The Chihuahua Whisperer

She's short, pudgy and middle-aged.  Tiny dogs adore her.  Their teeth and barking are only temporary obstacles.  She takes these little critters with huge Napoleon complexes and teaches them how to be loving lap dogs.  She is...The Chihuahua Whisperer.

BTW, these are the Chi's I've fostered since I started working with The Montgomery County, Texas, Animal Shelter (MCTAS).  I've also adopted out other Chihuahuas and Chi-mixes at Off-Site events.  I admit it:  I am addicted to tiny dogs. :)

More Chihuahua Mayhem

This elegant old lady Chi is one of my foster dogs--and I've named her "Mrs. Puff". 

I don't know why we've had so many Chihuahuas and Chi-mixes come through the Shelter as of late--but these tiny dogs seem to be everywhere.  Mrs. Puff is the most even-tempered Chi I've ever seen--she doesn't quake, shake, nip, snarl, cringe or growl.  Instead, she sits as serene as a queen, and steps right up to be petted by men, women and courteous children.  An owner surrender, Mrs. Puff was one of our "Red Carpet" dogs who attended a publicity event held at our local cineplex to coincide with the opening of the movie "Cats and Dogs 2:  The Revenge of Kitty Galore."  Mrs. Puff strolled down the carpet with the grace of a true diva.

Mrs. Puff was dignified and calm during our "Red Carpet" Event.

 
So what if her teeth are not so great, and she's got the beginnings of cataracts, and she's got the luxating patella thing so common with small dogs. Mrs. Puff is but is chipper and alert.  Her hearing is excellent and what she likes best is to sit under the computer desk in a cozy bed (she's there right now) or camp out on the couch.  She's not the prettiest or smallest Chihuahua, but she's got some good years left.  As one of the Shelter workers quipped, "She could spend the next five years walking toward the white light."  I thought I'd found a family for her, but they decided she was too old.  She's probably about 10.  Mrs. Puff would make a great couch companion for a retired person or couple and she'd be happy to let the grandkids (under direction) love on her.

This cute little "Chuggle" got adopted during our "Red Carpet" Event.

We're seeing a lot of Chi-mixes--the craze for "designer dogs" seems to have no end.  We've had Chuggles (Chihuahua-Pug) and "Chi-weenies" (Chihuahua-Dachshund) and plenty of BYB stock.

A typical "oversize" Chihuahua at our Fourth of July event.  This guy has a new home.

A cute little Chi-Weenie struts her Red Carpet style.

Little Teencie, now "Bella" (which happens to be the most popular dog name EVER, thanks, no doubt, to the Twilight enterprise!) has found her home, and according to reports, she had to be "disciplined" (i.e., removed from her new owner's lap and put on the floor for a stern scolding) when she started getting too bossy.

 "Teencie" with her new owner at the FM 1488, PetsMart, Magnolia, TX.

And she's only four pounds of Chihuahua fierceness.  Teencie was the one the Shelter staff nick-named "Piranha" for her nippy ways.

And we get the sad cases like this poor, toothless old Chihuahua, photographed by a Shelter worker.

 This kind of surrender is the sort that infuriates the Shelter staff and volunteers--tossing away a dog at the end of its days. I believe this dog went to rescue.

As for the rumor that all we have at our Shelter are big Lab-mixes and Pit Bulls, I'm here to say, if you want a small dog--including Rat Terriers, Dachshunds, small terriers or other "toy" breeds, you can find them at the Montgomery County Texas Animal Shelter.

I Have a Dilemma

Tucker, a little butterscotch-colored terrier mix, has been in foster care since May 3rd, but he has some major issues.  On the plus side, he's a little guy, under 20 pounds.  He is loving, playful and lives to chase squirrels (he has a huge beagle-like bark for such a small dog). We treated Tucker for heartworms with the 2-shot protocol, and he's well-recovered from that experience, but he has proven to be unreliable as far as housebreaking.

He stayed at my house from May through the middle of June.  I had a lot of trouble with him at my house, in spite of crating, in spite of walking him on leash, in spite of taking him out on a sensible schedule and watching to make sure he did his business.  I'm not a beginner in the housebreaking department, but this was a dog who was a poop-making machine and a two-to-three time pee-er with each outside visit.  And he would still mark or poop inside.  And sometimes, he would poop in his crate.  While there could be some underlying health issue, we're stuck--the Shelter doesn't run labs for routine things and there hasn't been money for comprehensive workups on an otherwise apparently healthy dog.  But Tucker's potty habits aren't the only problem.

Tucker is also a chewer.  He loves rawhides, and Nylabones, although I eliminated those right off while trying to solve the poop problems.  But in the two months he was at my house, he could slip away, just for a few minutes, and find stuff to chew up--earbuds, earphones, underpants--the usual stuff dogs love.  However, he also chewed up a vintage stuffed toy animal that was from my childhood.  He did this while I let him nap with me on top of my bed one rainy afternoon.  He somehow did this while snuggled in my arms without me realizing it--and I'm not that hard of a sleeper!  Okay, so that was my bad, and I learned that he can't sleep on or in the bed.

In addition to these tough but normally manageable bad habits, Tucker has some odd anxieties.

He seemed to "forget" every single day that my husband lived in the house.  He would charge, barking and lunging (all 15-pounds of him) at my husband each evening when he came home. Or each time he came in door on the weekend.

The normal approaches to this fearfulness didn't work.  Leashing and correcting didn't seem to make a difference.  We'd do the calm correction routine (like the successful parts on "The Dog Whisperer") at the door, and during the repetitions, and gradual movement to my husband walking in the door, Tucker would do fine.  Then he'd lapse again the next day.  Like a memory slip.

He was fine in the crate and okay on the leash with my husband--although my husband noted several times that Tucker seemed like an unusually clumsy and uncoordinated dog.  I, too,  noticed that Tucker could not keep to a heel without getting tangled in the leash, no matter how I held it.

When my son arrived home from college, Tucker treated him like he was the biggest, baddest, scariest guy on the planet.  And my son, who loves dogs and is a big soft-hearted lug of a kid, was crushed.  He took it personally, and got upset.  In fact, he practically cried over it one point, wailing, "Why doesn't this dog like me, Mom?"

 My son likes to hold a dog and surf the web or play video games.

Tucker's inability to adjust to my husband and son made it impossible to keep him in my house as a foster, especially when combined with the housebreaking and chewing.  I figured that I was the one at fault and hoped that Ms. N., Tucker's "sub-foster" since June 17th, could help Tucker with his issues.  She has a very anxious Aussie mix girl and  a deaf Aussie boy, and has brought both of these dogs around.  She is an experienced dog person.

I gave Ms. N. pretty much full disclosure (I left out the vintage toy animal bit) and she was confident she could work with him.  She got his stools firmed up (not only was the quantity amazing, his stools remained soft even after the heartworm treatment was finished) with cottage cheese and pumpkin.  She got him to keep his crate clean.  He was having fewer accidents.  He loved playing with Ms. N.'s dogs

However, Ms. N., brought home another foster.  This guy was newly fixed and marked a few times, so Tucker began marking again.  Or so Ms. N. thought.  Now Tucker has completely backslid.  He's peeing and pooping in the house again.  He's torn up blinds and cushions, and is falling apart if he is crated.  We have to decide what we are going to do next.

The problem is that he is still a Shelter dog.  The Shelter doesn't do exploratory lab work, or behavior-rehab or place dogs in sanctuaries.  The Shelter dogs get basic vetting and a rough behavioral review (not a real evaluation by an expert). As it stands, Tucker is not readily adoptable at this point unless he is consigned to living outside (which is probably all he had done before in his short life--he's less than two years old).

We have to select an option that doesn't involve a lot of money.  I'm going to to go over Tucker's case in full detail with Ms. N. One nagging fear that I've had ever since I brought Tucker home is that he is a distemper survivor.  He has always seemed just a little off in a neurological sense.  I don't know what it takes (besides more money than I have to spend on him) to determine what is behind his behavior, but we have to do something.

If you have had experience with a dog like Tucker and can offer any suggestions, please leave me a comment.

Fun with My Dogs

This is my daughter (yes, she has dyed her hair blue-green for the summer) holding a reluctant "Teencie" as we are now calling our skittish little Chi foster girl.  Teencie wants so badly to be held, but she isn't quite yet brave enough to let us do so.  We can scratch behind her ears, and hold her (firmly) for a few moments.  She whines and howls in her crate at night, so now she's sleeping with my daughter.  That is, she is sharing the bed.  This has made Teencie more confident.  We've had a her a week and she has improved tremendously.

This is Tucker, my other foster, right before his June 10-11 heartworm treatment.  He received the 2-dose, back-to-back Immiticide shots.  He's doing fine--the biggest problem is keeping him quiet.  He loves to run after birds and squirrels.  One of my Vet Tech friends says her clinic is out of Immiticide, and it doesn't look like they will be able to get more for awhile.  Our Shelter clinic ran out of the drug earlier this year, and so when I took Tucker home, I put his name on a wait list.  When the Immiticide doses arrived, I got a call--I made sure to get him in so he wouldn't lose his place in the line.

This is my dog, Cross.  She isn't really taunting you,  She is about to lick.  She has a licking problem.  She is powerless over her desire to lick.  She needs a 12-step group.

Little and Fiesty

I have acquired a second foster, a teeny, tiny, itsy-bitsy, bitey-bitey black-and-tan Chihuahua girl.  One of the Shelter Clinic Techs pulled her from the Stray area  because she was so nippy she would have been euthanized and urged me to take her home and "tame" her.

Evidently, I have become the "small dog lady".  I'm also considered the Chihuahua expert--which makes me laugh!  My off-site Team Leader, who loves the big lunk-head Labs, was impressed how I dodged the Chi's nips in order to get a slip leash on her.  If you use a towel and grip her from behind, she can't get you with her itty-bitty teeth.

This little girl is tee-nincey, weighing maybe two and a half pounds.  She growls (a teeny sound) and rolls her eyes and nip-nip-nips!  Her bite isn't strong, but she is a wiggly, fiesty thing.  She is terrified and doesn't hesitate to let you know how she feels. She did eat some chicken from my fingers at dinner tonight and she seems calmer than she did yesterday, when I first saw her.  Hopefully, she'll come around.  She is absolutely adorable--my 16-year-old squealed like a kid when she saw her.

Tinker Bell (as I'm calling her since "El Diablo" is a boy's name) isn't in good shape--her toenails were so long (before the first bit of trimming) that the front feet nails curled completely under.  She's skinny and has a silver dollar-sized bald patch on her right side (an old burn wound?).  She came in as a stray (how on Earth did the Animal Control officer catch her???) and hasn't been spayed or checked for heartworms (with my luck lately, she'll be heartworm positive).  I just hope she doesn't get distemper like Arabella did.

Making the Call

Today, I delivered an old, ill, befuddled male chihuahua into the arms of the Shelter Vet Tech for euthanization.  I made the decision on an animal that people had been fretting about for two days.

One volunteer thought the dog was just "despondent."  Another admitted that the animal was near its end, but felt that someone should take the dog home and let it "pass away" on its own.  A staff person desperately wanted the dog to have time "outside the Shelter" before it died.

The dog in question was a stray-hold dog whose time was up today.  He was a tiny, old, cinnamon-colored male chihuahua, coated in flea dander, gummy-eyed, disoriented, shaking, and hacking with advanced heartworms.  The poor old man couldn't even stand--when I set him on the grass outside, his hindquarters quivered and he staggered once, then collapsed.  His ears were at half mast and his head was as jiggly as a bobble-head toy.

I have two foster dogs.  My own dog just died (and this little guy's staggers looked suspiciously similar to what I saw in my own dog during his last hours).  A staffer gave the old dog a Capstar with a bit of wet cat food.  Cat food works wonders with ailing dogs--he perked up and ate a few more bites.  I gave him a bath to wash off the bulk of the flea crap and rubbed him warm with a clean towl, then wrapped him in a piece of fleece.

I took him outside and set him down on the grass.  He staggered, then collapsed.  He didn't whine or complain.  He just worked himself into a down position and lay there, blinking blearily in the warm sun.  I watched him, tears filling my eyes.  I couldn't take him home.  No one else had volunteered.  We had no way to diagnose what was wrong with him.  After about twenty minutes, I bundled the old dog up and took him back into the Shelter.  I showed him to the Shelter Director, who is a Vet.  She watched him wobble and sag.  She told me to go to see the Vet Tech, neatly avoiding pronouncing the death sentence.

I admire our Vet Tech immensely.  Some of the volunteers think she is harsh and curt with people, but she is focused on doing what she can with exceedingly limited resources.  I unwrapped the little guy, set him on the floor.  He listed, then fell.  The Vet Tech looked at me and said, "There are two options for this dog.  Take him out of here, make him comfortable, and let him die.  Or put him down now."

"I can't take him home," I said, which was not an excuse.  "I want to put him down." The Vet Tech nodded. I carried the dog and we walked out of the receiving area, up the hall to a door marked "Private."  The Vet Tech unlocked the door, took the dog and his paperwork and turned.  Just before she closed the door, I said, "Wait. Let me say goodbye."  I kissed his little head and rubbed his flea-scarred ears.  "You were someone's good Chihuahua," I said, "You are a good boy.  It will be better now."  She turned away with the dog.  The door shut with a click.

I have a message on my phone from a volunteer praising me for "taking that poor dog home."  She won't be happy to know that I made the decision to have the dog put down.   He had as good an end as I could give him--he was cleaner, warm, fed and stroked.  He went to the Euthanization room wrapped in a clean fleece blanket.

Some people will consider me the villain.  But I hate the way we throw energy and resources at dogs that come to us in such horrible shape.   The person at fault is that dog's owner.  If that dog was abandoned or turned in as a stray, it was because his owner was too cowardly to make the difficult decision I made this afternoon.  That dog's suffering is over.  I sent him off with as much dignity as I could muster.

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I didn't have my camera with me today or I would have taken a dozen photos of that old Chihuahua.  This photo has been altered from an Internet image.

My Newest Foster

Meet Tucker, my newest foster.  He's been on my "project dog" list at the Shelter for more than a week, and on Tuesday, I brought him home.  He's a sweet, young dog with a toffee-colored coat, the biggest brown eyes and soft, floppy ears.  We think he's a Beagle-Chihuahua mix.  He's a little bigger than my dog Taco was, but far too skinny, so he's getting extra meals for now.

He had worms and kennel cough, and I got him put into the Iso Ward so he could get medication.  I couldn't bring him home because of Taco's illness, but now he's here.  Tonight we went on our first walk--he was skittish but settled into the rhythm pretty well.  Cross, my little Rat Terrier is ignoring him.  Tucker is so happy to be out of the Shelter.  And my daughter perked up the moment I brought him home.  When he has gained some weight, he'll go to Off-Sites.  He will make someone a wonderful pet.  And for us, he's soothing our sadness.