Ask and ye shall receive.
Tenfold.
I had told Christy I would help out at an adoption fair this morning in Kenneth Village (wicked nice section of Glendale), so I already had plans to get some dog time in. But then Christy emailed me on Thursday and asked if I would be available to pick up three puppies from LAX Friday at 3:15 and then keep them overnight them until the adoption fair.
I had to turn down acting as airport shuttle driver due to being at work, but I said yes to the overnight. I would have been happy with one. I could handle two if need be. But three? That's how much of a canine addict I am: I said yes to the challenge.
Two are easy because they can entertain themselves, and if there's an altercation, you need just separate one (usually by simply picking her up). But a third dog adds an exponential level of challenge. While picking up one pile of poo, you not only have to catch the other one peeing elsewhere, but also watch the third one eating fuzz off the carpet.
The three dogs from Mexico who were on their way to Canada had no names when I met them. Over the course of the night, I made up ones because yelling "Hey!" to them all seemed even more ineffective. This one I named Shia:
There's no reason for it really; she just seemed like a Shia. She could easily play alone, or get into the fray with the other two, and didn't need or want to cuddle. She was content to sleep in the crease between the couch seats, and was no trouble at all.
Which was unlike the black and tan one, who I was told was a boy, and acted as such. But alas, it turns out she's just one tough female bundle of mischievousness. When the three piled out of the crate, she was the first one on my lap, her long tail swishing the air in a gangly ungraceful way, her Bassett hound feet padding across me. I adored her. I christened her Loki when I thought she was a boy, and I think it still works even though she's a girl. And, of all three, she responds most often to her name. (Or perhaps she just figured out my tone of voice was 99% directed at her to stop whatever nuttiness she was into at that time).
Loki's main source of entertainment was to beat the crap out of the runt, the little girl I didn't come up with a name for until she left: Charmaine.
Loki enjoyed the play--with either one of the other two. Shia and Loki were well-matched; sometimes one would win the wrestle, sometimes the other. But with little Charmaine, Shia and Loki would gang up, sometimes cornering her and be so rough with her that she would whine and nip. I could tell Loki and Shia were playing, but Charmaine didn't like the game. And yet, even after being flipped over onto her back and her leg gnawed on, she would try a surprise attack on Loki, only to be toppled once more.
I can watch puppies play all day, as can many people. Hence why those puppy-cams are so popular on the internet. It's far more entertaining than any show on television. As much as I wanted to step in to help Charmaine, I knew she was learning how to play, learning bite inhibition, and that maybe, just maybe, this would toughen her up. I hated to see them gang up on her, and it made me a little less loving toward Loki, but play is how we learn. Charmaine had to learn to stand up for herself. She wasn't in physical danger; I could tell Shia and Loki knew when to stop, but when Charmaine's lip curled and she backed up against the wall, I knew they had gone too far.
And of course all this play makes for a desperate need of naptime. So, one hour of chaos, then two of rest. Not a bad schedule.
I really did think Loki was a boy, not just because I was told so, but because she was independent, a bully, and kept to herself during sleep time. Shia just got cranky when she was sleepy and growled at Charmaine if Charmaine wanted to be near Shia while she slept. Shia discovered the comfort of the couch first, and Charmaine followed. They didn't need or want to be on my lap; they just wanted my couch.
Loki was on the floor, half asleep and half-playing with the empty paper towel roll I had given her (make enough pee for a human to clean up, you get a free toy: the empty paper towel roll). I sat on the couch with two puppies next to me and one on the floor. All this and no dog on my lap. When puppies sleep, they sleep. Gone from this world. So I reached down, picked up Loki and got my much-needed canine cuddle time.
By 11pm, I thought we should all be heading to bed. One by one, I placed the pups back into the giant airline crate (they weren't leaving the couch on their own accord).
They were still sleeping when I pushed the crate into my bedroom and went to bed.
I didn't sleep well; not because of crying and whining, but from just hearing the sounds of them inside the crate, moving about. At 5am, almost on the dot, the rustling became more urgent and was accompanied by a few grumbles and whines. I turned on the light to see all three of them lined up at the front of the crate.
It had been six hours, so I suspected perhaps they did need to pee. Christy had left one slip-lead for me to use, and I didn’t have any collars or leashes small enough for them, so I pushed the airline crate back to the living room, and attempted to grab one puppy at a time to take them outside. Little Charmaine was the one I got. I put on the slip-lead and stepped out of the apartment to see if she'd pee outside.
Of course not. She was more interested in understanding this piece of line wrapped around her neck and attached to me. Perhaps it was a toy. Or an annoyance. Either way, this took precedent over urinating. So about twenty seconds later, I stepped back into the apartment, put her down, and she peed on the Pee Pad. I was actually excited.
Seeing no point in trying the same technique with the other two, I let them out and hoped they would be drawn to the Pee Pad and where Charmaine already went.
That was a silly idea.
5am and I'm half into another roll of paper towels. The thing about puppies is that by the time you grab them and put them on the Puppy Pad to pee in the right spot, they're already done going.
While I got a bit of food ready for them, Loki took a dump in the living room. Charmaine used the Puppy Pad for her defecation. And Shia didn't seem to have to go, but instead was finding miniscule pieces of things in the carpet to eat.
I understood how Loki became the big dog and Charmaine the tiniest. Loki ate the fastest, and therefore got the most. Charmaine got the least amount of food because while she was still on her fourth piece of kibble, Loki dove in to scoop up ten more of her pieces. (All of this is terribly unladylike, hence the continuation of belief in Loki being a boy).
After the food all disappeared, it was time for play again. I felt like a babysitter. When I have one dog at a time, I play with them, cuddle with them and feel the need to keep them entertained. But with three dogs together, they did their own thing, and I was merely the moderator. Forty-five minutes later, all three were back to the couch snoozing. I then placed them one by one back into the crate and went back to bed.
I thought I'd get a good hour or two out of this, but I was wrong. Forty-five minutes later the little whines began. Then the sound of a nose being pushed between the bars of the crate's door. It wasn't yet light out, so I could only see their shadows, and occasionally turned to them to tell them to stop it. Meanwhile, a little part of me hoped to get a bit of revenge on my upstairs' neighbor with the dog she claims to be "dog-sitting", but who is still here after three months. When a dog is whining or barking in your own apartment it doesn't sound so loud...but when it's not your dog and it's 6am, it's kind of annoying.
By the time the puppies fell back to sleep, it was time to actually get ready for the day. Christy and Craig had dropped off the dogs to me last night, so this morning I had to figure out how to get the crate out to my truck and how it was going to fit inside.
It was luck that they had given me the biggest crate that could possibly fit in my truck by putting the front seat down. The three kids whined the whole way to the fair, but they were fine.
At the adoption fair, which was a whole street fair/farmer's market, the Mexican pups got the front window of the pet store. The store had gone humane: meaning that rather than selling dogs from puppy mills, the dogs in their windows are from rescues and shelters. The three of them romped and played on the glassed-off stage as passer-bys stopped to watch. Christy's mom was Charmaine's advocate and brought her out when things looked to be getting rough in there for her. And Charmaine was quite pleased with the situation.
Shia and Loki played and slept and it seemed every time I walked away for a bit I returned to see that they had more toys in there. When Charmaine was returned to the window, Craig let Shia be on his lap and I went in to get Loki.
Loki lasted on my lap for only a little while, and then felt like sitting between Craig and me on the bench...then half on Craig...then half on top of Shia (who crankily snapped ay Loki, startling Craig). Shia compromised by allowing Loki's butt to touch hers, and Loki draped herself across Craig's arm, looking far less comfortable than being on someone's lap.
Four hours after the adoption fair began Christy was supposed to bring the three pups to their foster home in Beverly Hills for the rest of the weekend, but another one of the puppies at the fair had a potential forever home and Christy needed to do a home check. I didn't feel comfortable bringing the puppies to the foster home; it was one thing to drive a few blocks with the crate in the front seat; but a forty minute drive without being able to use my passenger-side mirror seemed dangerous.
So I offered to take them back to my place for an hour or two while Christy did what she needed to do.
The three amigas returned to my place and I let them out once more to play and eat and pee all over my living room. Charmaine really is a whiner. Not having a proper baby gate or x-pen, I used two wire shelves to block off the kitchen from the puppies. Charmaine bounced against them and they came tumbling down twice. The first time she shrieked briefly from being startled and then Loki came trotting over to explore. The second time it fell, Charmaine took it hard. I didn't think it fell any harder, faster, or on her more than before but this time she began her shrieking and just wouldn't stop. I picked her up and checked out her leg, thinking maybe it hit her foot since she seemed to be favoring it, but the shrieking was out of control.
The last time I heard such shrieking was from the little dog that got attacked at the dog park when I was there with Skippy. In the end that dog was just fine, and I hoped the same was true for Charmaine. The shrieking finally dissolved into whines, but it was a long enough period of time for Shia to make her way into the kitchen along with Loki to use the distraction to explore further and try to hide from me.
Two is manageable; three is a challenge.
And of course by the time Craig and Christy came to retrieve the three sisters, they were zonked out again. Half hour of chaos; an hour of sleep. Such is the puppies' life.
Good luck my little Mexican friends. Hope you had fun while you were here, and I hope you all get loving homes soon, either here or in Canada. I think it was a pretty eventful first day in America for you. Glad I got to be a part of it.
And I hope to have more dog adventures soon. Helping dogs isn't really a selfless act for me. I love it. I love spending time with them. They make me happy. Yes, they make me happy even if they pee and poo everywhere, tear apart my toys, wake me up whining at 5am, and have smelly farts they blame on me.
I was just telling someone at work that pictures of children and babies don't do anything for me--unless I know the kids in which case I can see the cuteness factor. But I don't feel the need to goo-goo and gaa-gaa over every picture of a human under the age of seven. Now a dog--a 10 week old or a 10 year old: I clamor over office furniture to get to the picture and knock people over to see the real thing when I hear there's a dog in the office.
If you're like me when it comes to dogs, here's some puppy cuteness to hold you over until my next adventure.:
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