Trial and Error

First, my apologies for taking so long to post. Things have been nuts here between work, weather, sickness, and general craziness. Now that I’m starting to get a handle on things again, I hope to be posting to both of my blogs more regularly.

There have been a few interesting developments on the Libby front. First of all, everything we have read concerning chewing says we have to catch her in the act. If only it were that simple. Libby seems to have built in radar that tells her when it is not a good time to be chewing because she might get caught. Normally, this means most damage is done during the night when we are asleep.

The second thing we have learned is that she is sneaky. We might have already guessed that, but we now have proof. The other night, Ed caught her trying to get something off the kitchen table. He chastised her and she left the table. He turned to go back down the hall to the office. I, being in the living room, with a direct view of both Libby and the table, saw her watch him go down the hall, and as soon as he was out of sight, turn right back around to the table. This time, I yelled at her, and told Ed what she had done.

Over the last few weeks we have been trying to catch her chewing. One suggestion we read was to leave anything we might find, giving her an opportunity to come back to it. Then chastise her. That worked once. Ed thinks somebody may have tried that before, and that’s why she only chew little holes in things and then goes on to something else. I wonder if she hadn’t got the “don’t chew” just the “don’t chew on that”. Chewing on something else might be ok.

We have caught her a few times at night recently, because Ed has been ill and been up and down a lot. One night in particular, he came in the room and she wanted to play. She started jumping at him, with him telling her no. Suddenly, she disappeared around the side of the bed and came back with one of his t-shirts, and tossed it at him. It took him a second to recover, but then they had a discussion about the t-shirt. He has caught her twice now with things in her mouth, taken them from her, and scolded her. With every scolding, she hides under the bed. A few times we have found things on the floor unchewed. We were beginning to be hopeful. Until last night.

I heard her milling around the bedroom. I opened my eyes and saw her standing on her hind legs, inspecting the top of the dresser. I scolded her, and she stopped. A few hours later, we realized she must have waited until she knew I was asleep (the sneaky thing again), and gone back. She chewed the collar off Ed’s work shirt, and ate about half of his plastic name tag. Drastic times call for drastic measures. I’ll let you know how it turns out.

In Memory of Buck

I wanted to take a few lines here to remember the life of a dog named Buck. I’m sure Libby won’t mind. Buck was a Chow who for twelve years was my mom’s friend and companion. She gave him a home and he helped her through the trauma of widowhood, and another emotionally devastating relationship. Although she loves her children and grandchildren, it has often been the necessity of caring for Buck that has got her up and going. She loved Buck and he loved her. During the very few times she hasn’t been home, and I cared for him, he would often look toward the house to see if she was there. It was touching and a little sad to see him looking for her. In recent weeks, Bucks gait had become uncertain and he began to fall often. Mom began to fear that he would fall somewhere that she would not be able to get him out of. So this morning, with heartbreak that only those who have had the same experience can understand, we took Buck to the vet for the last time. After watching him walk, or try to, the vet, who is a wonderful compassionate man, said that kind of damage is the result of a brain injury such as a stroke, and there was nothing that could be done for him. He also told mom that the problem is “Dogs don’t live as long as we need them to”. I have to agree with that. Good bye Buck, you’ve been a great dog, we’re going to miss you.