We've been in the new house for less than two weeks, and I'm hoping the next few weeks will be a little less eventful in the dog-settling-in department.
Our new neighbors on one side are renovating, and the endless parade of contractors, carpenters and painters are setting Pooka off. When I'm home, I'm working on "leave it" with her, and she consistently is giving up the barking and trotting to me for a treat.
But Saturday night when I was out, something must have really bugged her, because I came home late to a Pooka on the front stoop and a clawed-out screen lying in the driveway.
Yikes.
The sick feeling of horror and relief and stress is just leaving me, four days later, and I'm trying to devise a plan. I've hooked-and-eyed the door she got through, and won't leave windows open more than a crack while I'm out, but I'm scared she's going to go through the glass one of these days and really hurt herself. And we already know how hard she works to escape crates. I'm going to try to increase our morning walks, do some training exercises before work, and leave her with frozen Kongs (this is called enriching her environment). Continue to work on "leave it," though I might also take
Jean Donaldson's advice and try to get her to bark and quiet on cue. And try to work on desensitizing her to things that move outside the house. But without being able to absolutely control what happens when I'm away from the house, it's going to be slow going.
Also, she clawed through my new sofa, which is not as sturdy (or as leathery -- vinyl, I think) as it looked. I paid someone to come fix the small tears, and will not be letting the P. on the couch ever after. Why do I feel bad about this??? Am contemplating getting her one of the round IKEA chairs she likes so much. Mostly to ease my own guilt.
But there are funny and good things happening in the little house, too. Pooka loves surveying the back yard from the upstairs window. She can hear a crow land from anywhere in the house, and goes tearing outside to scare it off. And she has buried every rawhide I've given her in the loose dirt of the garden beds. She digs a shallow ditch with her front paw, but then covers it up with her snout. It's hilarious to watch, as is her dusty face after she's done. Real sneaky, Pooks.
I spent hours weeding last night. She spent those hours guarding (lots of "leave it" moments), sniffing, eating ornamental grass and finally curled up in a ball sleeping nearby.
