It has been a while since I have done any kind of update about our darling Rowdy and Reagan. Rowdy is growing fast, but yet still seems to stay pretty small, which is a good thing for a Sheltie. Regan was probably twice his size at her age and we were desperately hoping for a smaller sized Sheltie this time around. He has an amazing personality on him and he is a HAM for the camera!. He is full of energy, and finds ways to make us smile every day. The potty training has been going pretty well. Every once in a while he has an accident in the house and it always seems to be in the same place, on our new carpet! I was not really a huge deal until this week when he got a bout of the runs, and he had three little spots in the formal living room. I was so grossed out and even after scrubbing, I still could not get all of the stain out. Do any of you have any suggestions on how to get stains out of carpet? He recently graduated puppy preschool. It is a fun socialization class that teaches them to overcome their fears and get used to different objects like vacuum cleaners and skateboards that they may come in contact with. We bring him into the class, introduce him as Rowdy and then of course he sleeps through the entire thing, way to live up to your name buddy. It is fun for Foster and I also because we get to see a lot of other puppies and get to watch them play while talking about common problems people encounter with new puppies. We found that his "big dog" behavior only comes out with familiar dogs. He dominates my sister, mom, mother in law and sister in law's dogs, but when he came in contact with strange dogs, he became the submissive one. As if he lost his courage.
Reagan is my sweet girl and she has really been worrying me lately. When we got pregnant, she seemed very excited, and as my tummy grew bigger she would lay her head on it and Rosie would kick her. When we lost Rosie, Reagan knew something was wrong. She seemed to be really depressed and became very overprotective of Foster and I. She started bad habits such as barking when people got too close to the house. She would mope around with me and would lay her head on my belly with a longing look in her eyes. I firmly believe that she was feeling all of the emotions and loss that Foster and I were. We were under the impression that if we got a puppy she would perk up just like us. This seemed to be the case for a while. She loved her new little shadow. It is a constant game of monkey see monkey do between the two of them. I spent all day with the two of them while I was home from work. I would have Reagan time and Rowdy time in order to teach Rowdy manners and to make sure Reagan knew she was still loved. Foster and I continued to allow Reagan to sleep in our bed with us while Rowdy has to sleep in his crate downstairs. We made it a point to shower Reagan with extra love to remind her she was still our favorite. Then I went back to work.
She became an unruly child the minute I went back to work! We usually would leave Reagan loose in the house because she had outgrown her chewing habits while we kept Rowdy in his crate. This worked for about the first 3 shifts I worked, then all of the sudden she went crazy. She started with little things. First it was pieces of paper, pieces of cardboard, and a book. We would get mad and yell at her. She would look guilty and skitter off to her safe place under the kitchen table. She would fool us into thinking she felt bad and would never do it again. Then she started chewing the base boards and the wall!!! I came home from work at 6:25Am. Foster had left the house at 5:45am,a this is what she did in a matter of forty minutes:
So we decided to get her a separate, bigger crate so we could have them both in their own crates when we leave, but if we go stay at someone's house, we can bring the big crate and fit both dogs in it. It is the same crate that my sister has used for her dog for 2 years. It is meant to hold a 75 pound dog so we figured it would be perfect for our 35 pound dog. Well, we were wrong.
The first night we put her in the crate there was a pretty big thunderstorm and when we returned home we found Reagan at the front door to greet us. When we went down to the basement to see how she got out of her crate, we were expecting to find that we had forgotten to close one of the latches on the crate, but instead we found one whole side of the crate laying on the floor. She had some how accomplished busting through and breaking the welded metal of the crate that is supposed to withhold a 75 pound dog. We felt bad for her because we thought that she had gotten scared during the thunderstorm. We rigged the gate shut with zip ties, and decided to try again.
A couple of days later, we put her back in the crate while we were at church and shopping. When we returned home, Reagan had busted out of the other side of the crate and had chewed up some of the paper and cardboard that was in the basement. We zip tied that side to reinforce it. However, even zip ties were no match for Reagan's brute strength. We came home after being out for about an hour, and she had busted out of the crate, found a cardboard box, chewed it, and then took Foster's Army Cavalry Stetson out of the box and destroyed it. Foster is the one who discovered the mess first, and needless to say he was livid. I drove up into the driveway, and saw him out on the front porch. By the look on his face I thought someone had died. "What happened?" I asked.
"Go look," He responded.
"No, you are scaring me, tell me. Did something happen to one of them!?!"
"No, they are fine, but she destroyed my Stetson."
I ran downstairs and sure enough there were pieces of felt, brass buttons that decorated his hat, and cardboard everywhere. I turned around and saw a picture hung on my wall that was not there before. "Why is that there?" I asked Foster.
"Well, I got mad, and did not want to take it out on the dog, so I thought it looked like a good enough thing to punch, but then I felt bad and put the picture over it to hide the hole," he said guiltily, "I am so sorry baby."
"It is okay, I am just glad that wasn't the dog!"
"You are not mad?"
"No sweetheart, you were upset," If you remember when I told you about Foster, he very rarely gets mad or emotional, so when he does, I am not one to hinder that or reprimand him for getting mad. He would NEVER hurt me or the animals, so if he needs to punch a wall, whatever, I just hope he doesn't punch too many more, cause this is what it did and it went ALL the way through to the other side.
So we went back to putting Reagan back in her crate. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of trusting her by herself in the house for 15 minutes while I went to work and Foster was on his way home, and her "little" hole turned into this:
Ugh! So now we cannot trust her on her own. I wonder if she is depressed, or if she is having separation anxiety. At first Foster thought it was because Rowdy was here, and we were not spending enough time with her, but we are and she loves her puppy. I wonder if it is all the change. I honestly think it is because I returned to work. She really got bad when I went back to work. She makes me feel so guilty. I hope we don't have to put her on any puppy antidepressants. My poor pup. Maybe the trip to the farm this weekend will do her some good too! We just need a nice relaxing weekend as a family!
The first night we put her in the crate there was a pretty big thunderstorm and when we returned home we found Reagan at the front door to greet us. When we went down to the basement to see how she got out of her crate, we were expecting to find that we had forgotten to close one of the latches on the crate, but instead we found one whole side of the crate laying on the floor. She had some how accomplished busting through and breaking the welded metal of the crate that is supposed to withhold a 75 pound dog. We felt bad for her because we thought that she had gotten scared during the thunderstorm. We rigged the gate shut with zip ties, and decided to try again.
A couple of days later, we put her back in the crate while we were at church and shopping. When we returned home, Reagan had busted out of the other side of the crate and had chewed up some of the paper and cardboard that was in the basement. We zip tied that side to reinforce it. However, even zip ties were no match for Reagan's brute strength. We came home after being out for about an hour, and she had busted out of the crate, found a cardboard box, chewed it, and then took Foster's Army Cavalry Stetson out of the box and destroyed it. Foster is the one who discovered the mess first, and needless to say he was livid. I drove up into the driveway, and saw him out on the front porch. By the look on his face I thought someone had died. "What happened?" I asked.
"Go look," He responded.
"No, you are scaring me, tell me. Did something happen to one of them!?!"
"No, they are fine, but she destroyed my Stetson."
I ran downstairs and sure enough there were pieces of felt, brass buttons that decorated his hat, and cardboard everywhere. I turned around and saw a picture hung on my wall that was not there before. "Why is that there?" I asked Foster.
"Well, I got mad, and did not want to take it out on the dog, so I thought it looked like a good enough thing to punch, but then I felt bad and put the picture over it to hide the hole," he said guiltily, "I am so sorry baby."
"It is okay, I am just glad that wasn't the dog!"
"You are not mad?"
"No sweetheart, you were upset," If you remember when I told you about Foster, he very rarely gets mad or emotional, so when he does, I am not one to hinder that or reprimand him for getting mad. He would NEVER hurt me or the animals, so if he needs to punch a wall, whatever, I just hope he doesn't punch too many more, cause this is what it did and it went ALL the way through to the other side.
So we went back to putting Reagan back in her crate. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of trusting her by herself in the house for 15 minutes while I went to work and Foster was on his way home, and her "little" hole turned into this:
Ugh! So now we cannot trust her on her own. I wonder if she is depressed, or if she is having separation anxiety. At first Foster thought it was because Rowdy was here, and we were not spending enough time with her, but we are and she loves her puppy. I wonder if it is all the change. I honestly think it is because I returned to work. She really got bad when I went back to work. She makes me feel so guilty. I hope we don't have to put her on any puppy antidepressants. My poor pup. Maybe the trip to the farm this weekend will do her some good too! We just need a nice relaxing weekend as a family!
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