The one where I talk about the first two weeks with Pike as part of our pack.
Today marks our two week anniversary with Pike, so I thought I'd take a few minutes to recap how things have been going.
I'm going to start off with a harsh dose of reality: this has been really, really, really hard. Adding a third dog—a high energy, large breed puppy—to the pack is not for the feint of heart. Do I think we'll survive? I sure hope so. I'm giving us an 80% chance.
I'm kidding. Sort of.
Our journey got off to a slightly rocky start, which I wrote about here. And things didn't improve on day two. Or three. Or four.
The event that set the tone for week one was fairly typical for a new puppy: Pike peed in his crate on his padded bed. No worries. It happens. And as a veteran dog owner, I have a number of beds on hand. I scurried down the steps to the basement to drop off the soiled one and grab a replacement. I saw the bed I was looking for, stashed just slightly out of reach on top of some boxes. A knee-height box was on the floor in front of the stack I was aiming for and instead of pushing it out of the way, I did what I have done a billion times before. I reached for it. Easy peasy! Except it wasn't. As best I can tell, while my upper body moved forward, the box kind of pushed my knee back and I heard a pop. The jolt of pain that followed was so intense and so immediate that I got dizzy and sweaty and thought I might collapse. But thanks to some experience with meditation I was able to take a few deep breaths, center myself, and devise a plan to get up the steps. D00d was outside mowing the lawn so I knew he wouldn't hear me calling for him, and Pike was in the kitchen, frantically barking because his new family had abandoned him. I gritted my teeth, sat down on the lowest step I could comfortably access and then began pulling myself up the stairs backwards (while also holding onto the replacement crate pad). Never have I ever been so grateful for all of the tricep work I'd been doing! About halfway through my upward journey, my knee popped back into place and the pain instantly vanished. Whew! I had no idea what had just happened but I was glad to have it behind me. And it was behind me. Until the following morning. I went to get undressed to take a shower and my knee popped again. This time, though, there was no second pop back into place. I was down and out. I couldn't put the slightest bit of pressure on my leg. The pain was excruciating. And I had three dogs to take care of. FML.
I spent three days on crutches and a couple more on a cane. An orthopedic specialist diagnosed me with severe arthritis, which was actually welcome news. I was convinced something had been torn and would require a surgical procedure to repair. Arthritis was a foe I could deal with.
Taking care of dogs while incapacitated added a tremendous amount of stress to what was already a stressful situation. My patience, already waning thin, was put to the test and I am embarrassed to report that I did not do well.
I did a lot of yelling, a lot of swearing, some crying, and, yes, some wallowing as well.
When I should have been busy enjoying my sweet new bouncing puppy, I was in pain and trying to process the negative thoughts spinning in my head. Thoughts of running away. Thoughts of putting myself out of my misery via a glass of wine. Or two.
On the advice of a friend, I ordered a knee brace from Amazon, and the day it arrived was when things sort of started to turn a corner. I put the brace on and the pain immediately went away. I didn't feel completely healed, but I felt well enough to get the dogs outside for some air and exercise.
But things aren't all rosy. I'd been excited to add a new kid to the mix because Omar, our Boston Terrier, has a lot of energy and wants to play all the time—usually while I'm trying to get some work done. Our French Bulldog, Bisou, does not. Another energetic puppy would be a perfect playmate for Omar.
Except that Omar doesn't like Pike. At all. And Beezy doesn't like either of them.
We've had lots of growling and snapping, which I've been told is normal and to be expected this early on. But that doesn't make it any less frustrating. Because now I have two highly exuberant dogs to deal with, and only one of them can be walked to help burn off some of that energy. A friend told me that when she added her second dog, it took three weeks for the first one to welcome the new guy into the fold, and now they're the best of friends. I can't tell you how much I'm hoping that happens here.
Pike also seems to have some separation anxiety issues. I can't tell if it's just because he's so young or if it will become an actual problem. Both Vizslas and Weimaraners are prone to it, and my fear now is that we'll never be able to leave the house again.
I'm trying to not be completely negative. I'm trying to focus on the positive. And there have been some positives. Plenty, actually.
He sleeps through most nights in his crate without making a sound. And on the nights when he does wake us up and we take him out, he goes back to sleep until we get him up.
We've now—finally—had three consecutive poops outside!
We started puppy obedience training this week. He's eager to learn and to please, and he's super smart.
He's slightly less mouthy and his wild head snapping seems to less frequent.
I'm sure there are other positives that I'm forgetting about, but I'm sleep deprived and need a nap. It's only been two weeks, and he's a puppy. There will be loads more bumps in the road. I'll just continue taking deep breaths and focusing on the fact that I'll have plenty of content for this blog. Take care, peace out until next time, and remember to sit, stay, and focus.
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