Saturday, December 17, 2011
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Gleason is our new foster Weimaraner. He had a family and lost them. Moved into a kill shelter, got picked up by a rescue group, and moved into boarding for a couple months. Now he's staying with us. We picked him up on Sunday.
And he has slowly been coming out his shell. Which is more than we can say about Tenzing, who may have lost 5 pounds in 4 days and is considering permanently living outside. Zsa Zsa Princess and Gleason seem to have an understanding, but they aren't exactly best buds. Tenzing took some retaliatory measures, which resulted in Gleason marking. And a lot of headache for Mom and Dad.
Overall, Gleason is a pretty good dog, but he represents a huge change in our house, and we all seem to have some mixed feelings about the situation. I'm a little overwhelmed by him -- I mean he weighs about 70 pounds and is all up in my grill or Mom's grill no matter what. I'm not the biggest fan when I first wake up or am getting tired and cranky. I'm not really used to having to compete for Mom's attention, and Gleason isn't really programmed to share his master.
Weims tend to be a little, how shall we say, neurotic. Gleason is pretty easy going on that spectrum, but he's still a handful. Funny how knowing something doesn't really prepare you for the reality of a situation... Hmm, anyhow, he is unknowingly participating in our Great Dog Experiment. [Mom failed to get his consent, so much for all those IRB trainings in Philly.] Mom thought it might be nice to get a dog and fostering is a good way to try out the situation. Dad agreed.
Dad is maybe not so sure about this decision now.
See how tired and sweet he looks right now? Any ideas why?
Well, let me tell you. Mom has discovered that she has to crate Gleason during meals and snack time or he gets a little overbearing and tries to eat my food. Smart Mom crated Gleason. We were leaving for errands immediately afterwards. I thought it would be fun to let Gleason back out. Mom didn't agree. But she didn't realize that I had pretty much undone the crate. Dumb Mom. 45 minutes later when we came home to Gleason's super excited face at the door, Mom realized we might have a problem. She had no idea it would be with the door.
Oh boy. Did we ever. I'll spare you the details. Suffice to say, Gleason is in a lot of trouble. And so is Mom.
Right now, it's kind of hard to remember that we're doing a really good thing for Gleason. And it's temporary. And he's really cute. Plus, having your own pony around is a lot of fun. And Mom likes walking him. He usually listens and is very sweet and doesn't even want to eat the cats. I don't know... Hopefully we can make this work until Gleason can find a permanent home.
And then maybe the cats can move back into their house. At which point Mom and Dad will resume threatening Tenzing about kicking him out for waking them up at 5.30 on the weekends...