Tumbleweed

My sister will refer to me as a tumbleweed because I'm the 'wild one' in the family. And by wild, she means not rigid or boring. I'm more apt to make a spontaneous decision or be a little adventurous. Nothing dangerous mind you, but if we haven't discussed it ad nauseam, to my family that is outrageous and crazy. What they don't realize is that I've probably thought it through in my head but haven't mentioned it out loud due to the expectation of disapproving looks.

I have three dogs.Up until about a month ago, I had four living with me. My foster dog, Murray, was adopted the first weekend in November. A wonderful senior citizen who takes extraordinary measures to care for her dogs added him to her pack. I'm sure he loves it there, once he got used to her yelling. (She didn't yell because she was mad. She couldn't hear us, so it only makes sense she scream to make sure she could hear us.)

Shortly after his adoption, my timid Kissy was chewing on her crate. She doesn't have many good teeth left up front so I moved her to the kitchen to prevent her from breaking a tooth. A couple days later, Tally bent the top of her crate. To bend it back, I had to use both hands and brace my arm against the crate for leverage. How she bent this with her mouth is beyond me. Then I noticed she broke a tooth, one of her canines. She did that a few years ago when she became an only dog and experienced such anxiety that caused her to.....wait for it....chew on her crate and break a tooth. Some dental surgery later to remove the broken canine and another molar that was decayed and I've just purchased my vet's Christmas presents. All because Murray got adopted.

So now Tally and Kissy are being closed off in the kitchen. Kissy hasn't quite gotten the purpose of a puppy pad. Kissy never has been a smart one. I'm hoping Tally shows her what she is doing wrong.

When this happened the last time, I was recovering from gallbladder surgery. It took me about a month to find a shih tzu to adopt. I thought the size would fit nicely in my house/lifestyle and the thought of a nonshedding dog was heaven. So Niko joined our home. And I crated him next to Tally. That worked well and relieved her anxiety. For about a week. Then Niko decided he didn't want to be crated. And crawling around to snag him from under the bed after I was all ready for work wasn't my idea of a good time. So he was allowed free reign (and continues to reign to this day). I needed another beagle to keep Tally company.

Enter Lonnie. She was a foster dog from BREW, the beagle rescue where I adopted Freckles, fostered (for three happy years) Spanky, and fostered then eventually admitted defeat and adopted Tally. Lonnie lived with us for almost 10 months. Then was adopted. Then anxiety returned. No broken teeth this time, but it wasn't much time before arrangements were made for Bentley to hang out at my house. Bentley was a long term visitor during the time his medical records were updated, documented, registered and certified to the standards of the state of Hawaii. His family moved there and he hung out at my house for three months until he was able to fly out to join them. The very first time it was time to crate Bentley and Tally, she ran in the crate like she was never anxious in her crate a day in her life. And as soon as he left, Tally was anxious again.

Fast forward another month, and now Kissy comes to my house as a foster. And as was mentioned earlier, it took even less time for Kissy to worm her not-so-smart-but-oh-so-sweet way into my heart. And I adopted her.

Fast forward another six months, and Murray's sad tale makes me agree to foster him. Now we're up to speed. And two beagles are hanging in my kitchen instead of the safety of their crates. And my kitchen can never have dish towels by the oven door, lest they end up in a dog bed. Not destroyed, but still lying on the dog hair laden bed and I'm sure slobbered on sufficiently to need laundering. And I have to check for puddles of pee. That's the beauty of crate training. In a crate, she can hold it so she wouldn't soil her 'den', but the extra space the kitchen provides allows her to pee then go back to the comfy dog bed.

I do have a point. I'd rather have the beagles in crates. Do I foster another beagle to provide the security needed to crate them all? This idea is why my sister would call me a tumbleweed. Little does she know that I spent a lot of time thinking about this. The logic is hard to follow but it's there. I'm not going to get a foster right now. Even though Christmas break would be a good time to allow a dog to adjust. And I've already looked on BREW's website (www.brewbeagles.org) to see who they have available to foster. But I'm going to wait. For now.