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Pupster NewsMay 13, 2008 Sorry for (another) long silence -- you can probably guess the cause of at least part of it. At the moment he's out on the deck in bright windy morning light gnawing on a rawhide. I'm watching him through the storm door. (The screen is fixed and ready to put in, but lately the weather's been chilly, and yesterday it didn't get out of the 40s, with a strong northwesterly wind.) In the last week Travvy has mastered going down stairs. Going up stairs took considerable strength and agility; going down requires more. How to move your front paws forward enough to make room for your hind paws when they're on the step behind you and higher than your head? He's now building up speed, and this morning he used four-paw drive on a few of the steps. The usual gait is more of a scamper, in which forepaws and hind paws each move as a unit. Speaking of which, I just returned from a 20-minute break. Trav was watching the neighbors' front door. David came out with a bucket for the compost bin, then Ava appeared, ready to walk to school with her mother. (Ava and her older sister, Willa, attend the West Tisbury School, a short walk away.) We went down to see them off, and Thibeaux, the goldendoodle from the nearest neighbors', came bounding up the driveway. (I'm guessing at the spelling here -- it's pronounced "Tee-bo," accent on the first syllable, and the Baileys have a "Bienvenue!" sign at the end of their driveway. Also their daughter just graduated from college in Montréal. Must remember to ask about this.) The two Ts had a great time chasing each other and a couple of tennis balls around. The other day Trav growled at Thibeaux when he moved to take a stick Trav was chewing on and the latter backed off. Today Trav made a move on Thibeaux's tennis ball, Thibeaux growled, and Trav backed off. Not sure what this means in terms of dominance. Maybe Thibeaux cares more about tennis balls than he does about sticks. My puppy book says "Plan to give your puppy as large a variety of experiences as you can during these early months." Let's see. In the last week my sidekick made his first trip to the bank, where everyone oohed and aahed and of course he got his very own cookie. Filling out a deposit slip while holding a wriggling puppy in one arm proved too challenging, and I wasn't quite confident enough to put him down on the rug, so he went back to the truck while I finished my business. At least one of the bank employees remembered puppy Rhodry's first few trips to the bank. He made his first trip to the gas station too. He got a cookie, and the gas jockey -- who recently got his license -- and I talked about dogs, and about the price of gas, which was around 33 cents a gallon when I got my license and Saturday in West Tisbury was $4.17 give/take. Trav has paid several social calls and met quite a few dogs, cats, and people of all ages. As a group the cats are noticeably unenthusiastic. Take Nickleby, for instance:
Trav goes to the barn every day, where he trots around looking for as many new experiences as he can find. Rooting through mud and manure -- a puppy could do a lot worse. Dis Kitty and Dat Kitty have not exactly warmed to the new arrival, who can now follow them up to the hayloft but not to their various redoubts high among the bales of hay. When they snarl or swat, he backs off. When they run, he follows -- not nearly as fast, however. The electric fence has bit Travvy a couple of times, and both times he's screeched at it. (He doesn't really bark, but he talks incessantly, and I've heard a few incipient woo-woos.) The first time I tried to coax him along on a little trail ride, the strangeness of Allie outweighed the sound of my voice and he wanted none of it. Last Friday, though, he followed along as we rode down the drive to the boat barn, through the woods around the construction site where Darren's house is being built, and back to the barn. Outward bound he needed a little coaxing -- "Come, Travvy!" -- but once he knew we were headed home he trotted along and didn't get too close to Allie's hooves. In the last few days I've gone for longer rides. Trav stays in the truck, no problem. Rhodry was the same way at the same age. The truck was his crate, before I knew anything about crates. I've been feeding Trav in his crate; now at meal times he goes into the crate and sits next to his dish. Most nights so far he's spent in his crate, and he's woken me with a little yip when he wants to go out. The last couple of nights, though, he's been sound asleep when I go to bed so I left him loose. He didn't wake in the middle of the night with the urge for chewing. Whew. The big bonus is that when I wake in the morning and say, "Where's Travvy?" this adorable puppy face appears at my bedside. The other night I was falling asleep and I heard myself say, "Good night, Travvy. I'm glad you're my puppy." It startled me, but it's true and I am. I think Rhodry is too.
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