Monday 13 August 2012

Dog tales...

Day 4 of the 12yo dog wearing the Elizabethan collar, post-surgery. It's absolutely true what they say - you can't teach an old dog new tricks. Current stats:
  • Total # of times she's gotten it off so far - 2.
  • Total # of times we've tried to get her to sleep in the laundry - 2.
  • Total # of times she's actually agreed to sleep in the laundry - 0.
  • Total # of nights we've been woken in the middle of the night by her going in/coming out/going in/coming out of her kennel, (getting stuck & thumping around each time) - 4.
  • Total # of times she's stood whining over her 3/4 full water bowl because the collar apparently prevents her drinking any more from it and she's thirsty, despite the COMPLETELY FULL 9L BUCKET OF WATER sitting next to it which she refuses to look at - 7.
  • Total # of times she's been unable to completely clean out her entire food bowl (the EXACT same size/shape as the water bowl) - 0 (think about this for a moment - yes, THIS bowl, this identical bowl, can be accessed).
  • Total # of times I've lost the plot and thought really horrible things about her - 3 (but this could just be a normal week).
  • Total # of times she's headbutted the exact same doorframes/walls - lost count, but it'd have to be at least 50.
This is not a smart dog. Determined, stubborn, yes, smart, no. Which I've known for 12 years now, but the whole old-age thing isn't helping. For those that have known me a long time, this is the same dog that ate huge chunks off my weatherboard house, ate through a lattice-enclosed carport and THEN ate through the chicken-wire I'd put up in her determination to escape as a puppy, and ended up with the dog-catcher twice, but was too scared to go past the end of our house on a lead for a walk. The same dog that has systematically dug up every single garden & vegie patch we've ever had in her sheer determination to shit all over it, all the while looking furtively over her shoulder, knowing she's going to get shouted at but doing it anyway. The same dog that shivers in fear when it's time for a warm bath, but happily stands out in the rain and will bolt into any dirty creek within 50 metres given half the chance. The same dog that has repeatedly escaped over the years for fun, even making her way to the local bank last year and walking in behind a group of people when they went in, resulting in so many phone calls from so many places all over Melbourne over the years that I've lost count.

For now I've resigned myself to "at least she's so busy with the collar, she's not picking at her stitches" (for now) and "at least she can't dig or chew the house/garden/vegie patch" (for now). Only 11 more days till the stitches come out. One of us may not make it. :>


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