New Dogs, Other Dogs, and Old Cats

I don't have a lot of experience with dogs. When I was five-years-old, we got our first cat, a big gray male we named Smokey (or Mudie, in Yiddish). I was in college when he died 15 years later. Rather than get a new cat to keep my grandmother company, my parents decided to get her a puppy. My father and I picked out two pups from a large litter of mixed hound-shepherds. They were lively and charming, and my grandmother loved them, even as they grew too large for her to manage. The neighborhood had changed during the years, and the dogs eventually became victims - one poisoned, the other blinded.

Except for a few months in a judgmental apartment complex in New Jersey, I've always had at least one cat. When Karen and I moved to the inland Northwest from Wyoming, we brought three cats with us, and when we moved to our place in Post Falls we inherited my mother-in-law's eight cats, for a total of 11. We also became responsible for Karen's mom's mixed Shepherd, Charley - perhaps the most self-centered dog in the world. Through our local vet, we found a good home for Charley, and the cats dwindled through age and illness. Readers of this blog know that we recently lost three of our six cats to coyotes and that on Sunday we adopted a four- or five-year-old Brittany. During the past couple of days we've found out quite a lot about Pepper, our Brittany, and animal relationships.

Pepper already understood the commands, "Sit," "Down," "Come," and "Stay." But, he complies better on a lead than off.

He's really four legs and a nose. Bred to hunt, Pepper keeps his nose close to the ground as he crosses back and forth along the trail we're on. This evening, he first smelled, then saw, some turkey hens and chicks about 120 yards away.

Big dogs can be dangerous friends. On this morning's walk, down near our spring, a neighbor's Australian Shepherd, Duke, came bounding up along behind us. Duke sniffed Pepper; Pepper sniffed Duke, and everything was fine - until Molly came down the slope followed by Theresa, her tiny owner. Molly was not on a lead, and I wish the enormous Mastiff had been. Molly's a sweet dog, but big, friendly, and clumsy. She rushed in to sniff Pepper, bumping into him; Pepper held his ground. There was no snarling, growling, barking, or biting, but Molly had blood on her nose and mouth, from what I knew had been a brush with a  fence a few days earlier. I pulled Pepper by his collar and Theresa pulled Molly by hers. We eventually got them apart, and Pepper and I continued our walk just as before.

Pepper's a world class digger. After he dug under two different gates this weekend, I drove 18-inch rebar spikes into the ground under the gates; today I saw he'd gotten one-fourth of the way down one set of spikes. I'm hoping the obedience class we're going to tomorrow will help with that.and with Pepper's issues with cats.

The first day here, when he broke out of the back yard, he ran our long-haired black cat up an apple tree. He stayed in two different trees for two days and nights (tonight Pete showed up in the back yard, and we gave him back his garage, where Pepper had spent his first night here). Pepper took a jump at Geordie, our long-haired tabby, and he's been avoiding Pepper, staying in one of the bedrooms or spending time outside. Pepper tried the same thing with our old tabby, Harry, and received a claw on the nose for his efforts and has stayed clear of Harry since.

Last night was the first night we let Pepper sleep in our bedroom, and he was great, curled up on the rug next to the bed near me. He slept through the night, and was ready for his morning walk. Today, we let him off the lead while in the house. He was pretty good, spending a lot of time with a rawhide dog chew I got at Wal-mart. Since then, I've read on the Internet some horror stories about them. Tomorrow, it's off to PETCO for some Merrick jerky bones and a pet door that we're going to install in our new garage, exiting to a chain link pen we'll build. This is going to be an expensive pooch.

My Dog Pepper

Between May 24-30, we lost three of our six cats to coyotes. It was heartbreaking, but life in the country has its own dangers, and the coyotes were doing what they do - hunting, probably feeding spring pups. I joked to a Facebook friend that my next cat would be a dog. And, it is. Pepper, a handsome Brittany. Let's just say we had a brief, intense exercise in computer dating.

On Friday, I Googled for the local animal shelters to see if there were any Brits available for adoption. All of our cats were adopted, so it just seemed natural, but the Internet has made pet adoption so much easier. My first hit was an older Brit, about 10. Having just lost three cats, including my favorite, I didn't want to lose a dog within the next few years. The second Brit I found on-line was blind. I just didn't figure I could manage her, especially since we'll be moving to a new house in August or September. The third wasn't really a Brit. The fourth was Sgt. Pepper, a handsome orange and white Brit at the Colville Valley (Wash.) Animal Shelter, about two hours away. I e-mailed Nancy at the shelter, asking her to call me to arrange an interview, and she called within a couple of hours. We arranged to meet Nancy and Sgt. Pepper (his shelter name) Sunday afternoon.

Karen and I drove toward Colville, stopping in Spokane to pick up Karen's son, Donovan; I wanted him to be available to drive back to Post Falls if we and the dog hit it off. Nancy met us at the shelter and brought Pepper to meet us. He was blur of orange white packed into 50 lbs. of muscle and fur, handsome, but with burs matted into his chest and leg hair. He knocked me down as I tried pulling some burrs from his belly hair, but I managed to pull a tick from the inside of an ear, and another from his neck. "He's a runner," Nancy said, and he was all of that. He raced around the compound until we could have a lead put on his collar and take him for a walk along a tree-lined path. Karen and I liked him immediately. Donovan said, "He's not the right dog for you - too much energy." We took him.

Donovan drove back, with Karen riding shotgun and me in the back seat, chatting with and petting Pepper, as we decided to call him. "That's a girl's name," said Donovan, referencing Pepper Potts, Tony Stark's assistant in Iron Man. "Pepper Johnson was one of the toughest linebackers in Giants' history," I replied. Pepper it is. He rode well, sniffing the air through partly-opened windows, walking around the truck, sitting, lying down. Never a bark. We stopped at PETCO and bought a new collar, lead, food dish, dog food (he hates Blue Buffalo, it turns out), tennis ball and launcher, and a tag engraved with his name and our phone number. We took him into the store and he behaved like a real gentleman.

Upon arriving home, we fixed up a bed for him in the garage and took him for a walk. He immediately treed our black cat, Pete, who's since moved to another tree. We quickly found out he's a master digger, tunneling under two different gates to the fenced-in back yard on two different days. He spent Saturday night in the garage. Early this morning, I fed Pepper, leashed him up, and took him for a tour of our property, walking him all the way to the top and back down. Like a good spaniel, he walked with his nose, crossing the trail, back and forth, stopping when he thought he smelled something interesting. He understands "Sit" and "Walk," but I'm going to enroll him in obedience training ASAP. After the walk and his second escape from the back yard, I went to Lowe's and bought 40 18" long, pointed rebar, and drove them into the ground below the gates so he couldn't tunnel under. We'll see how that works tomorrow.

 Pepper had a grand day, meeting our two remaining tabbies, who took him mostly in stride; getting his distemper and parvo shots, as well as a subcutaneous chip; going on a tour of the house with Karen, and going for a long walk in the rain with us this evening. Tomorrow, I'll get him registered with Kootenai County Animal Control, and we can settle in to building our new family dynamic. As Rick said to Louis, "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."