Getting to Know Tucker, Part II: Tucker and His Furry Family

It's amazing to watch the relationships among all the animals in our family change and adapt as Tucker finds his place. There is genuine affection from Jasper and Lilah toward him. And Tucker simply adores his older brother and sister. The cats have come to realize that this new dog is part of the pack and have begun to accept him. There have been occasions of mutual sniffs, but also a few hisses and slaps. That said, Dawn and Athena now feel comfortable enough to take a nap in close proximity to The New Dog, and have even been caught rubbing up against him, though, to date, they both insist it was a case of mistaken dog identity.

 

 Often there are Discussions on whose stick belongs to whom, but sometimes it's okay to share it.

 

  Lilah and Tucker can seem to be evenly matched, but really Lilah is taking it easy on him. She can body check Jasper and knock him off his feet if she wants.

 

  Tucker learns quite a bit by watching his big brother and sister. Lilah has shown him the best place for watching birdies.

 

 Sometimes a sister makes a good pillow.

 

And sometimes a brother is a good pillow, too. (That's Jasper's back on the right.)

Tucker is happy to reciprocate.

Jasper is a great tug partner as well. Except when he Really Wants His Elephant. And then he lets Tucker know about it. And then Tucker finds a new toy...temporarily.

 

 It's also fun to chew sticks with Jasper, because he likes Big Sticks. If Jasper does something, it's probably Fun, and Tucker loves to do what his big brother does.

Tucker found a new toy and brought it to Jasper so they could play with it together. Jasper's face tells the story: "That is Not a Toy. We're gonna get in trouble..."

Tucker in his brother's shadow, but temporarily.

The trio do quite a bit as a unit. The rule here is to stop at the top of the steps...

 

...then sit quietly while I take off the leashes. Nobody moves until they are told, "Okay!"

Tucker, Lilah and Jasper run a merry game of chase when they're outside; most often it's hard to tell who is chasing whom.

But they all come running when called. Those smiles are genuine, not photoshopped.

When it's time to go back in the house, all three gather by the door.

 

And then it's nap time on the dog bed...er...couch.

Tucker tries to understand Dawn and Athena. He is completely puzzled over why crinkly brown paper is just so darn exciting. Actually, so are the rest of us.

Tucker is learning to use a gentle touch with the cats. Dawn will tell you he hasn't perfected it yet.

 

But that doesn't stop her from snuggling on a blanket when it's nap time.

Getting to Know Tucker, Part I: Dog Meets World

It's hard to believe Tucker has been with us a mere week and a half. We're all getting to know him; we already love him. The pictures below provide a glimpse into his personality; he is mischevious, curious, funny, loving, playful, friendly and silly.

 There's something about his eyes; he looks right at you and you know there's a story waiting to be told.

Outside, Tucker's nose misses very little. He can sit and sniff the breeze or follow a scent trail, nose to ground.

Like Jasper, Tucker is a comfort hound, seeking out the softest, cushiest spots in the house and claiming them for his own.

He is peripatetic pup, our Tucker, so rainy days can be frustrating as there is just not enough room in our house to run wild. Though that doesn't stop him from trying.

Tucker loves to explore. He followed one of the cats under our bed, and found it to be a fascinating place from which to watch the world go by. Dawn was Not Pleased.

A crate is not a happy place when the door is closed, but when it's open, what a great place to stretch out and relax for a sleepy puppy.

Jasper and Lilah love to jump up and run around on our shade garden wall. Tucker will join them soon, I'm sure, when he gets a little more control over his gangly body. In this picture, I swear I can hear him saying, "I'll have a Guiness."

Normally well behaved, Tucker had me fooled into thinking I could leave him unsupervised while I took a shower. Jasper's bed was a casualty, but it sure was fun to shred.

If Jasper likes it, Tucker does too. The emu is a favorite toy, and Tucker rests his head on his prize, having successfully weaseled it out of Jasper's paws.

One can simply never have too many bones.

Or maybe an antler to chew on. I swear it looks like he's an old man with a pipe...perhaps stuffed with Longbottom Leaf?

Oh, the places he'll go! We are so thrilled Tucker joined our family and are truly enjoying getting to know this awesome little guy, as we watch him grow and learn. Stay tuned for further adventures...

And Then There Were Three

I knew it was only a matter of time. Jasper and Lilah were growing up; Lilah was becoming quite the young lady, very well mannered, and there were only slight vestiges of her skittishness left, really only apparent to those of us who knew her when she was younger. Jasper, the comfort hound, was also settling down, although he still is a work in progress, as the natural exuberance stuffed into his solid 53-pound body still boils over when introduced to new people...well, any people, or dogs. Normally calm and actually quite lazy, Jasper is instantly energized when he says hello to...anyone.

I have been talking about the possibility of a third dog for quite some time. I never had three dogs, yet somehow, it felt like I should stay open to the idea. I was pretty sure we’d adopt Number Three eventually, but I wasn’t in a hurry. I figured when the right dog came around at the right time, I’d adopt him or her. I was guessing that this might all take place when my son heads off to college in 2012, as I predicted the Empty Nest Syndrome to hit me big time.

In the mean time, I would periodically scroll through the pictures on Petfinder.com or Adoptapet.com...not so much looking, as just maybe window shopping; there was no real intention to “buy.”

However, a month or so ago, I had this really powerful dream that a dog--a puppy--came looking for me, and when he joined our family, it was complete. The adorable little thing had a roundish puppy belly, with these cute little brown patchy spots. The next day, I was curious; maybe the dog in my dream exists; on a whim, I visited the two sites...because, well, you never know. I was looking for that belly.

As I looked at all the faces--and puppy bellies--as usual, I thought I could take nearly any one of them home.  Though, now I realized that with two cats in the house, my choices were more limited. I couldn’t even consider any pup whose description didn’t say he or she was good with cats.

And then, I saw The Face. It wasn’t the same dog in the dream. (I mean, folks, this is reality, not fiction or film.) But still, I saw this dog on Adoptapet.com and knew he was meant to come live with me. Hmmmm. Wait a minute. Perhaps I should read the description before I fell madly in love with a picture. "Good with children." Check. "Good with other dogs." Check. "Good with cats." Check.

A little over a month later, Brian, Aaron, Corinne and I were sitting in our minivan in a Chili’s parking lot in Flemington, New Jersey waiting to actually meet “Jack.”  I had been in almost-daily contact with his foster, as the dog was in North Carolina, having been pulled from a shelter by a rescue organization, Saving Fur Kids Rescue. Over time, I saw pictures of the puppy, learned he really was as good as his description, and felt pretty comfortable that he was going to fit right in to our menagerie--human, canine and feline.

On the drive to Flemington, I had told all family members that if anyone got a bad feeling about the dog, or felt it was really wrong, he or she could veto the adoption right then and there. But I wasn’t worried; if this dog was for us, it would be pretty obvious; we’re all dog people and can read animals quite well.

A van pulled into the parking lot, and a woman waved to us. In the back of the car, we could see a doggy head. “Jack” jumped out, went immediately to Brian and gave him warm, sloppy puppy kisses. He then greeted each of us the same way, one at a time, as if to say, “Hey Family, where have you been and what took you so long?” 

We were all in love. Instantly.

And on the ride home, as the puppy snuggled onto Aaron’s lap, I caught a glimpse of his belly. In one small area, where he had been shaved for his neutering, there were cute little brown patchy spots.

That was a mere four days ago.
It is amazing how well the little guy, whom we renamed Tucker, fits into our family. (Why Tucker? He just looks like a Tucker, and everyone agreed on the name, which is really hard for us to do as a group--agree, that is.)

Jasper and Lilah were thrilled to have a new dog to play with; they zoomed around the yard, leaping and bouncing and wagging.

Athena was a little unsure at first, but eventually realized this was just another dog, and once she taught him that cats rule, he’d be okay. A few hisses and a growl made it quite clear. It was obvious that Tucker understood Athena, so he must have been told a thing or two by a cat in a previous encounter or two.

Dawn skedaddled up to the safety of the Underbed Cave in our room, where she would emerge every few hours or so to register a Complaint with The Management about unsavory guests and rude behavior. But she did come downstairs for Dinner. Grudgingly, but it was Dinner.
Today, only a few days after Tucker entered our lives, he is entirely part of our family.  The pictures tell the story.

 

Jasper posing with his new little brother.

Tucker and big sister Lilah.

 

Jasper, Tucker and Lilah.

 

Sharing a drink and maybe a little news at the water bowl.

 

On the lookout for squirrels.

 Athena inspecting the troops, and calculating a landing spot.

 

Lilah and Tucker playing.

 

Tucker sleepin' with his big brother.

 Tucker is ready for adventure--and love--in his new family.

Feeding Time at the Zoo

There are two main shows every day...and a shorter version at night. There’s singing and dancing. Obstacle courses. Leaping and jumping. Wrestling and hissing. Snuggling and licking.

Oh, and there’s dinner.

That’s what feeding time is like for the animals in my household.

A typical “dinner”--what we call the meals my menagerie gets fed--goes something like this:

First, someone has to tell me that it’s Dinner Time. Because it’s very obvious that without a lot of “Rowwwww, mroowwww, mep mep mep rowwww,” from Dawn, I wouldn’t know. You see, she’s starving. Hasn’t eaten in days, maybe weeks, perhaps...ever. Look, if she turns sideways she would disappear, she’s so thin. She’s gonna die, I tell ya. She’s so, so Hun.Gry. 

Of course, everyone else is hungry, too. Often, Athena will accompany Dawn’s solo, with a quiet, nearly inaudible chorus of her own. “Mew. Mew. Mew.” A cat of few words, Athena just wants me to know, that she is hungry, too. In case I forgot I had TWO cats. Who are hungry, by the way. 

Sometimes, Lilah will contribute to the song. A few sharp barks and “Arrrrrarrrarrroooow,” and Lilah has officially informed me that she is requiring sustenance as well, and is expecting it forthwith.

The thing is, I’m not a fan of this music. So I require it to stop in order for the meal to be served. The dogs have no problem with this. And even Athena usually can stay silent. Dawn, on the other paw, well, she’s hunggggrrry. And I might have forgotten since the last time she told me 23 nanoseconds ago. She just can’t be quiet.

In addition, cruel taskmaster that I am, I also ask that there be no felines underfoot. I have stepped on too many kitty toes in the kitchen while preparing a meal and I’d rather not experience a repeat performance.

So, to review, the Requirements for Dinner to be served are:
1) Quiet
2) Both cats on our buffet--not on the floor--in the area officially known as The Feedy Spot

Sometimes, it can take as long as 15 minutes for Ms. Dawn to shush and for both cats to be up off the floor and in The Feedy Spot. Problem is, Dawn and Athena tend to get into Discussions over the best position on the buffet. 

Often there’s some face slapping, ear posturing and eyeball arguments. Eventually, that quiets down.

I’m not that demanding; I only ask for the ability to count to 10 and not hear a cat noise. Then, I say the magic words:

“Kitteh noms!”

Instantly two cats (it sounds like a dozen) leap from The Feedy Spot and start running around the kitchen. The solo and chorus get much louder. There is much mewing and muttering and very loud Complaining about why the service isn’t faster in this joint. For some reason, both cats feel that it’s also time to be very friendly to Jasper and Lilah, and they’ll rub and snuggle them (meowificating the whole time) as if perhaps the two dogs have friends in high places and can therefore ensure that dinner will be served quickly.

It’s pretty funny to see the puzzled look on Jasper’s face as Dawn, in her instant friendliness, lets her tail curl around and under the poor boy’s muzzle. He looks at me: “What is she DOING? What does she WANT? What am I supposed to do?” As if any of us can answer that about cats--Dawn in particular.

I split a can of cat food and apportion it equally into two metal bowls. By now the volume is turned up to 11. And then Dawn goes a tad insane.

She leaps from The Feedy Spot to the floor to the chair by the table to the floor on the other side. Then she looks at me, stretches as high as she can reach on the counter, runs back to The Feedy Spot, jumps up. All the while, Dawn is singing, crying, caroling, yammering, yowling.

And then does it again. Leap. Floor. Chair. Floor. Stretch. Jump.

And again. As many times as it takes.

By now the bowls are in my hands, but I won’t walk toward the cats until they are both appropriately positioned off the floor and on the buffet.  Dawn tries to stay in The Feedy Spot, but she is compelled, nay, driven to do her circuit several more times. Leap. Floor. Chair. Floor. Stretch. Jump.

When she finally stops, I start walking toward them. The anticipation is palpable. Dawn spins in a tight circle. She leaps over Athena. And then jumps back, whacking her sister with her tail. Sometimes there’s a second spin. On special occasions a third or fourth. And then, I’m there, holding two bowls of heaven.

Still crying, Dawn goes into full Meerkat beg position. And then...silence. For she knows a silent beg is required. 

The bowl is set in place, and Dawn is blissfully eating. Athena will stand up, too, in a more reluctant pose, and then she is fed as well.

All is quiet.

Yet two other creatures, who have patiently witnessed the pregame show, now know the main event is at hand.

But first, Jasper and Lilah get a taste of cat food, as they are allowed to lick the fork and the inside of the cat food can. Ahhhh...the cats really have it good.

 

Compared to the kitties, the dog show is a bit anticlimactic. Jasper and Lilah are perfectly well behaved. They follow me to the closet where the dog food is kept and watch carefully as I measure out their kibble; they need to make sure I’m doing it correctly. And, if they’re very lucky, a stray kibble bit may escape from a bowl; somebody scores with happy wag.  I put a little warm water in each bowl to make a groovy gravy. Both dogs are still keeping tabs on me.

Then, Jasper and Lilah sit. Perfectly. Nicely. Without even being told. I put the food bowls on the floor. They wait, eyes on me. Still as hungry statues.

“Okay!” Dinner time.

Lilah eats delicately, munching her way through the meal, slow and steady. Jasper eats so vociferously that the silence of the kitchen (now that the cat show is over, and Dawn and Athena are still chowing down), is shattered by a cacophonous clanging and banging as Jasper, in his epicurean exuberance, knocks his metal bowl around in it’s holder.

And Jasper will eat every last molecule, every last quark, of food in that bowl.

Then, he’ll check Lilah’s bowl, too, for good measure. Because you never know; she might have left something.

Afterwards: happy cats, content dogs and a quiet house.  Dawn and Athena will begin their after-dinner toilette. Jasper will go back and lick his bowl a few more noisy times. Lilah will repair to a quiet spot in the living room or dining room for some After Dinner Contemplation.

The show is over. Nothing left to do but clean up. Until Dinner time comes again. And everyone is starving.