Last Tuesday and Wednesday were bad dog days. Due to the rainy evenings, Scott had been unable to take the dogs to the park or walk Hobbit around the neighborhood. Ella handles this with grace. Not Hobbit. Tuesday morning he woke up with trouble on his mind. We followed our normal routine of Hobbit proofing the house, so we could have a relatively peaceful breakfast. (That's Hobbit at right, taking a coaster off the game table. He's eaten eight coasters, may they rest in peace, leaving us with two badly chewed ones.) I put the nubby plastic rug runner on the bed, to prevent him from jumping on it. He does that purely to see what's on the bedside tables that might interest him. I shut the closet doors where the delectable bedroom slippers are. I make sure the TV room door is shut, where my husband, the nightowl hangs out and is sure to leave things scattered. I push the chairs tightly under the dining room table, so that I can safely set my cereal bowl, newspaper and glasses on there. Then, I sit down to eat. Hobbit has had his breakfast and been out to do his business, but it's clear he wants something. When I fail to pay attention to him, he hops on the chair behind a quietly sleeping Ella. He pounces on her back and begins pestering her to play. She tells him no, but he believes in his powers of persuasion and accelerates the attack. Finally, she gets out of the chair and now they are seriously arguing. I break them up, but this scenario is replayed multiple times over the course of an hour.
Hobbit's next victim was a pen, one of his favorite munchies. He eats a pen a week, minimum. This is usually my fault for forgetting to push the office chair far enough away from the computer table to keep him from standing on the chair to elevate himself to the appropriate height to do a desktop search. This particular morning, I tried cajoling Hobbit out of the pen. No way. I picked him up which sometimes causes him to drop what's in his mouth. We long ago gave up on other methods that had been suggested. When he has something of value in that Jack Russell jaw, he will not surrender. And that day, Hobbit was set on eating this pen. I tried taking a firm grip on it and that's when he got snarly. He snapped at me and I lost my temper. I yelled no and closed him in the office so we both could cool off.
Later that day, I was able to reflect on the situation. I was discouraged at how quickly Hobbit reverts to old behaviors when he isn't getting the type of exercise and attention he needs. I also knew that I could have handled the morning better. I've grown used to the more manageable dog that Hobbit's become the past few months. But when I look back, I see the huge strides he's made. For the first 9 months, a normal day with Hobbit required my attention every minute. He never relaxed, never stopped looking for things to chew up, and was a blink away from reacting with a bite. He is also the hardest dog I've ever tried to housebreak. (Yes, I am still trying) So, when I put things in perspective, last week wasn't too bad. Victims were limited to two pens, two pencils, one sock, some wood paneling and a springy door bumper that never fails to amuse him. There was only one accident on the floor to clean up and we only had one bad fence encounter with the Boston Terrier next door. Ella didn't enjoy his snarly mood much, but she's a very forgiving girl. And in her day, Miss Ella destroyed two couch covers, three pairs of pajamas, a legion of socks, and every strip of bedding we put in her crate. She was, thankfully only attracted to cloth and that period had a short duration. Cheers to all of you who are dealing with newly adopted young rescue dogs! Keep the faith, love and good training pay off in the end. As a matter of fact, last week inspired me to work with Hobbit to teach him to give up the pens, so that problem will go away sooner. I'll let you know how many pens it takes to accomplish this feat!
