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Happy birthday to AV! I’m sure glad he was born!

Since Lilly arrived things have been very dog-centric, and not just on the blog. We’re both having a hard time separating our general being from being dog owners. What’s needed is a clear rhythm for walking, feeding, etc., and AV has effectively established one. It will have to adjust a good deal once school starts in earnest (a mere three weeks away … thanks, Democrats!). I hope I’m up to the task.

In the rest of my life, things are chugging along. I’ve put together a document I’m calling a “PhD Prospectus.” It’s out for evaluation right now with various interested parties who will help me to determine whether or not PhD is a reasonable step for me. As my advisor explained, the investment in a PhD program is – especially now – no guarantee for a permanent tenure-track position somewhere. I’m keenly aware of the number of applicants out there for tenure-track jobs. I will have to do something wholly remarkable to keep myself in the fray. Of course, there’s that small matter of getting into a program, first.

It seems like the last three years (and yes, three years will have passed since that first, hugely disappointing first round of applications) haven’t shown much in the way of the process changing. I’m a much different applicant now, though. I have more skills, more publications, and just a better sense of the process. None guarantee anything, though, and so the risk is great.

I am not restrained by much, but the choices we make as we get older are much different and cast different shadows than a similar choice would have eight years ago. That’s a dark thought for a sunny day, but it’s continually looming over my work as a teacher and a thinker. I’m expecting that I’m going to hit a wall here, and a PhD program would be helpful in terms of innovating – not just the content of an intro class, but how to teach that well. My practical life almost requires this next step, and I don’t want to be an adjunct for the rest of my life.

She must be our dog.

As it turns out, Lilly is pretty finicky with her food. We are buying her higher-quality food and treats because she seems to have a food allergy (my dad is gasping and shaking his head in disbelief right now, I know). Chicken and wheaty-things make her skin turn very red, and we’ve had good results giving her a lamb and rice-based food over the last couple of days. I went to our local pet place and picked up some salmon-based food because the lady said that getting fish into the dog’s diet will be good for her skin and her coat.

After her walk last night, AV came in and realized we’d run out of lamb food so we gave her the rest of the fish food. The wolfed it down. As a treat, we gave her some wet food that was basically a fish stew, and it smelled pretty good in the can. (No comments from the peanut gallery – we eat exotic foods, but dog-food fish stew is not one of them). She wolfed that down, too. We had sardine sandwiches for dinner last night, and had a couple of remnants in the can. Lilly ate those, too.

We both agreed that following this incident this dog – of all the dogs in the ether – is the dog for us. Now if I can just get her to clean up after herself and/or listen to rational arguments about when and where she should go to the bathroom we’ll be all set.

Adventures in Dog Ownership

Lilly remains a nice dog. Last night we introduced her to our good friends K & M, and she did not bark at them or wee or anything. She was excited, but then she calmed down. While we were eating, she did not beg – she simply laid under the table and rested while we caught up.

We have discovered Lilly’s bathroom, though, and until yesterday that was the basement of our house. We think that she gets really distracted outside (who can blame her, really – squirrels, birds, other dogs, etc.) and can’t focus so she waits until she can get indoors. We’re working on this – she can’t wander around the house so freely anymore, and the baby gate we’ve put up has provided an effective mental barrier so far. Our dog can jump pretty high, so we’re waiting until she figures out how to get over that gate. So much for not pooping in the house.

One other mental battle we’re waging is on her walks. We have been taking her twice a day to help her expend some energy and she’s taken that opportunity to pull us for blocks and blocks. On Wednesday night we walked too far – about five blocks north and three blocks east of our house. She wouldn’t stop pulling, and I just gave up. I didn’t want to get pulled home, but I had no choice and my pack leadership collapsed. Once we got home, I left to go get us some dinner and while I was driving by City Park I saw dogs on looser leashes and running with their owners and I just cried.

AV is point man for all things dog, and he figured out that in order to correct the pulling, we just shouldn’t entertain it. We stop on the walks every time she pulls, and we wait until she comes back to us or the line is slack to move along. As we left for our evening walk yesterday, we tried this tactic and our neighbors were initially looking at us like we were nuts. They asked us what we were doing, and we explained that we were trying not to have her pull too much. It looked pretty strange (especially if you couldn’t see the dog) – two people stopping literally every foot and talking out loud. Weird, but by the end of the walk we were counting the number of human steps we could take until she started pulling. We made it to 10. In dog and dog-owner terms, that’s an eternity.

Update: Yesterday AV and Lilly made it an amazing 38 steps without a pull. Not bad! The trick seems to be to wrap the leash around our waist, and hold the loop end to the non-loop end with our left hands. That seems to be the most comfortable for us and also for her. It doesn’t allow her to get too far out in front of us, but it does give her ample trotting room.

Last night she started playing this game where she’d hide her bully stick from herself. She put it in a corner, walked away for awhile, and then returned to the corner with a tremendous amount of energy to dig the bully stick out from where she hid it. That’s pretty good! And it’s hilarious to watch. We were in the den last night and she was holding the stick in her mouth while standing at the door like “You lazy humans and your tv! Let me out to entertain myself. I can’t take the Seinfeld!”

Please allow me to introduce myself.

Lilly C. Vartabedian

This is Lilly. According to at least one of my family members, we should have named her Chernobyl. We like Lilly, and she answers to it (so far … we’ve only had her for about three hours).

We’re waiting for the results of a DNA test to confirm her breed, but according to our friend Peggy at Colorado Basenji Rescue, Lilly is a Basenji and Boston Terrier mix.

We took her for a pretty long walk before we let her explore the house (which, according to Cesar Millan, will help them to expend anxious energy). On our walk we encountered two very howly bloodhounds and a rottweiler named Opie. Lilly was reasonably well-behaved. When she came into the house she was not panting or running all over the place. She even laid down on the kitchen floor to rest when the two of us were standing there.

Just so it’s clear, I am not this dog’s mommy and Lilly is not my baby. I’ll err on the side of obvious semantic choices here.

I have not ever seen AV in this state. He has wanted a dog for a VERY long time. I have never really wanted a dog, but I sure like Lilly. I hope she doesn’t chew up my couch.

Update: Lilly made it through her first night here without pooping about the house or in her bed. We are pleased. It helps that she and AV are good pals. He bought her a monkey that makes noises. That is how you ensure pack leadership – screaming monkeys.

I still need to work on my pack leadership skills, but I’m not being too hard on myself. I’ve been a dog owner less than 24 hours.

Odd! Lucky! Crying!

Today we ran several errands and tied up some loose ends. Job one involved turning in some library books to the central branch of the DPL. The book drop is on 13th street, one of the busiest thoroughfares through downtown. As I was getting out to return books, my wallet and keys fell out of my lap and onto the storm drain grate. Actually, my wallet fell through the storm drain gate. I managed to get my keys away from peril.

I called 3-1-1, which helps link Denverites to city services and the operator connected me to wastewater (but not without a chuckle). I explained my situation to the lady at wastewater and she said she’d call me right back. In the meantime, AV had an idea to go to the Cap Hill ace hardware to pick up one of those long arm-grabby things that is sold on late night television. He remembered that he had just purchased a rake and (thankfully) left it in the car. While I was waiting for the wastewater lady to call me back, AV was splayed out on 13th shouting at me to watch for cars while he put the rake in the empty storm drain (we’re in a drought here) to rescue my wallet. He managed to do so. My hero!

When I explained it to the lady at wastewater – who had helpfully (a) called back and (b) dispatched a truck to come to our aid – she was amazed.

I’d just like to avoid my readership thinking I’m an idiot by saying that at the time my wallet wouldn’t quite fit in my pockets because I had just eaten a large lunch and was – ahem – very full. My sister says “this is why you should carry a purse.” My 90-year old grandma thought it was hilarious. She offered to help over the phone, but I just told her to get a good laugh out of it. Sheesh.

Job two involved the first of what will be many visits to local dog shelters to find ourselves a canine companion. We went to Maxfund, a no-kill shelter here in town to see what they had to offer. We have been thinking of getting a dog on the large side (like a boxer), so in we go to the big dog area and I lost it. In fact, I burst into tears not because I felt sorry for the dogs, but because I was scared. There was a lot of very loud and crazy barking and dogs jumping and snarling at me and I FREAKED OUT. So much for being the pack leader.

I had a bad incident when I was very little with my Nana’s cocker spaniel, Shere Khan. On our first meeting that dog jumped up on me, chased me into a back room, and then weed on the floor in the hallway. I did not come out until he was and would stay well away from me. Also, we never had dogs when we were kids so I just don’t have any skills there. All of these seemed to conspire against my efforts today.

After being scared by the big dogs, we went to the smaller dog area and decided to take Rocky – a very young beagle mix (we think with maybe a pit bull or a mastiff … the face and coloring suggest this, and since I have been studying dogs a great deal, this is a sort of educated guess) – out for a walk. It’s a good thing that we didn’t look at a bigger dog, because I took the leash and Rocky took off with me stumbling behind for a couple of feet.

Anyway, all this is to say that my first foray with dogs was an informative one. We’ve been watching and reading Cesar Millan like crazy. I think his approach to dogs is reasonable and as a novice here it seems like a good position to adopt. However, today kind of demonstrated to us the gap between theory and practice. I expected that the training I had absorbed from reading and watching would help me overcome my fear, but it didn’t. This isn’t a comment about the training, but going to the shelter today exposed the chief issue I’ve always had with dogs. I’m not over being afraid of them, but the only way I won’t be afraid is to be around them. Hopefully this is a cycle I can break long enough to help find a dog for our family.

We will go to a different shelter tomorrow to keep at it. I am determined to be a responsible dog owner, but it has to be with a smaller dog – I don’t want to get dragged through City Park.