Collection

Amelia is growing up. And I mean that in all ways. To begin with, she is just getting bigger. At six months our terriers can now walk under her without stooping or crawling. She is long in the leg and now just beginning to fill out through the head and neck. She’s still long and narrow mostly. Her puppy belly is a thing of the past but she’s added a small layer of “insulation” against the chilly winter weather that is all she’s known. She still has the face of a puppy but it’s broadening to the point that we can begin to see the dog she will become. Her personality is developing too. She’s showing a strong streak of loyalty and she’s becoming a fierce protector of house and hearth. And her brother Cooper, especially her brother Cooper. She’s still determinedly independent but is equally likely to be in my lap while I office from home as she is to be alone in the armchair by the big front room window. She’s happiest when we’re all at home. Shari is a stay at home doggo mom so Amelia is rarely without human companionship but weekends and days I work from the home office are her favorites by a long shot. 

She is at a fun age. She still has all of the puppy exuberance and naughtiness but she now pretty much knows when she’s being silly-naughty and not destructive-naughty and she owns it pushing it until Boo, Cooper or Shari remind her that there are limits even for her. As she’s grown she’s become surer of herself physically, more agile, energetic and playful. After dinner play is a must if a good night’s sleep is to be had by anyone. She’s not very particular about her toys, she is a part of a house that has a lot, a whole lot, of toys. But she has a few standbys. An early favorite, Platypus, has fallen out of favor for the new “baby’ she got for Christmas, Otter in a Stocking Cap. But “baby” is not really for play, she learned from her brother Cooper that the designated “baby’ is for comfort and cuddling. At playtime, she prefers chasing her tennis ball, squeaking the stuffed critters that came with the stuffed tree stump or tug-of-war. In a pinch, her back feet are particularly interesting and somewhat vexing to her. She’s known to lay on the bed and give those uppity feet the side-eye just before attacking them and putting them back in their rightful place. She often takes that opportunity to check to make sure her tail is still back there where it’s supposed to be. One morning we were playing on the bed and I did the old got-your-tail routine with her. Her mouth dropped open. She looked around. As the panic began to settle over her, I quickly returned it. She’s never been quite the same since she discovered the world is full of magic. And that some of its dark.

Whatever the method of distraction you can rest assured that when it’s playtime she is unabashed about bringing over a toy and pushing against your leg or chest or head or face until you also know it’s playtime.

She is also very helpful. We’ve taken to calling her MeMe as a shorthand for Amelia. Often as not our house rings with someone shouting “not MeMe’s” as she’s running around the house with a sock, a slipper or Cooper’s “baby”. But she’s also been known to look at us with great concern when Cooper takes her “baby”… the words “it’s MeMe’s, it’s MeMe’s” clearly behind the frantic expression. 

In spite of her new long in the leg stature she still doesn’t know she can jump on the bed, the stairs must be used to get on and to get off. However, I’ve watched her many times at night when she thinks everyone is asleep slowly and quietly sliding down the stairs on her belly, back legs straight out behind her so as not to disturb or awaken anyone as she goes about whatever business she goes about in the middle of the night. 

Since we have the doggy doors in the bedroom and on the porch, MeMe often takes advantage of those surreptitious and clandestine trips in the night to slip outside with us none the wiser. But we always know when she returns from her prowls. She makes sure. The weather has been a particularly onerous brand of freezing hell in Ohio this winter. Luckily all of that stays outside. However, MeMe doesn’t. And when she does return to our cozy, toasty bed, everyone all cuddled up warm and dry, she announces herself with cold wet feet to the chest and a cold wet nose to neck. Of course, she is only being considerate. Just knowing that we’ve been wracked with worry over her whereabouts she is merely waking us from our dead sleep to let us know she’s home. She also wants a hug and for Shari to sing her the song she so recklessly taught her as a pup… “is your Noses Coldses? Oh, are your Toeses Coldses? Aw Poor Baby. Your noses is coldeses and your toeses are coldeses.” 

And yes, in spite of it all she is still her Mom’s Sweet Pea, my Sweet Girl, and everyone’s MeMe.

Here we are at the exact one month anniversary of Amelia joining our family. She’s had some time to acclimate to the household, the pack, the expectations, and the routine. And I feel it should be noted, if you hadn’t read the prior two reports of her progress, that’s she’s doing brilliantly. Her personality is shining, her growth is stunning and her intellect is striking for one still so young. 

Amy was a Parvo survivor. She was treated before we met and was deemed Parvo-free before coming home with us. She also had gone through the typical puppy medical regimen including treatments to protect against worms and kennel cough and her first series of vaccines. We picked her the morning following her spay. She was still groggy but happy enough to see us as we did the pass from Foster to Family in the Lebanon, Ohio PetSmart parking lot. Amy was cool and easy sitting in my lap as Shari drove us toward home. A welcome departure from my dear Maxwell P. who so hated car rides that he would dance on my lap for hours without rest, whining, panting and drooling the entire time. I have stories and scars from some of our epic travels across Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Georgia, Tennessee, Kentucky, Indiana, Illinois, and Ohio. Maxie was nothing if not well-traveled, and well Maxie was everything to me. But here is Amy, content to curl up on my lap with no regard for the window or the passing scenery. And so we spent the hour ride home, stopping just once for a quick leg stretch and piddle break at an old rural cemetery we came across along the way. It was a nice cool morning and we dig walking around old cemeteries.  

Little of that has to do with the subject of this report, Amy’s first doctor’s visit. Except to illustrate one point yet to be made. 

Maxwell P. was a brave dog. He feared nothing… except for the dark, he was a little afraid of the dark. And car rides… he was terrified of car rides. His phobia, we suspect, was due to our belief that he had been transported at the tender age of 6 weeks from a non-local breeder to the folks that chose not to keep him. We think he was probably away from his mother and litter kin for the first time, weaned too early and alone, crated up and sent on a long, wild ride from Who-Knows-Where-Ville to the Great State of Texas. I’m pretty conflicted about this. I hate that this happened to him but I’m glad he came to us. But he was only the size of my fist when we got him, he fit completely in my slipper-shoe, he was just a little guy and I think something like that is going to leave a mark even if you will eventually grow up to be the strongest, bravest, most well-adjusted boy ever to grace existence. We never told him he wasn’t a Texas native he would’ve been crushed.

But here is little Amy, a perfect passenger in spite of all the moving about in her first couple of months of life – Who-Knows-Where-Ville to Shelter, Shelter to Rescue, Rescue to Adoption Events, Rescue to us and so on. All that and yet an easy rider on her way home on that particular Saturday morning. 

So the time comes for Amy’s first checkup at the family doctor. As stated earlier and in spite of the title of this report, it isn’t her first visit to a Doc, but it’s her first visit to her family Doc. And for the sake of brevity over specificity, I think we’ll just leave the title as is.

At times we’ll take one of the others along on these types of calls, you know, for moral support. This time we did not. It was to be a solo trip for Little Miss and it became evident immediately that she was uncomfortable with the idea. Our good little passenger had to be carried and lifted into the backseat of the car where she cowered and shivered. Something she maintained for the entire ten-minute journey to the Doc’s office. She then needed to be cornered and carried out of the car and into the building. I recall thinking that was very strange at the time. 

She relaxed a bit while waiting for her exam room. At first, the pesky, noisy dog at the counter had her mildly concerned. He barked methodically. 

Bark…   

Bark…

Bark…

“Sssh,” his mom whispered.

Bark…

Bark…

Bark…

Not really menacing at all, more like something to do while waiting to pay I think. But Amy was nestled in my arms and wagging. Maybe a little nervous but mainly unconcerned. In no time he finished up his business and was on his way. And now Amy was on her way too… to tackle the scale. Topping out at 18.7 lbs., mostly arms and legs if you ask me, she was finally ready for her private audience with her new Doc to begin.

Over the last month, Amy has been testing out different ways to sit. She watches the others and then tries out their methods for a bit, looking to settle on what will be her lifelong sitting technique, I reckon. She’s tried Cooper’s splayed frog squat and Boo Boo’s prim and proper Westminster posture, she’s even awkwardly tried sitting rolled to one hip or the other for a while. But this time when she took to the exam table she brought her very best sit. Knees together, feet together, back straight, head high, ears up… perfect. It was the sit she sits in the place she has called the Food Semicircle since she was a puppy all of 4 weeks ago. It’s a place known for its great pomp and ceremony. A place that requires the greatest degree of decorum, honest to god royal-grade decorum. It’s the spot in our kitchen where treats are handed out. 

And so she sat for the Vet Tech and her questions, she sat for the Vet Tech’s paperwork. She stood briefly to endure the anal temperature probing and handled herself as best one can expect when being probed anally for any reason. When she returned to sitting it was still a perfect sit. But now wise to the predilections of the Vet Tech she tucked her tail tightly under her butt as if that horse could ever be put back in the barn. She rolled her eyes to the follow-up questions on her age as if she’s heard them before. It seems the Shelter rubber-stamped her at one year old, another form showed 5-½ months. With most of her puppy teeth still in her head we knew, she knew and the Doc confirmed her age couldn’t be more than four months. Just a baby, we’re in no rush here.

Our Vet is a good Vet but his bedside manner tends to cool professionalism. He’s formal with the dogs and the dog’s people as if to counter the Vet Tech’s overfamiliar method of checking one’s temperature. But with Amelia… with her he was different. On this occasion, he swept into the room, caught sight of her and seemed enamored when he asked, “Is this the new one?” He checked her ears… those ears, her eyes, her teeth, joints, back, and tummy. He was uncharacteristically discombobulated as if he perhaps gazed upon her gawky beauty too long and fell in, then recovered long enough to declare her “perfectly healthy” and quickly finish the exam with a shot in the rump and a spritz to the nose. 

Done with the Doc, Little Miss sat in my lap across from the counter while her Mom tried to get the frequent puppy patron app to load to log our visit and hopefully get bookoo puppy points to be used I know not how. No joy. While the Vet’s office promotes the app and encourages its use, it apparently will not work in the actual office where we use and pay for their services. But that’s another story altogether. 

We sat there waiting patiently. Feeling the weight of a stare. Inexplicably one of the half-dozen or so counter staff our Vet carries for some reason we can’t quite get our heads around was watching us. Well, she was watching Amelia who I just happened to be holding. Her chin tipped up slightly to peer over the counter at her. An unbreakable gaze, serious intent slipping toward quizzical. “Is that a Blue Heeler?” she called out. “She’s a Red Heeler” I cautiously replied with probably a little more than a little concern over her failure to notice Amy is red and not gray or blue but not wanting to bring too much attention in case its a genuine disability. “Sure whatever,” she said, “my <insert an affiliation because I just don’t remember> has a dog that is supposed to be mixed with Heeler and I never saw it in her until I just saw yours”. 

“She’s beautiful… And those Ears!”

It was time to go, so we went.

Amy was a different girl on the ride home than she was on the ride out. She was a cool breeze and in spite of the shot, all was right in her world once again. She got home and tried to claw, then launch herself through the door to see Boo and Cooper and get back to her favorite thing of all… the Big Girl Bed. 

It finally occurred to us that her fear and reluctance on the car ride out had a simple and sad explanation. She was afraid we were taking her away, sending her to a new family, new shelter or new cage somewhere without a Cooper or a Boo, somewhere without a Big Girl Bed. 

I hope she never feels that way again. I never want to see it and she never needs to feel it because that I can guarantee will never, never happen. 

Now a solid month in, Amelia (River) continues her progress as a part of the clan. Now as a full-fledged four-month-old she has begun to exert a bit of independence. 

To begin with, she has chosen to change her name or at the least convinced us to change it for her. We found early on that she was having trouble distinguishing the name River from her brother’s name Cooper, yes even with those ears. Since Cooper has had his name for five years we thought it best to apply any adjustments to River. Since she was actually named Riversong Krueger, a nod to the Dr. Who TV series, we pivoted to Amelia (Riversong) Pond Krueger. Another strong Who reference. The name has played well for her, it has a nice length and mouthfeel that lends to singsong which she particularly enjoys.

As stated in the one week report, Amy is completely crate trained and owns two very nice crates with all the pads, blankets, pillows and toys any princess could ever hope to call her own. She has a nice oversized bedroom crate, for sleeping, and a smaller but well-appointed family room crate, for napping. So yes Amy is perfectly crate trained and has two beautiful crates that she no longer uses. Her brother and sister have taught her that dogs, at least Krueger dogs, don’t lay or sleep on the floor if a perfectly good bed, couch or chair are at hand. And so Amy is now perfectly bed, couch and chair trained. 

She affirms her independence now by retiring to the master bedroom on her own at all times of the day. In fact, if we can’t find her immediately at foot she is either outside screwing around or in the bed watching TV or the fire in the fireplace. Not that she’s a sleepy girl all of the time, though she is a sleepy girl much of the time, I’m told she spends a good bit of time in the office at Shari’s feet or with one of her siblings in the dog bed in the corner of the room fully maximizing her Office Dog internship (unpaid). 

Her older sister Peekaboo (12) has emerged from her state of denial and is becoming a little more accepting of Amy. She isn’t much for active play but loves to watch when Amy and Cooper wrestle and is perfectly willing to play referee and step in when active play becomes more active than she will allow. We’ve also caught Amy and Boo cuddled up together on occasion but Boo denies this and decries it as Fake News. Cooper continues to teach through play and through just being Cooper. Amy is grateful that he taught her to use the bed stairs even though she’s grown enough to easily jump on the bed. I know this because I caught her in the backyard standing in our 40” raised garden bed planters looking for snacks. I don’t think she knows how she did it and to my knowledge hasn’t since. But in any case she doesn’t know she can jump on the bed, the stairs must be used to access that bit of heaven. She also briefly did the “beg” trick based on seeing the other two do the same. She did it by observing and with no prompting from us. She has yet to repeat the trick in spite of much prompting from us. Stay tuned on this one. 

Probably Cooper’s biggest struggle with Amy is that he is not a morning dog and tends to wake up rather grumpy and stay that way until after first breakfast and usually second breakfast too. Amy is a puppy. She has only three speeds – about to sleep, asleep and full-on. And until 10 or so in the morning that just pisses Cooper off. 

Did I mention the growing? Holy cow. We started feeding her a little more to put a little meat on her ribs. She is overly skinny even for a leggy, lanky pup. But it would seem that all the food goes straight to her legs. She is now taller than both of her siblings. Cooper uses this to take shortcuts under her legs when they are playing with their stuffed rabbit co-toy. She uses it to boop him on the head from a greater distance. 

And, of course, she’s teething. She has her new front teeth, those were easy. Now she’s working through some of the larger teeth – the bigger ones that actually cut the gums. She’s had a couple of rough days and nights, and so have we. She just wants up, she just wants to nap on a chest and that’s pretty okay with us. 

So as of now, Amelia is potty trained. She is fully conversant in our double doggy door system – one from the master bedroom to the 3-season porch and the other from the 3-season porch to the fenced backyard. She no longer relies on Cooper to show her the way, she no longer relies on us to tell her to go. When she has to go, no matter where we are in the house or what we may be doing or what time it is, she trots to the bedroom doggy door and goes outside. I can say with confidence that other than a couple of over-excited piddles, she has been accident-free for at least a couple of weeks now. It’s been a long time since I’ve potty trained anything, we usually just let the other dogs do it,  but I think that’s pretty good. In fact, I think she’s quite surely brilliant. 

Amelia still continues to struggle with tasks. Few of her genetically endowed Shepherding instincts have emerged at this point. She is actually better suited at interfering with the completion of tasks by the others. I think she “gets” it but is still driven by excitement over intellect, fuzz over clarity. The sock to the laundry experiments has had lukewarm success in that now we find stray socks, slightly soggy stray socks, everywhere but the laundry room. This seems to hold for my slippers as well. Where we had early success with her bringing me one or the other when I come home from work now we just find them on the bed often with a soggy sock stuffed in them.

Teaching her food manners has been quite a bit more successful. Amelia knows what is expected. She waits her turn for treats and Shari has her sitting and waiting, unrestrained, for her breakfast and dinner as she always eats last as pack order demands. She still needs the slow-eat bowl and we’ve improvised an eating closet for her so she can’t chase it all over the house and tip it out. She is getting better, eating slower and respecting the others as they eat. That’s big progress. Just this week she’s learned to catch her treats. She began with a miss every time and has graduated to a miss only once in awhile – she’s particularly good when she really wants what is being tossed which incidentally is pretty much anything being tossed. But, alas, not repeats of the “beg” trick she inadvertently mimicked in week one. 

Amelia has become a little more independent but she still loves her routine. Weekdays start with my alarm at 5:45 followed by Go Outside, Get Treat, and now instead of heading to the shower with me, she heads back to bed with the others. I dress, she waits. Then it’s breakfast and goodbyes. I’m told she naps after first breakfast until second breakfast and then heads to her internship in the office with Shari to put in a solid day’s work of watching Shari write. Evenings, when I get home it becomes Cooper and Amy playtime – wrestling, racetrack, and tug-of-war – followed by dinner, then settling in for the evening in front of the TV or the fire, and later followed by sleep. And repeat. Weekends are looser but we’re all together and that matters. It’s consistent and she’s happy because it is and that works for us. 

All in all, she is happy and healthy, with an energy that is beginning to match the pace of the house. She’s independent but wants to please, wants to cuddle and wants to hug. She still loves to respond to a whistle and does so with complete abandon. She has discovered that her new name is shared by several popular songs and loves to have them sung to her with an emphasis on the parts with her name in them. She can’t wait for the morning so she can wake Shari up by climbing on her head and giving hugs. She is observant and curious and loves to explore her backyard, watch the world from the master bed and taste test anything she finds on the floor in case it might be delicious. Often, it’s not but that doesn’t stop her from trying again next the time.

She is still her Mom’s Sweet Pea and my Sweet Girl.

Her first week in as a part of the Krueger pack, River has shown remarkable progress for a pup of barely 3-months. 

With many thanks to her foster parents, she is completely crate trained. In our home, she has two crates to call her own. The larger, designed for two, is her bedroom quarters. It is complete with her Hope Blanket and several favorite toys and her bison horn. While she usually joins the puppy pile in our bed every night before lights out, she with little protest goes to the bedroom crate for nighty-night. River sleeps or with the help of the previously mentioned soft toys and her bison horn rests quietly for the entire night. Her daytime crate is a smaller and more portable single version and sits in the kitchen area or family room with the door open in case she feels the need to rest nearer to the normal daytime and evening activity in the house. She is using this option less and less as the days pass opting to lay or sit on one of the many dog beds, rugs or therapeutic mats placed throughout the active spaces in our home. 

River is smart enough to know she is supposed to go outside for potty but just fuzzy-headed enough to forget until it’s too late sometimes. She has easily mastered the doggy door to the outside and no longer even looks for a treat on the other side every time she goes through. She does not yet have the confidence to consistently use the doggy door to let herself out when she needs to but will always follow Cooper out and will always relieve herself if she is outside. She’s a little scared to be alone, does not like the dark much and is not too sure about rain. But she is remarkably well potty trained for her age and has strung days together without an incident as long as we are a little bit vigilant. 

A few warm fall days afforded River the opportunity to spend time with us on the 3-season porch where she has learned to jump up on the couch to cuddle or rest. She is learning from her older brother and sister that dogs should not have to lay on the floor if a perfectly good couch, chair or bed is available. 

River’s older sister Peekaboo (12) has, in protest, kept herself mostly out of the puppy business, for the time being. Her brother Cooper (5) has been instrumental in teaching her habits both good and bad. This week she has learned to climb on the porch couch, use the doggy stairs to climb on the bed, use the doggy door from the porch to the backyard, tear ass-over-tea-kettle around the backyard “racetrack”, sit pretty in the “food semi-circle” (the area around the cupboard we keep the treats), jump on her Mom and Dad just like Cooper does, growl (but she’s not sure why), bark when Cooper gets picked up and boop Cooper on the head with her giant paw when she’s feeling playful.

We’re not new at this. As longtime owners of another high intensity, high energy, highly intelligent breed that loves to work – terriers – we are pretty familiar with the ins and outs of managing all that will and all that energy. They need tasks – Cooper brings my lunch bag to the kitchen every day after work just as his fore-brother did before him. Peekaboo manages his work as her fore-sisters did before her. Cooper also carries various laundry, kitchen towels mostly, to the kitchen to be put away. He does this because he had been taught at Max’s knee that this is the family business and an honorable one at that. Boo supervises his work and takes her cut of the treats as she is in management and so entitled. River seems to understand the need for tasks. She routinely herds Cooper around the house and yard, much to his displeasure. She also routinely tries to interfere with the completion of his assigned duties also to his displeasure. She is currently being tasked with finding loose socks under the bed and bringing them to the laundry room. This is meeting with mixed success but we have high hopes for her future development assuming she can still get under the bed in another month or two.

River is learning to wait her turn for treats and for her breakfast and dinner. She has a slow-eat bowl but she’s learned to tip it over. She is a good sitter especially in the food semi-circle but still charges for the treat and swallows the hand giving it to her. She has not quite learned her place in the treat getting pecking order 1. Peekaboo, 2. Cooper and 3. River. She feels it is unfair and should be 1. River, 2. River and 3. River. She’s a little thin so we’ve increased her feeding schedule and suspect as she matures and learns that there will always be more food she will calm down enough to train. Strangely, if we hand feed her puppy kibble from the kitchen table she sits pretty, waits her turn and takes it “easy”. Now to translate that to other food behavior.

River came home on a weekend to a fairly unstructured environment. But once the new week hit on Monday at 5:45 AM she was introduced to the Krueger family morning routine. The terriers like structure, and none so much as Max. The other two, with Max’s passing, have lapsed into a much more leisurely routine of wake up for morning medications, go back to bed, get up for breakfast, go back to bed, say goodbye to Dad, go back to bed and so on. River seems to respect the morning routine and I feel it helps her start the day right. We wake, go outside, take a shower (me not her but she’s in the room), go outside, get dressed (me not her but she’s at my heel), make coffee, eat breakfast, leave for work – every weekday. Same way, same time, every day. She hears my alarm and is ready to get up and get started. And she’s happy because it’s consistent, safe, known and comfortable. Just what one rescued from unknown conditions by a kind foster Mom and adopted just a few weeks later by her new family needs. 

In all, she is very healthy. She is energetic but can be calmed. She’s willful but responds to a firm voice, she loves to come to a whistle, to have her name sung to her in the tune of various popular songs, to lay on her Mom and Dad’s head, and to give hugs. She is bright and inquisitive and loves to explore the house and backyard but tends to stay within sight of her people when indoors and Cooper when outdoors. She leans toward the naughty if she doesn’t get enough nap time the day before, she is always at my heel but naps willingly if I settle down long enough. She is her Mom’s Sweet Pea and my Sweet Girl.

Check out this excellent story on our experience with the state of puppy adoption these days and a great organization that gets it.

The goal here is to place pups and dogos with good families, that is the only goal.

ADOPTION

If you happen to be looking for great canine companion and in our neck of the woods, be sure to check these guys out. They do great work.

Furgotten Dog Rescue

 

Maxwell P can teach us all a little about friendship, loyalty and perfect love.

Read about his remarkable life.

Maxwell P – A Life in Three Parts

“The dog is a gentleman. I hope to go to his heaven and not man’s.”

Mark Twain

2004 – 2018

Maxwell P. Krueger

Rest in peace, Maxie Max. You lived a life well led. I miss you every day.

“My goal in life is to be as good of a person my dog already thinks I am.”

Mark Twain