BANG BANG POP!

Who actually ends bonfire night feeling fulfilled by the excitement offered by crackling fires and whizz-popping fireworks.  Not me.  At large, I come home feeling a bit cold and a bit disappointed that they only lasted so long or were too far apart or simply that the council spent that much on a firework display when there is an awful lot more that needs to be achieved in the local area than fireworks dancing in time to the James Bond Theme.

As a child, I remember my favourite bonfire party ever being the one run by the people down the road because they let me sit in their house and eat crisps whilst watching the fireworks through the patio doors.  I didn't like bangs, they made me jump! 

I might have had the get-up but I wasn't always a huge fan of the outdoors, even as a child!

It is for this reason that I totally sympathise with Caesar, who doesn't like bangs either!  The problem with dogs is, unlike humans who are scared of fire works (like me), they are not able to go "Oof - scared the life out of me, that one!" and have a bit of a laugh at their own expense.  Instead, like a tiny infant, they're trapped in their own body.  Confused by the alien noises and petrified by the possibilities they hold.  

"Don't fuss your dog," many instructions say.  This, is one of the most difficult things to adhere to.  Caesar will sit like a shivering wreck on the carpet.  He comes over and stands close by quivering and shaking.  Sometimes he runs around.  We close the curtains, put the TV on loud, he's already wearing his thunder shirt but we cannot escape from the sounds.

What was that noise?!

Last year it got too much.  Our house has single glazing and is in the centre of a fairly busy town.  The noises outside were non-stop and our neighbours were having their own fireworks party.  Fireworks whizzed past every window in the house before exploding noisily and with each one the shaking got worse.  Tears rushed to my eyes as I watched him run from the door to the chair and into the corners.  Trying to escape the inescapable.

I finally picked up the phone.  "What are the fireworks like near your house?" I asked.  Knowing that I would have to risk getting Caesar from the house and into the car.  "Not bad at all came the answer."  I knew what I had to do.

The fireworks there were not bad at all.  However, the occasional noises sparked another reaction.  Eventually, my dad stood up and disappeared.  He came back with a solution.  One that isn't advertised in magazines or dog psychology articles but it worked just the same...

Helpful Bits:

RSPCA advice on fireworks for pet owners:  http://www.rspca.org.uk/allaboutanimals/pets/general/fireworks

Thundershirt website - Advice about how this special piece of clothing can reduce a dogs stress levels during difficult times such as thunderstorms and fireworks.

http://www.thundershirt.com/

If your pet does have a major firework phobia, it is worth speaking to your vet as they can give advice and sometimes medication to help.

Who's been sleeping in my bed....?!

Last night was....eventful.  I left work just before 5:30 having been there for ten hours.  Went for a meal with the girls from work and then a party with the girls from work.  I returned home at almost 9:30 - 14 hours after I'd left the house this morning and still wearing my staff badge.  Caesar was frantic.  Of course, he had been at home with his dad since about 4:00 however, he likes it when we're all here together.  Family....or pack, depending on your outlook.

Never ever leave me again....understand?!

I was busy fussing him to death when Damien called out, "have you seen those dogs in the street?"  I peered out of the window but saw nothing.  "They're probably with those lads," I said passively as two teens chatted their way down the road "...should have them on the lead though."

Moments later, Damien called out again "there they are!"  Again, I missed them.  I walked out of the house into the dark.  I could hear and see nothing apart from Caesar standing on the window sill crying.  I was about to go back inside when I heard a sudden scattering of paws!  Then, a few minutes later, two dogs came running past.  They turned at the end of the street and sprinted back.  I called for them but they kept running in the opposite direction.  I sprinted back to the house and pulled out some collars and leads.  My first job was going to be to hook the runaways!

Video: It's not easy getting an excited dog to stop!

Ten o'clock loomed and Caesar was screaming noisily - letting me know his disgust at being left out of the fun.  I finally caught the smaller of the two dogs in a looped collar.  When it had calmed, I leaned down to stroke it.  It was clearly excited and nervous and kept jumping.  The larger ran around him in circles.  It took a while but eventually, I hooked her too.  I popped collars on both then and finally fastened the leads properly to the collars instead of using them upside down as slip leads.

Now what?  It was now 10 o'clock and a walk around the block had revealed no clues as to where these two escapees had come from.  And a phone call to the dog warden and local pound turned up nothing either.  Both lines rang off.  Finally, I made the decision to call the police.  "We can open a kennel for you.  But you will need to transport the dogs yourself or keep them until morning..."  I checked the clock.  10:15.  I had to be at work by 7:30 the next morning.  I listened as Caesar howled at the window, watching us with two other dogs.  'Traitors!'

Perfected puppy dog eyes

'Mammy, I want to join in! Pleeeeeeease...'

There was no choice.  "I'll bring him." I said as he confirmed that the kennels were 10 miles away.  What else could I do?  Hastily, I added 'if no one claims them I'd like to know'.  These two dogs were panicky and restless and I wasn't about to abandon them at kennels, never finding out what happened to them.  I considered my comment, which had taken me by surprise.  What exactly was I planning on doing?  I hadn't even been sure about one dog.  I didn't want these two adding to my gang!  Perhaps I could contact the rescue and offer them a 'foster home' until someone came along.  Was I really a foster home though?  I'm at work most of the time...My mind was spinning.  Shutting the front room door on my own dogs, I allowed the two to come in for a drink and a warm.  But minutes after they came in, there was a huge din from the lounge.  Caesar was not keen on canine visitors in his home and the noise and fuss coming from the living room frightened the dogs, who were trying to have a peaceful drink!

Finally, I got a call from the police - an owner had been found.  There was no need to drive the 10 miles nor panic about what would happen to the two frightened dogs.  Their panicked owner lived two roads away.  "Thank you so much," she said, throwing her arms around me.

Who's been drinking my water and lying in my bed?!

Saving Caesar - The Book

It was around a year ago that I gave up looking.  I had just received another order of books about dogs.  Dog behaviour, welcoming a dog into your home, helping to calm your dog and, finally, dog psychology.  I also had two novels about rescue dogs, both of which I started to read at around the same time.  The novels showed how each dog's individual characteristics made them special and important, where as the fact books spoke as if all dogs were pretty much the same.  They gave general rules on introducing your dog to your home, other dogs and other people.  They talked about feeding, ailments and had lovely illustrations of well behaved dogs.  They were a bit like a canine instruction manual.

"Keep your dog busy by playing with a ball..."

The problem was, in the case of the novel/life story dogs, they were both were extreme cases.  The stories therefore, although amazing, were far beyond what most rescuers experience.  The guide books that I bought assumed that your dog would adhere to certain rules and didn't cover the emotional aspects of adoption at all.  I wanted a book that would tell me what to do when I had just worked all day and come home to find the house in ruins after Caesar had been left for a couple of hours alone.  I wanted to know if it was normal to consider returning a dog like this to the rescue centre.  I wanted to know if this was the right thing to do.  I felt guilty if I kept him when I knew he would have to be left alone but guilty if I, the first person who had come forward, returned him to the kennel only a matter of weeks after adopting him.  I also wanted to know if what he was experiencing was normal for a dog that has just spent six months in a kennel.  

The day we reserved Caesar at the rescue centre...

As we began to see a light at the end of the tunnel with some of Caesar's behaviour, I started to wonder how many other people had experienced something similar.  Through conversations about Caesar, I had come to realise that I was anything but alone in the problems that I was facing.  This realisation, though, came months too late.  Before this, I had spent hours trying to find an 'answer' to our problems.  I had felt completely alone.  Now, though, I was starting to feel confident with Caesar.  He was managing in the house most of the time and incidents of home-wrecking were happening more on a weekly/bi-weekly basis than on a daily one.  One day, we had a particularly bad incident where he tore up my coat and, in order to cheer myself, I reached for the blue spotted diary which we used to keep when we first got him.  Damien and I laughed our way through the pages - it wasn't until this day that I had realised just how much we had already achieved with him.

Perhaps this T-shirt might remind me that we're supposed to be best friends!

I began to type parts of the diary up on my laptop; a permanent reminder of what we had achieved.  And, as I did so, the seeds of an idea planted themselves into my brain.  I should write a book.  Not an advice book, nor a dramatic book about the horrifying way that dogs are treated.  But a true story about adopting a difficult dog.  I have no advice to give; I am a first time owner and I never even had a pet dog as a child (well not really anyway).  

The first time a dog had ever been in our house.

The book is simple.  It follows me through my first experiences with dogs and into my adoption of Caesar.  It covers everything from visiting the rescue centre to attempting to start agility classes.  It is about feelings, experiences and there's a little humour in the mix too.  I want it to be a light in the darkness for all others who are trying to be a rescuer but are finding their patience pushed to the limit.  In 50,000 odd words it says 'you're not alone'.  These three words would have meant the earth to me eighteen months ago.

This blog focuses on life with Caesar today as opposed to the first year of his adoption.  

I'd love to hear your feedback:

• Would you read the book?  Why/why not?
• Is there anything that you would like to read about in particular?  Any areas of interest that would be included?

Battle of the bath

YouTube Adventures

I am a self confessed YouTube adventurer.  I can't help it.  "Look at this lovely picture of my baby in her paddling pool." writes one of my Facebook friends.  Hmmm...after thirty seconds of that, I've done enough 'aww's..'   Oh wait, what's this?  "Elephant in paddling pool"  well that has to be worth a watch!  OK, well that was interesting but what's this?  "Paddling pool stunt!"  Wow, that's looks both highly dangerous and highly entertaining!  Let's watch that.  And now, "Worlds fastest rollercoasters."  I bet they're all in America though.  Oh well, couldn't hurt to look could it?  You can see how two hours later I'm watching a man with no teeth yelling at his ex wife on a cheesy chat show.

Anyhow, I was on one of my YouTube adventures recently when I came across this video:

Not my video - made by wloltigerlolw2

Well done to them!

Anyway, it got me thinking about bath time in my house and how many injuries I sustained last time.  

Without fail, Caesar will try to jump out of the bath when he is covered in soap and water and soak me! 

However, getting him in the bath in the first place is always a bit of a nightmare as he tends to run off when I

go anywhere near him.  

As soon as I turn the bath on, Caesar disappears.  If it's me who's in it, he reappears once I'm safely

under water to steal my socks and take them to his bed.

Sock stealing - another of Caesar's hobbies.

I've tried treating Caesar during his bath, bringing toys in with him and still he jumps out mid-wash and 

flings covers me, the bathroom and everything else in water.  Sometimes, he lures you into a false sense 

of security by pretending to be fine with the whole bathing process.  He'll stand still for a while and you 

foolishly begin to think; 'perhaps he's enjoying the warm water.'  No, he's simply plotting the best position 

and timing to fling himself out of the bath.  This, he usually concludes, is the moment when you have a bottle 

of shampoo in one hand and he is covered with lather!

Who else has a naughty bath time doggy?

Bedtime Break-ins!

The cold nights are here.  Well, it is October after all.  We couldn't have expected much more for much longer could we?  Last weekend, we were wearing t-shirts and walking around in fields laughing merrily.  This week, we're wearing out coats in the lounge and talking about how we got so old so quickly.  Last week, we jumped out of bed with a spring in our step and a twinkle in our eye.  This week, we ignore our alarm for far too long and spend ages finding out biggest and warmest jumpers.

Get out your woolly jumpers everyone - it's freeeeeeezing!

Caesar is feeling the cold too.  He's now refusing his usual nighttime rocking chair cuddles in favour of the best spot in front of the fire.  He actually ignored me yesterday when I tried to cuddle him.  I was mortified!  Luckily, I'm still winning with the night time cuddles and he is still toddling upstairs after me when it's time to turn in.

No more rocking chair cuddles!

Video - fat chance of that happening

Unfortunately, he doesn't always want to leave again when it's bed time.  And, over the past few nights, he has had to be physically removed from his place under the quilt.  Caesar has PERFECTED the 'puppy dog eyes' look and will whip it out as soon as he's told to go to bed, making me feel incredibly guilty about forcing him out of the door.  However, Caesar is like a super-villain; getting removed once is not enough to stop him.

'I don't care if you were here first, it's MY bed by the fire!'

"See you in the morning Caesar," I call as he sulks out of the room.  I'm certain I heard him groan 'that's what you think!'

It's 4:00 in the morning and I can hear the unmistakable sound of crying outside of the door.  Perhaps it's mean or perhaps sensible but I choose to ignore it.  Pandering to Caesar has never done me or him any good at all.  It continues for a few minutes and then subsides.  Turning the pillow over, I begin to drift off again.  Then, moments later, I can hear a clawing at the door.  Followed by a click and then a slam as the door hits the side table. Finally, a low thud as Caesar lands delicately on the mattress.  And so it begins again.  "Go to bed Caesar...Go to bed Caesar....CAESAR!  Go to bed."  This is now happening 2 - 3 times a night.  It's no wonder that I'm always a grump!

Braving the bike

It's well known that I cannot run.  In more ways than one:

1.  I can't physically run for more than about a minute without ending up bent double;
2.  I don't actually run, I sort of prance which makes people giggle;
3.  I can't bring myself to actually go running for the above two reasons.

It's a wonder then that I own some impact resistant running shoes that cost more than most of my other shoes.  They're in the back of my wardrobe.

Walking Caesar - about the only exercise I get!

I am conscious that my exercise regime is nothing more than walking each day and wanted to do something about it.  "What about riding a bike?" my mum asked one summer afternoon.  The last time I rode a bike, I fell off!  However, I was keen to have a go so I jumped in the saddle, donned my dad's old cycling helmet and wobbled off down the road.  After a short time, I put the bike away, saying 'I'll have another go at that later' and then never did.

Then, late one night, something came to me.  "Caesar was abandoned by a guy on a bike..."  Damien looked at me blankly "he must be ok to run alongside a bike then?"  What I failed to acknowledge was that the abandoner probably knew how to ride a bike.  I, on the other hand, don't!

Caesar is a high energy dog!

Running alongside a bike is ideal for him!

So, when my parent's turned up tonight with the bike, I jumped at the chance.  "Let's go for a ride!" I said to Caesar.  I put on his longer lead with shock absorber to try to steady myself. However, as a safety measure, I made Damien run along side.  To begin with, I was very wobbly and had to get my balance before I could take Caesar.  But, by the time we were on our way back, I was gaining confidence by the minute.  "Pass me the lead."



What I forgot was there are a number of issues when riding a bike with a dog:
1.  Lampposts - he went one way and I went the other!
2.  Wheels - he kept getting in front of them!
3.  Energy - Caesar has more of it than I do!

I didn't peddle the whole way home, I was just pulled along by Caesar who was loving running alongside the bike.  I hope I can get enough confidence (and balance) on the bike to keep trying!

Home and having a relax - we're both still in one piece...for now.

Any other cyclist/dog walkers?  How do you manage?

My personal alarm clock...

Once, I had a friend who used to have unsolvable problems.  She had these problems at least weekly.  I loved her, as I love all of my friends however I despised unsolvable problem discussions.  This is how they would go:

1.  She would present the problem.

2.  I would offer solution

3. She would give me a reason why solution wouldn't work

4.  I would offer another solution.

5.  She would give me a reason why solution probably wouldn't work.

6....well, you get the point.

We would end up going round in circles for hours.

I, on the other hand, am the polar opposite.  Often, I'm over productive when it comes to problems in that I attempt to solve them before they actually happen.  Basically, I solve problems that don't actually need solving yet or may never have needed solving if I hadn't attempted to solve them.  Some people may suggest that this is a good thing.  However, on more than one occasion, it has hindered me considerably in that by solving a problem that didn't yet need to be solved, I have actually caused myself another, and potentially worse, problem.

Always keen to solve a problem:  Leather car upholstery stick a pair of socks on....the bells may not have been such a good idea in hindsight...

To give a quick example:

A few years ago, I used to go and stay at an ex-boyfriend's university digs.  The communal house was very rough round the edges, shared by 9 men and with 1 working shower.  The problem with this shower, I was told, was that it squirted you with cold water meaning that either your clothes get very wet along with the floor and towels or you had to stand in a freezing cold shower cubicle and get sprayed cold water for a few minutes.  'No!' I thought.  'I have a much better plan...'  Instead of standing in the cubicle naked and getting freezing cold or standing outside and getting my clothes wet, I'll stand outside of the cubicle with no clothes on BUT (and this is the key factor) shut my head and arm in the cubicle so at the most my face, neck and shoulder will get sprayed with cold water.  What I didn't think about was the automatic reaction that occurs when you get sprayed in the face with freezing cold water.  This is not the reaction that you want to have when you are standing, with your head trapped in a glass door with no clothes on and you jump and hit your face off said glass door!  So...instead of having wet clothes, I had a fat lip and a nose bleed!

'I'm here to read about Caesar!' I hear you cry.  Well be patient...I'm getting to that bit now!  Trust me, this all ties in...really, it does...

Excuse me, this is my blog, stop hijacking it to talk about yourself!

Caesar's bed has been at the bottom of the stairs for around a year.  On most evenings, he retires to the red plastic basked and snuggles up among his cushions and toys.  On a night, he comes up to bed for a cuddle and then goes back down to his basket when my partner comes to bed.  However, as the colder nights began to set in, we noticed a problem; he wasn't going to bed anymore.  Not on an evening and, on a night, he was sitting outside the bedroom door crying.  Like this:

Video

This crying was happening intermittently throughout the night but would become horrendous at between 5 and 6 in the morning and grow louder as the hours went by.  Now, to begin with, I ignored him.  But one day when I was waiting by the door for a friend when I noticed a problem.  'That door is really draughty!' I told Damien.  'No wonder he won't sleep in his bed'.  Caesar's bed is positioned by the front door.  Sitting there, I was shuddering as the wind came through the cracks between the door and the frame.  So, I decided to move it into the hall upstairs.  "He sleeps outside of our bedroom anyway, we might as well move the bed there."  Damien agreed so we hauled the huge plastic bed upstairs only to find that it didn't fit and was covering one of the bedroom doors!  Perhaps I need to employ a tape measure next time...

Caesar in his red plastic basket.

I don't need much of an excuse to buy my dogs something new so I headed straight for 'Yorkshire Trading' where I knew they were setting Scruffs Self-Heating Mattresses for a pretty decent price, only to find that they weren't selling them at all any more and now all they had were scruffy looking beanbag type beds...the type that Caesar eats.  I proceeded to hunt around for a better option but found none.  All of the beds I could find looked over priced and/or uncomfortable and/or edible if your name is Caesar and you have a taste for cheap stuffing...

I can't see why I can't just sleep here!

This is where non-dog owners, like my sister who was trudging around the shops very patiently with me, begin to suspect I'm fussy.  I'm not fussy, however I'm also not going to pay £35 of my hard earned cash on a bed that may as well have been a bag of hamburgers for as long as it will last.  Eventually, I found, tucked away at the back of a tiny pet shop, a cord, cream doughnut bed, which looked both trendy and comfortable.  'This is the one!' I said to my sister, forcing her to 'feel the quality'.  She obliged, probably because it was quicker than pointing out that the quality of this specific item made no difference to her and that, having walked around forty pet shops, she had now lost the will to live. 

Caesar recognises a good quality bed when he sees one.

So, now we have a trendy bed to go with our very untrendy
mismatched carpet!

Another thing that you need to know about me is that I don't like to wait.  I'm rubbish at being patient.  If I want something, I want it now.  I'm not spoilt or anything.  At least not more than most people.  However, I get very excited about things and, if I feel like this, I don't want to have to wait 5 days for something to be delivered.  I bought the bed there and then for the price tag of £28 only to get it home and find it on the internet for £10.  I wondered if I would have waited had I known.  I don't have money coming out of my ears, so £18 is not an insignificant amount.  However, my plan to relocate Caesar would have been paused for a further 5 - 10 days.  What price would you put on 5 - 10 days of being able to sleep without being howled at my a discontent doggy who has a draughty bedroom?

As soon as we walked through the door, I was running upstairs with the bed.  "Doesn't it look trendy?" I asked Damien "feel the quality."  Damien looked nonplussed.  "Good."  Luckily, the bed fit perfectly and, as soon as it was down, Caesar was in it.  That night he slept like a baby, in fact, I think it's the best he's slept since we've had him.  I fell asleep as soon as he left and didn't wake up in the morning to the sound of howling.  However, I was almost late for work!  Time to invest in a real alarm clock I think.

Bed Obituary
RIP bedding that Caesar has eaten:

RIP donut bed that looked so comfy and cuddly.

RIP massive stuffed bed that weighed a ton and which I had to carry home!

RIP fleecy soft bone blanket that is now ripped to shreds!

Does your dog feel the need to wake you in the morning?  Or are they well behaved and sleep in?  Maybe you have sleeping arrangements that mean they can't wake you.  I'd love to hear your own stories - share them in the comments section.