HARLEY - Six Years Old - and Counting...

I took down my Christmas trees today.  I was picking stray pieces of plastic and lint off the carpet when something caught my eye under my desk in one of Harley's beds(1).  I got down on my hands and knees, looked closely under my desk, and gasped.  Shards of glass glittered up from the brown and tan cotton-covered bottom of his bed.  I couldn't believe my eyes.  The *FLB had chewed up a glass ornament.

I looked at him.  He looked at me.  "What?!" he seemed to say.

You're probably thinking, "Well, did you rush him to the Emergency Clinic?"

You're new to this blog, aren't you.  No, I didn't rush him to the Emergency Clinic, and I probably won't mention it at his next vet appointment.  It's been weeks since I first put up the tree, and weeks since any ornaments would have hit the ground and not been noticed by me.  Whatever he's eaten or swallowed has been through his system and exited.  And, before you call PETA on me, I saw quite a bit of glass in there; it could be that he didn't swallow any of it.

Besides, sigh, this isn't the first time the *FLB has chewed on something or eaten something that should have, at the very least, made him really sick. 

He stole one of my granddaughter's small stuffed animal and hid it in his bed after one of her visits.  Sibling rivalry.  I found it and saw a small hole chewed in it and threw it away.  Later I was vacuuming the carpet and all of a sudden I heard, "clinkaclinkaclink" as a lot of small somethings rattled through the machine.  I stopped and, yes, got down on my hands and knees, and felt around his bed.  There were hundreds of small pearl-sized plastic balls next to his bed and in his bed.  Had he shaken them out of the little stuffed animal?  Probably.  If he'd sucked them out I think they would have been gooey with Harley liquids.  Had he thrown up recently?  No.  Anything unusual in his....spoor?  (Classy word, eh?)  No, but I don't get up close and personal with his...spoor.  I shrugged and cleaned up the rest of the little balls.

A co-worker and friend who has since returned to the Czech Republic (Hi, Luci!) created a beautiful and original Christmas gift with cookies and birthday candles.  I displayed it on my table under my Christmas tree for a weekend.  When I returned from work on Monday it was gone.  Not a gram of cookie or candle anywhere.  I interrogated the *FLB but he denied any knowledge of said gift.  I watched his...spoor...for several days and did see flashes of yellow, but chose not investigate further. 

When I brought this dog home from the pound he was one year old.  It was January.  So I celebrate his birthday in January.  The date is flexible; it depends when dog products go on sale and I find something inexpensive (CHEAP) and appropriate for the *FLB.  So far I haven't found anything that, A. the little guy wouldn't just chew and eat in one sitting (rubber/plastic), or B. something that the *FLB will use to spread stuff all over my carpet for months (braided rag chews).   His toys currently consist of :

1.  a small tire purchased by my brother that is advertised as INDESTRUCTIBLE and is made of tire-grade rubber.  I can vouch that, although the *FLB has invested many hours gnawing on the tire, it looks as new as the day he got it.
2. a rock that the *FLB stole from my office.  I brought the rock back from a beach in Nova Scotia.  It is a ragged piece of quartz and I was using it to prop open the compartment door where I keep my computer tower and modem.  Since both machines can run hot I like to keep the door propped open.  (Why did I buy a desk that had a closed compartment?  I don't know.  Seemed like a good idea at the time.)  So I used to use the rock to prop the door open, but I would come home from work and the rock would be missing.  I would find it in Harley's bed.  I finally gave up and let him keep it.  Although it does embarrass me when I have company and he brings out his rock.  "What's that?" they will ask.  sigh.  "That's his rock," I will explain.  "BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
3. a red and green un-stuffed thing from which all the stuffing has been removed and spread all over my house (I removed the squeaker); he just likes to chew on the fabric.

He used to have one of those really hard plastic Nylabones that's supposed to be safe for dogs, but I can't find it.

Uh-oh.

*FLB=Freakin' Little Bastard

(1)  In the Old Days dogs were lucky to have a towel or some other rag on which to sleep.  My childhood pets slept outside. Even Lassie slept on the floor at the foot of Timmy's bed - no special bed for Lassie!   Now they have dog beds and, evidently, one is not enough.  You should have a dog bed in every room so your dog will have somewhere safe and comfortable to sleep in every room.  (It's Me or the Dog)  Harley has a crate and 2 dog beds.  I am so politically correct. 

HARLEY GAMES - AN UPDATE

Harley sits and stares at me at every mealtime.  I say the "OK" release command.  He sits and stares.  Eventually he eats.  I figure he will get over this eventually.

Today when I got home from work he greeted me at the door as always.  After a quick trip outside to relieve himself he trotted back in and I heard....

...crunching.....

what?

I looked and he was eating his breakfast.  Granted, the dish was not as full as when I left it this morning, but....

....he saved this all day to make me think that he SIT AND STAYED ALL DAY???

Maybe he is winning.

I MAY BE DUM BUT I AREN'T STUPID: HARLEY GAMES

One of the first "tricks" or behaviors that I taught Harley was sitting and staying for his meal.  In order to eat he has to sit and stay until I release him with the "OK" command.  It is really one of the easiest things to teach a dog because you do it at least once a day and it involves what the dog lives for - MEALTIME.  No matter how bad the dog is or how wild or how stupid he seems, he can do this.  Before I ever attended a dog training class or watched "It's Me or the  Dog" or "The Dog Whisperer" all of my dogs learned this behavior.

From time to time Harley does bark or jump up and down while waiting for his meal.  I then remind him to sit, stay, and be QUIET, then I count to 3 (silently), and release him with an OK.  In his first year with me I would often test him by saying some other word with the same tone, then stop him if he got up.  Believe me, he has this command DOWN.

Several months ago I found myself repeating the OK command.  I set the dish down on the floor, said, "OK" and Harley just sat there looking at me.

"OK!" I repeated.  He then got up and walked to his dish.  This didn't happen often enough to make me even think about it, just often enough to make me repeat myself.  Then I found myself repeating the OK command more than once.  I started wondering if he was losing his hearing.  I didn't give it a lot of thought; I was usually rushing off to work in the mornings when this happened.

Then it started happening in the afternoons.  I would find myself saying, "ok", "OK", OK! Harley!  OK!"  before he would get up and walk to his dish to eat.  What was wrong with him?  Did he really not hear me?  Was I saying it differently?  I still didn't give it a lot of thought, but as it continued and it started to happen at each and every meal, I became annoyed.  I knew the *FLB could hear!  Good gosh,  he could be chewing on a toy in my bedroom and hear a dog walking up the street through a closed living room window!

It occurred to me one day that I NEVER have to repeat the OK command when I'm giving Harley a treat.  What?  A very nasty suspicion took root in my mind and I narrowed my eyes.  "Bastard," I whispered.  I decided to test him.

I touched the lid on his treat jar.  He ran out from my bedroom and jumped around me.  No hearing problem there.  I told him to sit and I used the hand gesture I had learned at dog training.  No, not that hand gesture.  Just a fist that you kind of dip at the dog.  He sat and wagged his tail so hard I wondered if it would detach itself and fly off.

I removed a dog biscuit from the jar and put the lid back on.  The jar and lid are ceramic so the lid always makes a sound whether you are taking it off or putting it on.    Harley started jumping for joy again.

"Oh, boy!  Oh, boy!" he thought as he jumped around my legs.

"Sit," I repeated.  He sat and wagged his tail as hard as he could.  His tongue hung out and his eyes watched that treat like a cat watches a mouse just before she pounces.

"Stay," I said as I put the treat on the floor.  He quivered with the strain of behaving.  He drooled and stared at the dog biscuit.

I stepped away a few feet and in a normal tone of voice said, "Ok."  Before I could draw a breath he had jumped on the treat and run off to the living room with his treasure.

"Hm," I mused.  Slowly it dawned on me.  Harley was messing with me.  For months Harley had been messing with me!  There was no other explanation!  I felt almost betrayed!  Almost.  I knew he was a little bastard, but I didn't realize he could really screw with my head that way.  The months of executing his little plan - what tenacity he showed.  Gradually increasing the amount of OKs he would get before he would eat.  DAMN.

Well, the jig was up.  That afternoon at his dinnertime I called him to the kitchen, told him to "Sit", put his dish filled with food down on the floor, and said,"Ok."  He sat there and looked at me as if he hadn't heard me.  Oh, the treachery.

I walked away.

I sat in my chair in the living room and looked back at him.  He was still sitting but he had twisted his head all the way around and was watching me.  I picked up a book and began reading.  Seconds ticked by.  Then I heard it.  Crunching.

Bastard.

This is my 3rd Saturday with no TV.  I don't miss it.  I think Harley (my precious little mixed terrier AKA the freakin' little bastard) is relieved, though, that I don't watch TV - especially on Saturdays.  I used to make him watch It's Me or the Dog on Saturday nights.  Victoria Blackwell - a dog trainer from the U.K. - would go into people's homes, observe the utter chaos that their dogs were causing, then sit down with the owners and explain how stupid they were being in spoiling their dogs.  She would then train them how to train their dogs.  She'd leave them after a couple of sessions to do it themselves, but would monitor them with a camera crew.  Then watch the footage and bemoan their mistakes.  Then return to chastise them, and urge them to continue training. 

Harley seemed to enjoy the chaotic bits the best.  He would run to the TV and jump up and bark at the dogs who were fighting or lunging on their leashes or tearing up furniture.  I think he wanted to join them.  When the training started he tended to get busy licking himself .  I would point out certain good behaviors I wanted him to emulate, but he would usually ignore me. 

The similarities between It's Me or the Dog and Supernanny cannot be overlooked.  The shows follow the exact same pattern:  Trainer/nanny arrives, observes chaos, sits down with owners/parents, teaches them how to train their dogs/children, leaves & monitors, returns for reinforcement.  My daughter used to let my granddaughter watch Supernanny with her, but she quit when she realized that my granddaughter was copying some of the bad behaviors - particularly the very entertaining temper tantrums. 

Maybe they should combine It's Me or the Dog and Supernanny.  Then the trainers and nannies could team up and help people who have both spoiled children and spoiled dogs.  I know that when my sweet precious granddaughter Kinsey comes to visit, and I put her almost 3-yr-old personality in my condo with the freakin' little bastard's personality, I never know what to expect!  Harley usually spends the entire time in his crate.  Kinsey wants to chase him around and torture him - which he does deserve - but if he ever hurt her then I'd have to kill him.  Since I don't want Kinsey hurt and I don't want Harley dead, I keep Harley crated.  Then, when Kinsey and I leave, I let Harley out of his crate, and he either pees in the laundry room, or poops in the bathroom, or tears up the garbage.  Or he just plots.

The other evening when Kinsey & I were working so hard on her potty training, I did not have Harley crated because I had Kinsey restricted to the toilet seat.  So Harley stayed in the bathroom with us and kept licking Kinsey's nose and she kept cupping his face with her little hands saying how precious he was.  It was so cute.  And so phony!  Those two are trouble and they can't fool me!  Luckily I've learned enough from watching past episodes of It's Me or the Dog and Supernanny to handle them both.