Tales of a Dogsitter - HOW MANY DOGS?

I have so many dogs tonight that I had to write a blog and do a roster to figure out who is here. It is midnight and I just finished the doggie treats. My kitchen space is small so I have been tripping over dogs because they insist on lying by my feet wherever I am, at least six of them. Every time I turn around I either trip, fall, step on a tail, stub a paw or something. I find myself shuffling along, rather than walking. I know it sounds like an absurd way to live, but I just keep smiling and drinking wine.

I’m having an 8-dog night in the bed as we speak. A webcam is a good idea but I don't have time to deal with it, as you can well imagine. At last count there were 16 dogs here, 17 until one of the owners got off a boat for the night, picked up his dog and will return him tomorrow. Of course it was the one dog that is the least amount of trouble. Will any others leave? I think maybe one dog goes home tomorrow, and there is a mass exit on Sunday, but then of course more are coming. I don't even try to figure it out anymore, I just go with the flow.

Summer has finally hit Homer a bit late this year, as it is the middle of July already! There is mucho snoring going on at TBTB tonight, where there is now a mix of Big Dogs & Little Dogs. The roster for the big guys is: Bear, LeLu, Mikey, Teddy and Buddy. That leaves the little guys: Cammie (pint-size), Joe Moore, Yeager, RockDog, LucGoose, WoodBoy, Zippy, Anne, BunBun Roush, Gracie, and Tigger. With the current head count, breakfast should be a hoot in the morning. Am I insane, or just a little weird? Sometimes even I wonder? But, I’m having a ball, and I think that’s what life is truly about.

Woof! Woof!

Tales of a Dogsitter - Love at First Sniff?

Buddy a red and white Australian Sheppard arrived in camp today from Washington state. His dad Carl is obviously a truck driver, pulling in the driveway in the cab of a loud semi. They were greeted by a group of barking dogs on the deck that wondered what the vibration and noise was all about. I could tell that Buddy was well trained, reluctantly coming on the deck when told to do so but not particularly happy about being left behind. Carl said Buddy would be on a food fast and not to worry if he didn’t eat for his 36-hour stay at TBTB.

Buddy seemed secure hanging out on the deck, being pretty much of a loner after completing the required doggie handshakes - allowing his butt to be sniffed by all the dogs in camp. He was obviously not interested in the camp thing, and certainly not responsive to any treats, albeit liver. Ahhh, come on. All dogs love liver – not Buddy the Aussie.

His entire attitude changed when he saw HER. Yeager, an adolescent black lab mix with white socks, sauntered onto the deck, walked up to Buddy for a sniff then turned around and walked off. Buddy's eyes glazed over and he began following Yeager wherever she went, grabbing a sniff every chance he got but each time he tried to mount her, she snarled in his face putting an end to that nonsense early in their relationship.

For the next day and a half, Buddy became Yeager’s shadow. She liked him but also liked to romp with the other dogs in camp. He seemed okay with that, content to stand back and watch her flirt and frolic with the others. At mealtime they were fed side by side and he would watch her eat her bowl of food and then continue by eating his. He seemed to have little interest in anything but her. Carl was right; Buddy didn’t eat a thing while he was at TBTB.

When Yeager was crated at night, Buddy would lie beside her crate and wait patiently for the morning when she would be let out and they would sashay out for their morning pee. When we did our usual 10-dog walk Buddy would lie in the bushes at the top of the driveway watching us until we returned as he resisted being part of the pack. He would then jump out when he saw Yeager prancing down the road near the driveway. What a pair they were.

Carl came to get Buddy the following afternoon and although Buddy was glad to see his dad, he was reluctant to leave the deck. From the outside of the fence he jumped up one last time and Yeager jumped up from the inside so they were nose to nose. Buddy licked her face once, then turned and ran into the cab of the semi – saying his final goodbye I suppose.

It was interesting to watch their behavior. Buddy was totally taken by Yeager and although she enjoyed the attention, she didn’t appear quite as infatuated. I wonder if this was a case of Love at First Sniff for Buddy Boy? It sure looked like it! There is never a dull moment at TBTB Dog Camp.

Sniff! Sniff!

Tales of a Dogsitter – Jump & Grab, AGAIN!

Baking, baking, baking. Healthy treats for my canine friends such as Energy Barks with Granola and Molasses, Puppy Dog Eyes with Carob and Peanut Butter, and Liver Bites with – Liver! It has been quite a process, especially the Liver Bites. Once they are baked on a cookie sheet they must be cut while hot and then dried in the oven for another few hours on low temperature – to make them crunchy.

Everyone is exhausted from watching me – complaining that begging is hard work. I have shared with them no matter what they say. Now it’s late, I’m hungry and it is time to take Zippy out for her final pee of the night. Being on permanent restriction requires a leash. We are quick about it but apparently, not quick enough. When I return I see Anne in her crate with just her butt sticking out, and RockDog right on her tail growling and trying to shove his way into her space. “Anne, did you get my food?” I said aloud as I search and see my sandwich still on the counter. Good thing, I haven’t eaten all day.

I can tell something is up by the way these two chowhounds are acting. I reach in the crate and grab Anne’s collar to back her out, as she growls and struggles to stay inside. I also pull RockDog back because he is very anxious to get into the crate if he can only push her out of the way. Finally I shove them both aside to investigate and that is when I see it, the remains of one of the cute little paw print bags used to package the treats. The torn bag has gaping holes all over and only a few crumbs left inside. Obviously we are back to the jump and grab routine. Just when I think Anne is trained to not do it, she strikes again. In two minutes flat she leaped up to the counter, snatched a bag on her way down, took it to her crate (but not without RockDog noticing) and consumed part of the bag and most of the liver bites before I knew it. Of course she went for the Liver, the most expensive treat. She is definitely no dummy.

Anne is now a snoring dog, right beside RockDog who essentially ratted her out with his over-the-top behavior about food. Had he not been so persistent to get in the crate with her, I doubt I would have noticed one small bag of missing Liver Bites. As it were, she got busted. But the smirk on her sated face told me it was well worth it. And I have no doubt she will do it again in a heartbeat, first chance she gets. Anne is an opportunist at heart.


Woof! Woof!

Tales of a Dogsitter - Little Dog Day

There were 13 dogs when I got up this morning at 7AM; my six plus two old English sheepdogs and their sister LeLu (senior yellow lab), three Schnauzers and Boulder, a wonderful big black terrier mix. Shortly thereafter Forty-West arrived for day care – 14 in the kitchen waiting for their breakfast of organic kibble with a scoop of oatmeal mixed with eggs and a banana, all covered with homemade organic Greek yogurt.

It’s a process preparing bowls and some dogs are more patient than others. RockDog is so excited he can’t sit still causing the other not-so-patient dogs to begin whining and wiggling. It’s contagious so very soon there is a pack of 14 excited dogs creating mayhem at the food counter, pushing and shoving each other and me. I stop long enough to run the offenders out to the deck where they can wait for their breakfast, away from the food. Ahhh, now back to some semblance of order in the kitchen. It takes much longer to actually prepare the food bowls than it does for them to clean them, especially the labs and English cocker. No sooner do I set the bowl in front of their slobbering jaws when presto, it is inhaled. How do you guys do that? It’s like you breathe it in.

The task then becomes to separate the chowhounds from the slower, I-like-to-enjoy-every-bite eaters. I shove the finished crew into the bathroom or back deck to allow for the others to leisurely pick at their breakfast ensuring there is no cause for snarling or worse yet, a snit. Crowd control, that’s what it’s all about at mealtime.

Around 1 PM Maisey arrives, a black Scottie from Montana totaling fifteen and still counting. At 3:00 PM I drop the Sheepdogs and LeLu off at their house reducing the count to 12. At 5:30 Forty-West is picked-up for the day and Oliver, an adorable Cavalier Spaniel from Bend, Oregon arrives – mentally I note, one leaving, one coming still leaves 12 for the night, one less than last night.

Like magic the swinging doors at TBTB has produced a pack of small canines with one exception - Boulder, who tries very hard to appear small in the new crowd. He gets down on the floor and rolls over for them to sniff until their hearts are content. He is a gentle giant.

The roster of the day looked something like this: Boulder, Bear, Mikey, LeLu, Gracie, Tigger, Joe Moore, Forty-West, Maisey, Oliver, WoodBoy, LucGoose, ZipDoodle, RockDog, Ms. Anne & BunBun Roush. With this many dogs, especially since now we have small ones, I do have to make a list so I can be sure everyone comes inside after the evening walk.

The big dogs take up mucho space in the house but they are easy to spot on the trail. The little dogs are harder to see when they are all buzzing around the tundra but they do yip more and require lap time. Some such as Oliver insist on sleeping on the bed with my six dogs and me. Everyone finds a spot on the bed leaving the pillow by my head open for Oliver to settle in. All in all, I love both the big and small dogs alike. I really don’t have a preference. Life continues to be a howl at TBTB Dog Camp.

Yip! Yip! or Woof! Woof!
Depending on what day it is. ☺

Tales of a Dogsitter - Monday, Monday

On my way downstairs I pass the leather couch covered with sleeping dogs and realize it’s true what my friends say. If you are sitting on my couch, you are taking up a dog spot. I can't remember the last time, if ever, that I actually sat on the couch. If I did the dogs would be all over me because the fact is, like most everything else here, the couch belongs to them. Nothing is sacred in my house of dogs.

When I want some down time I get in my bed and work on the computer and/or read to get away from the hordes of them, but of course even there I have six dogs vying for position on the bed and it's a cluster until everyone finds their spot, circles twice and settles in. And then a lone dog that I won’t name has to be sandwiched in next to me, pushing against the computer eventually disconnecting the power cord. I shove him back a few inches so I can plug my Mac back in and then move my legs over a bit to accommodate his comfort. Finally all is good until I have to get up for something, which means of course everyone else gets up too. When I return to the bed the whole settling-in process is repeated. Once all that is done alas, I can maybe get some work done or at least feel like I can focus on something other than furry creatures that follow me everywhere including the bathroom insisting on being petted while I take a pee. It's exhausting, but also special. I'm not complaining just merely stating how it is at TBTB.

Today is Monday and the sun is out, the front door is open and the dogs are in and out racing on the deck. I am preoccupied with fixing their gourmet breakfast of oatmeal, bananas, and eggs covered with Greek yogurt, and when I turn around OMG. . . a blood bath. A trail of the red, sticky stuff is covering the floor from the deck through the dining area into the kitchen. All eleven dogs are licking, smelling and walking in it; there are blood prints everywhere - a likely scene from a horror film!

One of the sheepdogs has a bloody beard and front legs. I search his head, feet, and mouth along with all the other dogs and can't find where the blood is coming from. I wash the floors in the house, hose off the deck along with the dogs and call it good. The flow of blood has apparently stopped. The dogs just want to wrestle more, so obviously no one is seriously injured. All of this before I'd had my first cup of coffee/tea, or anything else for that matter.

A few minutes later after the final paw prints have been wiped from the floor, I look outside to see the sheepdog's beard again covered in dark red blood dripping off his chin. I grab my gloves, warm water, peroxide, and cotton balls, determined to find the source. After searching through the sticky wet fur on his face and head, I finally find a teeny scratch on the brim of his nose. It is so small that it is barely noticeable, but when I push on it the blood oozes out. So that's it! A micro-cut in an area without much skin, that bleeds and bleeds and bleeds. The vessels are so close to the surface that the blood flows freely from this tiny opening producing enough hemoglobin to simulate a massacre. With the mystery solved, the dog cleaned up and the alum stick applied to BearBoy’s scratch, at last it is time for a doggie breakfast and my first cup of coffee of the week! Bloody Hell, what a morning! ☺

Monday, Monday (ba-da ba-da-da-da)
So good to me (ba-da ba-da-da-da)
Monday mornin’, it was all I hoped it would be
(NOT)
Oh Monday morning, Monday morning couldn’t guarantee (ba-da ba-da-da-da)
That Monday evening you would still be here with me
Monday, Monday can’t trust that day
Monday, Monday, sometimes it just turns out that way . . .

Or, something like that. . . just another Monday in the life of a dogsitter!

Woof! Woof!

Tales of a Dogsitter - The Story of Bette Cocker

I was at Lisa Ann’s Grooming picking up my sweet WoodBoy, who incidentally loves his occasional spa day. Lisa greeted me with: “you know there’s a black cocker spaniel at the animal shelter, don’t you?” Of course I could have gone all day without hearing those words. She also mentioned that the dog was badly matted and volunteered to groom her for free if ‘someone’ would bring her in. Well, obviously that someone would be me. As I left the salon, Lisa matter-of-factly said: “you’re going down there, aren’t you?” as I nodded my head and left. She knows my connection to the cocker breed.

I put Woody in the car and drove directly to the shelter. Sitting all alone in a huge cage was an elderly girl, overgrown and matted with an uncropped, tangled tail. She looked big but when I touched her I realized it was mostly hair that made her look so large. The first thing I noticed was how happy she appeared with a perpetual smile on her face, and in the mist of the dog barking chaos surrounding her, she didn’t utter a sound.

Apparently she had been picked up in the parking lot of the Down East Saloon and had been at the shelter for a few weeks. There were no calls to claim her even after the daily announcements on public radio. She was now up for adoption but sadly there had been little interest because of her age. Enough said, I paid the adoption fee, put a leash on her and lead her to my VW Beetle. She walked perfect on lead with her head held high, tail swishing back and forth, and still the smile. I couldn’t look at her without smiling; it was contagious. She jumped in the car and sat in the passenger’s seat like she had done it all before.

She needed a name. I hardly knew her but after spending only a few minutes with her, one came to me. She looked like a Bette and when I added Cocker, it was perfect. She immediately accepted that as her new title. With that problem solved we drove directly back to Lisa Ann’s for Bette’s complimentary spa treatment. Oh, and what a treatment it was – she was transformed into a black beauty.

When I saw her I was flabbergasted – OMG, she looked exactly like a cocker spaniel with a feathered plume tail that floated in the wind. She was a bit overweight, but still priceless. I gathered her up for the car ride home to meet the gang at TBTB Dog Camp. I had already given myself the “talk” before I picked her up. I currently have five spaniels and a basset hound of my own so keeping Bette was not an option. My plan was to find her the perfect home and foster her until her human was located.

All the dogs at TBTB loved Bette. She was well socialized, always happy, mellow, completely trained and just the perfect girl. I couldn’t find a thing to change about her behavior. She was a joy – if I felt sad, worried or down all I had to do was look at that big smile to feel better. She spent the Thanksgiving/Christmas holiday season at TBTB and had a permanent spot on the leather couch in front of the fire. In the meantime I continued to search for her forever home.

A friend of mine had lost her beloved dog in a snow blizzard just a few weeks earlier. Cindy also has a black lab named SusieQ and was eventually going to get another dog. Two dogs are always better than one. I told her about Bette but she wasn’t ready; the accident had been recent and her emotions were still too raw. After a few weeks we agreed to meet at the beach to see if Bette and SusieQ got along – that was a no brainer for me as Bette got along with all living things! After a walk of meeting and greeting, butt sniffing and tail wagging, Cindy decided to take Bette home for a sleepover to see how it went. Well that was all it took. After six-weeks at Tails-By-The-Bay Dog Camp and who knows how many at the shelter, Bette had finally found ‘home’ complete with a big sister!

Bette has since become Bette Boo Cocker and is still smiling. Cindy and SusieQ adore her, and she is my Goddaughter and the Godsister of the TBTB resident pack. We get to visit her and she and SusieQ stay with us when Cindy’s out of town. Bette loves TBTB Dog Camp and all the dogs here, assuming her old spot on the couch when she walks in. But, she is always ecstatic to see her mom, and without hesitation is ready to go home where she and SusieQ share a doggie bed complete with TBTB snug rugs.

By doing some investigative sleuth work I was able to determine that Bette’s first name was Willow. She was given to a family when her original mom got a job in the states and could not take her with and, she is 12 years old. After a couple years with the new family she apparently wandered off, got lost and they never tried to find her.

During her long ordeal at the shelter, Bette never lost her love for life, her trust in humans, or her positive attitude. She has now found her forever home and her smile is bigger than ever! She looks great, feels good after losing a few pounds and is content to live in the moment. In fact, Bette Cocker is happy to just “be.” Thank you Cindy and SusieQ for opening you heart and home up to this beautiful older girl.

Woof! Woof!

Tales of a Dogsitter - The Huntress

She rushes to the back door around 6:30 AM each morning anxiously waiting the door to open, wildly wagging her stubby little tail. Outside she barks as she springs off the back deck into the weeds like a petit lapin. Her white wiggle butt quickly disappears in the underbrush as movement erupts and the birds began squawking in protest. She works tenaciously with her nose to the ground ensuring no bush is left untouched.

Focused on her mission I can’t see her, but I do see the bushes swaying back and forth as she moves under them. She has definitely connected to her purpose and doesn’t stop until all the birds are flushed out. She is a petite cocker spaniel, originally bred to flush woodcocks out of the bushes. She is the huntress, doing her job.

The job complete she returns to the back door, spent. Morning dew has drenched her blonde coat and her legs and paws are caked with mud. Big brown eyes look up at me as she patiently waits our routine. I tell her she’s a good girl and put her in the kitchen sink to rinse off the mud, leaves and sticks stuck on her belly. After her mini-bath and breakfast, she finds a spot to take a morning nap. Life is good at Tails-By-The-Bay Dog Camp for BunBun (aka Bunny) Roush.

Bunny arrived at TBTB Dog Camp over a year ago as a foster girl. She was rescued by Camp Cocker from a Los Angeles shelter and had previously been used as a breeder dog. She had multiple litters at a young age, and has had two hernia operations to repair the damage done internally. Bunny now has a permanent home with her foster mom. She lives on two acres with a pack of five other resident dogs, plus all the visiting client dogs. BunBun spends her days flushing birds, eating organic homemade food, begging for treats, walking on the beach and sleeping on the human bed. A special girl with a big heart, Bunny has a bossy disposition. She tells all the dogs who is boss at TBTB but no one really listens. ☺

As a dogsitter I have the opportunity to observe many different breeds as well as some wonderful mutts. It’s fasinating to watch dogs do what they were bred to do. Bunny has found her groove doing what cockers do best – flushing woodcocks. She can hardly wait for the backdoor to open so she can bark and pounce into the surrounding underbrush. Whether these are woodcocks or not, I don’t know. I just know that BunBun is ecstatic running through the brush flushing them every chance she gets. She is a happy girl that has definitely found her forever home. BunBun Roush will never see the inside of an animal shelter again.

Woof! Woof! ☺