Growing Boy

Looking alert at South Boulder Mesa

By now it's damn near impossible to catch everybody up on the last stretch of Daly's young life, but I'll do my best to include a few snippets of the rapidly growing pup, now a young adolescent.  He continues to sprout in the limbs, body length and coat, looking a little more rangy every day compared the the fur ball who seemed to be about 90% head (and at least 75% of that was all ears) when he arrived in Boulder two months ago.

Don't be fooled -- he's no herbivore.

Daly is still well-behaved -- especially given his puppy age, still curious as ever, and realizing now that he can reach a lot more with his front paws when he stands on his hind pair, and hop up onto more couches and beds (though the easily attainable seats in my truck still scare him from trying, for some reason…maybe he hates the music I play).  There's almost a sadness when out of the corner of my eye, I wonder who the grown dog is, and realize how fast true puppy days fly by.  But there is still enough hilarious excitement on display to crack me up more than a few times a day, like when he jerks his head when called and twists his body in one motion into a full hop/bound/run, or kicks into the half-bunny-hop, or prances around like there are springs on the pad of each paw.

Water dog! Scrappin' after his first dip in Boulder Creek.

He's got a shiny new collar now (very Colorado: made from recycled bicycle tubing and affixed with a bottle opener as the catch), a nylon leash, and a badass ID tag with a skull & crossbones on one side.  Oh, and he's officially adopted now too…guess I failed to mention that little development!  The friends who insisted that was only an eventual formality were right in that this little wolf is too awesome a buddy to give up.  So now I'm just (to borrow a line from a concert-going hippie I met) trying to be half the person my dog thinks I am.

Yes, that is a bottle opener on the new collar...

My dog just became about 10x more useful.

Ps. I just discovered he chewed up my housemate's expensive sandals.  That little bastard.  I am NOT so thrilled with his puppy-ness at the moment…please disregard all those nice things I just said about him.

Diggin' his ball…that's what he's SUPPOSED to chew!

Oh, pps…these are ramblings I wrote down over a month ago and never posted...

Despite the number of books -- both fictional and nonfictional -- recommended to me about the lifelong bond with a dog, or the love a dog gives unconditionally, or how tender dog meat can actually be (OK, in fairness, I haven't seen those since Malaysia), I haven't really dug into a single one.  And I really don't think I'm about to.  Look, I don't doubt that there are some very poignant and well-written tomes on the subject, and perhaps someday I'll take a deeper look for myself.  It's just that right now, at this point, I want to experience every new step in the Daly show with open eyes and without expectations based on something I read.  Training books are another matter -- those I have actually looked into, especially when seeking an answer.  Unsurprisingly, he seems to respond well to displays of affection, even more so when accompanied by treats.

...devouring treats after another Mt. Sanitas ascent

I'm not completely clueless on the subject, as there is some past experience in my life -- while Daly is the first I've adopted, he's not the first with whom I've bonded or even the first I've 'daddied.'  Sometimes I'm struck by the puppy similarities, in look, build and demeanor, between Daly and a similarly mixed mutt I helped to initially raise in NYC.  A girlfriend adopted a puppy from a Collie rescue in NJ, and just like this guy, her other half was probably at least Shepherd or something similar…the dog, that is.  I had a lot of fun with that pup throughout the first year of her life, training her, walking her, introducing her to dog parks, and of course playing with her, before the relationship with her owner finally ended.

Fauna the pup, on a hike back in '08

There's Bodie of course, who's lived with me for most of his life, accompanied me on many hikes, traumatized me with his run-over-by-an-SUV stunt, and then pulled an amazing recovery.  He's an aloof weirdo, and I love him for it.  There's Dana, who taught me how sweet Pit Bulls can be despite grunting and rooting like a lizard-pig every day, and whose tenacious dog-park shortstop skills will always make me smile. There have been quite a few others with whom I've shared a roof, a trail and/or a sidewalk over the years, through housemates, cousins and friends…more than I'll attempt to recall, for fear of leaving out a canine buddy.

Daly's big brother, the Bodester

Dana anxiously sweating out a thunderstorm

But my first favorite will always be Barney, my grandparents' dog for much of my youth.  I loved going for walks with that guy (it didn't hurt that he lived in a beautiful stretch of the Hudson Valley).  Smart, obedient, and sweet-natured.  Barney was a classic faithful mutt too, and really formed my impression of what a dog should be -- up to and including when his life gave out the very day we laid my grandma Min to rest.  Now THAT is love and loyalty.

Stretch them limbs & ears, pup…

X-Rays and Rescues

Once again, I'm begging readers -- especially bloggers -- to help me choose a better hosting site.  I wrote late last night for about an hour, adding to and editing this entry, then SAVING it…only it turns out Blogger.com didn't care to actually save any of it.  Frustrating is not a strong enough word.

Daly-lookalike monument outside Denver Animal Rescue, made of dog tags -
It's much, much bigger than it appears here, 5/9/2012.

The good news: Daly does this utterly hilarious bunny hop when he bounds down steps and out into the back yard.  The bad: I've been unable to capture it on video.  It turns out that puppies are a lot like babies in yet another way -- they will do something entertaining right up until you're attempting to film or photograph it.  I'll keep trying, though…it's worth it.  Here's an alternate clip, with the bonus of him knowing his name.

Video: more of a run/hop, hiking down Mt. Sanitas

There is another reason that hop of his is so heartwarming -- he's extremely lucky that he can do it at all, especially with no hint of a lifelong limp or anything like it.  The break in his femur discovered after he was dropped off at Animal Control was severe enough to say it didn't look good for the little rascal to keep his leg, even if he wasn't euthanized.  The story was that he was put high up on a TV by some kids, and fell backwards, breaking his leg…and that story is complete bull, according to the veterinarian who showed me the characteristics of the fracture.  She said it was a step or a kick, without question.  Aside from the natural "who would do that to a poor defenseless tiny animal?" reaction, I'd like to add that if it was anything remotely intentional, I'd gladly return the favor to the perpetrator.

Seriously, someone could hurt this monkey?

(taken almost a month ago - he looks tiny)

That explanation was provided after Daly received a second set of X-Rays almost two weeks ago, to check on his healing.  It was still less than a month since his Easter Sunday surgery, so even an optimistic forecast would show that he's on the right track but still in need of some growth and fusion, right?  Well, that turned out to be nothing for a wonder-pup.  The dog's femur shows a complete heal, with no signs of the big break that interrupted it…and I'd be lying if I said that I had restricted his activity in order to see that through.  It's just crazy puppy growth, said the vet clinic, and while I agree with that, it doesn't change my belief that something pretty special took place.

Incidentally, I love that he's a Collie in one vet's opinion and an Australian Cattle Dog in another's…guess he's both, plus German Shepherd.  Post-racial, I should start calling him.

Look above the joint…that is a BAD fracture.

Less than a month later, look again! A fused femur.

The little wolf/coyote/fox/dingo went under the knife again last week, this time to get snipped…and I wish they were able to do something to force bladder control too, since every time I think he's house-trained, he manages to piss away on a rug without even motioning for the door.  Once again, his recovery from a procedure was really remarkable.  I was told to keep his activity to a minimum for a couple of days (riiiight…with two adult dogs in the house whom he just can't leave be), and to expect him to appear woozy and without appetite for at least the rest of that day.  One car nap later, he was his exact feisty self again, goading Bodie and Dana, eating away, and wrestling with his same-age girlfriend in the park.  I didn't even get one chill night out of his neutering!

Daly's Snoopy impression, while spooning Dana

I did end up with a very pregnant stray in my truck's back seat on the day I dropped him off, though…she was so scared, and so about to pop, that it was a struggle just moving her.  How did that happen, you ask?  Georgia Lee Cameron, president and founder of the nonprofit rescue who saved Daly, showed me around the state-of-the-art Animal Control facility from which she took in Daly, and from there, we took this poor mama-to-be on a ride.  One stop later, she was transferred to one of the outstanding volunteers for fostering…and probably birthing of a litter within hours.  Just a regular day in the world of Life Is Better Rescue.

Denver Animal Shelter, where Daly was dropped off.

One very pregnant and very scared stray.

Holy moly, Daly just caught a fly!  He's a regular Mr. Miyagi, only it didn't take him 70 years!  I watched him get captivated by a buzzing fly for a while, rapidly jerking his head as it zipped back and forth, and then take a few lunges with his tongue against the door glass, and then…zap!  Like a trained killer, he brought that sucker down and gobbled him right up.  I'm now totally willing to forgive the lack of notification before the pee incident earlier.  Puppies, man…what a trip.

One last: Daly copying big bro Bodie, as usual.

Once more, here are the links to LIBR's website and Facebook page.  They don't just do far more than their part, in immense voluntary time and effort, to rescue lovable beings and find them homes -- they pay for what they can to mend the wounded, as they did for Daly.  Please consider helping them in any way possible!

Life Is Better Rescue

Facebook: LifeisBetterRescue

Joys and Frustrations

This was written on Monday, May 7, but I didn't post it at the time due to lack of available photos.  I thought I could quickly crack the code on why one Apple product (MacBook Pro) refuses to upload photos from another (iPhone) due to an unspecified "error"…and I was wrong.  So I'm stuck e-mailing each pic I like from my phone to my gmail, and going through a painstaking process from there, since iPhoto won't recognize the ones I just downloaded.  C'mon...help a brother out, Apple.

As I look at him now, drifting back to sleep all curled up in a ball, it's hard to remember how strongly I felt a couple of days ago about changing course and letting him go up for adoption.  It's not like he couldn't keep his food down; in fact, tonight was the first time I'd yet seen anything come back up through his gullet...and given how many different things he decides are edible each day, that's impressive.  It's not like he's chewing up everything within reach -- not yet, anyway, and since he isn't roaming around unsupervised much at all, the jury's still out on that common habit.  And it's not like he's refusing to sleep through the night…while I grumble sometimes about his wake-up times, he's been doing alright for a critter still younger than three months.  In fact, he's been a pretty ideal puppy all around, house peeing and disobedience aside.  So how could I even consider parting with him, right?

Update time.  He's all stretched out now, back in another one of his favorite poses: head off the doggie bed and on the floor, wolf ears still standing completely straight up from his head, eyes shut tight as if he's forcing them closed, white-socked paws stuck straight forward…he likes to jab with those little mitts, like a sparring partner.  I couldn't get a good shot of it, but trust me, it's adorable.

Anyway, here's more or less what happened: I suffered a crisis of sorts the other day, brought on not by anything the little monkey had done, but by other stuff.  Daly only factored in because as I doubted everything I was doing and not doing, the urge to shelve everything did not mesh with a responsibility like raising a puppy.  And I do not take that responsibility lightly -- which is problematic at times.  If I didn't care so much about how he turns out, I could take a more laissez-faire attitude towards the whole process, rather than fussing about what he's eating off the ground, stressing about whether he's learning fast enough, or giving up my chance to get in a workout because I've got to make sure he gets his exercise in.  And I'm not trying to portray myself as saintly in my initial dog-raising attempt, because I'm far from it.  Hell, I've already worried that through snapping at him, I've screwed up my chance to win his love and loyalty.

It all sounds pretty stupid, I'm sure -- especially to those who've regularly cared for dogs, or simply just grown up with them.  "How can this be so hard?", you probably think.  But I found myself wondering how, on the short side of 40, I'm going to change my ways however I need to to look out for him properly…and honestly, whether I'm willing to prioritize it enough to do so.  There's still an out, in that I haven't officially adopted him yet.  But once again, and after a bout of reconsidering, I'm thinking I don't really have much of a choice.

See duck...Daly's new toy, an immediate favorite.

See Daly attack duck, his favorite activity besides peeing.

See duck's guts and honker. This took only two days.

Those wolf ears perked back up and rotated when I resumed typing just now.  Because even when he's trying to sleep his tired butt off, he doesn't want to miss a damn thing.  And holy hell, does his gas cut some fierce odors through the room!  I still haven't figured out if it's the fancy food I feed him or the treat sticks I reward him with all day.  But he's growing by leaps and bounds, noticeably a lot bigger, longer and heavier at 12 weeks than he was at 10.  He's ridiculously charming, or just so cute that people just can't help themselves, and sometimes even become blithering idiots at the sight of him.  There's a lot more to tell, and in the interest of remembering to do so, his rapidly healing leg, his first big hikes, and his first snow are just a few of them...

Week One with a Pup

Daly the devil dog, in my first hour with him

Here goes another attempt to keep up a blog.  Why try again when two or three others lay discontinued?  Why have faith that the new experience of raising a dog will prove inspirational enough that even a fraction of my observations will see the light of day?  Because you gotta have faith, I suppose.  And faith is something that a perky, curious and rambunctious puppy often seems to provide.

Close up of "the little monkey" I was told I needed

A few weeks ago, my dear friend Georgia let me know that Life Is Better, her non-profit animal rescue organization, had picked up a roughly six-week-old puppy from Animal Control in Denver.  The little fighter had a broken femur, and the fate of his leg was uncertain.  What was certain was that his chances for a better life (he could have been euthanized if a rescue such as hers didn't take him) had just dramatically improved.  Two weeks later, on Easter Sunday, he underwent a successful surgery which inserted a plate, a couple of screws and some wire, and was on his way to recovery.  By then, I'd heard plenty about the little scamp and had seen a couple of photos -- and was volunteering to foster him.  I'd even suggested a name once Georgia first told me about him…Daly, for Sergeant Major Dan Daly, one of the most legendary fighters the Marine Corps (for that matter, the United States) ever produced.  As if his record of gallantry in the Boxer Rebellion and in Haiti weren't enough, Daly reportedly exhorted his men to charge the Germans at the Battle of Belleau Wood by yelling, "Come on, you sons of bitches -- do you want to live forever?"  Now THAT is an attitude to wield throughout life.

Yes, those are TWO Medals of Honor on Dan Daly

So one week ago, around noon on a Saturday, I received the utterly adorable little rascal.  It's been a roller coaster since then…the highs and lows of life with a two-month-old canine are pretty extraordinary.  Surely it's not so dramatic for those who've done this before, especially those who've done it hundreds of times (lookin' at you, Georgia), but when it's your first time being solely responsible for the care, feeding, hydration, piss breaks (more on that later…much more) and so forth for a puppy, your day can tailspin without warning -- or suddenly brighten when he greets you as if you've been away for a year.

Daly takes a Sunday siesta -- and no, he wasn't drinking.

I'll do my best to recall what I've learned so far.  Puppies are incredibly, indelibly and endlessly curious, even more than I expected.  Everything is fascinating and worth exploration, from people to plants to bugs to dirt…yeah, dirt.  If I had a nickel for every time his nose comes up covered in something from the yard after rooting around, I'd already be on my way to vast riches.  It occurs to me every time we're outside that he can detect so many more smells than I can, so I can only imagine the sensory overload that's taxing his microscopic attention span with each new breeze and turn around a corner.  And we are outside A LOT.  I'm not exactly working regular hours, so I spend a lot of time with him, and he has to relieve himself roughly every 30 seconds.  This is no joke.  It makes absolutely no difference if we were just outside, he will start peeing again out of nowhere.  And when he's tuckered out, after nonstop bouts with other dogs, surprise attacks in every direction, and running around on those little white-socked legs of his, he really knocks out.  It's the cutest thing I've ever seen.  Then a sound -- any sound, from anything, anywhere -- stirs him and he's ready for the next round.

Calm before the storm of energy that is Daly

The challenge for me, as always, will be following through on telling this story…and making it interesting.  He doesn't know it, but Daly has already convinced me that I can't give him up.  So begins a journey, and hopefully a long one.  I'm going to need stores of patience that I may not have, but I've already got a companion here who instinctively melts the iciest emotion.  He's sweet natured, soft and constantly playful, and has already shown early chops as a trail dog.  I find myself already considering how altered my life is as I ponder decisions ahead, from spontaneous trips to the mountains to longer periods of work or vacation away from home.  It wrecks havoc on my already-poor levels of punctuality and preparedness, but I'm starting to remember to carry poop bags and treats wherever I go. And for now, just walking down the street with the little fella on a leash takes massively longer than it did in my complete independence due to all the attention lavished upon Daly…he's just that irresistible.

Daly & me today, one week together

Note: If you are interested at all in adopting or fostering a rescue, or you know someone who might, please check out Life Is Better at the links below.  They are compassionate and simply extraordinary in the work they manage to do!


Life Is Better Rescue
Life Is Better - Facebook page