“A real good dog.”

In the short time “Buzz” has been with us, he’s become a big part of our family. It’s like from the minute he got here, he knew he was “home.” He’s Dub’s dog for sure… and they have a special bond that’s hard to describe. Dub sits cross-legged on the floor and whispers to him and he’s learned “sit” and “down” and “roll over” and “fetch” and “give,” and all without Dub ever saying a word to him. They do it strictly with hand signals. David says Buzz has been spending his days in his office. Says he lays over in the corner and acts like he doesn’t even know David is there. The last few days, David has been taking him with him on his lunch time runs. He goes 2-3 miles on the hike and bike trail every day “to get his heart rate up,” and says Buzz keeps up and stays right beside him.
Of course, Miss Bebe has been another matter. When we first brought Buzz home, she wanted absolutely NOTHING to do with him and tried to act like he wasn’t even here. But he’s irrepressible. He kept invading her space and nipping at her feet and ears and sticking his butt in her face… and she’d growl and he’d run away… but then come back with a ball that he’d toss at her. Finally, she gave up and grabbed the ball and the chase was on. They tear around the house playing and yipping and barking… and, I swear, Bebe acts like she’s a 10 month old puppy herself.
This evening after we’d had dinner and the dogs were in their crates and the house was finally quiet, I said “It sure is a lot noisier around here since Buzz showed up.”
Dub just grinned and said, “He’s a real good dog.”
David and I couldn’t agree more!

The dog whisperer…

This kind of violates our policy of not posting personal pics. A couple of month ago, our puppy girl “Bebe” had to have a growth removed from her right, front paw. She had been in a lot of pain and could hardly stand to step on it, so our Vet took it off. Good news was – not cancer. Bad news – couldn’t let her lick or chew on it until it was healed up. So, we put an “air collar” on her. Bad news. Somehow, during the night, she managed to get past the collar and chew her paw enough to rip out the stitches. Worse… it got infected. So (against Dub’s wishes) we put a cone collar on her. She’s been a pretty good sport about it and she can’t lick her paw – but we know it’s uncomfortable for her.
So, when Dub gets home from school… he takes the cone off… sits on the floor with her… cups her head in his hands… looks her in the eyes… and says “No pequeno. No sagas eso.” And that’s it. That’s all it takes. She stays by his side and doesn’t lick her paw. As long as they’re together, there’s no licking.
Ben and I have both tried the same thing, but it doesn’t work for us. Neither of us can keep her from licking her sore paw.
We have no idea how Dub does it – or why it works for him and not us. He’s a special young man – in so many ways.