The Squeak Rollercoaster & Furry Daleks Can’t Do Tables

A lot of things have happened since my last post, all of them good; probably the most important one is that Monkey and Daisy are absolutely best buddies now. There have been little some little wrinkles to smooth out, but they’ve worked a lot of things out for themselves, and I think we’ve helped sort out the rest.

One little wrinkle was that for one day and one day only, Daisy got it into her head that Monkey’s balls are there primarily as a teething aid. Seriously, every time they started playing he’d end up curling his tail in tight and heading for high ground to escape further nad-nibbles. In golden era Dr Who if you wanted to escape a Dalek, you could just run up a flight of steps. Unfortunately for Monkey, furry Daleks like Daisy can do steps with ease. They can also nibble through the underside of the hammock-style chair on our deck.

They can’t do tables though, and consequently we found Monkey on top of our deck table often enough that we put a thick blanket on there to help cushion him.

Clearly it would take more than just a blanket to fix this situation, so we changed both their crate routines a little to give Monkey more solo time, we lifted and held Daisy if she persisted in snacking on monkey nuts, and I’m sure there was some element of doggy negotiation going in there too. I don’t know what did the trick, but something did and by the next day Monkey’s balls were off the menu. From this point on, Monkey and Daisy grew closer and closer every time they were together. Daisy learned how to call a halt to play if Monkey started getting too intense, Monkey got much better at toning things down for Daisy, and we started seeing more calm, snuggly moments between them. As I write this they still haven’t snuggled down together for  nap, but they’ve come very close. One morning I had Monkey sprawled across my lap, with Daisy resting her chin on his back. Their breathing rates changed as they started to drift off, and then a delivery guy rolled up to the house and instantly broke the magic. It will happen soon, I’m certain of it.

A sure sign that they’ve bonded deeply is that they’ve joined forces in attacking the fencing around our more fragile vegetables. Once again I’ve been drawn into a Caddyshack-style battle of wits to keep them out. At first it was Monkey doing all the hard work with Daisy just tagging along, but now she’s taking a more active role, digging and creating new entry points that Monkey’s more than happy to use. At one point she wrenched a couple of tent pegs out of the ground that had been holding the fencing tought, and then bent the fence inwards to gain access to our potatoes. To me this seemed like a remarkable display of strength for such a little pup, but then Susan reminded me of Beanie’s antics soon after we brought her home; she easily and enthusiastically ripped away all the chicken wire I’d stapled over the gaps in the fence at our old house. Never underestimate the power of a determined Beagle, no matter how young & titchy they are!

While Daisy isn’t yet house-trained, we are spending far less time having  to clean up accidents. This is due in part to an additional three-day worming program with Panacur rather than our usual, Drontal-style wormer. It turns out Drontal isn’t that great at clearing up giardia infections. If you’ve got a pup with diarrhoea or watery poops, sometimes with a tiny hint of blood in them, and Drontal helps for about two days but then the symptoms quickly return, there’s good chance that pup has a gut full of giardia.

Though most of her in-crate accidents have stopped, Daisy’s little squeaky/moany commentaries haven’t; for us they’ve become her most distinguishing characteristic, every bit the equal of Poppy’s “This one!” paw action and Monkey’s cries of “It’s Monkeycide!”. While Daisy has a soundtrack for just about everything she does in a day, by far the best squeakage happens when she’s emerging from her crate after a nap. There are faltering, uncertain squeaks as she’s finding her feet and casting off the anaesthetic of sleep. The noises change, alerting the listener to the feeling of pressure in her bladder; a crescendo is reached as she crosses the crate boundary, conveying the urgency of the situation and the desperate hope for a puddle-free resolution. If containment is then lost on the very cusp of salvation, the abrupt downturn in the squeaking perfectly captures the pathos of the moment. It’s become such a thing that we squeak and moan along with her, joining in the audio rollercoaster. One time when I was down at the bottom of the garden and Susan was bringing Daisy out for an emergency pee, Daisy and Susan were squeaking loudly from the deck and though some distance away, I joined in too. The neighbours must have heard it, and if they had any doubts that we’re more than a little weird, well those doubts are history now.

To finish, some more shots from recent days and a little video of Monkey and Daisy playing: