Dog Fight!

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To think, these big dogs were fighting only hours earlierWe were at Jesse’s sister’s house getting it ready for her new tenants and thought it would be a good idea to bring the dogs with us so they could play in her big fenced yard. They had a blast in the beginning, thinking they were at some kind of new, fun dog park where they were the only attendees. But then the neighbor’s dog, Thunder, decided it was time for some fence fighting.

To her credit, Pickles ran up to say to Thunder through the chain link, took one look at his snarling face, and ran away. Ty and Murphy, however, were not so well behaved and engaged in some serious barking, snarling, and charging until I discouraged them (read: dragged them away from the fence and hollered at them).

Then, Murphy and Ty started playing. I had turned my back to do something, and then I heard the fight start. It seems that when two dogs who ordinarily get along are feeling charged up and can’t get at the dog they actually want to kill, they’ll try to kill one another. That was what I dove into as I tried to get Murphy to let go of Ty’s face.

I had never seen the two of them go after one another like that — and I think Murphy started it. It was terrifying. I was hitting them and screaming and they completely ignored me. I couldn’t just rip Murphy away because he had a solid grip on Ty’s face and would have caused serious damage. Pickles also had jumped into the middle of the fracas and I was afraid she’d be Murphy’s next target when he released Ty if I didn’t keep her out of the way.

Fortunately, Jesse, who was inside installing a ceiling fan, heard the ruckus and came racing out in his socks to help me. We managed to pull them apart without too much damage to Ty’s previously perfect face and made all three of them submit for about 10 minutes before we let them up. I was shaking and thought I was going to throw up. Both Jesse and I were totally freaked out.

We kept a close eye on them the rest of the afternoon, especially since Murphy seemed entirely too interested in the scent of the antibacterial soap I used to clean up Ty’s face, and they seemed fine afterward. But we still haven’t stopped feeling on edge…

Note that the photo is on the way home from J’s sister’s house, less than 3 hours after the fight. If you look closely to the right of Ty’s face, you can see two streaks where Murphy ripped his fur off, and another cut above his left eye (still on your right).  Oy.

Going on Vacation When You Have Pets

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We just got back from a long weekend in Colorado, and I am so glad to be back home with my babies. Even though we had a trusted friend to watch them and the dogs love him, it’s still difficult and stressful to leave them home with someone else. (If I’m this much of a wreck with dogs, how will I be with kids???)

Here are some tips for leaving your pets home with confidence:

  1. Find a pet sitter you trust. If possible, look for someone you already know who seems to enjoy and get along well with your pets. Ideally this should be someone who’s been to your home at least a few times and is comfortable with your animals.
  2. Leave detailed instructions. I won’t lie: The first time we left all six animals home alone for a weeklong vacation, my instructions were seven pages long. I included timing and amounts for meals (Ty gets 2.5 cups in the morning and 2 at night, but Murphy gets 4 and 4, for instance), household rules (no playing on the couch! no people food!), and habits (everyone gets a treat when you leave for the day).
  3. Include contact information. Also in my seven pages of instructions were Jesse’s and my cell numbers, our vet’s number, Animal Poison Control, several family members, and several neighbors. If there had been a problem, our pet sitter would have had lots of back-up!
  4. Don’t be afraid to check in. It was hard not to call every 15 minutes to make sure everyone was alright, but I managed to limit my calls home to 3 over the week we were gone that first time, and our pet sitter didn’t mind.

What works for you? Leave your suggestions in the comments.

Having a Pet Door Makes Everyone Lazy — But I’m Still Glad We Got One

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With three cats and three dogs, I felt like I was getting up to let someone in or out every time I sat down. Finally, after months of my begging, Jesse put in not one but two dog doors. The first goes from the mudroom, where we confine the three dogs when we leave the house, to the garage and the second goes from the garage to the fenced-in yard.

Pickles was a little slow on the uptake when we first put it in — Julius, the less-than-5-lb kitten — mastered it before she did, but now she’s a champ. There’s just one problem. Now that I’m not letting the dogs out the back door onto the patio, instead of walking to the woods to do their business, they just do it right outside the door and come back in.

If it were just Pickles, no big deal. Let’s face it: small dog = small poop. But Murphy and Ty are both lazy and HUGE POOPERS. I swear, I nearly tripped on one pile today that was the size of a cantaloupe. So I spent about half an hour wandering the yard this morning with a shovel and a pitch fork to clean up their deposits. (Incidentally, I found no chicken bones.)

I know I’m just a big whiner and everyone else in the world has to pick up dog poop, but it was just so NICE when they would go out of the grass to poo. Seriously, make Mommy’s life a little easier, guys? And while you’re at it, stop eating feces. It’s gross.

I Need an Alarm for My Trash Can: What to Do When Your Dog Eats Chicken Bones

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Pickles just waltzed up to me with a big, empty Ziploc bag. Not a big deal, except that the bag previously contained bones from the fried chicken I ate for dinner. A speedy investigation revealed that Ty opened the trashcan, removed the bag of bones, ate them, and gave Pickles the bag to lick.

Enter panic! I called Ty’s foster mom who had him before we adopted him. She used to be a vet tech, and she’s my after-hours emergency vet every time the dogs do something stupid and I don’t know if it will kill them or not. “Oh, don’t worry,” she drawled, “my mastiff Duke ate a whole Cornish hen one time and he was fine.”

Apparently the dog whose stomach and intestines are ripped by by splintered chicken bones is actually pretty few and far between. My official instructions are to keep an eye on him and see if he acts weird or throws up. If he throws up once, it’s probably from the greasy fried-ness. If he throws up multiple times, something is wrong. He will poop the bones out, so I’m supposed to watch for bones and blood in his stool. A little blood is no big deal — probably just a scratch —  but a lot could be a puncture. And if he doesn’t poop at all, he might be plugged up and need to have them removed.

Let’s hope for no vomit, no blood, and smooth, natural removal of the bones.

Now, to find a new home for the trash can…