Thread: Rescue me
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Old 10-09-2013, 13:15:11   #8
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Join Date: Nov 2001
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Day One

Six won’t eat or drink at breakfast time. She wouldn’t drink anything last night either. We head out to pick up some Frontline and some decent food. My wife, who Googles stuff like “good dog food”, isn’t a fan of her current brand. The donated food from last night, which was good stuff, will do for now.

We’re gone an hour or so, and throw caution to the wind, leaving Six loose alone in the house. No problems while we’re gone. The Frontline goes on without a fuss. In the light of day, I can see flea dirt and it isn’t hard to find live fleas. Baby steps.

We go on our first real walk. We did about one hundred yards last night, and she wasn’t good on the leash. Today, she’s fantastic. I think it’s probably some combination of actual training and her being unwilling to go more than five feet from us. She’s alert, but not interested in exploring, she’s very between-the-lines. At home we work on the crate, she’ll stick her head in to take a treat, but no legs yet. Baby steps.

Early afternoon and still no eating or drinking. Kris hand carries a bowl of water from the (tiled) kitchen to the edge of the area rug in the living room Six already prefers. She doesn’t like the wood or tile. Even if she wasn’t chubby with overgrown nails, this could be a thing. Dogs like traction. Six drains two hand-held bowls of water. We leave the food and water within reach of the edge of the area rug. A short time later she eats and washes it down with more water.

She still won’t go do her business as often as I’d like. We take her out into the yard, and she invariably plops down at our feet. By the end of the day, I’ve been trained (see how that works?) to walk around the yard with Six following me. Eventually, the urge strikes and she wanders off a short distance and does her thing. I get an Aussie grin and she turns and “bolts” for the deck. It’s bad form to laugh at the fat girl running, so I switch to silly “good girl” noises as encouragement for relieving herself. Part of her accident problem is probably getting punished for going in the house, and just being let out the door and ignored while she’s outside. She doesn’t see the difference between inside and outside and assumes going to the bathroom at all is bad if someone sees you do it. We’re going to try encouraging the outside behavior and see how that works. I’m still not convinced it isn’t a medical problem, or just fear and anxiety. The few quarter sized drips she’s left around aren’t enough to provide any real relief. Is it weird to think that in her efforts to reach back where the fleas bite, she’s crushing her bladder and dribbling? The Visceral Fat Hypothesis.

Tonight I watched TV for an hour from a beanbag, and Six listed hard to port next to me, holding up a foreleg for a belly rub. She fell asleep that way. Attagirl.

Six managed two walks today, each less than half an hour. She was pretty beat after the longer evening one.
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