Okay, he’s not totally a puppy at this point. This lad is HUGE, 15 months old and is going IFT (in for training) as of September. And he’s a good 70 pounds of love bug.
He gets a bit hyper when meeting people, but otherwise, dang, all he wants to do is declare his undying devotion to you. Here we go with yet another dog we’d happily keep.
As summer progresses, it’s a rare week we don’t puppy sit a guide dog in training. We don’t have other dogs, so the fact these puppers aren’t neutered until they’re a bit older (I gather the hormones help strengthen bones and other things). Also, being a dog-free household means we don’t have issues with upper respiratory infections, a common issue throughout doggy-land everywhere.
There’s just one problem.
Yes, the cat who redefines the term “resting bitch face”.
It’s kinda strange how she immediately understands the extent to which she’s comfortable interacting with the different dogs who visit. Some, we scarcely see her except when she’s trying to rip our legs open to express her fury as the dog is clearly debating fava beans and Chianti with his feline meal.
Others, we’re sure if they stayed a bit longer, MaeMae and whichever puppy would be reasonably happily interacting with each other. After all, she and Miss M used to sleep together. However, our average visit seems to be less than a week.
This one, though, he’s got good manners and if he thinks something is inappropriate, by gum, he’s not gonna do it. He dropped a toy in the shower by mistake and looked guiltily at Beloved, showing he needed her help to retrieve it.
So, with my office, all the puppies are dying to go inside. I eat lunch in there, so there’s usually some kind of interesting smell (to them) and it’s somewhere different, right?
Puppy: I no go in there
Me at my desk: It’s okay, you can come in.
Puppy: Noooooo that squirrel said I wasn’t to go in there, so I’m not
Me, sighing: MaeMae!
Cat: I do not want that beast slobbering in my room.
Me: YOUR room? It’s MY office.
MaeMae, silent but giving side eye, scowled.
Me: c’mon, puppy.
He put two paws in. The cat growled. He removed himself.
We found the two of them at the top of the stairs, MaeMae almost in the office and the puppy about two feet away, just… looking.
MaeMae: BUG. OFF.
Puppy: I’m going, no problem.
MaeMae: Beast.
She sat on my desk and bitched up a storm. He lumbered off downstairs.
That evening, as usual, he was gently snoring by Beloved’s side of the bed, which is on the far side from the door.
MaeMae landed on my lap and settled, then cocked one ear.
MaeMae: what th’ f🤬ck?!
Me: what?
MaeMae: why’s it not crated?
Beloved: Ssssssssshhhh don’t wake him up, just be quiet.
Puppy, stretching: uunnngh
Me: aww dammit.
Beloved padded out to the bathroom and the puppy stood up and staggered after her, not looking back.
MaeMae stayed where she was but those ears and hackles were up.
FWOOMP as the pup hit the floor, not looking around, waiting for Beloved to reemerge.
The cat growled.
The dog’s apparently deaf.
However, he heard Beloved come out of the bathroom. Looked up, I swear, with one eyebrow cocked.
Beloved: you ready to go in your crate?
Puppy: yeah, sure
Cat: good, lock him up. That way he can’t hurt anyone.
The dog looked at the cat, incredulous.
Puppy: I’m going in the crate so you’re okay with being in here
Cat, looking skeptical: you need to be locked up.
Puppy: whatever
And he rolled over and passed out. This guy is amazing. He knew what MaeMae needed to feel safe and he did it. He’s going to be the best guide/service dog.
Examining Misadventures 