More firsts for the new guy

Remington was home but the parade of "new" was far from over. The first obstacle was the linoleum flooring in the kitchen and tile in the family room. The night we got home Remy was too confused or excited to notice the strange feel of the flooring under his paws. The next morning was different.

When we woke up and I walked to the family room door to take Remington and Houston outside I noticed that Remy was a little reluctant to follow me. He'd put his paw on the linoleum then immediately retreat to the carpet. It was Houston to the rescue! As soon as Remy saw Houston confidently walk over both floors Remy was willing to follow. 

Once outside Remington had to get used to being on a leash while he went potty. He'd done well on the ride home on leash but the backyard was different. He was used to his free-as-a-bird, no collar, no leash lifestyle. Surprisingly, he didn't really resist and willingly walked along as though he'd already been trained to heel. 

Inside again, he began to learn about toys. Becky had bought a soft football toy for him and we'd given it to him at the hotel but he was too "shell-shocked" to even notice it. Now he was surrounded by toys from Houston's toy box. It didn't take long before he began shredding Houston's precious "woobies." 


Before long Remy was in for another first. His first meeting with Samara (Kenny's dog). Samara is a pit mix and definitely the queen of the pack around here. She lets the boys know that she rules the roost and their choice is to accept that fact. She even took bones from our Great Dane, Cooper, even though he was her best friend and love of her life! And the 150 lb. guy quietly let her. Remington was in for a lesson or two!

Samara was very patient with Remy. She recognized that he was a pup and let him get away with more than she had with any other dog. He even mounted her in his excitement at having a playmate and she didn't eat him! Before long  they were playing as though they'd been together since Remy's birth. 


At times Samara gets tired of Remington's inexhaustible energy and we have to let her hide in her room but they look forward to their time together each morning. Another first checked off the list.

Remington has had an incredible number of firsts since he's arrived home. His first walk off the property, his first exposure to cars driving by, his first trip to the  pet store, our vet's office, and in the last few days, his first experience with falling & blowing leaves. It's fun to see the world through his eyes. Everything is new and fascinating. It helps me rediscover the wonder that is our world and reminds me that some things can be very scary if we've never seen or heard them before. 


Remy's firsts will continue for a long time; his first Thanksgiving with all the smells, sounds, and restrictions and his first experience of not being allowed to chew the Christmas tree/gifts. He'll have his first experience with fireworks on New Year's Eve. He'll see his first snowfall and feel ice on his paws for the first time. We can look forward to his first spring with the peepers calling and baby rabbits and squirrels invading "his" space. We've already had the fun of seeing him meet his first toad and first caterpillar!


I can't wait to experience Remington's "firsts" with him. It's going to be quite a ride!

Homecoming

It was a remarkably long ride home. We had driven to Arkansas and back into Missouri the day before and then made the entire trip home the next day. I had originally planned to stop on the way down, pick up Remy on Tuesday and then stop overnight on the way back. Marty had other plans.


The weather on the way home was not on our side. We passed in and out of quite a few substantial rainstorms. At times it was difficult to see the road. Travel is hard on me anyway and the added stress of a ridiculously long trip and bad weather was making it nearly intolerable. The bright spot in the whole thing was Remy. When we left the hotel, Remy stood on the console with his head on Marty's shoulder. I think he was navigating in his puppy way. Soon he fell asleep.

Remington napping on the ride home.

I was afraid, on the trip down, that we'd find that the new puppy was as truly awful as a passenger as Tucker had been. Both on the way home from Kentucky and on the way back to return Tucker we were totally grossed out. He drooled like no dog I'd ever seen all the way home. The backseat was soaking wet. On the way to return him, he threw up three times. In the week and a half that we had him, he'd pretty much grimed the backseat almost beyond repair. Thank God Marty was willing to spend hours scrubbing and blotting to get the seat back to looking and smelling nice again!

Remy waits for Daddy to gas the car.

Remington, on the other hand, rode as if he'd been doing it for years. No drool, no carsickness, no whining of any kind. As I wrote, it was easy to forget he was even there. The only trouble we had was getting him out of the car as he was still terrified of all the noise and activity at each stop. He literally screamed when we tried to take him out of the car. We thought we'd end up being arrested for puppy abuse. In the car, however, he was a dream!

A quick kiss & everything is fine.

Finally, after rainstorms, construction zones, freaking pup, and dark of night, we made it home. Remy, of course, had to be dragged from the car, but he was relatively calm when he met our middle son, Kenny. He was also very good when he met Houston. Houston was interested but was more excited about seeing me and his dad again.

Remy is a little cautious about meeting the big guy!

In spite of Remy's lack of socialization, he was excellent about meeting our youngest son, Pete and Pete's girlfriend. He exhibited a little shyness but was willing to have them pet him. He even tolerated some snuggling from Pete's girl.

We spent some time in the living room and Remy seemed to get comfortable with that room fairly quickly. He was reluctant to move from there to the bedroom but I was in a lot of pain from all the travel and activity and just wanted to get into bed. Kenny took Remington outside then we brought him toward the bedroom. He did not want to go! I had to remind myself that Remy had never seen anything but a couple of people, some dogs, some goats, and his mountain.

We decided that, since he'd done so well in the hotel room, we wouldn't crate Remington just to see how things went. They went quite well. We gave him some toys and showed him the beds and the water bowl. He settled down quickly in spite of all the excitement of the day. I had worried that, after sleeping so much in the car, that he'd want to be up all night but he was ready to turn in, too. It had been a long, confusing, frightening time for him; leaving his mountain and seeing so many new things all at once wore him out.

I'd start working on a couple of basic things in the morning, but for that night we all needed to rest. Remington was home!

Everything strange and scary and what do we call him?

We drove from Arkansas back to Branson, Missouri where we'd booked a hotel room that first night. We'd bought a crate for the pup and some toys and Becky had sent a soft football toy she'd bought as a going away gift for him. She was sure we wouldn't need the crate but I thought it best to have it just in case. I also knew that, if the pup started crying, he'd end up in bed with us. It would be a bad precedent, but we had a nearly 15 hour drive to make in the morning and we'd have to get some sleep.

He ended up riding to the hotel on my lap!

On the way to the hotel we tried out some of the names we'd thought about. Becky & Jerry were calling him "Dakota" but around here every third dog has that name. We wanted something more unique. When we arrived, we discovered that "dog" was terrified of getting out of the car. He'd never seen concrete and had only had to deal with one car at a time. Suddenly there was noise and lights and surfaces he'd never encountered. It was overwhelming. Marty carried him into the room.

At first "dog" was shy and didn't want to move from where Marty set him down.

At the hotel & his collar is so new it still has the tag!

I was a little concerned but with all the firsts I felt it would be unfair to judge him so quickly. Before long Marty had him playing and "dog" walked over to his dish and got a big drink. It wasn't long before he'd flopped over and gone to sleep. I told Marty we could bring the crate in if we needed it. We didn't. "Dog" didn't whine, try to chew anything or potty in the room. He was great!

Daddy played with "Dog" & that helped.

The next morning I tried to take him outside to potty and he freaked out. He struggled. He screamed. Eventually I got him out the door and into the parking lot where he walked between my legs to the grass. He didn't go potty and walked back to the room between my legs. It was slightly dangerous, pretty awkward, and completely hysterical. Once we were back in the "safety" of the room, "dog" was happy again. I told Marty it was just a matter of the pup getting used to so much after being on his very quiet, secluded mountain top.

We got on the road and "dog" stood on the console between us, with his head on Marty's shoulder. He was very interested in the road ahead and seemed to be navigating in his own way. After letting him see the sights for a few minutes I pushed him back and he immediately lay down and went to sleep. I kept checking for signs that he was getting carsick but there was no drool and he wasn't at all restless.

I had to remind myself that the puppy was in the back as he was such a great passenger. He slept with the occasional position change, for hours. We stopped for gas and I insisted that "dog" get out to potty. He was more than reluctant. He acted as though we were dragging him to a painful execution. He walked between my legs once again but did finally start to piddle. And he kept going. Marty was using his phone to video "dog" walking between my legs & caught this remarkably long piddle-break. For a full 50 seconds the puppy peed. It reminded us a Austin Powers and we briefly considered the name Austin (again) but that name sounds too much like Houston & we didn't want to confuse either dog.

Marty and I kept talking about names but were no closer in the early part of the day than we'd been the night before on a choice. We had our list, of course, but we were finally reduced to looking at road signs and billboards for inspiration. Some of the names were less than brilliant. We tried out "Hardee," "McDonald," and even "Wal-Mart" in our desperation. We weighed street names and state parks. Meanwhile, we kept calling the poor puppy "dog." It started to look as if that might become his permanent name. I knew his breeders would think we didn't care about him at all if we wrote and told them we'd carefully considered 376 names and chose "Dog." And I didn't even want to think about what our vet would say!

Part of the problem with choosing a name was that I wanted one that would suit "dog" both as a puppy and as the imposing adult he would become. I find nothing more annoying than an adult with a "cutesy" name. But as a pup, he would need something a little less formal. So, a name that could be shortened or have a nickname that would be appealing for a baby yet be dignified for him as an adult; not an easy thing to choose.


Then we passed a billboard with the word "Remington" in letters 3 feet high. It reminded me of an old television show, "Remington Steele." Perfect! Remington was a strong sounding name for an adult and could be shortened to Remy while "dog" was a puppy. Steele is my mother-in-law's maiden name & I'm crazy about her! So, after consulting with Marty and our son Kenny, it was decided. "Dog" finally had a real name!

The one thing on my wishlist

Houston at the Virginia Aquarium (there's a shark right on his left)

My current service dog, Houston, has been with my for over six years. He's an Anatolian Shepherd Dog and has been an amazing partner. The fact that he's been an amazing service dog is compounded by the fact that, when I went to look at him, I was told he could not be trained and could not be groomed. His owners couldn't handle him at all.

I spent 10 minutes alone with him and knew that the problem was not with the dog. He was even-tempered, sweet, attentive, and bright. Houston (at the time "Huey") was also a mess! His coat hadn't been touched in over a year according to his owner. His nails were in a terrible state. He did not listen to his owner at all. It was clear why. The man had no idea of how to handle a dog.

Within four months of Houston's arrival home his obedience was flawless and he was doing many of the tasks that I needed done. He picked up things I dropped, helped me get up and down from chairs, supported me when I lost my balance, and even helped with laundry.

Christmas 2010 - Santa's 'lil helper!

Houston on Virginia Beach - ready for retirement?

When Houston started showing signs that he was going to have to retire I was truly upset. I am so used to working with him and trust him so completely that I was sure no other dog could do what he does. Rationally, I knew that I could "replace" Houston, but my emotions kept getting in the way. I put off finding another dog because I couldn't imagine working with another dog.

After a long time of arguing with myself, I knew it was past time to start looking for a new service dog. I really wanted another Anatolian Shepherd for several reasons. Many of the qualities that make Houston such a great s.d. for me are typical of the breed. I need a large dog for the balance/counter-balance work and Anatolians are certainly large. I needed a dog that could be content without a lot of exercise. Anatolians are bred to lay in a pasture with their goats/sheep and don't have to run around constantly to be happy. I needed a dog who wouldn't drool excessively so that he would be accepted in public without grimaces. The same went for the fur. A dog who would shed constantly or look messy because of knots wouldn't be terribly presentable. Anatolians require grooming, but they don't drool and don't have overly "sheddy" coats.

The only problem is that they're somewhat hard to come by, especially where I live. It seems that many of the "breeders" are more interested in showing the dogs they already have than actually breeding. I had put a deposit on an unborn puppy because the breeder promised me she'd keep the sire home from an "important" show because it fell in the dam's heat cycle. She lied. After waiting for months I found out that she'd taken the dog to the show and that the bitch wasn't pregnant. She offered to have me wait nearly another year for a puppy. I declined. For all I knew there would be another big show and I'd be out of luck again.

For a while I thought I'd have to settle for another breed. I was disappointed but I knew I had to find a dog before Houston was done working. Then I found the lady in Kentucky, with the "Anatolian" that looked just like a Great Pyrenees. After such a long drive down there, I pressured myself into giving him a try and it was a disaster. I then had to go all the way back to Kentucky to return the dog.

I then located a breeder all the way in Arkansas. That's a very long way from Michigan but she had a male she thought would be perfect and had several other puppies available if I thought the pup she'd picked wasn't right. It was a long way to go if none of the puppies seemed likely but I had to take the chance.

Marty, my husband, was reluctant at first. He was thinking of the long trip back to return a pup if it didn't work out but I assured him that unless I felt certain one of the pups had an excellent chance of being a good s.d. I'd be tough and just say no. It took some persuasion, but he finally agreed to make the nearly 800 mile trip down.

We'd arranged to drive down on a Monday and see the pups on Tuesday morning but we left even earlier than planned and made better time than we thought we would, so Becky, the breeder, said we could come on Monday. Becky and Jerry live very high up in the Ozark Mountains so we had a beautiful drive to their ranch.

Jerry & Becky of Diamond Acres Ranch   

When we arrived Becky had bathed the pup she chose and had him on a lead. I had told Marty I expected some of the Anatolian aloofness from the pup and he was pretty distant. He hadn't met strangers way up on his mountain and so he was particularly shy. That would have been a red flag for me except that he warmed up and was very friendly very quickly. I felt sure he'd be able to accept strangers quite well once he had the opportunity.

I looked at the other pups and, in spite of the fact that they were both younger and "cuter" I was sure that the pup Becky had chosen would be the right guy. Papers and money were exchanged and the next thing I knew we were on our way to the hotel with a new service dog candidate. I was hopeful but a little nervous. I knew the first night would give me an indication of how this guy was going to work out. The one thing I knew was that I'd gotten the one thing on my wishlist. I had an Anatolian Shepherd.

My first look at the really new guy.

Starting Again

Tucker, the service dog candidate from Kentucky, is not going to work out. He is unwilling to learn, preferring his own ideas to mine. He's also very destructive.

In just 8 days he ate Houston's leash, chewed my dresser, destroyed 4 of Houston's beloved "woobies," and his tennis ball. Some of these toys Houston's had for years.

Tucker also managed to injure my leg by pulling me so hard on leash that I can barely walk. A couple of days ago Marty took him for a walk and Tucker ended up knocking Marty down. Now Marty's entire right side is bruised and sore and his elbow is scraped raw in spite of his long-sleeved shirt. I hate that he got hurt but it would have been much worse had Tucker done that to me.

Tucker is afraid of people, mostly men, and noises freak him out. If a pan drops in the kitchen while he's in the bedroom, he jumps and tries to hide. We've tried to introduce him to people who really like and understand dogs but he's still very afraid.

He'll make a wonderful farm dog. He loves being outside and will, no doubt, grow into a dog who will defend his goats with his life. He already has an impressive bark and a deep growl. And he's a very sweet puppy.

If we wanted a dog simply as a pet and could keep him outdoors most of the time, we'd probably keep him. You can't help but love him. But he's not ever going to make it as a service dog and that's what I need. He'll be happier back home and I'll be able to find a dog to take over Houston's job. I'll miss Tucker, but it's for the best.