Dirty Harry

(You knew that title was coming eventually, didn't you?)

First I shove pills down his throat, then I don't let him chew my boots, thirdly I admonish him for sitting on the coffee table, and now I'm giving him a bath.  I don't think Harry thinks I'm very nice.

Harry did reasonably well for not liking the bath scenario.  Course the fact that he weighs a mere thirteen pounds makes it easier on me.  If he was Miley, things might have gone down differently.

Have I mentioned that Harry likes to take a load off as often as possible?  This includes while taking a bath.  I was glad he wasn't scurrying to get out of the tub, but it's hard to wash his back feet and tail when he won't get his rump up off the ground.

Just when I thought for certain Harry had sealed the deal to not being my friend for all I've put him through, he got to experience the best part of the bath: being toweled off.  He didn't want to leave my lap.  When he did in order to stand up and shake off, he returned immediately to get another rub down/pat dry.  I was surprised just how white he had become.  He was one dirty dog.  In fact, for a minute I thought the tan coloring on his back might not have been fur color but dirt.

Without his collar on and his wire-hair sticking up to dry off, he was just the cutest puppy ever.  I couldn't get him any drier by sitting on me since I was wetter than he was, so I let him loose to run around in the living room and air-dry himself off.  And run around he did.

Cute puppy photos of the day:

And for those you who enjoy some action footage, here's Harry drying himself off (a.k.a. playing):





That's why he doesn't really need me around.  He entertains himself quite well.

Remember those piles of dog toys I mentioned?  Harry must have read my blog because he discovered them yesterday morning.  Despite all the toys, he still felt my Ariats and Nikes made even better playthings.  I had been working in my office for an hour before I came out to discover all the toys--and my shoes--strewn about the living room, Harry in the middle of the mess, wagging his tail every so slightly back and forth.

He had tested them all out and had a few chosen favorites.  I had gotten a rope toy that came with a stuffed chicken attached to it which could be un-velcroed if the dog pulled hard enough.  Harry seemed to enjoy this one as much as Squeakers (I don't know why, but I chose to name the little ducky I got him when I picked up the flea spray).  It was the white stuffed chicken toy though that made me realize now that Harry was clean, it wasn't going to last long.  Through the flashes of it whipping around his head, I caught the color of blood on it.  (Sigh).  Really?

Harry proceeded to spread it around a bit, so now he owns three toys in my apartment, and then perhaps felt a flea and chomped down on his own leg, making a nice red blotch on his snowy white coat.  Five minutes later I found the source of blood: his other bottom canine tooth was under the coffee table.

Speaking of coffee tables, Harry can no longer walk under it without bonking his head.  It's rather amazing just how quickly these little tykes grow up...or just grow.  He's gotten longer and taller in the course of just the few days I've had him.  He stretches a lot when he's sleeping and when he first gets up.  It's no wonder--his bones and muscles are changing every second.  Growing up is traumatic.  He's getting bigger by the minute, he's losing bones in his mouth, new ones are growing in (side note: the replacement canines are coming in fast!), and he's got to try to learn everything he can about the world around him.

I am no trainer.  I don't know how to teach a dog anything.  However, I might have inadvertently taught Harry poor language.  I can say, "Come," enunciating clearly all day long and he just stares at me blankly.  But if I casually say, "Come here" like it's one redneck word "Cumeer," he's in front of me in a flash.  "Lie down" or "Lay down" it doesn't matter which is grammatically correct, he just doesn’t do it. 

Harry's at an impressionable age.  He needs to be out and about with his canine friends learning to socialize, and with a human who pronounces commands clearly and can teach them to him well.

He's definitely feeling better, as I see a normal "puppy schedule" appearing: an hour of play and spastic running about, then three hours of rest then one hour play and so on.  But he still has that hacking cough.  I want to take him out to meet people, and granted he isn't the phlegm-fest he was on Tuesday, I certainly don't want to get other dogs sick.  I get annoyed when sick people are out and about spreading their germs without reasonable cause (i.e., they need to go to the pharmacy to pick up meds), so I certainly don't condone spreading canine germs.  Going for a walk and the pet store are necessary places I need to take Harry; but taking him out to meet friends....not so much.

Now that Harry's gotten into the toys, he has plenty to keep him busy, but I'd really like to show this little guy off in the general public.  Not only does it allow Harry the chance to meet people who might become his forever family, but it feels good to bring a smile to stranger's faces--and that's exactly what Harry does just being himself.