Baby Pup's Growing Up
The time came, all too quickly, to be responsible pet owners and get our puppy spayed -- 7 months old seemed way too young to be "going under the knife" and I was really anxious. Greg had wanted Neea-Kha to have one litter before having her spayed but the best advice I got was to do it now. The day before the operation, I had to phone my pal Brenda for reassurance and to remind me of why I was having this done to her. Not TO her, Bev -- FOR her. Well, okay then. Chris, our wonderful vet, assured me there was no reason to worry. He had done the pre-op testing, she was young and healthy, she would stay in overnight and he would be back to the clinic a few times during the night to check on her. Clutching blankie, ball and puppy, I dropped her off in the morning, trying to be cheerful and upbeat -- just a small overnight trip, see you soon, bye-bye. The house was sooo quiet, each minute just d-r-a-g-g-e-d by. Didn't accomplish much that day -- did a bit of this, then paced - a little of that, paced some more. Called the vet mid-afternoon. Doing well, groggy - clutching her little ball, won't let it out of her paws; Chris will be in and out tonight to check on his patients -- pick her up around 9:00 tomorrow morning. Did I sleep that night? I don't think so...dozed occasionally, looked at the time, got up and paced, back to bed to snooze a bit more. 5:30 saw me up and dressed to the great surprise and wonderment of Greg - who seldom saw me up before 6 and then only on work days. I was taking an extra-long weekend to stay with Nee while she recuperated (well, I was a civil servant at the time, what do you expect?) and realistically, could have slept until 8:00. Nope, dressed - let's go out for coffee, now let's go for a long walk, now let's go for a drive -- anything to make time pass quicker.
Finally, finally, we walked through the doors of the clinic. The vet assistant went to the back and here they come -- little Neea-Kha with that ball clamped tightly between her teeth. Didn't even drop it when we knelt down to greet her. She was still a little wobbly - a bit of pain, she'll be fine. Told us what to watch for and call if any problems. She went to her bed when we got home -- wouldn't look at Greg and whenever he went to pet her she'd turn her head away from him. This was to be her attitude every time we took her to the vet. She'd get peeved at Greg but not me. In later years when it was just me and her, she never got that attitude with me. I guess she felt that Greg should be her protector. She was looking a bit uncomfortable in that little bed that she'd outgrown but still liked to curl up in. We piled quilts on the bedroom floor and sat on the bed as she tried to get comfortable. Greg and I looked at each other and seemed to decide simultaneously (we were both on the same page for a change). We patted the bed, she came over - ears perked, wide eyed. Greg went to lift her onto the bed but before he had the chance, she had jumped up. She groaned as she jumped and I quickly looked to make sure her stitches were intact. She proceeded to make a little den on that bed and curl up like it was the most comfortable thing she had ever owned. And own it she did (well, shared ownership - sort of). So much for the no-dogs-on-the-bed rule. I WAS happy to get rid of her mutilated puppy bed, though.
She recuperated well and quickly, but stretched out her bed-rest as long as possible. She was delighted that even after she was better, she had access to our bed. She liked it even better when months later, Greg moved into the spare bedroom (not because of her, just because of the direction our relationship was going). She would alternate bedrooms - another bed for her to own: Yipeee!
A few weeks later, the three of us were out walking. As we came up to one house, a young fellow ran over to us and exclaimed on her beauty. Asked -- male or female? How old? Would you consider breeding her with my male husky? Ummm - no. Why not, they'd make beautiful pups! I told him why not and his jaw dropped open - You had her fixed? You had her FIXED? Yep. He gave us a look of pure disgust, turned on his heels and stalked away. Greg gave me that "told you so" look but I was unrepentant -- it had been the right decision.
That year had been really freaky for weather. All spring and summer there had been no major thunderstorms but one winter night, we got a huge one. Understandably, this pup was terrified and shaking. We had heard countless horror stories of what dogs did in their fear of storms and decided to nip her fear in the bud - so to speak. Greg picked her up, put her on the bed with us, opened the window and we sat there holding her, exclaiming excitedly every time a flash of lightning lit up the sky, wowing and ooohhhing each time a loud thunderclap sounded. The storm lasted for hours - rain splashing at us through the screen - but we sat there until the wee morning hours. It was still going on, but not as heavy, when we closed the window and the three of us went to our respective spots on the bed and slept through the rest of it. Storms never bothered her after that, until she got to be 12 or so - then at the first clap of thunder, she'd turn tail and pull me home. I think the noise hurt her ears. Tried the same thing with fireworks and, although she didn't act fearful, she just plain did not like firework nights. We worked around it.
One night she was outside for her bedtime stroll around the yard - Greg and I were inside - we heard this really spooky sound. Greg ran out the door, I ran to the window and there was that little girl - face pointed directly up - howling at the huge full moon. What a beautiful, eerie sound! We were to hear her "singing", as we called it, any time a siren sounded - fire truck, police car, ambulance. The howl blended with the siren and seemed to become part of it. I wish I had made a tape of her howling. In later years, she didn't howl or even pay attention to sirens -- her hearing as well as her eyesight diminished with age. She didn't become totally deaf and still barked at loud noises; she could still see but would often peer at things until she got close enough to see what it was.
She had a pal next door - Dusty, a Lab/Dalmation mix. This dog could stand right at the six foot fence and leap over it - no running start needed. And could she run! She and Nee used to race the length of the yard - round the grape arbour, round the sand garden. While Neea-Kha was no slouch in the running arena, she could not come close to Dusty. However, she could out-maneouver Dusty any day. When she realized that she wasn't going to win any race, she changed tactics. Dusty would take off to the far end of the yard, Nee running at a slow gallop. As Dusty came around the curve, out of eyeshot, Nee would turn back, retrace her steps to just before the original starting point, Dusty would come through the home stretch and there would be Neea-Kha, rested for the final leg of the race. They'd then run to the kiddie pool that was filled with fresh, cool water all summer, jump in, and wallow about together. Not much room for wallowing, but they managed. Those two spent many days playing together, until Dusty did the unthinkable...
I was swinging peacefully in my hammock, listening to the two of them running around, yipping and barking at each other. Dusty decided she needed a rest and dived under the hammock for some shade. It just happened that my moccasins were under the hammock. Now, Nee knew by this time that my slippers and moccasins were off limits to her, and when she spied Dusty chewing up one of the moccasins, she sprang into action. She ran under the hammock and grabbed the moccasin with her teeth. Dusty thought this was a new game they were playing and started tugging. Poor Dusty didn't know what bit her for a second or two. Greg managed to separate the two of them, Dusty with a bloody nose, Neea-Kha lunging in Greg's grasp, barking, trying to get at the dog that dared take Bev's moccasin. I managed to get Dusty home, neighbour wasn't too concerned, Dusty had been in many scraps before, no big deal. We cleaned up the bite on her nose and saw that it wasn't deep. Dusty was ready to come back over and play. With Neea-Kha barking every time Dusty approached the fence, we decided to keep them apart for the day. Next day, when Dusty approached the fence, Nee scared her off with her ferocious barking. She never did let Dusty back into her yard.
Unlike Al in his horse story, Neea-Kha was enthralled by horses. In all her years, I have never seen anything that piqued her interest and amazement like horses did. She chased squirrels, rabbits, birds, deer, fox, geese but horses left her in awe. The first time she saw horses, we were on the same trails as when Al spotted his five horses. This day as we were walking along, Nee alerted to the horses long before we knew what was going on. She just stood calmly, ears pricked, eyes sharp. Well, when Greg and I spotted the horses, we were ready for the same carrying on we got from Al. We didn't have to do a thing. As the three horses and riders came around the bend, Nee moved off the dirt path to the narrow strip of grass just before the thicket started. She plunked her rear down and just stared up at those horses -- her mouth open, tongue out but very relaxed, eyes wide. She stayed that way 'til those horses were out of sight. Must have thought they were the biggest dogs she'd ever seen! Throughout the years, whenever she saw horses, whether they were just trotting the pathways or galloping in a field, her reaction was the same -- she was just in awe of them!
It was a much different story with flashing lights and big noises. We just dreaded coming up to railway tracks with a train approaching. If the train took a half hour to go by, Nee would bark and carry on the entire time. Nothing we did would quiet her - she wanted to eat that train. We were pulled over by the R.I.D.E. blitz one night and the bright lights and radios from the police cars set her off on a barking tangent. Good thing she was buckled in, 'cause when the officer stuck the flashlight in the car, her growling became downright scary. When he asked if anyone had been drinking, I suggested that while the humans hadn't, I wasn't sure about the dog. He laughed and sent us on our way real quick.
A few years later, I learned that transport trucks on the highway were another trigger for relentless barking. But that's a story for another page.
Finally, finally, we walked through the doors of the clinic. The vet assistant went to the back and here they come -- little Neea-Kha with that ball clamped tightly between her teeth. Didn't even drop it when we knelt down to greet her. She was still a little wobbly - a bit of pain, she'll be fine. Told us what to watch for and call if any problems. She went to her bed when we got home -- wouldn't look at Greg and whenever he went to pet her she'd turn her head away from him. This was to be her attitude every time we took her to the vet. She'd get peeved at Greg but not me. In later years when it was just me and her, she never got that attitude with me. I guess she felt that Greg should be her protector. She was looking a bit uncomfortable in that little bed that she'd outgrown but still liked to curl up in. We piled quilts on the bedroom floor and sat on the bed as she tried to get comfortable. Greg and I looked at each other and seemed to decide simultaneously (we were both on the same page for a change). We patted the bed, she came over - ears perked, wide eyed. Greg went to lift her onto the bed but before he had the chance, she had jumped up. She groaned as she jumped and I quickly looked to make sure her stitches were intact. She proceeded to make a little den on that bed and curl up like it was the most comfortable thing she had ever owned. And own it she did (well, shared ownership - sort of). So much for the no-dogs-on-the-bed rule. I WAS happy to get rid of her mutilated puppy bed, though.
She recuperated well and quickly, but stretched out her bed-rest as long as possible. She was delighted that even after she was better, she had access to our bed. She liked it even better when months later, Greg moved into the spare bedroom (not because of her, just because of the direction our relationship was going). She would alternate bedrooms - another bed for her to own: Yipeee!
A few weeks later, the three of us were out walking. As we came up to one house, a young fellow ran over to us and exclaimed on her beauty. Asked -- male or female? How old? Would you consider breeding her with my male husky? Ummm - no. Why not, they'd make beautiful pups! I told him why not and his jaw dropped open - You had her fixed? You had her FIXED? Yep. He gave us a look of pure disgust, turned on his heels and stalked away. Greg gave me that "told you so" look but I was unrepentant -- it had been the right decision.
That year had been really freaky for weather. All spring and summer there had been no major thunderstorms but one winter night, we got a huge one. Understandably, this pup was terrified and shaking. We had heard countless horror stories of what dogs did in their fear of storms and decided to nip her fear in the bud - so to speak. Greg picked her up, put her on the bed with us, opened the window and we sat there holding her, exclaiming excitedly every time a flash of lightning lit up the sky, wowing and ooohhhing each time a loud thunderclap sounded. The storm lasted for hours - rain splashing at us through the screen - but we sat there until the wee morning hours. It was still going on, but not as heavy, when we closed the window and the three of us went to our respective spots on the bed and slept through the rest of it. Storms never bothered her after that, until she got to be 12 or so - then at the first clap of thunder, she'd turn tail and pull me home. I think the noise hurt her ears. Tried the same thing with fireworks and, although she didn't act fearful, she just plain did not like firework nights. We worked around it.
One night she was outside for her bedtime stroll around the yard - Greg and I were inside - we heard this really spooky sound. Greg ran out the door, I ran to the window and there was that little girl - face pointed directly up - howling at the huge full moon. What a beautiful, eerie sound! We were to hear her "singing", as we called it, any time a siren sounded - fire truck, police car, ambulance. The howl blended with the siren and seemed to become part of it. I wish I had made a tape of her howling. In later years, she didn't howl or even pay attention to sirens -- her hearing as well as her eyesight diminished with age. She didn't become totally deaf and still barked at loud noises; she could still see but would often peer at things until she got close enough to see what it was.
She had a pal next door - Dusty, a Lab/Dalmation mix. This dog could stand right at the six foot fence and leap over it - no running start needed. And could she run! She and Nee used to race the length of the yard - round the grape arbour, round the sand garden. While Neea-Kha was no slouch in the running arena, she could not come close to Dusty. However, she could out-maneouver Dusty any day. When she realized that she wasn't going to win any race, she changed tactics. Dusty would take off to the far end of the yard, Nee running at a slow gallop. As Dusty came around the curve, out of eyeshot, Nee would turn back, retrace her steps to just before the original starting point, Dusty would come through the home stretch and there would be Neea-Kha, rested for the final leg of the race. They'd then run to the kiddie pool that was filled with fresh, cool water all summer, jump in, and wallow about together. Not much room for wallowing, but they managed. Those two spent many days playing together, until Dusty did the unthinkable...
I was swinging peacefully in my hammock, listening to the two of them running around, yipping and barking at each other. Dusty decided she needed a rest and dived under the hammock for some shade. It just happened that my moccasins were under the hammock. Now, Nee knew by this time that my slippers and moccasins were off limits to her, and when she spied Dusty chewing up one of the moccasins, she sprang into action. She ran under the hammock and grabbed the moccasin with her teeth. Dusty thought this was a new game they were playing and started tugging. Poor Dusty didn't know what bit her for a second or two. Greg managed to separate the two of them, Dusty with a bloody nose, Neea-Kha lunging in Greg's grasp, barking, trying to get at the dog that dared take Bev's moccasin. I managed to get Dusty home, neighbour wasn't too concerned, Dusty had been in many scraps before, no big deal. We cleaned up the bite on her nose and saw that it wasn't deep. Dusty was ready to come back over and play. With Neea-Kha barking every time Dusty approached the fence, we decided to keep them apart for the day. Next day, when Dusty approached the fence, Nee scared her off with her ferocious barking. She never did let Dusty back into her yard.
Unlike Al in his horse story, Neea-Kha was enthralled by horses. In all her years, I have never seen anything that piqued her interest and amazement like horses did. She chased squirrels, rabbits, birds, deer, fox, geese but horses left her in awe. The first time she saw horses, we were on the same trails as when Al spotted his five horses. This day as we were walking along, Nee alerted to the horses long before we knew what was going on. She just stood calmly, ears pricked, eyes sharp. Well, when Greg and I spotted the horses, we were ready for the same carrying on we got from Al. We didn't have to do a thing. As the three horses and riders came around the bend, Nee moved off the dirt path to the narrow strip of grass just before the thicket started. She plunked her rear down and just stared up at those horses -- her mouth open, tongue out but very relaxed, eyes wide. She stayed that way 'til those horses were out of sight. Must have thought they were the biggest dogs she'd ever seen! Throughout the years, whenever she saw horses, whether they were just trotting the pathways or galloping in a field, her reaction was the same -- she was just in awe of them!
It was a much different story with flashing lights and big noises. We just dreaded coming up to railway tracks with a train approaching. If the train took a half hour to go by, Nee would bark and carry on the entire time. Nothing we did would quiet her - she wanted to eat that train. We were pulled over by the R.I.D.E. blitz one night and the bright lights and radios from the police cars set her off on a barking tangent. Good thing she was buckled in, 'cause when the officer stuck the flashlight in the car, her growling became downright scary. When he asked if anyone had been drinking, I suggested that while the humans hadn't, I wasn't sure about the dog. He laughed and sent us on our way real quick.
A few years later, I learned that transport trucks on the highway were another trigger for relentless barking. But that's a story for another page.