Car Sick by Rebecca Sher

He is a thruppy-puppy,

My little Brady boy.

I put him in the car, and then,

the motion makes him green.

I check the rearview mirror out,

it is a nasty scene...

My poor, sweet thruppy puppy

is blowing chunks of kibble

I'm wishing that he didn't have

that last, brown, chewy nibble.

I'm working on ways to make the car ride a little less "bumpy" for Brady, who has a delicate stomach.  I learned that he must have a drink of water after a long walk and a few minutes to get settled before he climbs into the car. Then, I open a back window about half-way and drive verrrry slowly.  I pray that there won't be a classic Boston driver behind, tailing me so closely that I can see their tense expression and Red Sox rearview mirror ornament.

I've learned to go DIRECTLY home after a long walk or outing.  Making an extra stop to say, a cafe, or grocery store means trouble. When I see Brady drooling onto the back seat, it's a matter of 5-7 minutes before the puppy fountain spews. 

I hope his digestive system matures soon. We're planning a road trip to New York soon and I'm praying we all get there in one piece.

Meanwhile, Brady is a star student in puppy kindergarten!  He sits, he lays down, he comes when called!  (He slices and dices and cleans kitchen floors!)

He was a bit reticent with socializing, at first. There's a German Shephard who gallops about and a Collie who ignores her owner's every command (Down, Jade! Down, Jade! Jade, Down! Down!) As he hollered the useless command for the umpteenth time, Jade was springing up and planting her front paws firmly on my thighs. I had to get up and turn my back to her (suggested by the instructor, Martha), which slowly caused Jade to lose interest in me.

Meanwhile, Brady sat between my legs before tentatively, venturing out to snap up a plush Christmas ornament toy. He brought it back over and perched in his safe spot until finally, his courage grew, and by the end of class, he was playing with the other big dogs.  There are two bichon-poodles, as well. One of them invented a game, and called out with a high-pitched bark to let the others know when to pick up a toy and run with it. 

I'm hoping Brady will become more comfortable socializing with other dogs as a result of this class. Learning a cadre of new tricks would be nice, as well. 

Unfortunately, puppy kindergarten won't do a thing for the motion sickness...

All I Need To Know, I Will Learn in Puppy Kindergarten

Brady has grown by leaps and bounds. When we first picked him up in mid-January, he weighed 11 lbs. and I could easily pick him up and hold him.  I loved putting on Prince's song "Raspberry Beret". Then, I'd twirl him around and dance across the kitchen with him. I knew he enjoyed it because he'd wrap his tail 'round my back and lick my chin.

January 24 - About 1 month old

Now that Brady weighs 30 lbs., I can no longer pick him up and dance with him. In fact, the picture below was taken the last time I picked him up. Since his legs extend below my knees, I won't be surprised if he's picking me up in about 4 months!

March 12- About 4 months old

Though our dancing days may be over, he's a wonderful companion.  I love taking him in the studio, even if his attention span is short. After he plays with the kong and Aloysius, he looks like he's ready for something more interesting. Guess watching me work on the laptop just doesn't do it for him.  Luckily, he has some schoolin' to look forward to....

Next week, he starts puppy kindergarten along with a German-Shepherd, 2 Bichon-Poos and a Collie. The instructor, Martha, is a good "pack-leader" and an efficient, clear instructor. We took her classes with Chester, so I learned a great deal about giving alpha-messages to puppies a few years ago. This helped me to know how to get started with Brady immediately.  I reinforced  how to sit (Emily had started practicing this with the pups by the time they were about 6 weeks).  He's also learning how to take a tidbit of food from my hand without biting me. I hold the bit of chicken or cookie between my fingers and give the command, "Gentle Mouth" without releasing the food until he uses only his tongue and lips to get it.

The first assignment for next week is to teach him how to give me eye contact. I hold a treat up to my eyes and give the command, "Brady, LOOK."  The minute we lock eyes, he gets a cookie.  Martha advised us to keep training sessions short so that the puppy doesn't get tired out, losing interest. So far, we've practiced this one a few times a day for about 3-5 minutes each session.

This command will be key in getting him to pay close attention to my eyes as he learns more commands.

Run, Brady, Run!

Here is a photo taken of Brady on Tuesday, March 3rd, 2010. As you can see, he's smiling and the reason he's so gleeful is that he no longer has the runs!  

Sadly, dear Readers, our heroic puppy friend was suffering from a touch of "irritable bowel syndrome".  It started Saturday night 'round midnight, which is a rotten time to find oneself in a crate with a rumbling little tummy 'bout to go unhinged. 

Brady did what any self-respecting doodle would do. He yipped, or, sort of bark-yelped.  

Since he's always silent as a bleached sheepskin the whole night, it was rawther unusual to hear him make any sound a t'all, so imagine my surprise! 

 I entered the kitchen where Brady was beside himself looking as though he were ready to bust a gasket. As soon as I unlatched his crate, he went bolting, nearly airborne toward the door to go ow-ow-owooot. 

Now, normally I would go out the door first to remind Brady who the leadah 'o' da pack was, but, Readers, there was no time, due to the nature of his rush, you see.  

Out he flew onto the deck, down the stairs, to the grass, fast, fast, fast!  

 Then, poor Brady hightailed it back up the steps to the door, shivering a bit from the freezing rain that was coming down.

It was then that I sensed twas time to boil the white rice.

Like clockwork, he was up every 2 hours calling out for a "bathroom break".  By morning, I was wracking my brain trying to figure out what he'd eaten the night before. Was it the Iam's puppy biscuit I gave to him when I tucked him in? Did something drop on the floor during dinner? Was it the dried leaf he munched from the plant in our friends' home which we visited the evening before?

The next day, I bought a box of instant rice packets and a pound of lean hamburger. I boiled them and made a lovely melange which Brady gobbled up appreciatively in about 30 seconds flat. So, I made him another, and another....until it was time to take him out and examine his "product" again. Sadly, it was a shapeless mound, not at all the happy, compact log I was praying for. Oh, dear.

A friend warned it would take 2 days, so I must continue to boil the rice and burger. 

That night, Brady woke up, again at midnight and then at 2 am, same drill. At 4 am, I heard a whine and charged to the kitchen. Only this time, it was Sophie.

Alas, the old gal has osteoarthritis in her hips. Though she'd had her prescription meds after dinner (for the joints, you know), it seemed it was not enough. 

Isn't it the sandwich generation that cares for the young and the elderly at the same time? So, that would make me a sandwich- a very tired, soggy sandwich by 4:30 am when Sophie was walking in circles. I gave her a second pill lovingly wrapped in a bit of meat. 

Within a half-hour, she was asleep in her crate. I trotted off to bed, aching with fatigue.

Next day, I took Brady to the vet for his last set of shots.  Since he had the runs, Dr. Shephard said she couldn't give him his boosters. 

Despair. Now, he'd have to wait another week to go hiking in the woods and socialize with strange dogs-

She did give him a pill that would nuke any parasites that might've taken up residence in his little system. 

We trotted over to the front desk where I stood in line to pay the bill and Brady promptly mosied over to the black rubber Welcome mat and squatted. 

He laid down an impressive pile of logs that were only slightly runny while a lithe woman in tight, designer jeans stood next to me, agog.  She was buying pricey bags of cat food and announcing curtly that while my puppy was adorable, his brown "bomb" certainly wasn't. 

"He better get house trained soon," she sniffed.

But I was celebrating the fact that the rice concoction finally worked.