on Grandma’s lap

The two methods that work are: a) Cut the goop off during a grooming session when she’s trapped in the bathtub and distracted with chicken treats; b) Scrub her with shampoo during a full out bath (because if her whole body is wet she’s a tiny bit more subdued.) At the very least, the soaking of the under eye area will loosen the schmutz a bit so it can be removed by hand.

Cricket’s goop embeds in the hair under her eyes and plasters itself to her skin so that I start worrying about infections and cooties crawling under her skin and chewing her up.

Butterfly’s eye goop is different. It doesn’t clump right under her eyes or in the corners. It catches on a group of longer hairs, lower down on her cheek. And since her hair is thicker and oilier, the goop is easier to pull off. She still doesn’t like the removal process, though. She dips her head like a baby avoiding a spoonful of peas. She doesn’t attack or bite or growl like Cricket, she just bobs and weaves.

Butterfly’s rust stains

And a little eyeliner

When we first adopted Cricket, and realized that a white haired dog was a whole new creature, with tear stains to worry about, we tried all kinds of things. There were wet wipes and special eye wipes for grooming around the eyes. Then we found a powder to add to her food that was supposed to at least limit the rust stains under her eyes. But nothing prevents the build up of goop.

I need another plan. I thought of putting Vaseline under her eyes every morning to keep the goop from sticking, but I think it would lead to Cricket rubbing her head so hard on every surface that eyes will pop out.

The fact is, Cricket doesn’t care if her butt is covered in poop or her feet are dirty, or her eyes are rimmed with goop. She resents being handled and gussied up. She hates being clean overall. But I want her to look her best. I don’t expect her to be poofed and sprayed and dressed in lace. I just want her to be clean and healthy and not smell like pee or poop or eye goop.

Is that so much to ask?

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Nap Time For Puppies

Posted on March 3, 2013 by rachelmankowitz

When it’s time to go to sleep at night, my dogs are pretty consistent. Butterfly sleeps on my bed, with her ducky under her chin, and a towel under her, because she makes such a mess with her chewies. Cricket sleeps on Grandma’s bed, guarding her from the night monsters. If necessary, she curls up on Grandma’s head to ward off bad dreams.

But during the day, the girls can sleep almost anywhere.

As a puppy, Cricket could fit herself into some pretty strange places.

Upside down Footstool

Suitcase

Between Two cabinets

On Grandma’s Foot

She could sleep in her bed

Cricket’s puppy sized bed

Or out of it.

Not quite her bed

As she got older, she found other places to sleep.

Under the computer

On Grandma’s Lap

In Her Big Girl Bed

When Butterfly first came home, she was afraid to relax and let her guard down. She would get so tired, but still refuse to lie down, so she would start to fall asleep sitting up. She would wobble form side to side, her eyes flickering open and closed, and finally, she would slide down to the floor in defeat.

The Sitting Sleeper and her guardian

She’s more comfortable now, sleeping in her own bed.

In Her Bed, with her guardian nearby

Unless Cricket has usurped her bed.

This is NOT Cricket’s bed

Even then, she Butterfly still has plenty of sleeping options.

Fallen Cow Pose

Head on Hands Pose

Curled in a Ball Pose

One Leg Hooked onto the Bed Pose

But my favorite is when they are both worn out from a long walk outside and they are fast asleep in their beds at the same time.

And I can relax.

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Cricket and the Sticks

Posted on February 24, 2013 by rachelmankowitz

“This is my tree. You can’t have it!

Cricket wants to dismantle small trees. After Hurricane Sandy, we had piles of branches everywhere on the lawn, and since the trees in our neighborhood are old and tall, the pieces that broke off were often the size of small trees themselves. And that’s what Cricket wanted to master. She wanted branches with tributaries, branches she could trip over as she dragged them by the heel across to her special chewing spot. She wanted to attack the branch that was five feet long and three inches thick. She put her whole body into it, using her paws and her mouth and all of her weight and all of her passionate intensity, her ribcage undulating with the effort. But she could barely drag the monster an inch, with all of that effort, and she couldn’t break herself off a memento to carry back to the porch. She had to settle for the two foot stick covered in grey bark that waited for her by the rim of the sleeping flower garden. It was a blow to her pride, but she got over it.

Sometimes she sneaks her sticks into the house.

When I have the energy, I throw the sticks for her in the front yard. I throw sticks one after the other to different parts of the lawn until she is out of breath from retrieving, and has given Butterfly a work out jumping over her leash to get out of the way. She especially likes to overcrowd her mouth with as many sticks as she can fit without gagging. And even then she gets mad if she can’t pick up just one more stick. She can do five, including one big one, if she’s feeling ambitious. It weighs her down so she can’t run the way she’d like to, but she still won’t give up a stick. It’s her trophy.

When she is exhausted, or her mouth is too full of sticks to take on anymore, she picks her favorite stick and goes to her own corner to chew.

Cricket holds a stick like a flute, as if she’s about to make music and blow into the mouth piece and play notes with her paws. She can be very delicate with it. She sits eagerly in the front corner of the yard, when she’s supposed to be focused on peeing, and she chews at her stick.

She seems to recognize different flavors of stick, like different wines and cheeses. She carefully sniffs for notes of moss and fungus, dirt and flowers, the pee of other animals, and the must of day old rain.

This one has notes of fungus, raspberries and lawn-aged pee.

For the first month or two, Butterfly had no interest in sticks. She tried to run after Cricket on the lawn, but she didn’t have the stamina, or the interest in chasing flying things. She finds running after squirrels equally inexplicable. She tried chewing on a stick or two, but it didn’t taste right to her and she gave up and came over to me for more scratchies.

But some time in the past month, she walked over to the corner of the lawn where Cricket usually chews her sticks, and she sat down, and started chewing on a very small stick. It was so tiny that Cricket wouldn’t even look at it twice, but Butterfly thought it was the perfect size.

Butterfly in the field of mini sticks.

She still doesn’t run after sticks, or leaves, or squirrels, but once she’s attached to her long lead, she’ll wander over to Cricket’s stash in the corner and see if anything looks tempting, and then she’ll start chewing. Or eating, rather. She’s a messy eater, so we now have a covering of bark pieces around the area when she’s done.

I wish I could see this as progress, but the fact is that they’re both supposed to be busy peeing, and I have to stand around and wait while they chew contentedly and ignore their bladders. God forbid I try to bring them back into the house before they’ve deigned to pee, they’ll both look at me like I’ve condemned them to the gulag.

When I have the energy, I’m better off taking the girls for a walk. Preferably some place where there are no sticks to be found.

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Cricket Loves the Snow

Posted on February 17, 2013 by rachelmankowitz

Cricket loves snow!

Cricket was waiting all winter for a good snow day. She loves to jump and trip and poop in the snow. She loves getting snowballs up and down her legs and watching me freak out and try to melt her in the sink. She loves watching me brush snow off the car while shovels full of snow fly over her head. She loves to eat snow and catch snow with her face. She even loves to slip and slide on the ice, though I do not.

One winter when we had huge piles of snow, she discovered the joy of climbing to the top of a hard packed snow mountain to poop from there. Even when the snow was deep and hard crackle topped, she climbed like a hiker with steel toed boots to deposit her treasure. She couldn’t care less that I had to follow her up there and dig through the snow with the poopie bag.

Butterfly had only experienced light snows of at most an inch so far, and she barely seemed to notice the change in temperature or texture of the ground. Until the blizzard.

The snow started Friday morning and the girls ran out to collect snow flakes on their tongues and in their hair. By late afternoon I was throwing snowballs for Cricket, because her sticks were already invisible under the snow. By the last pee trip of the day, I had to shovel us out of the house and Butterfly was struggling to move through the thickness while Cricket climbed to the top of the snow to deposit one last poop for the day.

Cricket and Butterfly in their snow poses.

When Butterfly woke me up Saturday morning she’d forgotten all about the weather. She was hopping and thumping her tail and twirling in her usual morning dance to get outside. The front door was tough to open because the snow had gathered on the porch and blocked the door. We pushed our way through and with Butterfly under my right arm and the shovel under my left arm I tried to make a path for us. Cricket ran ahead, but Butterfly and I fell into two feet of snow. I picked myself up, but Butterfly couldn’t move her short legs. She had to be air lifted, or Mommy lifted, out of the snow bank and back behind me while I shoveled us forward.

I did fifteen minute shifts of snow shoveling throughout the day, while the dogs ventured out with Grandma and barked at snow blowers and begged treats from neighbors. It took me until three o’clock in the afternoon to shovel the car out of its igloo and I was exhausted, but Cricket was ready for more adventure. She climbed and jumped and did a face plant into the snow. Butterfly got snow on her nose and compulsively tried to shake it off ten times.

We took a long, well deserved nap to recover from our day.

By Sunday morning, the snow had hardened and Cricket had mountains of rock-like snow to climb. She’s an explorer discovering new territory on every expedition. Butterfly watches her sister with awe, but prefers to search for new and exciting pee spots on the solid, flat ground.

I’m with her.

Butterfly

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The Pee and Poop Songs

Posted on February 10, 2013 by rachelmankowitz

Baby Cricket

I think it all started as lullabies when Cricket first came home in the car. She was two pounds of fluff on my lap in the back seat and I sang to her to help her calm down during the long drive from New Jersey to Long Island. I don’t remember what I sang, probably whatever was stuck in my head from the radio, or some Hebrew songs from school, and a lullaby or two. I was reduced to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and Row Row Row Your Boat by the end.

But it worked. It helped Cricket relax onto my lap. And I tried it again whenever she seemed to get overwhelmed, in the crate, by noises in the house, or when she woke up at three AM to pee, or when she was trying to master the stairs.

So it was natural for me to sing to her when she was learning to pee outside. I would clap for her when she peed and I’d repeat the word “pee” so she’d pair the word with the action. And then I’d repeat myself, and add a melody to the whole thing. I never knew why certain songs jumped into my head and became pee and poop songs, though.

When I went to sleep-away camp as a kid they used to take popular songs and jingles and change the words. So I automatically started rewriting songs I knew, to fit Cricket’s needs.

There was a resurgence of pee and poop songs when Butterfly came home in November and needed encouragement to learn to pee outside instead of in the kitchen.

“What do I do now?”

One of my favorites is the “I’m a Little Teapot” song, which transformed itself into: “I’m a little puppy, short and stout. Tip me over and poop comes out.”

“We’ve got the beat,” became, “We’ve got the poop.”

“Baby it’s cold outside,” is a perennial favorite of mine, because it is a duet and I can imagine Cricket singing her part the way she cries and cuddles against me.

“I really must pee.” That’s her line.

“But baby it’s cold outside.” That’s mine.

“I’ve got to go pee!” More insistent this time.

“But baby it’s cold outside.” Me, still deluding myself that I have a choice.

We have this conversation daily and it’s nice to be able to put it to music, given that Cricket will inevitably win the argument and I will have to go outside and freeze my face off. I don’t even remember the original words anymore because the pee lyrics have become so prominent in my mind. I just see Cricket’s puppy dog eyes filled to the brim with unshed pee and the song pops into my head.

“Pee” sometimes just means “outside”

I’ve started dancing to the pee songs lately, to encourage Butterfly, especially after ten o’clock at night when the wind is howling and I need her to hurry up so I can go back inside and not worry that she’s going to wake me up at four AM with desperate whimpers. I started out by walking in circles on the lawn, to mimic her pre-pee activities, but she’d get distracted by a noise down the block or by Cricket chewing her stick and she’d forget to pee or stop pooping in the middle. And then I started dancing, partly because it was so freakin’ cold out, but then I noticed that dancing got Butterfly’s attention better than just singing by itself.

The girls inspire each other

The fact is, the songs work. At the very least, they make me feel like I can help my dogs live happier, healthier lives. And it’s fun for me. What more could I ask for?

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Bella, The flying Dog

Posted on February 3, 2013 by rachelmankowitz

Cricket and Bella do the sniff

We first met Bella when she was four months old and too small for the pink harness tightened around her chest. She looked like a sling shot, popping out of the harness, leaping from it, trying to fly.

Bella is a tan and silver Yorkshire terrier mixed with some unknown, big-headed dog. She lives down the hill from us and we see her leaning out the passenger side window of the car when her family drives up the hill. She gets great joy out of hanging her head out of the window like a daredevil.

Cricket likes Bella, up to a point. She likes that they are the same size, and both girls. She likes that Bella seems happy and friendly. It’s only when Bella starts to invade personal space that Cricket rethinks her feelings. Cricket mistakes enthusiasm for aggression and growls, and Bella mistakes the growling for an invitation to play, which gets dangerous and requires lifting Cricket up so she doesn’t attack Bella with her teeth.

One day, we came home to find Bella running loose down the hill. It was a shock to drive around the corner and see Bella running down the hill towards us. It was raining, just a little, but enough to make the sky grey and visibility a little muffled. Bella was racing down the middle of the street towards our car and her parents were waving frantically at us.

Mom parked the car at the top of the hill, in front of our house, and was about to walk down the hill to help, when Bella’s parents called out and asked if we could bring Cricket in case Bella would run to her and then be easier to catch. They told us that Bella had slipped her collar off and gone racing around the block.

Cricket was thrilled to have her leash put on and she was very excited to see Grandma and Bella’s Mom, and she seemed to know that something important was happening. Bella ran to Cricket right away and came almost close enough for us to grab her collar, but then she sped away again.

We created a three pointed trap, with Cricket and Grandma at one corner, then me and Bella’s Mom at the others, all blocking potential escape routes until Bella had no where to go. Bella was soaking wet after running through wet grass for half an hour. And once she was caught, her mom held her, belly and legs out and dangling, ready for the towel her Dad had brought out for her.

Cricket was ready to go for a walk of her own after all of that excitement, but I was wiped out. Just walking back up the hill was more than I could handle, once the adrenaline wore out. But I also wanted something more to happen. I’ve felt that way after every dog-saving event. It’s not that I want a reward, though a little statue of me catching the dog would be nice for the top of my bookcase. Cricket and I were at loose ends for a little while, but then we were ready for our afternoon nap. We were pooped.

The three girls, momentarily untangled

We met up with Bella the other day for the first time since Butterfly has been here. Bella was her rambunctious self and Cricket stood back a bit, but Butterfly went up close and examined her new friend. She stood there without budging, no matter how many times Bella raced from side to side and flattened into play pose.

Eventually, Bella calmed down, and Cricket inched forward, and the three of them did some mutual sniffing. Butterfly didn’t seem to mind being the peacemaker between Cricket and Bella. She accepted their different energies and knew how to manage them. She’s very Zen.

Zen Butterfly

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To Bark Or Not To Bark

Posted on January 27, 2013 by rachelmankowitz

The barker

The side effects of barking: dry mouth, people inexplicably avoid you, throat pain, strong abs.

Cricket barks at everyone. She barks at children who pass by. She barks the mailman to death. She barks at strangers walking up the street. I can’t teach her to be polite and reserve judgment. I can’t teach her that she’s pushing people away from me with her behavior. Cricket even barks at the wind.

Cricket stands at Grandma’s bedroom window, with three of her feet on the pillow and one on Grandma’s head, and barks at noises outside that seem threatening. Like children at play.

I toy with the idea of getting her a six shooter and a sheriff’s star to wear on her collar.

I wonder if Butterfly is sitting there in the hall listening to Cricket bark, and asking herself, “To bark or not to bark?” I’m afraid she will decide to emulate Cricket and bark more and more over time. But I hope she won’t. I hope she will continue to walk up into Cricket’s face and ask her, why are you barking now?

When Butterfly first came home, she was silent. I’d never met a non-barking dog in person and I wondered if she would be my first. But the second night she was home, she was in the kitchen alone, with a pet gate separating her from her new family, and she let out one deep bark, like a basso profundo coming from this little body, to let us know she did not like being alone.

She did it again the next day when Cricket was getting groomed in the bathtub. She was clearly afraid that Cricket was being tortured.

And now she lets out a few barks every day. It’s a more restrained statement than Cricket’s high pitched rush of verbiage. But it’s insistent and purposeful and she expects to be answered promptly. She barks at me in the morning, when she thinks I’m sleeping too late. She walks over to my head and stares at me, and then she barks.

The student barker

My dream is that having Butterfly around will make Cricket feel more secure and she won’t need to be the security guard anymore. And the barking will calm down.

The other day, we were out walking and Cricket barked at a stranger who dared to walk down the sidewalk. Butterfly walked in front of Cricket to block her view of the man, and offered her tushy as an interesting sniffing opportunity. And Cricket stopped barking.

Cricket isn’t the only barker in our neighborhood. We have a barking chorus that gets set off at certain times. When one dog starts, others inevitably pick up the song. It’s call and response, or in the case of the basset hound, howl and response. If one dog notices someone passing by who needs to be remarked upon, the chorus sends the message to everyone along the street who needs to be warned.

My bedroom is in the attic and my windows collect the noise from the neighborhood as if everything is happening about an inch away from me, so the barkatorium is especially pronounced for me.

Maybe the point of the barking chorus is to teach me that barking, even in excess, is normal. It’s not just Cricket who barks like this. Dogs want to be understood as much as people do. They want to communicate with each other and feel connected to each other and to us.

The fact is, when we walk around the neighborhood I rely on the dogs to bark to let me know they are there. They make the world less quiet and lonely. They let me know that they see me and that my presence matters to them.

I don’t want Butterfly to bark as much as Cricket does, or with that vehemence, but I’m glad she knows how to bark and feels safe letting herself be heard. I want her to feel like she has the right to bark, and I want her to know that the old cliché about children, that they should be seen and not heard, is crap. Children and dogs need to bark in order to be seen and heard by the people who love them.

The loved ones

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rachelmankowitz

Tag Archives: dogs

Dancing Puppies

Cricket and the People Bathroom

Butterfly’s Weird Health Problems

The Goop Stealer

Nap Time For Puppies

Cricket and the Sticks

Cricket Loves the Snow

The Pee and Poop Songs

Bella, The flying Dog

To Bark Or Not To Bark

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