A friend invited me to puppy classes. It’s at a farm I didn’t know, so I shoved Meg in the car the day before, and we went for a reconnaissance. It’s lucky I did. The farm is up a dark lane, and is bisected by a dirt track used by lorries working at the quarry, which looms to one side in a very scary manner. We managed to not drive into the quarry, but also to not to find the farm, so I contacted my friend, and she agreed to meet me there.
At 7pm, we set off. Driving in the dark is not my favourite thing, so getting there was an adventure, especially as the roads were icy. But we made it. The next adventure was walking to the barn, through a stable of horses. Meg was great, and walked past them with interest, but no barking. Then we entered the barn, and all went to pot. There were other dogs, and Meg decided that snarling and barking was completely appropriate (because she is a German Shepherd dog, and that is what they do). The other dogs mostly ignored her, and the owners gave me sympathetic smiles. All the other dogs were older/better behaved/already perfectly trained in comparison. The barn had thick sand on the floor, and I assume is where the horses are trained.
The trainer met me, and expressed surprise that I had bought a working breed of gsd. I told her that most of the litter had gone to the police, and she asked why Meg had been sold as a pet. I wanted to explain that actually, she has improved loads since I have had her, and I have absolute belief that one day she will be great. But the last few weeks have been undeniably tough, so I said nothing. She told me that Meg would always want to work, always be completely hyper, and would be very difficult to control. I already know this. I also know that she is brave, and happy and incredibly friendly, and when she remembers that I exist, she is good company and lots of fun. The rest we will work on.
The trainer switched my dog lead for a sort of double one—clipped onto Meg’s collar and to her harness. She then directed me to walk round the barn, using the double lead like reins leading a horse. We made it round the barn a few times, though I’m not sure who was leading who. It was much easier to control Meg though, and I didn’t feel like my arm might be pulled off, which is how it usually feels.
We then all had to stand in a big circle, and tell our dogs to sit. Meg sat (I felt stupidly proud). The trainer showed me how to use a toy to play, stop, play, stop—keeping Meg occupied so she stopped concentrating on the other dogs. The other dogs all had to practice lying down when commanded, and then sitting still while their owned left them, walked round a cone, and returned. I wanted to tell the trainer that Meg can do this too—and in fact I can tell her to sit while I go upstairs with a load of washing, and she won’t move. But at the time, she was turning in circles like a wild thing and eating as much sand as she could get into her mouth, so I decided we would continue with the task we had been given.
By the end of the lesson, Meg was able to play with the toy while all the other dogs and owners walked past us. It was actually a strangely bonding activity. I felt like Meg and I were a team, working together while the rest of the class was one step ahead of us. (More than one step, probably!) As we left the barn, Meg decided to bark at the horses, and then at my friend’s dog, so it wasn’t a complete success. But it was an excellent first lesson, and hopefully we will improve. And eat less sand.
Having a puppy is a lot like having a new baby. One similarity is that the whole world has an opinion about how you should be raising them. Complete strangers will give their views. Another similarity is that all the ‘expert’ advice tends to contradict. For example, I need to find a way to stop Meg fixating on passing cars and lurching at them when they pass. It’s dangerous. I looked online for help. One ‘expert teacher’ said that the prey-instinct is very strong in some dogs, therefore I should discourage all chasing. No chasing cats, sticks, balls, toys. Eventually, I will supress the instinct. Great. Sorted. Except, a different ‘expert’ told me that because I want to stop her chasing cars, I need to encourage the prey-instinct in other areas—so lots of games with balls, sticks, toys. (Though not cats; chasing cats is always wrong.)
I think it’s important to do what I did when I had babies: choose one or two people to trust, and follow their advice but ignore everyone else. I suspect different things work for different dogs, but the advice-givers are so certain they are correct. It undermines my confidence (just like when I had a new baby).
I therefore decided to trust myself (which is important, because I have raised/trained two wonderful dogs previously, plus taught a myriad of naughty boys with ADHD, which is not so very different). I also messaged the woman who is raising Meg’s sister as a pet, and listened to her advice, plus a couple of trusted people. I have also enrolled in ‘puppy classes’ but this is mainly to socialise Meg, because I know from past experience that dog trainers also offer varying advice.
One thing I started to try this week, was regular walking near a busy road where Meg can be slightly removed from the traffic. In our country lane, every passing car comes very close to pedestrians, which must seem like a taunt to a shepherding dog. My plan is for her to get so used to traffic at a distance, that she will gradually cope as they become nearer. I also stopped trying to bribe her good behaviour with food, because it doesn’t work, and the woman raising her sister said a tug-toy works really well as a training bribe. Off we set.
I parked at a little station car park (near enough that Meg didn’t vomit in the car—another issue I need to solve). We set off, walking round the residential streets, near a main road but not on it. Meg was great, glancing at cars on the main road, but not trying to chase them. We gradually went nearer. Eventually, we were walking on the path beside the road. Meg was great, for about 2 minutes, then decided the cars were too much, and started to lurch towards them. We went back home.
The following day, we repeated the exercise, and Meg was much better. She walked holding a tug-toy (which is my toy, she is never allowed to play with it by herself—a tip from my father-in-law). She held the toy the entire way, making sure I couldn’t take it from her—which is still bad behaviour, but much less bad than chasing cars, and I am all for compromise. We walked about 400 metres , turned round, walked back to the station. A train of school kids had arrived, so the walk back involved walking past school bags, and lots of legs, and even boys bouncing a football. Meg was great (if you don’t include the fact that she thought she had stolen my toy and was concentrating on not giving it back!) This will now be a daily activity, and gradually, as the traffic stops being an issue, I will be more fussy about who carries the toy.
As Meg has grown, she has become too heavy for me to keep lifting in and out of the car, but big dogs need protecting when they are young, as too much stress on their joints can result in arthritis when they are old. I therefore bought a ramp. It arrived, and I attached it to the boot, and directed Meg to walk up it. She looked at me like I was stupid, and sat down. I tried tempting her with food, so she barked at me. Carried the ramp into the house and leant it against a stair, so the incline was very shallow. Meg walked up it, ate the treat, walked down it. I made it steeper, and she walked up it. I repeated the exercise, until it was the same incline as the car boot. Then I took it outside, and attached it to the car. Meg looked at me as if I thought she was daft, and sat down. But then, gradually, I persuaded her up the ramp, gave her a treat, down the ramp. We did this a few times until she was walking up and down confidently. I love this about Meg—if I find the right way to teach her, she is incredibly quick to learn.
Hope you stay safe on the roads this week. Thanks for reading. Take care. Love, Anne x
We took Meg to Camber Sands. She was sick in the car (she is always sick in the car). It was really windy, and walking to the beach involved lots of sand being blown into eyes, which she wasn’t keen on. When we finally made it to the beach, she just stopped—all four paws firmly planted—and stared at everything.
We started to walk, and she was very good—interested in everything but not frightened, even when other dogs approached her wanting to play. We kept her on the lead, because if she decided to run off we would never catch her, and I don’t trust her with other animals.
She hates having wet feet, and tried to go backwards when we walked on the wet sand! Totally unimpressed by the sea, much too wet.
We only walked for about 30 minutes (I am still protecting her joints) but she was exhausted afterwards. It’s the first time I have seen her properly tired. She slept all the way home.
We also left her for a night. My daughter and son-in-law kindly agreed to have her, so we took Meg and her playpen, toys and food to Coulsdon. She was completely unfussed by being left. Daughter said she was mostly very good, though she did check with Daughter whenever son-in-law told her something, to see whether she needed to obey or not! They found a water-squirter was a good deterrent for going on the sofa, so I will copy that.
The worst thing about Meg is her insistence on chasing cars. It’s very dangerous as she gets stronger, because she fixates on them, and then lurches with all her strength. She is also terrible on the lead, and pulls very hard. It’s a lot like being behind a dog-sleigh, but without the sleigh. Daughter said they tried all sorts of treats, but nothing really distracted her from the cars, even though they were further away than when she encounters them in the lane. It’s a problem we need to fix.
17 Weeks
Meg is mostly very good now, though her energy exhausts me. She has also become very disobedient about coming when called, but as she’s bigger, I don’t worry about leaving her in the garden for a little while, so I just shut her out (which she hates, and tries to squeeze through the cat flap!)
I bought a ‘halti’ lead. It has a nose muzzle-thing, and the lead attaches to this, so if she pulls it turns her head. We practiced wearing it for short periods in the house, and then used it to walk on the field. Meg hates it, and tries to remove it, but it stops her pulling and lurching at cars. I am hoping it will break the cycle of strong pulling, so we can stop using it after a while. I am also taking her into the garden regularly, with treats and no distractions, to practice walking to heel. She is good until she loses concentration (about 4 minutes). After that, it’s not worth trying.
Not keenLearning to cope
She has got very tall and thin. I am increasing her food, and adding meat to the kibble. I assume it’s just a lanky growing phase. She moved out of her little crate for sleeping this week, as we decided it’s now too small. She mainly seems to sleep on her back, with all four legs stretched out. She snores like a trooper! Not very elegant (nor is it very scary-police-dog!) She still sleeps on folded towels. At some point I will buy her a bed, but she would eat it currently. I also cannot leave her with a bowl of water, because after drinking she flings it round the room. I have to give her drinks, and then remove the bowl. She managed to get her lead, which was a mistake…
Not so useful.
The breeder puts regular videos on Facebook of her training her own puppies. I try to copy some of the exercises with Meg. She’s good unless there’s a distraction. What I really need to find is a competition for grabbing a sock out of the tumble-dryer and racing up the garden with it—we would win that for certain! I do feel that she’s trying to fit in though. When we load the dishwasher, she collects her chew and dumps it in, like she’s trying to help, which is very sweet. She’s also a happy little thing, and loves to join in when I dance to the radio, running circles round me with her toy. She’s very friendly when we meet people, and greets all the gardeners (at face-height) with wagging tail and licks—which is not exactly ‘calm’ but at least she’s confident and friendly. Hopefully this will last—but in a calmer manner.
Hope you are making progress with your latest project. I must say, writing my dissertation is MUCH easier than puppy training. Thanks for reading. Take care. Love, Anne x
Learning to cope with a new puppy takes many forms…
Still have a muddle of feelings about Meg—mainly that she has made life so much more complicated, and she doesn’t even seem to like me! Occasionally she will crawl onto my lap when I’m sitting on the floor, or follow me when I am cooking, chewing her toys and watching me, and I feel genuine affection. But mostly, as she knocks something over, or destroys a seat cushion, or bites my clothes, I feel cross. I cannot trust her in the kitchen alone, so I either have to be in there, guarding everything, or she has to be in her large pen with her toys—which she is beginning to resent.
She is still terrible with the other animals, and chases them if she can (so she is mostly on the lead when they are out). The cats are getting used to her, and Milly will even follow us at a distance, because she knows she can outrun Meg.
She is super-fast at learning things (if I have the mental energy to teach her). For a treat she likes (mince) she will sit, wait, shake hands, fetch a ball and put it into my hand. She’s not too sure about walks, and tries to stop us leaving the driveway (she uses all four paws as a brake, and I end up dragging her). She usually looks quite happy when we get to the field, and walks relatively well, then tries to drag me all the way home. She absolutely hates being hosed afterwards (but she’s covered in mud, so it’s the only option).
I have been out a couple of evenings, and a friend has come and let her out. Meg has been fine with this—which is one good thing about a confident puppy. I think going into kennels wouldn’t phase her at all. Nothing seems to.
13 Weeks
Walking on the lead is still a nightmare, and hurts my shoulder. When there are two of us, the ‘pack-instinct’ kicks in, and she will walk with us, trying to keep up with the ‘leader’. But on her own it’s just hard work. She stops, leaps, grabs the lead or pulls as hard as she can. By the time we have walked a short loop, I am exhausted (and not particularly kind when I hose the mud off her, which she hates, but I am so angry by that time that I take a sadistic pleasure in giving her a thorough wash).
Cutting her nails is also not going well. All the books suggest playing with her feet, regularly touching her paws/nails and giving treats until it becomes ‘normal.’ This has never worked. Meg will offer me her paw when asked (in return for food) but she snatches it away in an instance. Trying to ‘play’ with her paws results in biting. I have therefore been quickly clipping a single nail after sneaking up on her when she’s sleeping, and then trying to remove clippers/fingers from her mouth. It has not felt like victory. Therefore this week, we resorted to the two-man method. Husband pinned her down, and while she was immobile, I trimmed her nails. She started to make all sorts of fuss, so we started to sing, very loudly, the rousing hymn: ‘And can it be, that I should gain…’ This always worked with screaming babies, they were shocked into silence. Seems it also works with angry puppies! The bad quality of our singing, plus the volume, made her completely freeze. I need to share this tip with the people who write the dog obedience books—nothing else seems to work.
14 Weeks
Jay came home this week, and said Meg is lots calmer than when he last saw her. This gives me hope. Though I seriously consider rehoming her almost every day. She is still too much for me.
I have taken her into town a couple of times. I park in Waitrose, and we walk from the car to the front of the shop, then to the chip shop in the High Street, and back to the car. It takes about 30 minutes. Most puppies would be scared of the cars, the sliding doors of the shop, the trolleys, the number of people. Not Meg. She tries to attack everything, bouncing with all four feet. She is delighted if someone greets her, and lurches madly, trying to chase the cars, and the people, and the trolleys. I tried taking various treats, and bribing her to concentrate on me. No chance. She is completely distracted and just wants to chase everything. I will keep trying. Maybe it will become boring eventually, and she will listen to me.
The only thing I have ever known her to be wary of is a lorry, which stopped to ask directions. As the massive wheels stopped next to us, she moved back, and when it left, she didn’t try to chase it. But that’s it—giant lorries but nothing else. She would have been a brilliant army dog.
15 Weeks
Meg has been great this week, and I now feel thoroughly bonded (no more thoughts of rehoming). It has been a difficult road, but we have learnt each other sufficiently that life has settled into a mutual understanding. The puppy understands that evenings here are boring. Absolutely nothing happens after 6pm, so there’s no point in trying to make things exciting, may as well settle into crate for the evening with a chew to gnaw. In return, I try to exercise her brain and body several times during the day.
She is getting better with the animals—and I no longer try to clean them out while she is with me (way too stressful). Each morning, Milly (the cat) comes in, jumps onto the work surface, and I feed her and Meg something tasty (a tin of tuna if I don’t have anything better). Meg has learnt that if she jumps up, the cat slaps her face. She has also learnt—because they are fed together, and the cat always comes first—that the cat belongs here, and therefore whilst bouncing perhaps cannot be helped, biting is clearly wrong. In return, the cat sometimes follows us round the garden, and although she has been bounced a few times, she stays near enough to be part of life. A good start.
The cockerel has also asserted himself, and not been killed, and both are now relatively wary of each other, but neither show aggression—which is as much as I can hope for at this stage. We are getting there.
Over Christmas, Meg had lots of interaction with the family. She’s very friendly, and loves everyone, but also showed some obedience when people were firm with her. Whilst her behaviour is still ‘naughty’ she does now obey commands, and we are able to tell her things rather than physically force her off chairs, into her crate, etc. As I feed her in the crate, and all her toys are in there, she sees it as a nice place to be rather than a punishment, which is good.
Meg was at her best on the 28th December. We had the whole extended family here for games and supper. Meg stayed in her big crate, which is in the kitchen, right next to where highly competitive family members were pretty much shouting at each other and squealing and generally being very noisy. Meg was completely comfortable, watching with interest, and showing no nerves at all. I felt very pleased with her.
We have just returned from a walk with Bridie (older dog in the family). After an initial silly barking fit and showing of teeth, Meg realised that Bridie was completely unimpressed, and then walked next to her, round the park, meeting a few other dogs on the way. Whilst she pulled on the lead the whole time, she did very well with other dogs, and was much better with passing cars, and definitely seemed to be watching Bridie and learning from her. Another success.
Hope you have some success too this week. Thanks for reading. Take care. Love, Anne x
The first week with Meg was exhausting—mainly because I needed to learn her, and I daren’t trust her for a moment alone. I also really hate poop in the house, so I was constantly watching to see if she needed to toilet. She was actually really good at this, and very quickly learnt what ‘Be quick!’ meant, so pretty much can pee on-demand in return for a treat. We managed to have only 2 accidents, and those were within a few hours of arriving home. It’s surprising how two adults can be so focussed on a small puppy’s bladder.
Sleep has got better. She goes out at midnight, and then sleeps until 6 am. We will gradually increase this, as her bladder gets stronger. She now is used to her crate, and knows she must sleep when put in it.
I found really helpful lessons online: Absolute Dogs, on Youtube. They teach all the things that the breeder also recommended, and it’s really helpful (especially for a clever breed). So I hand-feed Meg her food (which creates a bond—because I really need her to pay attention to me, or we will be doomed!) I also keep part of her meal in my pocket, for regular treats to reward good behaviour. This week we have concentrated on a few lessons.
Meeting Grandma. When I go out, I take Meg with me. Mostly she is good.
Most importantly, Meg comes when I call. I love to watch her short legs leaping across the garden! She also knows to sit, and that she will not receive her treat unless sitting. The main lessons (which will take a while) are that not everything is her business, and being calm is good. The first of these is super-important for a gsd. Although she’s gorgeous now, and everyone wants to touch her, in a few months she will be a big scary dog. She needs to learn now that bounding up to people is not the right behaviour, instead she should ignore everyone, and focus only on me (and the treat in my pocket!) This applies to people, children, and animals—she has to learn to ignore them. The cat, Millie, who comes in the house regularly, is helping with the training, and Meg is learning that interfering with a cat is a bad idea. We are still working on not chasing the poultry (and the cockerel has to learn not to fight the puppy—but that’s harder to teach).
Being calm is also difficult, but she’s getting better. I bought some toys to chew, and she does, on occasion, lie at my feet and peacefully play. However, she views Husband as a hugely exciting game, and whenever she sees him all ‘calm’ disappears and she becomes an uncontrollable force. Unfortunately, there are no online lessons for teaching husbands to be calm. Though he assures me that he is trying.
It was my daughter’s wedding blessing this week, and Meg was introduced to being in a crowd—while ignoring everyone. I walked into the room, carrying Meg and feeding her treats while talking softly, trying to ensure she concentrated on me, and not everyone else. Apart from her tail (lots of mad wagging) she did very well at ignoring the crowd.
The main game she enjoys is collecting all her toys into a heap. So I throw a toy, she runs to get it, then takes it to the doormat. I repeat with the next toy. I guess it’s the puppy equivalent of herding sheep. She does the same with sticks, and the back step is now covered in sticks.
I feel this week has been about learning each other, and settling into a routine. She seems very clever, and very strong-willed, and I am hoping to be the boss before the teenaged-rebellion starts. There’s a long way to go, but we are making progress. And she is completely beautiful, which helps. Hope you have a good week. Take care, and thanks for reading. Love, Anne x
Travelling is not her favourite thing. But she has stopped being car-sick, so that’s good.
I will let you know how Meg develops. I am writing this postscript a few weeks later, and you will see from the photo below, that this dog is possibly too clever for me! This is what happened at 12 weeks, when I told her to ‘sit!’ (She’s not allowed on the furniture.)
We drove to near Northampton to collect Meg. You might remember from an earlier blog, that I was looking for a German Shepherd puppy, and learnt that working gsd are a very different strain. They are shorter, stockier, and generally have less health problems and nervous issues—so they are less likely to react badly due to fear. They also tend to have more energy/focus, which I worried might be a problem (as I don’t have sheep to be herded, only a few poultry) but we requested one, and I started reading. ‘Being calm’ was going to be an important lesson.
When we arrived, all the puppies were outside, in a pen. All my worries disappeared and I realised that I really really wanted a puppy—or maybe several! They were gorgeous, full of life as they chased each other and played with an empty milk carton and tried to leap the fence to say hello. Nearly all of their ears were up (a show strain gsd has floppy ears until they are several months old) and they had stocky little legs and nice straight backs and you could tell they were going to be strong dogs.
I asked to see their mother—because that seemed sensible. She was still lovely, though looked more tired than when I had seen her previously!
The breeder recommended Meg, as I had asked for a darker sable, and she knew I didn’t want a pup who was ‘very driven.’ Not that any of them looked particularly calm.
We paid and put her in the car. (£2,000 in case you are interested—a big increase from the £450 we paid for Kia when she was a puppy—but comparable to other reputable breeders. You have to divide that between 16 years, and then it’s worth the price.) The price covered her first vaccine and worm-course, a chip to identify her, and half a bag of dog food. I thanked the breeder (because she had sold me the best thing ever) and we left.
Meg started to cry as soon as we left. I really wanted her on my lap, but I wasn’t sure of the law/view of breeder (and gsd breeders are very fussy, and will refuse to release their puppies unless they are certain the new owner will be sensible). However, I also felt that the two-hour trip would be a good bonding time. So we stopped (like naughty children, as soon as we were out of sight!) and I transferred the puppy onto my lap.
She was easy to control, and I had piles of towels to hand in case of accidents, and I hoped she would just sleep. She didn’t. But she was settled, and she snuggled into me and watched Husband drive. A couple of times she was sick, but I am pretty nifty with bags after years of baby-vomit, so it was fine. By the time we arrived home, we knew each other.
I took Meg into the kitchen and put her on the floor. She ran round, knocked over a plant, tried to eat the plant, tried to eat me when I started to clear up. She has super-sharp claws and very pointy teeth. A friend had kindly leant me a puppy-pen. The first time we put Meg in it, she leapt at the sides, managed to get half-way up, and tried to leap the rest of the way. I worried she might either fall backwards, or climb over—either way she would be hurt. Husband managed to find a super-large crate at Argos, meant for a Wiemaraner but perfect for an energetic gsd puppy.
The first night, we did as the breeder had suggested. When we went to bed, we put Meg into a small crate, turned off the lights, left her. She cried, barked, sounded like she was being murdered, and then fell asleep. I slept within earshot. When she woke (2am) I went to her, didn’t turn on the lights or speak, took her in the garden to pee, returned her to the crate. She made a fuss, but fell asleep after about 10 minutes. When she woke again (4:30) I repeated. I got up at 5.30, and we started the day (I am usually up at 6ish, so that was fine). Whenever Meg toileted outside, she was praised and given a treat. She’s really clever, and we only had two accidents in the house. She cannot be left alone for a moment (unless she’s in her playpen-crate, which I don’t want to use too often). She seems very happy. I am exhausted.
Ever since Kia died in January, I have missed her. This house feels very empty without a dog, but I needed to wait a while, so that I was emotionally ready for a new dog rather than trying to replace Kia. Because I can never replace Kia.
Kia was German Shepherd Dog (GSD) and I don’t think I would want a different breed after owning one. I began to search the Kennel Club website, and I joined a few Facebook groups, and generally started to ‘ask around.’ I won’t be ready for a puppy until the winter, so I don’t want one immediately. This proved difficult, as most breeders breed in the summer. If necessary, I will wait until next year.
I am also fussy about the shape of GSD, as I don’t like the ‘sloping back’ that many show dogs tend to have. Someone told me that there are two strains of GSD: a ‘show’ strain and a ‘working’ strain, and as I wanted a straight-backed dog, I should look at the ‘working’ strain. I assumed this is what Kia was, as her back was straight. I was wrong.
We drove to meet a breeder of working GSD, and her dogs were completely unexpected! A ‘working’ GSD is almost like another breed, they are very different. The breeder taught me a little history:
GSDs were originally herding dogs in Germany, and a chap called Max von Stephanitz started to breed them for work. He chose dogs with good temperaments, high intelligence, and strength—because he needed them to be able to run for a long time.
These are very different to ‘show line’ GSD, which are the ones we tend to see. Kia was a ‘show line’ and therefore a big dog, with a fairly long coat, and distinct markings (a black ‘saddle’ and chestnut fur). The working dogs are smaller, and stockier, and they have short fur. Working GSD basically come in two colours—black or sable. They have lots of energy (think GSD on steroids!) and are confident—which means they are less likely to snap (because a nervous dog will snap when frightened). The police tend to use working GSD, because they need confident dogs to chase criminals, and a secure dog that is comfortable in schools surrounded by children.
The breeder I found mainly breeds dogs for the police and army—but they like males, and I want a female. I have seen videos of her dogs attacking people, and searching for hidden objects, and climbing over walls—but I wanted to check they weren’t aggressive. When we arrived, I was surprised by how small the dog we met was (about the height of a Labrador), and by how stocky it was (I am used to a lean GSD, this one was all muscle!) However, all the dogs were super-friendly and affectionate, and happily came for attention.
The breeder showed me a little routine with her dog – telling it to walk to heel (it was glued to her side) and then to sit while she walked away, then to run, then to lie down and wait. It was incredibly obedient (not like Kia) until the breeder came to remove the ball from its mouth. No way was that dog going to let her take its toy! They discussed it. (This was very like Kia!) I was rather pleased to see that even a highly trained GSD still has opinions, it will obey when it wants to.
I listened carefully to the breeder’s advice, because her dogs are very energetic. She said to read all the advice on Google—and then do the opposite! Apparently, a GSD should not be encouraged to play with lots of puppies, should not be exposed to lots of stimuli all at once, should not be petted by every child that wants a cuddle. Instead, they should be taught to be completely owner-focussed. Yes, they should meet other dogs—but their attention should be on their owner, not the dogs. They must learn to quietly walk past all distractions, watching only their owner. Then, when they are big scary animals, they won’t go bouncing up to scared people and terrify smaller animals—they will ignore them, and stay close to their owner. The breeder made her dogs completely dependent on her—even hand-feeding them, so they relied on her for everything, and it was in their interests to please her. They didn’t have eyes for anything else.
(There is a lesson here: Maybe if I was fully reliant on my God, all the ‘rubbish’ of life, all the trouble with people and politics, would matter less. I would still notice, but my focus would be on what is important.)
Luckily, the puppy I want does not yet exist, so I have plenty of time to learn how to train it properly. I need an obedient dog, who will help with my poultry (and not eat them!) I am considering training it as a support dog, so when I have one of my funny migraines and can’t see, I will have some support. More research needed. I will let you know what I learn.
Hope you have all the support you need this week. Thanks for reading. Take care. Love, Anne x
Hello, hope you’ve had a good week. Mine involved a crossing a few hurdles—nothing massive, but some were quite significant.
Firstly, my daughter moved into her new house. This feels very significant, as it’s unlikely that she will ever live with me again. She sold her flat a few months ago, so she and her fiancé moved in while they were between houses. I was hoping it might take longer than it did, but this week they completed all the legal stuff, and on Tuesday we visited their new house. It’s very nice, but I don’t envy them having to unpack lots of boxes and learn how to use new boilers and appliances. Moving is never fun. I will miss them.
The ducks also moved home. They are now fully feathered, so I started to put them on the pond (gradually, so the old ducks don’t panic and fly away). Each day, there was one less than I had put there the day before. It’s possible the fox was taking them, though it felt weird that it was only one each time—as they usually copy the established ducks and move to the island for the night. It’s also possible they have flown to another pond. Or are hiding. If they return, I will let you know.
It does mean I have an empty cage, which is very nice. Ducklings are mucky animals, and make a soup with anything they can reach. I cleaned out the cage, added some clean straw, and planted grass seed. Hopefully by the time Goose and chick are big enough to be outside, it will have some grass.
Roommates, if not exactly friends.
I have put the chick in with Goose. This is a risk, as it might get trampled. I have joined them for short periods, and watched, and a couple of times the chick was stepped on (much squealing) but nothing dangerous (like its head) so it survived, and is now alert to clumsy goose feet. The chick is completely desperate to be with the goose (it thinks it’s her mother) and was in danger of being hurt by trying to squeeze though the bars. It was actually in one of those plastic laundry baskets, within the goose cage, so close to goose, but safe. The clothes basket was left here by one of my moved-out offspring, so I hope they don’t ask for it back any time soon as it’s now rather grubby. Anyway, the chick is ecstatic that they are now together. The goose ignores her, because Goose thinks that I am its mother, and only wants to talk to humans—but it tolerates the chick, and I am still hopeful they will become friends. Maybe when they move into the outside cage.
Also, this was the week that I completed my dissertation proposal. This has been very stressful. I am not a planner, I am a ‘sort-it-out-when-it-happens’ person. I am very good at reacting to situations and averting disaster, not so good at sitting down and planning what chapters will be in a research project, and how I will find the resources for intelligent-sounding citations and (horrors!) writing a timetable of what I will do between now and April 2024. But it’s done, submitted, finished. I can now start the fun part of actually doing the research and reading some of those fascinating books.
I actually have bit of a problem with books, as I have developed attachment issues. I borrow a book from the library, spend hours reading it, enjoying the greasy pages and absorbing the words, feeling the weight on my lap as sip coffee and make notes…and then it ends…and I am supposed to return it to the library. But we have bonded. The book has become part of the fabric of my day, and I don’t want to abandon it to the unloving shelves of a dark library. So I renew it. Even though I have read it, made notes, finished with it—I renew it. I’m not quite sure how many times I can renew books, but I suspect I shall find out fairly soon. I do sometimes buy a copy to keep, but they’re not the same, they have shiny pages and they’re often too large, and they tend to cost a fortune (and sometimes the number of books arriving in the post is commented on). Maybe I will fill the now-empty duck cage with books that I have smuggled into the house. I can keep them in the grubby laundry basket.
Sadly returned…
Hope you have a great week. Thanks for reading. Take care. Love, Anne x
A little social interaction before the ducks moved out.
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If you follow my blog, you may remember that last month, when we were staying in the Peak District, the farmer kindly gave me three goose eggs. Each one was the size of four chicken eggs. I wrapped them up in toilet paper (I didn’t have anything better) and we drove them home. After letting them rest for 24 hours, I put them into the incubator, and searched online to find out how to hatch geese eggs.
My incubator automatically turns chicken eggs, but these were much too large. Every day I turned them 180˚ an odd number of times (thus ensuring that they were never the same way up for two nights in a row). This is because the embryo can get stuck, and won’t develop properly. I kept them at 37.5˚C, and 50% humidity.
Different birds incubate for different periods. A duck is 4 weeks—though often hatch a few days early. A chicken is pretty much always exactly 21 days. A goose is anything from 28 to 35 days. After a week, I sat in a dark room, and shone a bright torch through the shell. Two eggs had the clear shadow of the yolk, turning as I moved the egg. One egg had tiny threads of veins, and when I turned the egg, the shadow of the yolk stayed still—fasten in position. Which meant I had one fertile egg.
Birds need a flock, so one goose would be lonely. Goose eggs are expensive, and I wasn’t certain that I would manage to hatch them anyway, so was loath to buy more. Instead I went on Ebay and bought some Buff Orpington chicken eggs. They should have arrived the following day, meaning they would hatch potentially at the same time. Unfortunately the annoying seller didn’t post them immediately, so they were about two weeks later than the goose egg going into the incubator (and therefore one week later hatching). But it was the best I could do.
A goose egg next to a large chicken egg.First crack.
After a couple of weeks, I started to spray the goose egg with cold water—mimicking the mother goose returning to the nest after a swim (not sure what the chicken eggs thought about that, as chickens are not known for their swimming). Only one chicken egg was fertile, so now I had two eggs, and hoped the hatchlings would be friends. After 28 days, I stopped turning the goose egg, and raised the humidity to 70% (which is not great for the chicken egg, but humidity is unlikely to kill it—they are only vulnerable to temperature change, and that remained at 37.5˚C).
After 29 days, nothing. After 30 days, nothing. After 31 days, I decided I would wait until the 35-day mark, and then chuck it away. After 32 days, I could hear very loud cheeping from inside the egg. After 33 days, a crack appeared down one side. After 34 days, the crack was a ‘zipper’ around the egg, and the gosling managed to push off the end and wriggle out. It was a poor little thing, very weak, and a chunk of fluff must have stuck to the shell, because it had a bald spot. It was also enormous!
Not a looker! Poor thing was exhausted after hatching.
I left it in the incubator to dry off, but when it started playing football with the chicken egg, I decided it was best to move it to the brooder. (Fancy name for a plastic box in the garage stuffed with hay, with a heat lamp hanging above it.) It had pots of water and chick crumb, and a mirror for company. It spent a lot of time chatting to the mirror. The following day was sunny, so I decided to put it in with the ducklings for a little while. As a social experiment, it was a failure. Even though they were separated by netting, the ducklings (almost fully grown) tried to push their heads through the bars to peck it. The gosling stood up, and raised its little stubby wings in a cute imitation of the scary pre-fight warning that adult geese do. I worried it might decide to go near enough to be pecked/killed, so put it back under the heat lamp with its mirror-friend. I will try again when it’s bigger.
Sometimes a friend in a mirror is safer than real life.
Hoping the chick hatches on time, and grows big fast so they can roam the garden together. I will keep you posted.
Hope you see some friends this week, and that no one makes aggressive gestures towards you. Thanks for reading. Take care. Love, Anne x
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It’s time to do all those jobs that happen every year at this time. It doesn’t feel much like spring here at the moment, as we’ve had snow and frosts all week. But the mornings are lighter, and the animals know, even if we’re not sure. Depending on where you live, you will either have put your clocks forward an hour, or be preparing to do so. We move our clocks on the 26th March this year, so the US and Canada are ahead of us.
One Christmas gift (which feels like yesterday) was a pot and a packet of beans. We’re having a family competition, to see who can grow the tallest bean. It has to be in the pot provided, which wasn’t very deep. Mine grew to 67cm, then it decided the kitchen was too warm and the pot too small, and died. I planted the remaining seeds outside, and they don’t seem to mind the cold and are looking healthy. I expect the slugs will eat them, but here’s hoping.
My bean, growing next to a lemon pip (which is slower but less fussy).
The birds know it’s spring. The ducks have started laying, even though it’s cold, so April will be busy with ducklings again. There are already lambs in the fields. The cycle of life begins again.
We also have a wren in the garden. Male wrens are busy at this time of year, collecting things to build nests. Nests plural. A male wren builds several nests. When he manages to attract a female, he takes her on a tour of the nests, she chooses the best one, and lays her eggs. He then goes off and finds another female, and repeats the tour with the remaining nests. He’ll do this until all the nests have females, sitting on his offspring. Not the sort of male you want to introduce to your daughter. He’s a tiny brown bird, but has something (which I cannot remember the name of) in his lungs, which amplifies his voice. A tiny bird with a loud song. I’m rather fond of him, so I hope the cats don’t catch him.
Spring this year will be busy for me too. I need to sort out the house, because my daughter is moving home for a few months between selling her flat and buying a new property. This will be fun, but I need to make space for her. Though once I have emptied some cupboards, the job will be finished. I also need to write the proposal for my dissertation, which is less fun. I have to submit the title of my thesis, explaining what I plan to research and why, with a list of all the literature I plan to read and why it will be relevant. I am going to explore the dragon in the book of Job (chapter 41) which will be interesting, but being assessed makes it more stressful. But at least I only have to produce one, and I can submit that to the university and they will either love it or not. Being a wren and having to repeat that many times over each year must be a whole different game.
Hoping that all you attempt this week grows well and is completed on time. Thanks for reading. Take care. Love, Anne x
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Anne E Thompson 