After spending two hours combing out my shedding collies, and starting to help teach some basic manners to a very young Irish Wolfhound, I'm feeling the need to vent just a bit. Consider that warning!

My parents brought their 4-month old golden retriever puppy in for her last round of vaccines this week. I hadn't seen her for a few weeks, but -- well, wait. Let's start at the beginning. My parents brought their 12-year old golden retriever in to my hospital a couple months ago for euthanasia. He was about 80 lbs overweight, had a huge growth underneath his left front leg, and could hardly see. It was definitely his time, though of course it was hard to do. This was the last dog I brought home before I moved out on my own. He had a good long life, though, and pretty much loved everybody.

A week or so before that appointment, they got an 8 week old golden retriever puppy from a friend of theirs. She was a little shy at first, so I had a "stern talking-to" conversation with my parents about what they needed to do to make sure she didn't become a fearful dog. (This is what I do for a living: Counsel people about their pets.. I HOPE I know what I'm talking about.) I made sure to stress that she needed to go to as many different places as possible, pet stores, parks, EVERYWHERE. She needed to meet as many different people and see as many places as possible NOW, while her socialization window (8 to 16 weeks) was wide open.

I took the puppy to one of my puppy parties. It had a bit of a rocky start, and she spent most of the party hiding --which is okay, she was watching the puppies playing and started to get involved toward the end.. by the time it was done she was eagerly playing and infinitely more comfortable. I dropped her off back at the house with more admonitions about socialization and exposure, then went on my way. Now, let me back up just a bit more and explain one other thing: My parents also have a chihuahua (their only other new addition since I left the house 10 years ago, other than the cats); they got it from my brother's idiot ex-wife, and it hates me. Chihuahuas are not my favorite dogs by any means, but with this one, the feeling is definitely mutual. When I go to visit my parents, it spends the entire time barking at me from 4 feet away, or growling at me from my mother's arms. Let me explain what I mean when I say "Chihuahua people" in the title of this blog. "Chihuahua people" are people that get a tiny dog, then refuse to treat it like a dog. (That's not to say badly, that's to say, "NOT LIKE A PERSON.") They have this tiny dog, and refuse to make it accept any unpleasant facet of life. If something frightens it, or upsets it, what happens? Instead of training the dog to meet challenges and embrace new things, they pick it up, cuddle it, and coo "It'll be okay, sweetie, Mommy (or in some cases, Daddy) will make the bad, bad thing go away!" In short, the dog becomes incredibly withdrawn from normal life. The dog learns that if it acts afraid or upset, it gets loving attention and cuddles with the one person it tolerates.

Here is why my blog has the title it does: I'm desperately afraid my parents are becoming "Chihuahua people". That little description is exactly how the chihuahua has trained them to behave, and they have let it happen. When the dog barks and growls at me, my mother picks it up, gives her a nominal spank, and a half-hearted "NO", but continues to hold, pet, and cuddle the dog. I've tried to explain what a mixed message that is for the dog, to no avail. And now, the golden retriever is developing the same mannerisms. Let's go back to the beginning of this blog, with their most recent visit to my hospital.

My parents come inside, dragging the puppy behind them, her legs locked in front of her, tail between her legs. She attempts to hide behind my mom, who is holding the leash. She ducks and evades attempts to pet her, and cowers on the scale. I go into the exam room to talk to them, and she runs between my mother and father, attempting to get into each one's lap in turn, shooting mistrustful looks at me, who she at least knows a little bit. I ask where they've been taking her for socialization.. their answer? The campground. My parents have a lot at a campground not far from where we all live. They've been taking her to the same place every week, meeting mostly the same people every week. They haven't listened at all. And now they have a 45-lb Chihuahua. When my doctor came into the room, the dog growled and backed away as far as the leash would allow, straining against the collar. She will come closer for treats, which makes me hopeful that she can be turned around, but also disheartened because I know my parents won't even try.

While my parents were still in for their appointment, another golden puppy came in for an incision check. The contrast was night and day. Holly is a happy, wiggling, loving, friendly ball of wagging tail and hair. She's two months older and has obviously been well-socialized. She's been to a couple puppy parties, and I'm confident that her mom has taken her places and introduced her to people and pets regularly. I wanted to illustrate the difference, so I introduced my parents to Holly. My mother's only remark was "Well, she's older!" Yeah. By two whole months. OH, and she was just as happy at 4 months as she is now. My dad's remark was more jocular, "So THIS is what they're supposed to look like!" (Referring to Holly's more classic stocky build versus their dog's more lanky build.)

I'm at a loss. I'm fairly sure I'm not going to get through to my parents until and unless the dog actually bites or attacks someone. Which of course, could happen. Fearful dogs like this one are prone to what is called "Fear Aggression".. one day, if she can't get away, she will bite. Obviously, my parents won't believe that until it happens.

It is so frustrating to KNOW the solution to a problem, but the ones you're trying to help won't acknowledge the problem exists. I would consider "kidnapping" the puppy for a week or two, to see what I could do to turn her around, but I know my parents wouldn't allow that, either. You see, they think I'm mean to my animals. My poor abused cats are starved: They only eat once a day, you see. After a long diet regimen for all of them, I've finally gotten them all into decent shape, rather than obese. All of my parent's cats get free choice food. The moment the food bowl looks a bit low, it's refilled. And all of my parent's cats are obese. My dogs, too, only eat once a day. And they are crated during the day so they don't destroy my house while I'm gone to work. Of course, according to my parents, that is cruel. The crating, at least. I have finally managed to hammer into their heads the importance of not having horribly overweight dogs after the poor golden that so recently met his demise. They are now feeding their dogs a controlled amount, rather than free-feeding. It's one concession that has been VERY hard-won. They even tried crating the new puppy.. for a whole two days. When they returned my crate, their response was, "She didn't like it". My guess? They tossed her in the crate and left her there for 5 hours while they were at work. No, she's not going to like that, you're right. You have to make the crate a place that's pleasant to be. My pups were trained to the crate right away. I fed them in their crates (still do, so I can make sure they're eating), gave them toys & treats in their crates, and made it a relaxing place to be. Today, I leave the crate doors open, and often, they'll go inside and just lay down, just to relax. I don't even have to give the "Kennel" command, as soon as the door is open, they both want inside. Sounds incredibly cruel and inhumane, doesn't it?

Oh, and let's not forget the horrible training and manners regimen I keep them to. My pups are not allowed to jump on people without invitation. They are not allowed to drink themselves sick when I fill up the water bowl. If they are doing something I don't like, or if I think they might be getting into something, I call them over and have them sit for a while beside me. All of this they do willingly, as soon as I ask it. When called, they come (fairly) quickly, and sit immediately upon reaching me. If they paw at me, I rebuke them verbally, or push them away. My reasons behind this are manyfold, but mostly because of my grandparents. You see, we go visit them often, my puppies and I, and if they jump up, or paw, the pups can seriously hurt my grandparents, completely by accident. Just last week Arwen pawed playfully at my grandma's hand, and it left an immediate DARK purple bruise and a cut in the skin that bled copiously. Arwen was only being friendly, but it only backs up why I don't let them get away with small things like that. My mother doesn't understand, though I've explained it time and time again.

As I said before, this blog is a vent. I'm not expecting any resolution, because I know my parents will never listen, will never believe me. I don't know if it's just how they are, or just because it's me telling them this. I listen to my dad when it comes to cars and house repairs... why can't they listen to me about their pets? I've been doing this for over 10 years, for the love of all that's holy!

What an interesting evening I've had. I've known for the last few weeks that I was going to have to do something about Arwen's habit of digging out in the yard. So, I turned to the experts. Went to training websites, to my vet support personnel network, and asked around at work, the question was always the same: What can I do to keep her from digging???
The answer was as suprisingly widespread as it was disgusting. Put poop in the holes, and she'll stop the digging. Ew? Actually, 'Ew' doesn't give it justice. To fully appreciate my evening, you have to understand there are 3 dogs sharing this yard. Yes, there is a plethora of poop in my yard. It's also been raining a cold steady rain for the last several days. Yes, for those of you who are now staring in horror at my words: That translates into a yard full of poop soup, that I got to go gather and redistribute into holes.
Arwen's face & body language was definitely hopeful. At first she was excited; it was a new game! "Woo hoo, let's find the poop! What are we doing now? Cool, you're picking it up! Where are we going? Cool, we're headed toward the fence! What are you.. Hey! Those are my holes! What are you... you are NOT going to put THAT in my holes, are you? Mom! What is wrong with you? That's disgusting!" I can only hope that her revulsion continues, and she doesn't start a whole new crop of excavations.
Wish me luck.