Down for the count
Our dog, Hershey, is in his “formative” years – he’s almost two. Our little fledgling has learned much. He is potty trained, likes car rides and walks in the park, warmly greets other dogs (and to their dismay cats) with the international canine custom of bottom sniffing. He has “sit,” “stay,” “shake,” and “down” memorized and if you have a treat or he’s not distracted by absolutely anything else, he’d be happy to show you. He only chases the kitties 62.8 percent of the time and he’s been caught licking Tike, although Tike would deny it if asked. He almost sleeps through the night without taking a potty break and seems to be on the same schedule as me, which is helpful. Although weighing in at 47 pounds, Hershey is a relational being and considers himself part of the family.
This spring I took my first business trip away from home since we got Hershey. Joe looked forward to my departure so he and Hershey could do some male bonding. Joe said it would be “military rule” around the house and that he’d have the dog and kitties saluting when I got home. (It’s been a running joke with Joe and me since he worked for the Army Personnel Reserve Center in Denver). I just hoped they had a good time.
After arriving in Los Angeles, I called to check in with the family. Joe told me things were going pretty well. Hershey didn’t want to eat the dry food mixed in with the canned so Joe fed him canned food only, to ease his separation anxiety. Joe went swimming and when he returned, he noticed some white fluff on the bedroom floor. Upon further inspection, he recognized the source to be a hole in our down comforter and duvet cover. (Before I left on my trip, Hershey had dismantled Joe’s electric blanket while it was plugged in so Joe decided that spring had sprung and that we didn’t need it.) Joe got the vacuum cleaner out and cleaned up the snow-like mess.
There are few things in life that I cherish but one of them is our down comforter. I’d had it for years and the fact that it was injured, possibly beyond repair, wasn’t sitting well. The warm, snuggly comforter was one of those things that made me burrow further into bed in the morning when the alarm went off. It was one of the reasons that Hershey didn’t get his breakfast at 6 a.m. so it was a logical target. Hershey was also against “fluff” and dog beds never lasted long in our house but I never thought he’d turn on our bed. I was at a Christian trade show so I muttered, “Thou shalt not kill … thou shalt not kill …”
Joe’s solution to the problem was to feed Hershey more food, to abate his seemingly voracious appetite. I also recommended that Joe confine Hershey to the office at bedtime and that he leave Hershey out of the bedroom unless he was present, and conscious. Joe reminded me what Hershey’s puppy school instructor told us: It doesn’t do any good to scold dogs after the fact as they won’t remember what they did. Joe put a myriad of blankets on our bed until I got home and could do triage repair on the comforter. Problem solved.
I received a progress report from Joe the next morning. Hershey had been a sleeping angel by the side of the bed when Joe got tired and he didn’t want to disturb him by moving him. Joe woke up to the birds singing and the sunshine peeping into the bedroom and Hershey’s bark alerting Joe that it was time for breakfast. As Joe walked around the foot of the bed, his foot landed on white, fluffy down filling. Hershey had found the twin down comforter (with duvet cover) that Joe had used along with other blankets on the bed. It also now needed emergency medical care. Joe put a new bag in the vacuum cleaner and again cleaned up the downy mess.
Joe and I revisited the importance of discipline and the need to constrain Hershey at night and when he wasn’t home. Hershey was crate-trained as a child, but Joe felt it was cruel to make him sleep in such a confined space. The crate was used only when Hershey went to grandma and grandpa Weidenbenner’s house for a visit. Joe agreed to put Hershey in the office at bedtime and we confirmed my flight arrival time for the next day and we hung up.
The next morning, with a Chai tea latte and scone in hand, I dialed Joe. Joe said he didn’t have the heart to put Hershey to bed in the office again last night because he was sleeping so peacefully. And, there wasn’t really anything else that Hershey could tear up. Hershey again spent the night with Joe on the bedroom floor.
Morning came and Joe awoke to Hershey’s breakfast bark. Joe walked to the end of the bed and stepped with bare feet on a kitty Roca minefield the size of Toledo. In the middle of the night, Hershey had cleaned the kitties’ litter box, taking the refuse out of the box and leaving it on the floor so Joe wouldn’t miss it. The vacuum cleaner again came out.
Fast forward to the fall. The leaves are changing color and mornings are now a crisp 44 degrees. I have mended the down comforter and various duvet covers. We’re sleeping like bears in our den. Hershey has matured and now sleeps at the foot of the bed with us, snuggled into the down comforter. He’s still not allowed in the bedroom, unattended and we’re keeping a variety of chew toys close-by. So far, so good …
