The Patience Games

Karma is the universal dynamic of 'do unto others as you would do unto yourself' because if one sows goodness, one will reap goodness; if one sows evil, one will reap evil. Another universal dynamic is: Dogs don't understand these dynamics nor does it apply to them.

So when I treat Finn with love and get miscellaneous items torn up in return: I try not to take it personally. Instead I sit there and hope that Karma will trip him up a little. Nothing evil and certainly nothing too drastic. Like when he goes to eat another one of my mittens: it gives him indigestion. And because Finn has such a sensitive stomach: it actually does give him indigestion. That's when I learn Karma for him, ends up being a medicine I also have to swallow. Because, right there, in front of me is the product of Karma in yellow spew on my carpet...that I have to clean. Which leads me to the conclusion that the properties of 'Karma' does not apply to dogs.

This became apparent to me over the weekend when I ended up in the hospital due to dehydration. And I was guzzling water the days before this happened, so it was appreciated, but unnecessary to have each of my co-workers tell me: "You need to drink more water". Although the rebel in me would disagree with the appreciation ("don't tell me what ta do").

After I got out of the hospital, I was feeling pretty good. The nurses pumped me with fluids and I wasn't feeling too bad. No urge to pass out, no dizziness. I took Finn out of his crate (forgetfully leaving my bedroom door open) and settled down for the rest of the night that was already gone from my hours in the hospital. Of course, I had to wonder what kind of side-effect dehydration would have on a body considering I had never had it previously. So I guess it makes sense that stupid curiosity would blister in to full-blown pain through a migraine and nausea. And because I was preoccupied with profuse amounts of suffering and I hadn't checked on Finn in less than two minutes I deserved the chaos upon which I entered when I went to my room to lay down. 

On my bed was Finn who was all too happy with his accomplishments, his tail wagging with confidence and ears perked in exuberance. Just below him, was the chowed remains of my murdered mitten, it's partner condemned to a widowed life. 

There really wasn't much I could do by then besides clean up the missing pieces of torn mint and black yarn. Until I noticed Finn bend down to chew on something else that was fabric: Artemis's pumpkin hat. Sure, Artemis was jumping for joy at the prospect of the torn up hat (as I reminded my son that I still had the frilly neck piece), but I was able to stop the shredding wars before it exponentially became worse. 

All this led to Finn's re-crating so he could cool down for a bit. 

Maybe it's just me, but I've noticed a pattern here. When I get sick or have a bad day, Finn gets some metaphysical message to behave horribly. From where: I don't know. I'm certain I don't want to know either.

(legs are actual size)xD

One way or another he tends to rip things up on days that just happen to coincide with negativity. Making it that much harder to keep my patience. And Finn requires a lot of patience.

A lot.

For example, when I tried to teach him how to "shake" inside the bathtub, rather than outside of it. 

Dogs will be dogs. And I'm not opposed to him shaking his wet, little derriere all over the house, but out of respect for my parents and their furniture (which we try to take care of) I thought it'd be best to teach him to shake inside the bath tub before he's allowed to jump out.

I knew it was going to be a challenge because Finn doesn't know the word "shake" or it's meaning. That's still something he is attempting to grasp. But I didn't think the process would take almost two hours. 

I could hear my parent's down the hall, in the living room, wondering why it was taking me so long to simply give Finn a bath. And I'll tell you why. For half an hour, the events went a little something like this:

When I was ready to call it quits, I let him hop out of the tub. He started to shake so I tossed him back in before he could. Then we repeated our previous endeavor for another thirty minutes. I let him hop out again and praised him when he didn't shake. Which made him want to shake and made me toss him back in before he could. Repeat steps 1, 2, 3 and so on so forth for another hour. If we're lucky he'll shake in the tub so I can praise him, let him out and he can start to learn what "shake" is. Obviously, I still have much to repeat and continue trying to teach him. 

Until then, let the Patience Games begin and "May the odds be ever in your favor!"


I copied Em a bit and put her blog on my blog list over there on the right underneath the archive. Check it out she's updated! >:D

Blonde Moments

Finn met three blondes within a weeks period of time. One of those blondes, unfortunately enough, was me. 

After bleaching my hair, I was able to keep the morphing shade of platinum blonde, blonde-yellow, orange, and brass red for about an hour before quickly pulling the reigns on the circus act and re-dying my hair a dark red. I would have made my hair the light brown, if I hadn't ran a test strand and found out the brown would only cover so much. The blonde had too drastic of color variations from the bottom up. It was, as you can see, a difficult transition to take a photo of. In the picture the color looks more like a light orange more than anything else, but, trust me, it wasn't. 

Normally, I'm blessed with the eye of foresight, so, generally speaking, I always have back-up plans in case something fails. And, in my defense, I did have a back-up plan. I just forgot to buy the dye for it. Back-up Plan A: impossible. So I quickly made a Plan B. Seeing as I am, by nature, possessed with amazing stealth, I crept in to my mother's bedroom and took the dark hair dye she had on the sink (as sneaky as I am, I still told her). It ended up not turning out very dark and there are still some visible blonde streaks through the red, but overall I'm happy with it. No more yellow-top.
 
Even though bleaching works for a lot of girls, I'm just not one of them. I thought I could speed up the process of dying my hair a light brown, it turns out that I couldn't. I'll just have to take the patient route and wait until my natural hair color grows back. Until then, say hello to light red hair again.

On to more important matters, Finn met two other blondes this week:

Bailey (skinny, hyper girl on the left) and Cooper (fat, lumpy boy on the right)

Bailey is a sweet, energetic, yellow Labrador mix who can be crazy protective of her owner and then can just as easily flip a switch and drool her love all over your lap. Cooper on the other hand is a lumpy, awesome, ole Lab who could never pass up an opportunity to give a stranger a kiss or, at the very least, show his intent to try in an adorable hop that's far from reaching a foot off the ground. 

Upon entering, Bailey had been crated up for the sake of the house remaining intact being that that little girl is criminally insane. She was adopted by my best friend only a few weeks earlier than, what I call, Finn's 'gotchya' date. The Bay-bay was deemed by her original owners to be "too hyper" and thus was surrendered to the local SPCA. I believe this happened on multiple occasions, but I'm not savvy on the details (rather, my brain isn't up to par). Regardless, Laurel (friend-lady) is working wonders with her. She's already gaining weight and starting to look much healthier than she first was when initially adopted.

When Bailey was released from her temporary confinement, her hair, as expected, was standing on end in 'protect and defend' mode. She met me once when she was first adopted, but it had been a while since then so I was looking to see that she didn't remember me. Still, she showed little interest in me and headed straight for Finn. 

As Finn logic rules, the oncoming threat meant immediate retreat for him, yet he showed very obvious signs of curiosity and decided to hold his ground. Until Bailey barked at him. Maybe she was testing him to see if he'd bite back, I can't say for sure, but the minute he turned from her and tried to hide, Bailey left him alone and began her track of A.D.D. Every now and again, she'd sniff him out, making him only slightly uncomfortably shy, before she was off in la-la land, pacing the house back and forth. 

Cooper on the other hand made Finn's transition easier. He inspected the little guy quietly, touched noses and walked a small distance from Finn's new found safe-spot before looking back as if in askance "are you coming?". A sweet sentiment that Finn never followed. 

Finn is far from a lost cause though. Given time, he became so curious about what 'normal' (I use that word loosely) dogs do that he came bounding in to the room they were in before trotting back out in a flurry when both dogs caught sight of him and stampeded over. 

While the progress made in the house was cute and had me laughing, the best progress was made when they were all outside. Cooper and Bailey are pretty used to playing with one another, but these two are new territory to Finn. He had played with a dog-pal before at his foster home, but these guys were a fresh experience and he was treading carefully. 

At first, he wouldn't budge. Finn had found a companion in a loner tree in the backyard, watching on as Coops-the-poops and the Cray-Bay played. Every now and again I'd attempt to get him pumped for playing, but he would just give me that helpless puppy stare before pulling the leash tighter to get closer to the tree and farther from me. 

Can't say I blamed him, as I was the sole purpose for his distress. 

Fingers slowly became numb from the cold wind, forcing mittens and the re-appearance of shark-hat. In small, feeble tries to have Finn join the fun, the object of Bailey's affections, the tennis ball, was tossed within his reach. The first time, he sniffed it. That's it. The second try, he sniffed it and was attempting to bite it when he stopped halfway through the descent to gaze at me, his eyes full-well asking "Can I? Should I? Mom, what do I do?" as if I had all the answers about being a dog. Not taking that in personal offense, I smiled and encouraged him to get the ball. He half-heartedly bit it and then promptly dropped it, giving up his chance to Cooper who was more than grateful to receive.

In Bailey fashion, she darted straight for Cooper to wrestle the tennis ball back. And thus Finn's curiosity grew, resulting in:

Aw...big step for Stumps...who was then ignored for continuous play between the yellow fellows. Bailey, as always, reigning victorious.

 

(win!)

Meanwhile, my picturesque boy (hair blowing in the wind and all) sat by the tree, burning holes in to the back of my head with pitiful laser gazes consistently sent my way. 

 

In the end, all things considered, I'd say that was one of the most successful days Finn has had as of yet. Upon entering a new house and meeting new dogs, his ears never fell against his head in fear. Even at home, he still has his moments, but this whole time he was too busy watching the 'big kids' play and inadvertently teach him things that seemed foreign.

And what great 'kids' to learn from. Two goof balls filled with lots of love are sure to be life-long friends of Finn's once we are able to acquaint them further. 

Em's story here, in case you still haven't read it:
http://animalsmakeushuman28.blogspot.com/2012/08/adventures-in-fostering-day-1.html