His Lordship’s progress has been impressive.
This is my posh collar
He is becoming, well, domesticated, very quickly. It took very little time at all for him to realise there was a protocol for the doling out of chickypops, and while his timekeeping on this subject is still a little off, he knows exactly what to do. He has adopted the ‘cheese for dessert’ idea with gusto. Walkies are mainly very pleasurable now that he no longer weaves to and fro in front of me constantly, and will walk beside me on a short but loose leash the majority of the time. We have also avoided close encounters with traffic because of Wait and No! He tolerates, no, enjoys, a growing wardrobe of smart neckwear and leashes.
This is my everyday collar
The chickens are now totally blasé about his occasional rushes at them, and just give him the ol’ beady eye and a squawk of ‘whatevs, bro‘ (I have very cool chickens…). Poor Higgins is a little disheartened by this lack of fear, cringe and respect. From birds, no less… Still, it does lay to rest yet another concern that a too-high prey drive might result in a backyard massacre and no fresh eggs.
He has responded satisfactorily to being left alone for periods. The longest has been 3 hours. There were no accidents, no destruction, and no sulking. I was greeted warmly on my return, amid demands for treats and strokies. It means I can actually do stuff again, which is helpful due to a new round of medical appointments which have suddenly descended.
Roaching on my day bed
But there is one area where we don’t seem to be able to make progress. And that’s the sleeping arrangements. Higgins has come from kennel life, living in a set-up where he had his own private space, but was able to see, hear and smell his companions, 24/7. For a pack animal, this is normal and reassuring. Now he lives in a house with no other doggos, just Staff. And initially, he was lonely, and nervous. We knew this was a possibility, and had set up a very nice bed for him in the corner of the bedroom, where he could see, hear and smell us. The problem lay in getting him to actually use it. He wanted onto the bed with us. He paced. He cried. We buckled. First mistake. We then tried to introduce him to the delights of the 4-seater sewing room sofa Mouse had annexed. He was delighted to use it during the day, but refused to stay put on it at night. We tried excluding him from the bedroom altogether, since he could use any one of the four other beds available to him in the rest of the house. Nope.
Don’t believe the Staff. This is my bed too…
He cried, and cried, and whined, and scratched at the door. Again, we buckled. This is only week 2, so I still have plenty of time. And lots of patience…
Sharing a two-person bed with a 33kg/73 pound greyhound is… challenging. He sprawls. He occupies the maximum space. He digs in his bony elbows and shoves with his bottom. He’s strong. This set up doesn’t work when one of the Staff has a day job that requires him to be alert, effective and well-rested. We are now at a point where the Husband has the bed and shuts the door and achieves a good night’s sleep before he goes off to drive his lethal weapon. By my own choice, I am nightly setting up house on the 4 seater sofa at bed time. His Lordship comes gambolling in, leaps up and settles at the other end. I have to be quick to establish my perimeter. He’s fast, he’s assertive and he’s not afraid to spread! Over the course of the night, I will gradually lose ground. I am working on coming to terms with Higgins on this. He gets used to sleeping on the sofa, and I gradually give up all the space to him. It’s not capitulating, it’s a Cunning Plan. One of these days, he’ll realise that he’s edged me out entirely, by which time I hope that he’ll be less needy about company, and will be content with all that space to himself. Like Mouse, I hope he will come bounding into the bedroom to join us for breakfast.
I live in hope…
talltalesfromchiconia 