Maybe someday the camera will come…the pic is 29 weeks, he’s 36 weeks. Looks handsome, huh?
The week without outings showed Friday, by his being anxious. I’d given him a long run time before we left, too. He refused the elevator at Mom’s doctor’s office, and he’s never so much as hesitated going into a lift before. I think it was the noise it made, but I was caught without treats, so I couldn’t lure him in. (We haven’t had treats with us in public since he was 5 months old.)
I let it go, hoping he won’t have an issue with elevators in general. Good thing he doesn’t generalize! There are treats in my purse now, just for those unexpected moments. We walked one flight of stairs, scary because the railing was glass—it can make you feel a touch precarious. But he trusted me enough to climb, even with the tail tucked. Then we just waited in the lobby beside the pharmacy door. People came and went, and I got to really watch him.
I was looking for signs of generalized discomfort with men or kids, wheelchairs and such. I remember last Friday’s refusal at the café (4 men and 2 kids at the table next to our usual booth). He remained alert, but not reactive at all. There were only 3 people he seemed uncomfortable with, and plenty were going by. I tried to sense what he was sensing, to pinpoint what the rump rolling uneasiness was about.
One was an older man, second was a sweet young lady who smiled and said how handsome he was, and the third was a man in a chair with an oxygen tank. The last one I could figure out: he nosed my hands, and with some anxiety, which means he was alerting to the man’s breathing problems. I patted his head, said I know he’s having trouble breathing, and it was okay. The man heard my words, and asked if Kenai was a medical alert dog—come to find out his now late schnauzer dog had naturally alerted for him when the COPD first started! That was cool.
Other than that, no luck in figuring out what caused his apprehension about the first two. Lacking an astonishing nose and mastery of intuitive body language, I didn’t make any headway. He didn’t break his down, and that was good enough for me. It was the best he could give me right then. He did okay for a puppy who wasn’t sure of himself.
He was still uncomfortable at the pet store, but he’d been there before, so he started to relax and immerse his formidable nose in the bone boxes. Once again, our Eagle Pack food was out of stock, and the lady said it had been a long term problem. So we started looking, and what should the lady show us but a natural food with ideal mineral ratios and a super high digestibility.
That would mean less food, less stool for BB to have to try and get out! He constipates so easily with that fractured pelvis narrowing the exit. It was cheaper, always in stock, and might just solve Beebs’ plug-em-up problems. I hated the idea of changing their food, but I can’t be making two trips a week just to see if the Eagle Pack was in, and come back another day because it wasn’t.
Our final stop Friday was for lunch, and I was not sure how Kenai would do. He’d never been there before, it was a Chinese buffet (so tempting), and the two previous stops were not “smooth”. Not big problems, but not “smooth” how I like: in, done, out all easy. What should he do but whip out the cool customer act, and behave far better than I had expected? Guess he wants to keep me guessing…
The oohing and aahhing didn’t phase him, as he lay there relaxing by my chair. Kids, Moms, Dads, construction workers, nothing got to him. He even walked the buffet line with me, getting just one “aah” for wanting to smell the food on my plate. Special K was kickin’ it out so good I went back to the buffet for desert! It was a wonderful way to end an outing, and I was popping buttons because of more than being full. That’s my boy.
I chalked up the earlier glitches to being out of practice. At 9 months old, a week off is time enough to get rusty at this public access stuff. Just to be sure, Saturday we loaded up both pups and had some more errand running, after some field running for toffee tank of course. He was brushed, sprayed, slathered with liniment on his back legs, and in the garage in 5 minutes. (Mom was buying breakfast).
No problem. The gas station was a mine field too—kids, dogs barking, BB getting wound up in the back… Once Kenai was out of the car, in his vest and working, he hit his groove. I used the euro leash so I had both hands free, and he was essentially heeling by commands and paying attention. Yippee! I would have done the happy dance, except he might have joined me, which isn’t the sacred goal of unobtrusive.
At the café, Brown parked in our usual corner, no whines, no pop ups the whole hour. The amazing thing is, when he goes out with his brother, his behavior is usually more stressed. BB is kind of a high voltage dog, that can short circuit big bro with all the nervous reactivity. Kenai remained alert instead of snoozing, but I can live with watching things.
After breakfast it was to Walgreens, for my refills. Again he heeled with hardly a touch on the leash, while he was oogled, walked by, and really interested in the donut samples. Those took a leash correction. I took his gentle leader off, and he kept right on walking with me, stopping with me, going left, going right, and hammering out his job like a pro!
We selected lipstick for Mom, shampoo/conditioner for me, and this achy author parked her oversized butt in the chair with the massager in it. The heat and kneading unknotted some tension for a few minutes, and I’d sell anything except the puppies for a real hot stone massage! Oh it felt so good. Dream a little dream, right?
So we chipped the rust off his edges with two outings in two days. If I could manage every day, he would either be old hand really fast, or get overloaded. Good thing I don’t have the stamina for every day and have the latter happen. That would be unpleasant. I do need to start getting him to school, providing plenty of time to nail down what is expected of him before I start in January. He likes knowing what he’s supposed to do. I like it when knows what he’s supposed to do, too.
