Let me tell you about my dog

Ten years ago we got a dog. Our neighbor, Julie, knew we were ready to adopt if we found the right one, and she sent us this picture of a cute little poodle-mix at the pound.

Who would not fall in love with this picture of the dog? I'm still mostly impressed that someone at the pound was able to capture such an image, since (as you will soon see) he was hard to photograph well. He mostly came out as a peculiar black blur, sometimes with demon eyes.

He was adorable, he didn't make my husband sneeze, and even though the poor thing was skittish and had fleas when we met him, we wanted to bring him home. The pound had dubbed him "Vinnie," but we decided to call him "Chipper," partially in homage to a dog my mom and uncles had growing up.

Chipper turned out to be the weirdest dog I've ever met. He remained peculiar to the end, which was on March 8th. Our household is adjusting to being a house without a dog. (Thankfully, we still have Mona's noisy bird, Keiko, to remind us loudly we still are a house with a pet.)

So, I want to take a little time to tell you about my dog. Mostly because there is much I don't want to forget, and if scrolling back through the decades of my blog has taught me anything, it's that it's easy to forget so very much. And I don't want to forget my dog.

Looking good after a grooming

Chipper was nervous. It was easy to interpret his behavior as bad much of the time, but once you realized it was all based in fear, he was easier to sympathize with. So many times I wished we could simply make him understand that no one wanted to hurt him. Everyone just wanted to love him and pet him and give him treats, but he found the world a scary place. The sound of a garbage truck would frighten him. All strangers were bad. And don't even get me started about fireworks. (One fourth of July, Chipper was in such a panic about fireworks that he somehow squeezed himself under a nightstand that I swear only had about two inches of clearance underneath.)

Chipper did not like men. Chipper did not like most people, period, but we suspect whatever his life was before he ended up at the pound, it probably involved an abusive man and the dog never got over it. Ian was the one exception. The dog always respected Ian. That was the man who rescued him from the pound. Ian was the only person in our house never to be bitten by the dog. Ian was the one who brought him home. Ian was the one Chipper was lying next to when he took his last breath, which I hope means in that last moment he felt safe.

Chipper did like Julie. Our next door neighbor Julie is hands down one of the nicest people in the world, and she was the only person we could really trust him with if we had to leave town. (Chipper did spend some time at a local kennel in their "Stay and Play" program as a "Solo Guest" since he didn't like other dogs, and the one trainer there who said she really liked our dog also happened to be named "Julie." So maybe he just liked people named "Julie.")

Chipper was always happy to run up to Julie's door, and she was the only person he didn't try to defend us from if she came to our house. Julie was his friend, always accepting him as he was and somehow he knew and appreciated that.

As it became apparent that time with Chipper was growing short in the last week of his life, I took him over to Julie's for one last visit. She told him he was a good dog. And for her he always was.

But if Chipper was anyone's dog, he was Aden's. Aden's first word was "doggie," and when we finally got a dog of our own she was nine, and definitely ready for one. (Not that the promises by children to walk the dog and do any of the work of owning a dog actually come to fruition once the novelty wears off the first week, but still. Nine is a good age to get a dog.) Aden loved the way Chipper's face fit against her own like a puzzle piece. He loved curling up with her on the couch. (Any couch. When we'd go to the cottage, Aden and Chipper would set up on the couch there as naturally as they did on the one at home.) Aden loved Chipper, and Chipper loved Aden. (But Chipper did not love whoever was looking at Aden to take a picture.)

Chipper did not like feet if they were moving. Moving feet were very concerning to the dog. No dancing. No jumping. Definitely no shuffling--that was the worst for some reason.

Chipper didn't like his food particularly, but it was high quality food that kept him very healthy. He would hold out for better things all day long, then we'd hear him eating out of his bowl late at night when he'd finish it all.

Chipper did like to play fetch with certain toys. He had a favorite bit of rope he wanted us to throw often. There was a long squeaky pig that he adored to the point of utter destruction, and we were never able to find another. He also tore all the stuffing out of a Pichu, a monkey ball, and a Chuck E Cheese doll that he also tore the head off of. (We called that one his "ugly mouse" and he was fine with chasing either the head or body alone.) Fetch was funny because he often brought the toy only about halfway back. You were expected to somehow throw the toy, but not reach the toy. Fetch usually ended when Chipper would take the toy under the couch so no one could have it. Sometimes it would end more unceremoniously, where he would simply stop chasing the toy and wait for someone to offer him water.

Chipper with his first Christmas present, his favorite rope

It always made me laugh when Chipper would come bark at me if I was unlocking the front door, then he'd disappear briefly, and return with a toy to drop at my feet once I came inside. (He'd usually then take the toy when I'd reach for it to throw.)

He was odd at the front door. He once barked at my parents while they were letting themselves in our house, and once they made it inside, he fled upstairs and hid. He also had a phase where he'd bark at you while you were leaving. When I'd shut the door behind me from the outside, he'd come charge the door and bark. Then I'd come back in and he'd stop and act like things were great. Then be all tough again if I went out. I miss having him meet me at the door, though.

There were a few times we had to leave Chipper in a kennel when we traveled. The only good part about that was how happy he was when we'd eventually pick him back up.

Chipper could not abide coughing. That was the one way to get him to stop barking at you, or to make him leave the room. If you coughed, he looked appalled and was out of there. He could be all settled in happily in the dog bed in our bedroom, and if I coughed, he would sadly drag himself out of the bed and down the hall. If we were all sick and coughing, he'd change rooms frequently.

We were never sure if Chipper liked the sound of violin playing or not. Violin playing elicited lots of barking and howling, but it was hard to know if it was in protest or accompaniment. We think he was "singing," because the crazy barking at your feet if you were playing turned into wistful little baying sounds if you held him in your lap. Sometimes Chipper would bark at Quinn's keyboard playing, which could be a problem during pandemic Zoom lessons and recitals.

Chipper liked chicken. That's not unusual by any means, but if I was working with chicken in the kitchen he was impressively attentive and underfoot. During the last few weeks of his life he still wanted to be at my heels while I was cooking chicken, even though he'd stopped eating. We offered him chicken many times in an attempt to get him to eat again, but he didn't want any. He just wanted to be in the way while I prepared it.

Those last few weeks we couldn't get him to eat any of his favorite things, which included broccoli and pumpkin. He used to hang out under the kitchen table whenever we did pumpkin carving for Halloween in hopes of snagging a scrap. One year I carefully carved lots of pointy teeth Quinn had drawn onto his pumpkin, only to discover the next morning that Chipper had gotten onto the dining room table in the night and gnawed that mouth into a big, open, toothless grin.

Chipper didn't like the idea of going for walks, even though he liked walks. For the past several years we just left a leash on him at all times so he couldn't hide under the couch when we announced it was time to go out. At least with the leash on him we could drag him out and make him go. He worked really hard at avoiding walks, which was weird, since once outside, he enjoyed walks very much.

Chipper took a different route for his walk with each person in the house. He used to lead Aden down an alley that I never went down with him. With Quinn he only wanted to go around one small block. With me he liked to venture a few blocks away. The funniest route was the next block up near the community garden where there is a house with a fenced back yard containing "the monster." The monster is a 120 lb German shepherd with a deep and scary bark, and we only ever really see its nose and paws under the gap in the gate. Chipper spent weeks building up the nerve to go near the gate. At first he would skitter by the house with the monster, and then pee on something nearby when he'd reached safety. But little by little, Chipper figured out the monster couldn't get to him, and eventually he would run up to the gate and bark furiously at the giant paws poking out of that gap, before triumphantly peeing on something close to that fence. It was such a proud/cowardly thing to do that it always made us laugh.

Chipper didn't like other dogs. He had no doggie friends, and on the few occasions he was around other dogs, they tended to boss him around. The saddest instance was once when I went to pick him up at the groomer, I peered over the gate into the room he was in, and his access to me was blocked by a noisier, tinier dog. A little white fluffy thing in a bow decided it wanted my attention, and snapped at Chipper once before getting between him and me. Chipper looked so stricken! Like he was genuinely worried I was going to leave him there and take this other dog home instead.

Chipper was FAST. The fastest dog I've ever seen. He was not a trustworthy dog, so we couldn't take him off leash very often, but when we could. . .Wow. The best place was the horse trail by our cottage in Michigan. There's usually nobody else out there when we walk it, so we would let Chipper off the leash and watch him go full out along that trail. It didn't look like his feet ever touched the ground--he was like a fuzzy black bullet. But Chipper had no interest in running away from us. If he got out of sight, he'd check back to make sure we were still coming. He mostly just wanted to be home. Sometimes on that trail in Michigan he would decide to race all the way back to the cottage ahead of us.

He also ran what we called "Chipper Circles" in the house when he was excited or empty. (He always had the most energy when just coming in from a walk.) Sometimes we could "wind up the dog" by kind of pushing him back and forth between our hands quickly, and he would race around like crazy after that.

He was patient about the kids doing all manner of odd things with him, including dressing him in little sweaters, a pumpkin costume, or carrying him around in a pouch.

 

In his declining years it was funny because he would run around fast, and still seem like a puppy, but then suddenly turn into an old dog, where he'd just stop and make hacking sounds. Then he'd go back into puppy mode.

Chipper was the most rag-doll sort of dog I've ever seen.

He had a way of simply lying in whatever position he flopped into (legs dangling in odd directions, spine draped some funny way), and when you scooped him up he was all kind of soft and limp most of the time, more like the bendy way cats tend to be. (My kids are always shocked when they try to scoop up other dogs at how stiff legged and unyielding they often are.) But the wacky part of Chipper lying around in super relaxed positions, is that he could do it while being utterly tense and ready to spring. So he might look liked he melted onto Aden's lap, but his eyes would follow you in a way that let you know he was ready to attack.

This is why it was important to remember all the "Chipper Rules." The dog had a million strange rules that we simply took for granted in our house. We didn't realize how absurd all of it was until there were guests, and then had to articulate the rules aloud, which just made us look insane.

For instance, Chipper felt it was his job to guard Aden. From me, from anyone. So if Chipper was on the couch with Aden, you weren't supposed to look at her or talk to her. You could cross the room just fine, or come in the room, but there were certain places you couldn't pause there, because then the dog would come after you. (Or mostly just growl or bark.) If you wanted to talk to Aden, she either had to cover his eyes, or push him to the floor. You could sit next to Aden on the couch, but only if he didn't see you get there. You could tease the dog by saying forbidden things like, "I might touch Aden," and he would freak out.

He would sometimes bark at Aden if she were coming into my room, but his allegiance would shift over to her halfway down the hall toward her room.

He didn't like to be disrupted if he were in a cozy spot. So we all knew not to approach him when he was curled up in his dog bed, etc. The problem was he really liked to sleep in laundry baskets, so sometimes in the morning I would hear a commotion from the girls' room when he was sleeping on clothes they wanted to get to. 

There was a week at one point when Ian took all the kids to the cottage and I was home alone with the dog. That week the dog loved me and didn't want to leave my side and was actually very sweet company. But it was obvious he missed the kids and desperately wanted to find them. He once led me out the back door, and to the garage, and into the car, where he refused to get out. So I drove him around for a while, and then upon returning he raced into the house as if he expected everyone to be back. He was so droopy and disappointed when that didn't work. And once during that week I REALLY needed him to come out from under my bed so I could walk him, and the only trick I could think of was to pretend I was talking to Aden in her room. Chipper came rushing in, all hopeful, and I scooped him up to take outside. (That trick only worked once.) The dog also spent time that week barking downstairs at two in the morning and running away from me when I would come investigate. That was fun.

Chipper was hilarious to watch when he chased flies.

Chipper never seemed to have any reaction to when we got a bird a couple of years ago, although on a couple of occasions he sort of went after me when I approached the cage, as if he were protecting the bird, which was odd.

Chipper had this horrible habit of attacking people on the couch in the family room where we watch movies. He always wanted up on the couch with everyone during movie night. He would look up at me literally with puppy-dog eyes and wag his fluffy tail hopefully until I would scoop him up. Then at some point we'd have to shove him off for growling or trying to bite someone (usually me). The stupid part was he would sometimes do that instantly! He would appeal to me to come up, I'd scoop him, and as soon as he was on the couch he'd turn on me, then immediately beg to me all sweetly again the second I tossed him to the ground. You think we'd learn, but no. When he was good on the couch he was so sweet and warm that it often seemed worth the gamble.

Just a yawn. He's not actually trying to bite my daughter.

Back when my dad was alive and would stay with us, the dog would get very upset about the cane or the walker. My dad moved in too shuffly a manner for the dog, so Chipper would get upset, and my poor dad only ever wanted to pet the cute dog. Then one day my dad had a bit of a fall in our downstairs bathroom. It was alarming, and we wanted Dad to just stay still until we were sure he hadn't suffered any kind of injury. While on the floor and in need, Chipper suddenly wanted to be nice to my dad. For that little bit of time where my dad was on the floor and possibly hurt, Chipper was the sweetest dog, and my dad was so delighted to finally be able to pet him. (As soon as my dad was upright, Chipper went back to growling at the cane.)

Chipper was like that in general when someone was in need. I can think of a few occasions where I fell on the ice during a walk, and Chipper would come sit with me, and look into my face with what looked like concern. He would watch over any of us if we were sick. (Unless that person coughed, then we were on our own.)

Chipper liked to lie on things we were using. If we were trying to flip a futon, he would come lie on it. He would lie on fabric we were trying to cut on the floor. When we were doing family yoga for a while, he would hang out on the mats.

Chipper attracted burs. I don't know how he did it, but he could literally take a dozen steps out of the cottage and suddenly be covered in burs. He would sometimes get them caught deep in his paws, and he'd stop and roll onto his back, paws in the air to get help.

 

And for as fussy and fighty as that dog could be, he was weirdly patient about letting us help him with anything painful. He'd let you do whatever was necessary to get rid of burs or ticks (he once had an engorged tick on his eyelid) and not flinch while you did it. He once got his lip caught on a fish hook and was good about sitting still while we got it out.

When it was too cold and the sidewalks were too salty, he would sometimes stop in the middle of a walk, roll over, and put his paws in the air until we picked him up to finish the walk.

Chipper was a terrible shop dog. He barked at violin playing, and he didn't like strangers, so that pretty much ruled out everything that happened in that space. He was cute there, though.

Chipper on my cello cradle

 

Chipper liked going after the raccoons and opossums and skunks in our back yard. Thankfully he never caught one or got sprayed. But he did sometimes run around my shop at the back of the house because animals would get under it, and he could hear them through the floorboards.

Chipper sometimes forgot how to do stairs. There would be months at a time where he would wait at the top or the bottom to be carried. The strangest, though, was when he could only do the long set of stairs, then get stuck on the landing and not do the last few. He'd bark until we'd rescue him. He was like that on the spiral staircase at the cottage, too, only there he would make it all the way to the very last step at the top, and then decide he couldn't do that one.

Chipper didn't have a lot of tricks, but he would sit before he got a treat, and sometimes he'd do "Up and dance!" There was a small stretch of time where he was afraid of treats. He never liked dog biscuits, only soft meaty treats.

Chipper had a silly under-bite, until he had to have a bunch of teeth pulled a couple of years ago, and he ended up with a funny single snaggle-tooth poking up in the front.

 

We only saw Chipper swim one time, and it was hilarious. (Apparently he could do it, he just didn't like it.)

Bubble bath dog

He used to do this thing we dubbed "More Paws" where he would put his two front paws together and bend them forward repeatedly like a wave. Chipper would do that when he wanted more petting. If you rubbed his belly, then stopped, he would do More Paws. Sometimes if he were tired, you might only get a little twitch of the More Paws, and that was really cute.

After a trip to the groomer, Chipper would spend a lot of time rubbing himself into the living room carpet and wiggling on his back, we assume to get the smell of vanilla off his fur.

People always tried to do that thing with Chipper where they hold out their hand to let the dog sniff it before attempting petting. We always had to warn people that was a quick way to get bitten with Chipper, but people seldom listened and did it anyway. If we had people over, we usually kept Chipper in a muzzle for everyone's safety.

Chipper begging at the table was always cute. I was the worst offender at always giving in and letting him have a bite. (But look how little and cute!)

 

After a bath, he used to try to run himself dry. He would take crazy laps around the house. He even tried that once after he went blind, but with unsuccessful results.

Wet pup in the kitchen sink.

Chipper used to allow me a morning snuggle. He would come over to my side of the bed and beg to be let up. (It had to be my side, because Ian would never let him up.) Once I scooped the dog next to me, I'd get about two minutes of snuggle time where the dog would be adorable and cuddly. Then he would walk over me to curl up at Ian's feet where he really wanted to be, and at that point the dog's focus switched to protecting Ian, so I had to be careful. (No goodbye kisses for Ian if I needed to leave and the dog was on the bed.)

Chipper loved the idea of getting in the car, but hated car rides. I think he mostly didn't want us to leave without him anywhere. If we were packing the car for a trip, he would often slip out the door, jump in the car, and hunker down where we couldn't reach him so we would have to bring him along. He had a crate to do long drives in, and he spent most of the time drooling. He was not into sticking his head out the window. He was more about skulking around along the floor, and trying to get in the way of the driver's feet.

Chipper didn't like people on bicycles.

Chipper was oblivious to any games we were trying to play on the floor. He would happily walk all over a Settlers of Catan board to get to someone who might pet him. (Safer to play on a table.) And many times while were gathered in the living room to play cards or a board game, Chipper would take the opportunity to bring someone a toy, and then we'd have to strategically throw the rope in directions that wouldn't cause him to run straight through whatever we were doing.

Toward the end, the dog went blind. He would still follow whatever his code was for defending whoever, but he'd often be facing the wrong way while barking. It was sad watching Chipper bumble about the house, trying to do his normal rounds the way he used to, but he didn't seem fazed. He just knew in the middle of the night he still wanted to switch from sleeping in the dog bed in our room, to sleeping next to Aden's bed.

As he got weaker and sicker, he took to sleeping on Aden's bed. He wanted to be glued to Aden at all times, which made certain activities like drawing and using the computer harder.

Aden trying to use the computer with all the pets.

 

Chipper never liked me working in my shop at home. He used to come in and try to lure me away from whatever violin I was making. He did that pretty much up to the end, with his little legs (that the vet had shaved for his IV and looked like a bad and incomplete poodle cut) up on my knees, trying to get me to come to upstairs for the night.

I loved our dog's one white toe.

The last few weeks of Chipper's life were so hard. He'd gone blind a couple of months before, but we simply tried to roll with it since he otherwise seemed fine. Then came the difficult visit to the emergency vet around Valentine's Day where he spent two nights. Lots of organs seemed to be failing. There was not much they said could be done. Aden became the dog's nurse, more so than before when she primarily kept him from falling down the stairs.

Aden did everything for Chipper, her little blind dog who wanted to lie on her all the time.

Aden tried to get him to eat, and in the final week gave up. She made sure he got all his pills. His breath smelled like epoxy. He had seizures that were scary. His breathing became labored, and there were small yips of pain now and then, along with shaking. We held onto the idea that he would pass away at home. I worried taking him to the vet one last time would be a stressful way to go. As long as he wasn't suffering, we figured keeping him at home was best. But every day for weeks I was shocked in the morning that he was still alive. I don't think we should have let him linger as long as we did, but it was such a hard call.

In the last hours we were counting the minutes until the vet opened so we could put him to sleep and stop his suffering. In the end, he did become peaceful and still and took his last breath in the music room, stretched out on the rollout bed where Aden had stayed all night with him. Chipper died lying against Ian, at home, I hope knowing all of us were around. (And he was on a towel. Chipper loved a good towel.)

Ian's story of waiting for the Humane Society to open in order to have our dog cremated was heartbreaking. Everyone else in line was there to have their pet euthanized. (In the case of one woman with a cat, she couldn't afford the vet bill that would have made her cat well, so she wound up surrendering the animal for adoption so they would foot the bill.) Ian said he'd never stood in a line of sadder people, and how odd to be standing in it with a dead dog knowing in his case the worst was over.

Now Chipper's ashes sit in a pretty little box in the dining room. We plan to spread them on the horse trail he loved sometime this summer. 

I honestly don't think he would have had the chance at such a nice life if we hadn't brought him home. I don't think many people would have put up with him. We often said that we were the right family for Chipper, even if Chipper wasn't the right dog for our family. But maybe not.

We loved our weird little dog. He wasn't an easy dog. But he was our dog. And we miss him.

 Goodbye Chipper. Thanks for being our dog.

Puppy Dog Eyes

So much to write, so little time....  This is just a quick post to let people know I"m not dead, just swamped.

In my world there have been rehearsals, concerts, army things, a ton of work (yesterday was 12 straight hours and I still didn't get to everything), snow, cold, one kid broke a wrist.  Blogging time has been hard to come by.

In the meantime, here is the rare non-blurry picture of my dog trying to get me to stop working.

When I'm in my shop at home working on violins Chipper gets anxious.  He does not like it when I do things, so he looks at me pleadingly and occasionally puts his paws in my lap while I'm trying to carve.

Mona as a Tapejara

No, I didn't know what that was either.  Definitely one of the most interesting parts of having kids is learning about things you wouldn't have been introduced to otherwise.

A tapejara is a specific kind of flying dinosaur.  Mona was clear she didn't want to be any pterosaur, she wanted to be a tapejara.  And she wanted to help!

I was apprehensive about working with Mona on her costume, not because she's not perfectly capable of making something on her own, but because we don't always communicate on an artistic level very well.  She has her own ideas, and I have mine, and sometimes they mesh, and sometimes they don't.  I'm happy to report it all went well and Mona is very happy with her costume!

I started with the basic jumpsuit where I traced around Mona on the fabric.  The biggest challenge to my sewing costumes (aside from finding the time) is probably the dog.  Chipper wants to lie on all the fabric all the time, and he doesn't like when I use the sewing machine.  While I sew he begs to sit in my lap, trembling pathetically until I give in and then can't do anything.

For Love of a Dog

This is our dog, Chipper.

Fresh from the groomer sometime last fall

Pound photo that made us want to meet him

We met him at the pound on 11/11/11 and adopted him two days later.  They think he was about two years old then, so I guess he's now about four.  He seems to be some kind of poodle/cocker spaniel/something with an under-bite like a Lhasa-apso mix.  We sometimes refer to him as a Lhasa-cock-a-poo.  More often we refer to him as "Chipper-Dog, " "Silly Dog," "Dumb Dog," or "No!" 

I have mixed feelings about our dog.  Right now, as I'm typing, he's snuggled up next to me all warm and adorable and I love him.  Other times not so much.

Aden's first word was "doggie" and she has always wanted a dog.  When all the kids were finally old enough that it didn't seem like such a ridiculous idea to add another set of chores to our home, I told them we could start looking.  The dog would have to be a type that didn't shed because Ian has allergies, and I wanted it to be a rescue.  It was important to me to save a dog that really needed a home.

Chipper is cute.  That much everyone can agree on.  He's thirteen pounds of scruffy fluff and wiggle.  He is the fastest dog I have ever seen.  He likes children, hates men (except for Ian whom he respects/adores), only wants to sit next to my mom when she visits, and loves to play fetch.

The Puppies Are Coming Home!

My husband has been on vacation with the kids (our three plus our niece) at the cottage for the past week.  I've been home working since our trip to Detroit.

I have had only this crazy little face to come home to each night:

Chipper (world's worst shop dog) at the violin store

 I'm looking forward to seeing these sweet little faces again:

Quinn, Aden, Ellora, and Mona at Greenrfield Village, Dearborn MI

When we picked out our dog from the pound we told the kids from Chipper's point of view our family was a pack.  The kids are the puppies, and he's protective of them.  (Sometimes too much so, but we're working on that.)  Chipper has stuck close to my heels all week, worried that I may disappear from our mysteriously dwindled-down family, too.  He wanders sadly into the kids' rooms each night looking for them before resigning himself with a sigh to his dog bed in my room.

We'll both be happy when the puppies get home.

The Last Baby Tooth

My oldest child just turned eleven.

I still remember her as the beautiful baby she was over a decade ago.  Aden was the perfect training baby.  She was patient, seeming to forgive all our bumbling as we taught ourselves what to do as new parents.  She ate well and was sleeping through the night at about four months.  She was bald for a long time and her eyes were (are) incredibly blue.  And I don't care what any expert says about when children develop empathy because in Aden's case she was sensitive to the feelings of others from very early on.  Anytime she saw me cry she would cry too.  She's my tenderhearted girl.

Ready to decorate!

We had a sleepover party for her this past weekend that included the girls making their own pizzas for dinner, a couple of games of Aden's own invention, and our own version of Cupcake Wars.  That was fun.  We baked a gabillion mini cupcakes and set out frosting and marshmallows and fruit and sprinkles and sugar paper and modeling chocolate and then set a timer for different decorating challenges.  (One round was 'the ocean', then 'zombies', then the holiday of their choice....)  They had a five minute time limit on each round and the judges were me, Mona, Quinn, and our dog Chipper (who gave everyone a ten each time which we assumed was correct based on the level of tail wagging he exhibited when we held him up to look at the cupcakes).  Ian got to judge the final round of displays.  The winners got to eat their cupcakes.  The losers had to eat their cupcakes. 

I was impressed at Aden's party how inclusive she was of her siblings.  Mona and Quinn did not get pushed off to the side just because friends were over.  She's a good big sister, and she may not be the best example for getting her chores or homework done without prompting, but she's wonderful about leading her little pack of siblings in a harmonious way.

Earlier this week on Aden's actual birthday she lost her final baby tooth. 

Puppy Love and Angst (Babble)

We’ve had our dog, Chipper, for about three months now.  It’s been quite the learning curve.

(Chipper the day we brought him home)

I had a dog growing up, and we loved our loud, lazy beagle, but she was boring.  That dog snored at the end of my parents’ bed at night, barked at mail carriers, and slept on the couch most of the day.  She was fun to pet, but she wasn’t exactly entertaining.  Just pleasant to have around in the sense that dogs can be nice to have around.

Ian has allergies to cats and many dogs so never had a pet growing up.  Chipper, being a poodle mix, doesn’t make him sneeze (I love that the dog doesn’t shed), and this is Ian’s first real experience living with a dog.


As adults we’ve had rabbits, but rabbits don’t really prepare you for having a dog.  (They prepare you for having kids in the sense that you learn not to get to attached to ‘things’ since everything gets chewed on, but that’s a different post.)  I’ve learned that getting a dog is a lot like choosing to have one more child.  You get what you get and you love it but it is a lot of work and some days are better than others.  And people judge you about your dog about as passionately as they do your parenting style which is hard to get used to.

The most interesting thing to me is how it feels like we’ve always had this dog.  He’s part of our family and he’s all settled in as if this is the only place he’s ever known.  It would seem strange now not to have this little fluffy figure moving about the house all the time and underfoot in the kitchen.  But there are still things we don’t know and things we need to get better at and things yet to figure out.

Here are the best things about Chipper:  He’s playful and cute and has a silly under bite.  He has a lot of energy and he’s great for a game of fetch.  After being walked he gets this crazy burst of adrenaline when we reenter the house and he runs in these frantic circles and it’s hilarious.  When he’s relaxed he’s floppy like a rag doll and you can plop him into any position and he’s good with it.  He’s only thirteen pounds and all fluff and you can scoop him up like a baby.  He lets the kids pick him up any old way and carry him around.  He’s fun to cuddle on the bed in the morning.  When I’m the only one left downstairs working in the evening, Chipper waits for me before he goes upstairs to sleep.  After a bath he’s the softest thing I’ve ever felt.

(Aden and her dog)

When we happened to tell our doctor that we’d gotten a dog at the girls’ last checkup she thought it was wonderful.  She said something about how watching her own children with their dog had impressed her with the therapeutic effects of such a relationship.  That a bad day at school could melt away with some quality petting time.  I’ve even noticed that for myself, how after a stressful day at work it’s nice to go home and have the dog be happy to see me and be able to unwind by petting him or having him chase a ball.  Sometimes when we pet him we call him therapy dog.  He likes to lounge next to us and sigh.

There is something so simple and warm about the love of a dog.  When he just wants to lie in my lap or at my feet while I work, it’s comforting in a way that’s both selfish yet reciprocal.  His needs are uncomplicated most of the time, and easily met with a pat on the head or by just being present.  It reminds me a little of that pleasant feeling of being enough for a small baby.  I remember so well when Aden was tiny and how after she was changed and fed she would fall asleep in my arms and in those moments parenting felt easy.  In that same sense of being able to meet such simple needs, having a dog seems easy.

However….  The tricky thing with Chipper is we rescued him from the pound, which means we don’t know his past.  We don’t even know his age, although the shelter guessed he was about two.  I suspect at some point he had reason to fear men of a particular size and build because he does not like stocky white men with short hair and he gets anxious and barks at them.  I don’t think there was a second floor wherever he came from because the stairs and the noises above seemed very confusing to the dog that first week.
We’ve had to figure out the dog’s diet and schedule.  We’ve had trouble with marking behavior and Chipper trying to assert dominance over Quinn and other small children.  It’s a bit annoying to have to factor so many walks into our day.

Barking is a problem.  We hired a trainer to come to the house and give us some tips, and that’s helped some, but we don’t have as much time available to practice those lessons as we should.  We’re getting better at controlling the dog when people come to the door, but when he gets really keyed up we’re still at a loss.  We found out recently from the babysitter that when we leave, barking at the new person doesn’t stop.  I’m not sure how to train the dog to do something when we’re not around.

And of all the dogs in the world we could have picked, this one barks and howls at violin playing.  When the girls practice each night the dog runs to their feet and barks along.  If I hold him in my lap he ‘sings.’  The trainer showed us ways to distract the dog, and we have had practice sessions where Chipper was busy enough playing fetch that he lost interest in the violin sounds, but it makes me wonder if I can ever teach at home again.  I originally had images in my head of Chipper being a sort of shop dog that I could take with me to the violin store from time to time, but seeing as he barks at the arrival of strangers and howls when people play violin, I don’t think he’d be good for business since that’s all that happens there.

We had one unfortunate incident that made me question if we should keep this dog.  He bit Mona.  He didn’t break the skin, and after investigating the cascade of stupid actions on the part of our kids we decided it was not fair to blame the dog, but it really troubled me.  It still troubles me to some extent, because that seems like one of those zero tolerance moments for a mother: The dog bit my kid, the dog should go.

But the kids did everything wrong and the dog was being a dog.  I was lying in bed upstairs, sick, and Ian had walked down to Target to pick up some cough medicine to help me get through my rehearsal that night.  In that fifteen minutes of the kids being left alone with the dog they messed up.  First of all, Aden was supposed to have fed Chipper and forgot.  So the dog hadn’t eaten anything in twelve hours and was starving.  Then she left an apple on the dining room table when she knew better.  Chipper grabbed it.  So the kids cornered the dog, and Mona began trying to wrestle the food out of his mouth.  This, after all our discussions about how they should never go near a dog while it’s eating, and that you never corner an animal.  So Chipper gave Mona a chomp on the arm.  Kind of hard to blame Chipper, but it still freaks me out.

I came home from rehearsal that night ready to find the dog a new home, and Ian talked me down.  He seemed surprised to be the one defending Chipper.  Adding extra chores to his stay-at-home parent schedule with all the walks and one more mouth to feed had not really won him over to the joys of having a dog.  But at the thought of getting rid of Chipper, Ian was suddenly the one voicing the dog’s virtues and how much he means to the kids.  Going back to life without the dog just doesn’t feel like a desirable option.

It reminded me a little of Mona and her fish a few weeks before.  Mona was getting bored with the fish she got for her birthday, not convinced it was an interesting enough pet to trouble with.  She was considering giving it away, maybe even just to her sister.  Then one evening when she moved the fish to a cup in order to clean the water in the fishbowl, she left it unattended for too long and apparently the fish managed to jump out.  I happened to walk by and notice both the bowl and cup were empty, and just as I called to Mona to ask about it I spotted the fish on the floor.  When Mona walked in and thought her fish was dead she shrieked with an intensity I’ve never heard from her before.  Absolute panic and horror in her voice.  Then I saw the fish flop and managed to get it back into its bowl where he drifted around for a moment before returning to normal.  Mona apologized to her fish as she wept and wept.  There is no more talk about whether Mona wants to keep her fish.  It is now the best tended fish in all of Milwaukee, and when Mona moves the fish to the cup to clean the bowl she has her brother stand guard.

So Ian, the one person in the house reluctant about getting a dog to begin with, came to Chipper’s defense and thus we still have a dog.  The dog, literally, loves Ian best of all, and it’s hard to resist the charms of a creature who just wants to be near you and gaze at you adoringly.

I’m glad we have Chipper.  Despite the fact that dogs can be unbearably gross and now our lives involve picking up poop all the time, it’s worth it.  There is something complete about our family now that we have a dog that I didn’t realize was missing before.  I love watching Quinn laugh as he throws a ball over and over to his dog, and seeing how happy Aden is when Chipper chooses to snuggle on her bed some nights.  I’m proud when Mona, without prompting, gets dressed at the crack of dawn to take the dog out for his morning walk.  I love it when Chipper rests his head on my thigh while I’m trying to type.

We still haven’t worked out all the kinks of owning a dog, and maybe we never will, but it’s okay.  We love our dog.

Want to See Our New Dog? (Babble)

The kids (particularly Aden–well, almost exclusively Aden) have been begging for a dog for a while.  We’ve been putting it off until certain milestones were met because there’s a limit to how many small mammals we really want to care for in the house, but we recently reached a point where a dog seemed doable.  If we found the right dog.

Ian has allergies, primarily to cats, but sometimes to dogs.  We had rabbits for years.  I didn’t realize just how many years until I was filling out an application for adoption at a local animal control center and I had to list all former pets.  Our first bunny we had for about six years.  Her name was Cujo and she taught us a great deal about learning not to become too attached to possessions.  Rabbits chew EVERYTHING and you can’t yell at a bunny, so eventually you acquire a zen sort of attitude of “they are just things….”  Cujo was killed by a cat in our backyard not long after we bought our first house.  We had to go out and buy a shovel specifically for burying her which was awful.

About six months later we adopted a bonded pair of bunny sisters from the humane society, and we wanted to name them Polka and Dot, but Polka turned out to be more of a Scout.  They were supposedly a couple of years old when we got them and they lived another six years or so.  Dot died of bladder cancer, but we think Scout died a couple of months later from grief.  They really didn’t know what to do apart from one another.

We’ve lived long enough without pets that I had stopped thinking of us as pet people.  (Although I toyed with the idea during a brief period a year ago when we weren’t sure if we owned a cat.)  Ian told me he’s always thought of us as pet people, just pet people on a hiatus.


So last week our neighbor (who takes in foster dogs) forwarded us a picture of a little Lhasa Apso/Miniature Poodle mix that had just come into the rescue shelter that she thought might be a good fit for us.

He’s two years old and very sweet.  We wanted to find a dog through a rescue shelter if we could, but it had to be one that didn’t make my husband sneeze. We set up a meet and greet on Friday.  I couldn’t decide if it made more sense for us to go alone and check out Ian’s reaction to the dog, or if the kids should come too.  We decided since it was so important to see how the dog was with the kids that it was worth risking it not working out, so we surprised them with the trip to the shelter.

The poor dog was so traumatized by the shelter experience that he was pretty skittish and nervous, and he barked at Aden at first.  But eventually he climbed happily into my lap and let everyone pet him and he warmed up rather quickly.  We all fell in love with the dog.

But Ian seemed to be having some kind of reaction after we left, which gave us concern.  The dog wasn’t officially available for adoption until he’d seen a vet on Sunday, so we went about our weekend and on Sunday afternoon Ian went out by himself to spend some time with the dog.  I told him if he had any kind of allergic reaction to leave the dog there and bring home ice cream instead to soften the blow.  But if he was sure the dog wouldn’t be a problem to bring him home.  There was a possibility that the cats at the shelter were what caused Ian’s reaction before, but it was hard to know.  The kids and I spent a tense couple of hours while we waited and wondered what would happen.

Then, in the middle of dinner we heard Ian come in the back door.  At first I braced for disappointment because all I heard was Ian (not that Ian’s arrival is ever disappointing, don’t get me wrong), but then there was the little clicking sound of dog nails on the kitchen floor and I realized we now owned a dog.

The kids were beyond thrilled.  Aden immediately abandoned her dinner in order to walk the dog.  She and Ian and Mona all took the dog out.  The sweet thing was when it was time to head home the dog ran to our front door as if he’d done that a million times before.  Within a couple of hours it felt as if we’d always had this dog.  It’s weird.  I know there will be lots of adjustments as we all get used to each other and figure things out, but honestly the dog already looks settled in and this feels very natural.

Aden and I walked to Target to pick up a dog dish and some food and a collar.  It was fun taking the dog out for one last evening walk tonight, and the girls are excited about taking him for a walk in the morning before breakfast.  Quinn still seems slightly uncertain about the whole thing, but I think was won over by an unexpectedly hilarious game of fetch with a rubber ball before bed.  Currently the dog likes me, probably because I gave him a bit of leftover chicken from dinner, and he LOVES Ian, probably because he is the pack leader and the hero who saved him from the shelter.  This is Ian’s first dog, so I’m glad he’s getting so much of that sweet puppy adoration.

We’re still not completely settled on a name, but at the moment we seem to be going with Chipper for a first name and Biscuit for the middle one.

Whatever we call him, the dog is darned cute:

And he’s ours!