Maybe I Should Try Not Having A Dog

SUMMARY: Whenever Zoroo departs for good.

Backfill: date

I noted in yesterday's post:

Maybe I should try having an empty house, though [after Zorro is gone]. Maybe.

Have had at least one dog since shortly after I moved out from parents' to my own place.
Over 40 years. (Plus the family dog before that.)
Maybe it's time.

I don't miss my pups when I'm away from them.
I mean--well, yes, I do, but more like, wish I could snuggle with one right now.
Or, this situation is uncomfortable and I wish I had a dog with me.
So, bits and pieces.

But mostly I love the freedom to go where I want, when I want, and not worry about supplies or whether dogs are allowed or whether it would be challenging or worrisome for me to have them with me.
16 days I was gone in 2018, staying at hotels or friends' places, and I loved it. Me and my camera. Who is a much less demanding companion. (In most ways, anyway.)

I have said it--maybe time for no dogs--multiple times in my life--
Like, after Amber died.     (But then, eventually, Remington came home, making 2 again.)
Like, as Jake and Remington were aging.      (But then,  Tika came home, making 3.)
Like, as Tika and Boost were aging.      (But then, Chip came home, making 3.)

Maybe it's time to be free to travel anywhere in the world for any length of time and not worry about dogsitters. Or dog hair everywhere. Or having to ensure that they get the mental and physical exercise they need. Or the fun and love they need.

Devoting I don't know how much space in the house to them--dog beds everywhere, multiple shelves in various closets or cabinets filled with assorted gear and toys. Crates often in multiple places. Water bowls in various places. All of that. Crates and gear in my car and all over the garage.

I'm scared to actually add up how much space dog paraphernalia and ephemera consume.

And the yard--at least the current one--all that agility gear and all those limitations on landscaping so that I could do some real practice with the beasts. Not that I do much any more.

It's always something I think about after one of mine has died. Sometimes think more, sometimes think less about it.

So, just, not making a decision now. How long should I give my wound to heal? A month (It has been nearly 4 weeks already, hard to believe)? Two months? Four? Wait until I'm competing with Zorro? Will I ever actually do that?

What kind of dog would I want--another that I "intend to do agility with", as Chip and Zorro were?  A mellow dog? Must be smart, I think, and eager to learn.

But, aye, there's the rub: Those qualifications come right back around to "ensure that they get the mental and physical exercise they need. Or the fun and love they need." 

Enough on that for now.

Do not get another dog right now

SUMMARY: Don't. Just don't.

I got Zorro when it was just me and Chip not long after Tika and Boost died that spring

Even though I was adoring getting to know Chip better, I fell in love with Zorro's face (it was not like any of my prior dogs, but that wasn't it--), and I brought him home, and he sucked up so much of my attention, and I have thought often that it was an emotional mistake. I'm trying not to make that same mistake again.

But--the fear creeps in. The same fear that I first noticed 30 years ago,  two years after Amber died.

Old Amber

For those two years, I thought I was done with dogs. Heartache, exhausting, dust and mud and dirt and dog hair everywhere. But as my husky aged and declined--she was 14 already (who knew she'd live to 17!?). And then the fear--

Jim was inclined to get a dog from the shelter or an animal rescue place again rather than to find a puppy in the paper. (If we HAD to get a dog; he was pretty sure Sheba wouldn't be happy about it and maybe we should wait til Sheba wasn't around any more.) 

Told Jim that when we got back from Hawaii it would be time for ME to have another dog because i couldn't bear to have an empty house when Sheba goes to the great goodie cabinet in the sky. 

From my May 17, 1994 post, "How I Carefully Chose the Dog--And the Results"

But: I couldn't bear to have an empty house.
What if something happens to Zorro.
I hadn't expected Boost to die.
Maybe I should try having an empty house, though. Maybe.
Have had at least one dog since shortly after I moved out from parents' to my own place.
Over 40 years. (Plus the family dog before that.)
Maybe it's time.

Or, I could rescue a senior dog, one that's hard to adopt out. Or I could foster.
Could my heart stand either, when they'd leave so soon?

DO NOT MAKE A DECISION IN GRIEF. OR FEAR.

I miss Chip so much. His laughter. His affection. His fun.
And do not miss his flaws.

And Zorro seems like a better dog with Chip gone. Most of the time.

Still--I miss him so much.

Me Not Get In Car

SUMMARY: A sad, sad Chip.

Backfill: from an August 27, 2016 Facebook post

Human Mom wishes that she understood why, so often (but not always), Chip acts terrified about getting into the car. Really, we go plenty of places other than the vet and have hardly ever been there. (Zorro, on the other hand, you can't *keep* out of the car.) Poor Chipper.

He worries about so many things. He's a busy guy in the worry department. But so sweet.

On this day, trying to take him for a ride. To a park. (But he wouldn't know where we're going because I go to various places.) He won't even get in the side door, which is much lower, when he's in this mode. And I can't lift him without hurting myself unless I really need to get going, and yep it hurts.

Tail between legs. I feel so sorry for poor scared Chip, but I have no idea what the deal is and am not inclined to leave him home alone when I'm going somewhere fun with Zorro.

Nooooo please don't make me.

Don't make me (lying down, ears flat, tail between legs).

You cannot pull me towards the car; my feet are nailed to the ground here.

Finally pick him up and set him into the car (I'm in a hurry today and it's been 5 minutes already and he's in such a state that treats don't interest him) and, rather than stepping into the crate, he makes an amazing U-turn of his body and tries to jump back out.

He seemed quite happy to be at the park when we got there, and quite happy to get into the crate when it was time to go home. Who knows.

He'd been with me probably 6 months before I ever saw this, and it seems to be getting more common over the last 2 years, so it's something that made him decide that going places is bad... *some* of the time.

I have a ramp, and I look at that ramp every time this happens, where it's stashed in my garage, and keep thinking, no, don't want to haul that around and set it up and take it down every time-- but I'll probably give it a go. One of my objections has nothing to do with the dogs but with not wanting people to see that I'm leaving the house with my dogs. Without the ramp, I can load them in the garage. With the ramp, I have to open the garage door. Dunno, maybe a bad reason. I did it with Tika for a year or so, could do it again. But he's only 5, darnit, and can hop in very easily as far as I can tell. AND the ramp seems to scare him even more. We tried practicing walking on it while it was flat on the ground and you'd think that I was trying to force him to walk on red-hot coals.

No signs of him feeling ill or uncomfortable once he's in the car. Looks attentive and interested and alert unless it's a longer trip and he goes to sleep. It's not every time, either, getting to be maybe 50-70% of the time? And it's *never* when coming home after being somewhere.

I've been trying short drives to get them out of the car and NOT to the vet, places that they like to go, but it wasn't helping. Anti-anxiety meds? Keep thinking I'll look into something for fireworks. Maybe this, too, but have to consider whether dosing him up is worth it for the one short moment (or long 5 minutes) of getting him into the car.

He was a rescue, yes, but: No one actually abandoned him--I should moderate my "he was a rescue" to "he was a rehome from a home who cared about him." Yep, with Chip, it's hard to know. One morning on my way out the door to work, I bent to pet him with my keys in my hand and one of them came loose and swung at his muzzle. For a very long time he'd move away from me as soon as I picked up my keys. So, very true that something could have happened that I don't even know about, stubbed a toe on his way in? Bumped his head? Something that happened here but not anywhere else. Sigh. This is where I need a dog-brain-deciphering device.

Poor sad little doggie.

Perhaps It's Time for a Break

SUMMARY: Upcoming agility and current (if imaginary) tribulations.

I have 3 weekends off from competition, then one trial, then 4 weekends off, then a trial, then 3 weekends off, and our last trial of the year. Perhaps it's a very good thing that I have all that noncompetition time--

I'm standing near the Steeplechase ring, and all of a sudden the gate says "We're done!" and the course builders rush onto the course. "Wait," I say, stunned, running towards the gate, "I haven't run yet!" She shrugs, "Tell the course builders," and walks away. I run onto the field, where they're pulling down the ring tape and picking up the course numbers. "I haven't run yet!" I say frantically, thinking of two dogs and two dang entry fees for Steeplechase about to go down the drain (I also just realized with rising panic that I haven't walked it yet, but first things first). One course builder say, "Tell the judge," and continues pulling up the tunnel stakes. The judge is nowhere to be seen. I stand in the middle of the ring and cry out loud--

"I HAVEN'T RUN YET!" which wakes me right up. The dogs are intrigued. Me, big L on the forehead. Doh. Taking a deep shaking breath and reminding myself, "It's just a dream! It doesn't happen like that in real life!"

Yes, perhaps it's a good think I'm taking some weekends off.

But I did sign up for the course building clinic after all--