The Accidental Foster Parent.

We have been quiet for a very, very long time and much has happened since.

We fostered hounds twice, facilitated the transfer of another and had one overnight until reunited with his parent. As you might know, this house is already filled to the end of the couch with Bassets, so the fostering process was a bit strange and had this human slave feel a bit overwhelmed at times. Not one of these were planned ventures. I simply reacted to an emergency.

Our first encounter with a lost Basset brought to light a strange thing. The local community seems to think I am a collector of Bassets and will always need more, or, when one is found, it must be mine. A young couple dropped Napoleon off one afternoon, they had cats and could not keep him until his owner was found. He was still very young and definitely knew he lost his way home. He would not let me out of his sight. Anywhere I paused for a moment he would lie down with his head on my foot. Lesson one: a stray / lost dog is very insecure. Make them feel safe. Napoleon's story had a happy ending in that it was resolved quickly. Within a day his poster was up at every vet in the area and he could be reunited with his parents (who got an earful from me on Basset care).

We met David Copperfield. He was bewildered, frightened and cried a lot when he arrived. Also very insecure, he became my shadow. David Copperfield did not know what and who he was. He did not know how to be a dog, did not understand pack rules, he knew he wasn't human and he was not at ease with anyone other than me. It was clear that he grew up in an enclosed space, isolated from animal contact and that he only saw a human when he was fed. I had to speak softly to him and take care not to frighten him with behaviour that is quite normal in this house. The exited playtime barking of the others unnerved him for he could not read their body language in order to discern between aggression and playfulness. At night I had to literally tuck him in before he would settle down - he was unsure of where he was allowed to be and unaware that he had a choice.

First night.

David Copperfield became Butter's pet project. She taught him first, how to be a dog, second, the pack rules (which she made up on the fly), thirdly, that he was more than a dog (a Basset), and most importantly, that he could manipulate humans into submitting to the uber qualities of a Basset. She taught him how to play and when to back off when the situation warranted it. He eased up fairly quickly with the help of the other hounds. He was no longer afraid to own and be in his own space.

Butter's pet

It was my turn to take over the education and start applying rules and establish guidelines before he became too cocky and subsequently an undesirable pet. This phase took somewhat longer. I had but to speak in a stern voice to make him understand when I was not happy with his behaviour. Butter made it difficult for me to be serious and stern of voice in these moments by body blocking me from David Copperfield when she felt 'he was just being a kid and didn't mean to...' (Take food of the counter, play on your bed, mark the couch, and so forth). Rewarding him when he did the right thing meant that everyone queued up for a snack or a cuddle. No one was denied anything. It was as like having to retrain everyone.

And if I don't listen you'll do what exactly?

David was with us for a couple of months before he was adopted. He now lives in a house with other brothers and sisters and is adored by his parents. It was difficult to let him go. If not for the guidance and advice of a friend experienced in adoption and fostering, I would not have known who to trust with his future.

7 Lessons learned:

1. As a place and state of transition, a foster house is invaluable to an animal before adoption. It is a (hopefully) safe place and a space where trust and confidence can be built and manners taught. This minimizes adoption failures since people almost always expect an animal to be so grateful that it will automatically behave exactly as they want it to, whether or not it knows what is expected of it or even how to do it without help.

2. Animals in transition are traumatized. Accept this. Be supportive, research, use your brain to solve problems. They do not have the resources you have access to.

3. It helps to have one or more stable hounds in the house. Dogs are quick learners and will take cues from their peers faster than they do from you. There is no language barrier.

4. Feed the foster child in another room, keep the door closed until everyone is done. You cannot possibly know what issues there might be concerning food. Manage it. It might be necessary for you to stay with him/her until they are finished with their food. Walking out and closing the door behind you might trigger abandonment issues.

5. The kid needs it's own bed where all the other beds are. She/he might not be ready to or yet know how to be part of a group.

6. Patience.

7. Let go when the time comes.


Next post, another foster experience, another happy ending with a surprise twist.

A pair of birds have decided to roost in our roof, probably thinking it is safe to have a nest of Bassets downstairs from you. Let the Jones' compete with that.

They are a modest little family, no doubt preparing for the joys of parenthood. I can hear them get up in the morning and I am pretty sure that they have tapped into our electricity since it is still dark when they get up. Besides, I can hear their little kettle boiling as they tidy the nest, polish the egg(s) and do some general pecking about. 

The Bassets sleep like the dead in the morning, so none of this bugs them. They don't have to worry about the electricity bill. 

Raising the Lawn.

And carrying it inside...

The facial expression that states: I know what you want to say but already, I don't care.

While Searching For a Hound Friendly Vet...

Horton and I recently looked up some more local vets. Our preferred vets are far from our home, someone closer as backup makes perfect sense.

Vet 1 just around the corner. Probably a fresh graduate with little practical experience. Loves her own voice, wants to put Horton on phenobarbital to prevent the once a year seizure he has. Wants to put him on a special diet in spite of me repeatedly saying 'new food is a trigger...' Prescribes antibiotics without testing for bacteria. No points scored by Vet 1.

100% scored by Horton who was a big star in the waiting room while we waited to pay. He charmed 2 cat lovers into giving him belly rubs, befriended one of the crated cats, exchanged phone numbers with a Staffy girl in a hot pink collar and convinced a scared little human boy to relax enough to reach out and stroke his ears.

Vet 2 a little further away, also a holistic vet who sometimes uses homeopathy to obtain the desired results. First thing he noticed was Horton's size. He called him 'big and sturdy'. When I asked him if he meant overweight, he said no, Mr. H is not quite there yet. Vet 2 scored big points right of the bat!

Vet 2 had a lot of sensible stuff to say about what dogs eat and are supposed to eat and how any type of grain (even rice) should be avoided. He was in favor of home cooking or an organic food (which he happened to have on the shelve). Vet 2 knows how to absorb, integrate and connect information and results.

Vet 2 also made no promises about the immediate relieve of H's symptoms but asked that we report back every seven days so that we can adjust the medication until it is near perfect. More points.

At the end of the visit (where I produced my credit card and paid for a consultation, medicine, a small bag of holistic food and the bone Horton stole off a shelve) , I noticed the list of ingredients on the bag of holistic food: Brown Rice, Chicken and Linseed. And with that Vet 2 lost some crucial points for having said that grains should be avoided but recommending a food that contains one. But we will give him a chance to redeem himself. And we will educate him at the same time.

Wipe your mouth after eating.

Bark.. growl...

Grunt...

Clean face. Cool as ice.

A little nap.

Bofa is always the hound in the house with the sweetest face when he sleeps. Except for this one time.

Pay attention Human

Whenever Butter thinks I might miss the Dinner Deadline, she gives me a little dinner show by lying on her back running with her legs in the air. One night I failed to notice the show that was offered in exchange for food. She improvised.

Every time I tried to put a hand full of stuffing back Butter would push her head into the hole to prevent me from doing so.

Dinner first Human! Stuffing later. Unless you're planning to serve a stuffed turkey...

Hounds. They rule this house with a wicked sense of humor.

The Tiniest Guard Dog

Our neighbour Cloë is but a couple of months old but managed to prevent a burglary a few weeks ago.

Cloë woke up and alerted her human when a stranger walked past their bedroom window. Bewildered by her barking and the panic alarm going off, the man jumped the fence into our yard where he was further accosted  by a hysterical Nougat. The rest of us were significantly slower in our response, but once we were awake and aware the panic alarm could hardly be heard above the baying and snarling of the four Bassets. They were quite prepared to have a go at the armed response too just to get a piece of the action. The would be thief was apprehended about an hour later while running down the street, a less than successful night for him.

Cloë is an infrequent visitor at our house and never stays longer than what it takes her to flatten the last of four Bassets. She's a handful. When she came over shortly after foiling the burglary, I overheard her telling Bofa her version of that night. Like all children, the story has become larger than life. But who's to say that it wasn't all true?

... and I said to my Human, DON'T look, I've got this!

I shouted to the crook HEY! Hands up!!

But he wasn't listening so I told him, I'm gonna rip your heart out through your throat man...

He got so scared he jumped the fence...

And then I left it cause I could hear the Nougat had him cornered. Hectic hey?

Way hectic man! I'm floored!

Photo Bomb! Butt...

Happy 4th birthday Nougat!

A girl named Charlie

We'll see you across the bridge one day Charlie. Save some rabbits for us if you will please?

Butter recounts the good old days

Hounded

Having four XXX long eared charges has its dangers. Habits rub off. Eventually you'll become hounded and not even know it. It is almost like being grounded - if you add a good dash of confusion and social awkwardness to it.

If you walk past a pet shop and see toys and want to burst into spontaneous barking: you're hounded.

If the food you add to the Basset breakfast and dinner looks better than your burnt boxed pizza: you're hounded.

If you cannot read your colleagues because they do not lift their eyebrows in a quizzical fashion or cock their heads when you ask nicely: you're hounded. 

If, in spite of the rules and agreements, you visit and wake up in a bed that is not your own and the first thing you see is Basset butt: you're hounded.

If you walk in your own house and lift your feet up high with each step even when there are no bodies to step over: you're hounded.

If you have a bad dream and wake up facing several pairs of nostrils and raised eyebrows: you're hounded.

If you oversleep and are woken up by a fat wet nose because you might miss breakfast: you're hounded.

If a Basset whines and annoys you and you whine back in frustration: you get it. You're hounded.

If Nougat says she just saw Janis Joplin drive past in a multi colored Porsche with Elvis in the passenger seat and you go 'Whuff?': you're hounded.
If Horton insists that there was a Blue Hound Dog on the back seat and you know that the 1965 Porsche 356-C Cabriolet did not have a back seat: then, human, dog days are upon you.

Interview with a Rabbit

The Bassets, after having had some recent social interaction with other Bassets, put their heads together and came up with a plan which would keep continuous excitement going in-between naps. They decided to hire a rabbit. This is how the interview went according to the Bassets. (There was only one applicant). I am still looking for the rabbit to verify the facts seeing that I am the overseer of the territory and has the last say in matters such as the employment of bunnies or such.

Horton:          Hello Rabbit. I like you. Are you a house bunny?
Rabbit:           No?
Nougat:         Are you a March Hare?
Rabbit:           No no no no no...! I swear I don't know that hare and neither his crazy friend with the hat!
Butter:            Is your name Roger?
Rabbit:           No, it's R A B B I T
Horton:          R A B I D? I had an uncle once...
Butter:           What's wrong with your ears? They keep on sticking up in the air. It makes me nervous....grrrr...
Rabbit (who promptly flattens his ears): They're Rabbit's ears. Mam.
Butter:           Grrrr... Smart-ass.
Rabbit:          No Madam. A rabbit. I am a rabbit.
                    The Smart Ass lives in the stable behind the garden where I currently reside.
Nougat:        Little white Rabbit. You look somewhat familiar. Do you hang out with a guy called Neo?
                   Human variety? 
Rabbit:         No, not at all. My only human friend is called Alice.
Butter:         We have a Human too. But it is OUR Human. Smart-ears.
Bofa:            Look Rabbit. What will really matter in the end is how well you run.
                   Says here on your application that you once outran, sorry, almost outran a tortoise.
                   I must say Rabbit, you have a lot of guts coming here ... Hey! Where are you going?
Bofa:           Did I just say GUTS in an interview? Too visceral?
Nougat:       Yeah. Don't worry about it. He's neither hare nor all there.
                   Who needs a rabbit in the garden? Stupid thing will probably get caught. Who needs that?
                   Where are we going to find one that understands that a rabbit's job is not to get caught?

Killers

 

A Weekend of Family

We were a whole lot of family in the territory this weekend. Two packs to be exact, plus one new addition. Some reactions were caught on camera.




Welcome cousin Suede!

Mom... There's Basset goo on my head...

GET IT OFF MEEEE!!!!!

                                                                        

Salsa:

I cannot watch this, I cannot!

Rumba: 

Dude. Are you going to grow into all that skin?

  Bofa:

AAawww common man! Let me smell his stuff!!

 Horton:

Is it your baby? Can I have him? Please?

 Nougat:

Gotta hide my toys... where, where???

Mambo had nothing to say. She went under cover.

Butter:

*Giggle*... Oh no, please, no camera. My hair's a mess! I feel so fuzzy.

The Contented Caretaker

My alarm went off at 04h00 this morning and the effect thereof was lost on the Bassets. I managed to drag myself towards the kettle half an hour later and started a morning that involved admin, work and a Basset Breakfast. (I’ll admit: not a normal morning for me)

At 07h00 I skidded back into the bedroom still under pressure of the schedule. Only Butter half opened her eyes to watch me, everyone else maintained an uninterrupted snuggle position. ‘Sleep well beloved’ I thought, ‘I’ll take care of this.’

The Benefits of Duct Tape

 


There are view things in life that cannot be fixed with cable ties, duct tape, bandages or Easter eggs.

Butter tore a nail today in such a way that the look of it made me feel faint. It stuck into the air and seemed to be enmeshed in mangled flesh. It was lunchtime and our vet would only be back at 16h00. I took the necessary measures. Anti-inflammatory painkiller, herbal sedative, something to chew on because it is a known stress reliever. Personally I had nothing.

At 16h30 I phoned to find out f the kid could be fetched and what was done to her. Turns out that anesthesia was necessary to remove the nail. At least the whole operation went well. To scare the "£$%% out of me I was shown the nail that was removed, now neatly sealed in a plastic bag. I told them that we have enough Bassets with healthy nails at home and that they could keep it or give it to someone in need of a nail.

As usual I added a new bowl, bag of food, cookies and whatever else I could justify onto the bill. The benefits of retail therapy are tremendous.

The kid looks terrible, as if she had a skiing accident. The bandages on her foot are so big that I stumble when I look at it. She was a little sleepy and confused but very happy when she was loaded into the BUV and allowed to sit on top of the newly acquired bag of food. Wagging tail. That's my Butter. I hugged her and told her what a good puppy she was. To hell with retail therapy, this is the stuff.

There were a couple of things that needed to be done before anyone could have supper. Butter could hardly walk with the mammoth boot stuck on her front paw so I had to improvise ramps everywhere I could.

A few pieces of scrap wood, cable ties and rubber car carpets are very useful items. Add duct tape to the mix and you'll think yourself an accomplished maker-fixer-of-things. 

This is how it works. You take the wood and saw it more or less in the desired lengths. I emphasize 'more or less' because I'm not sure if it should be done with a jigsaw and if so, how to make the thing run in straight lines. Then you tie it together with lots and lots of cable ties. If you run out of cable ties, you are stupid because you MUST always have loads of those around the house, even some in your car's cubbyhole. Then you stick holes in the rubber mats and tie it to the wooden structure with lots and lots of cable ties, unless you are stupid and have already run short of those (Note to self: buy bunches of cable ties). If you cannot find rubber mats, use the ones in your car. Your Bassets would not mind one little bit. To finish the project duct tape is used to cover every little gap that could cause a nail to get stuck and torn. Mind not to tape the ramp-thing to the surface you're working on, it's a bitch to get off.

After the very sturdy little ramp was assembled, the loose piece of wood in the entrance to the dog house had to be fixed. I tried to rip the thing off but one relentless screw hung on for dear life. Duct tape. Problem fixed. If it will not come off, tape it back onto its proper place. For good measure I put some more tape around the whole dog house and taped the roof of it. I used red tape all over so that the Bassets could see how serious I take their well being. (Note to self: buy more duct tape)

My job being done, I helped Butter up the longer of the two ramps and called the others into the house. Looked for the house keys which have gone missing. This is where Easter eggs are useful. You eat one when you are in despair or just plain fed up. If you do not feel better afterwards you should immediately eat another one.

I eventually found the keys still in the laundry room's door (which is way in the back of the yard). I yanked them out and my irritation induced march back to the house was abruptly halted by the new ramp sticking out the side of the dog house. (Note to self: be sure to buy luminescent duct tape) (Note to self: install the motion activated spotlights sitting on the shelf in the garage. At least you'll  be able to see why you got smacked by the ground)

The Bassets are now peacefully asleep after their supper. I've switched to whiskey because I'm running low on Easter eggs. Cannot risk it - crisis might strike at any time.

Tomorrow Butter's bandages can come off and hopefully Nougat would not think that Butter is trying to attack me with her big foot when she wobbles toward me.

Peace out. Human done for tonight.