In the Summer, very few dogs stay outside during the day in my part of the country. They go out to pee and poop and even daily walks are almost always taken in the early morning hours as daytime is very hot and dusk is too warm for exercise. Frequently, snakes can be a problem.
Yet, one house where I sat was different. The dogs had a very large flat backyard, landscaped with stones, rocks and various desert plants. This was a home with two lovely energetic rat terriers. Paul, the male and Tina, the female. Those two little beings kept such good company and I enjoyed them the entire time I stayed there. But they could stay out doors all day in the Summer if wanted. I was concerned at first when their owners told me the dogs stayed in the back yard while both of them went off to work. But, soon found out that Paul and Tina did in fact enjoy the heat and seemed none the worse for wear. We would often sit in the back porch patio. Paul would patrol the perimeter of the walled yard, and Tina would stick close by me, wathcing the silly boy swagger around the yard.
I'd throw a ball for Tina. Quick as a flash she'd run after it out into the blazing sun. She was fast and loved retreiving. Her stubby tail would wag appreciatively and I felt blessed by her presence. But the heat never seemed to bother either one, and I too enjoyed a more natural way of enjoying the Summer.
Sometimes the three of us would go on an adventure together. They would follow me around while I watered the many palnts or hang up the fresh washed laundry. We all participated in dragging out the hose and spraying the sparkly drops around. The dogs played in the spray and seemed non the worst for wear. When I'd hang laundry, Paul and Tina watched my every move. I talked to them as an old friend would and we had a good time together.
At night, I'd drag one of the doggie beds into the bedroom, prepare myself for sleep while Paul and Tina watched me. Neither dog was willing to retire until I did. Then, once I was settled down, Tina would tunnel under the soft Summer sheets and Paul would burrow down into his blanketed doggie bed.
I learned later that rat terriers, chiuahuas and dashhunds all love to tunnel.
It was mid-Summer, Monsoon Season in Tucson and different dogs experience that phenonenom differently too. I sat for a storm adverse Laorador Retreiver during the monsoon season. This dog would not even go out of doors if the weather began to change and the clouds started rolling in. If thishappened, midway into our walk, He would turn around and there was no arguing with him. He was going home. His anxiety was so server he would dig in the corner of a closet or behind a chair so frantically, I could barely get him to stop.
I wound up sitting with him in a windowless laundry room, on the floor with the dryer going. I stroked him and reassured him while he stuck his nose betwen the washer and dryer. If the storm came at night, I would turn the tuv up, and talked to him for as long as he might need. Sometimes it worked, and we were able to forget the storm. Most of the time, he was shaking and panting the entire time.
If I left his side, he would immediately get more agitated and begin digging somewhere. My heart went out to him and I realized how important my job really was. Of course, the owners took him to a vet and he did receive a sedative for those times, but it was not enough and you really can't give a dog too much of such a medicine.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Close Calls and Harrowing Moments
When you house sit for dogs (and cats) it is a responsibility no less important than babysitting for a child. The owners of an animal are attached, dependent upon and definitely concerned for their dogs' safety and health and happiness. In fact, many consider themselves mommy and/or daddy. So I keep some iron clad policies.
1. Never leave the animals at night unless absolutely necessary and then for a limited period of time. (Daytime trips to the store, coffee dates, and various errands are ok under the time limits of what the owners say the pets can be left. In my experience this has varied from never to eight hours)
2 Keep to the animals scheduled feeding, nap, walk and bedtimes. This also helps with them staying happier and less stressed. The owners always notice when they come back that their “babies” are happier.
3 Be sure and get the name of the vet, emergency rooms and other contacts in case of emergency. Clients are always good about leaving this information
As you can see, I hold my responsibilities as important. After all, I am getting paid and much depends on the satisfaction of my clients.
You can imagine, then, when or if something happens to go wrong, what a stress it can be. Let me site just a few such “close calls and harrowing moments”.
GRACIE
Some dogs, Gracie the greyhound, being one of them, need to be let out at night on a regular basis. It’s not my favorite thing to do, wake up in the middle of the night or the wee hours of the morning, but I do it, let the dog do it’s duty and then stumble back to my cozy (or the client's cozy) bed and wait for them to wake me again for the morning walk, usually at 5:30 a.m.
One such night, I was awakened by Gracie not just rattling her chain collar to politely inform me “I must go outside now”, but to the retching and gagging noises that could only mean she was ill.
She was at the door, throwing up all over the rug and obviously very sick. When I turned on the light to my horror, the mess was bright red!!! Blood!!! How and what could that mean?? I was terrified. I let Gracie outside and tried to clean up the vomit. It was terrible. My heart began to race as I went over all the alternatives in my mind. Her owner was on a cruise. Difficult to reach. It was about 2:00 a.m. a bad time to call the vet, but I decided I should do that first.
I let Gracie in fully expecting her to collapse at my feet from some kind of internal bleeding. Instead, she trotted back to her doggie bed and calmly laid down as normal as could be.
Maybe I should observe her for awhile before I called the vet, I thought. I began to compose the message in my head. “I was awakened. . . she lapsed into a coma . . . her breathing is shallow . . . “ Of course none of these things were true except the telltale red stain on the rug and more vomit in the patio, also pinkish red.
Then I remembered. Her owner had left some pork for her to eat. It was left over from a bar b que they’d had the night before they left. She had mentioned. “I put some rub on it, but I don’t think it’ll make a difference.”
By this time, Gracie was sound asleep. She looked normal, a happy, healthy dog. Her nose was not dry, her breathing was regular. My frantic messages to owners and vets began to subside in my head. When I went to the refrigerator to look at the bagged pork, sure enough, even though it’d been cut up there was a reddish crusty look to several of the pieces. I explored further and found the rub in the cupboard. Papricka and of all things chili powder!! No wonder poor Gracie was sick.
Still, it was frightening while it lasted and I thanked the powers that be for sparing me the nasty task of telling the owners. Your dog died on my watch!
PACO
Another time I was certain I would have to tell an owner that her dog died on my watch involved Poco, the Chihuahua. We live in the Southwest, and there coyotes, scorpions and rattlesnakes are always possible dangers. On this particular evening, Poco and his den mates Friday and Ollie (two rat terriers) woke me again about 1:10 a.m. asking to go out. They were insistent with barks and much commotion. It wasn’t until I’d opened the front door to the fenced yard that I remembered – Coyotes!!!!
I immediately called the dogs to come back. Poco and Friday were frantically barking now at the far Southeast corner of the property, just where coyotes had a path from the wash behind the house to the rest of the neighborhood. Ollie dutifully came back expecting a treat, I’m sure, but Friday continued his barking only this time, Poco’s voice was not heard.
I immediately panicked. I remembered the owner had said not to let them out at night in the front. I’d done the unthinkable and I was certain poor little Poco had been taken by a fierce coyote who’d jumped the fence and grabbed the tasty little morsel.
Still, Friday continued to bark and not one sound from Poco. I was desperate now. I called loudly not caring it was early morning and the neighbors might be disturbed. Friday eventually came back, but no Poco.
I searched the house for a flashlight, cursing the fact I hadn’t asked about them before. It was dark out there even with the front porch light on and I wasn’t willing to go out until I’d dressed and put on a pair of shoes. I called and called for Poco as I maneuvered the rocky, naturally landscaped front year. I fully expected to find his little dead body or some telltale signs of his abduction. Nothing.
Sadly, with pounding heart I considered the options. This client had gone to attend a funeral of her younger brother and was in Indiana, two hours ahead of Arizona. I realized I was going to have to call her out of bed to tell her not only had she lost her brother, but she’d lost her dear little Poco too. And I was to blame!
It was one of the worst moments of my life. As I turned back to go into the house to make the phone call, there was little Poco sitting at the front door waiting to be let in. I felt relief like when one of my children had run out in the street and I was able to grab them before a car hit them. I was so relieved, but angry at the upset I’d just experienced. One more time, I had thought I’d have to tell someone their dog died on my watch.
FLORA
A sweeter dog than Flora I don’t know. She is obedient, loyal, happy and very, very cute. I don’t know her breed, she is one of those non-descript mixed breeds that works. Not a large dog, but not a miniature. A brown honey colored short haired lovely.
She also is one of those dogs who has to go out in the middle of the night and I could set my clock by her waking me at 2:15 a.m. each night. In her case, the spot to go pee was outside the fenced yard, and very dark as the house was in a natural area and private. I kept a flashlight near by and always leashed her as the owner’s had told me to.
This night, we went out as usual and she obediently went to her spot to do her business. Coming back to the house, she stopped and froze next to a patch of aloe and cactus. In another second she lunged, I saw the rattler poised and ready to strike and all in that same instance, I pulled her back away out of range. It all happened so quickly, I couldn’t believe it had happened at all. We ran back into the house. .As I relived the experience, it seemed a miracle she wasn’t bitten. But there we were safe and sound, back in bed none the worse for wear. The rattler was never seen again, and the owners did not have to be called to learn their precious dog was a goner.
1. Never leave the animals at night unless absolutely necessary and then for a limited period of time. (Daytime trips to the store, coffee dates, and various errands are ok under the time limits of what the owners say the pets can be left. In my experience this has varied from never to eight hours)
2 Keep to the animals scheduled feeding, nap, walk and bedtimes. This also helps with them staying happier and less stressed. The owners always notice when they come back that their “babies” are happier.
3 Be sure and get the name of the vet, emergency rooms and other contacts in case of emergency. Clients are always good about leaving this information
As you can see, I hold my responsibilities as important. After all, I am getting paid and much depends on the satisfaction of my clients.
You can imagine, then, when or if something happens to go wrong, what a stress it can be. Let me site just a few such “close calls and harrowing moments”.
GRACIE
Some dogs, Gracie the greyhound, being one of them, need to be let out at night on a regular basis. It’s not my favorite thing to do, wake up in the middle of the night or the wee hours of the morning, but I do it, let the dog do it’s duty and then stumble back to my cozy (or the client's cozy) bed and wait for them to wake me again for the morning walk, usually at 5:30 a.m.
One such night, I was awakened by Gracie not just rattling her chain collar to politely inform me “I must go outside now”, but to the retching and gagging noises that could only mean she was ill.
She was at the door, throwing up all over the rug and obviously very sick. When I turned on the light to my horror, the mess was bright red!!! Blood!!! How and what could that mean?? I was terrified. I let Gracie outside and tried to clean up the vomit. It was terrible. My heart began to race as I went over all the alternatives in my mind. Her owner was on a cruise. Difficult to reach. It was about 2:00 a.m. a bad time to call the vet, but I decided I should do that first.
I let Gracie in fully expecting her to collapse at my feet from some kind of internal bleeding. Instead, she trotted back to her doggie bed and calmly laid down as normal as could be.
Maybe I should observe her for awhile before I called the vet, I thought. I began to compose the message in my head. “I was awakened. . . she lapsed into a coma . . . her breathing is shallow . . . “ Of course none of these things were true except the telltale red stain on the rug and more vomit in the patio, also pinkish red.
Then I remembered. Her owner had left some pork for her to eat. It was left over from a bar b que they’d had the night before they left. She had mentioned. “I put some rub on it, but I don’t think it’ll make a difference.”
By this time, Gracie was sound asleep. She looked normal, a happy, healthy dog. Her nose was not dry, her breathing was regular. My frantic messages to owners and vets began to subside in my head. When I went to the refrigerator to look at the bagged pork, sure enough, even though it’d been cut up there was a reddish crusty look to several of the pieces. I explored further and found the rub in the cupboard. Papricka and of all things chili powder!! No wonder poor Gracie was sick.
Still, it was frightening while it lasted and I thanked the powers that be for sparing me the nasty task of telling the owners. Your dog died on my watch!
PACO
Another time I was certain I would have to tell an owner that her dog died on my watch involved Poco, the Chihuahua. We live in the Southwest, and there coyotes, scorpions and rattlesnakes are always possible dangers. On this particular evening, Poco and his den mates Friday and Ollie (two rat terriers) woke me again about 1:10 a.m. asking to go out. They were insistent with barks and much commotion. It wasn’t until I’d opened the front door to the fenced yard that I remembered – Coyotes!!!!
I immediately called the dogs to come back. Poco and Friday were frantically barking now at the far Southeast corner of the property, just where coyotes had a path from the wash behind the house to the rest of the neighborhood. Ollie dutifully came back expecting a treat, I’m sure, but Friday continued his barking only this time, Poco’s voice was not heard.
I immediately panicked. I remembered the owner had said not to let them out at night in the front. I’d done the unthinkable and I was certain poor little Poco had been taken by a fierce coyote who’d jumped the fence and grabbed the tasty little morsel.
Still, Friday continued to bark and not one sound from Poco. I was desperate now. I called loudly not caring it was early morning and the neighbors might be disturbed. Friday eventually came back, but no Poco.
I searched the house for a flashlight, cursing the fact I hadn’t asked about them before. It was dark out there even with the front porch light on and I wasn’t willing to go out until I’d dressed and put on a pair of shoes. I called and called for Poco as I maneuvered the rocky, naturally landscaped front year. I fully expected to find his little dead body or some telltale signs of his abduction. Nothing.
Sadly, with pounding heart I considered the options. This client had gone to attend a funeral of her younger brother and was in Indiana, two hours ahead of Arizona. I realized I was going to have to call her out of bed to tell her not only had she lost her brother, but she’d lost her dear little Poco too. And I was to blame!
It was one of the worst moments of my life. As I turned back to go into the house to make the phone call, there was little Poco sitting at the front door waiting to be let in. I felt relief like when one of my children had run out in the street and I was able to grab them before a car hit them. I was so relieved, but angry at the upset I’d just experienced. One more time, I had thought I’d have to tell someone their dog died on my watch.
FLORA
A sweeter dog than Flora I don’t know. She is obedient, loyal, happy and very, very cute. I don’t know her breed, she is one of those non-descript mixed breeds that works. Not a large dog, but not a miniature. A brown honey colored short haired lovely.
She also is one of those dogs who has to go out in the middle of the night and I could set my clock by her waking me at 2:15 a.m. each night. In her case, the spot to go pee was outside the fenced yard, and very dark as the house was in a natural area and private. I kept a flashlight near by and always leashed her as the owner’s had told me to.
This night, we went out as usual and she obediently went to her spot to do her business. Coming back to the house, she stopped and froze next to a patch of aloe and cactus. In another second she lunged, I saw the rattler poised and ready to strike and all in that same instance, I pulled her back away out of range. It all happened so quickly, I couldn’t believe it had happened at all. We ran back into the house. .As I relived the experience, it seemed a miracle she wasn’t bitten. But there we were safe and sound, back in bed none the worse for wear. The rattler was never seen again, and the owners did not have to be called to learn their precious dog was a goner.
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