Tag: Food

“How would you feel about adopting another dog?”

For me, that question does not require much thought. I immediately answered, “Sure.”

Some friends of ours had just bought a new puppy, a West Highlands White Terrier named Winston. Unfortunately, their physical condition had gone downhill and couldn’t keep up with the demands of a new puppy. My wife heard he needed a new home, I said, “Sure,” and just like that we brought home a second dog.

Our resident dog, Samson, was a shepherd-lab-whatever mix. But at thirteen years of age, he was pretty mellow unless a delivery guy threatened our home. We have long been a big dog family with a few exceptions. Chica the Chihuahua lived here for a while, but she was mostly my son’s dog. Sable the Bassett hound howled around here for years, but she wasn’t a small dog. Especially her ears. The thing is, we never had a dog who needed to be groomed. This would definitely be a first for us.

Winston came with a pretty fancy crate made of wood and metal. He had chewed up a few corners. He also came with a little harness and stretchy leash, a ton of poop bags, a little raincoat embroidered with his name, a stuffed lamb, a stuffed bunny, a few rubber toys, and a collection of tiny Westie figurines.

A raincoat? Not in this family. Stretchy leash? Nope. We immediately got a prong collar to use with our trusty six-foot leather lead. Stuffed toys? We’ll see how long they last. Westie figurines? I listed them on eBay. (No sale so far. Interested?) The crate? Okay for now, but it’ll be in the back bedroom, along with the grandkids bunkbeds and crib.

I believe we’ve got a pretty friendly kid-safe house. A puppy-proof house is a whole different project. Winston loved the soft plastic of play food, little people, Lego bricks, Tinkertoys, and toy dinosaurs. I don’t think he ever ate any. He just left tiny teeth marks in all sorts of toys.

All of the grandkids love dogs. They just weren’t used to this dog. As soon as one of them squealed, Winston was ready to jump, nip, play, run, jump, and have a great time. We installed a baby gate to keep him separate from the squealers when they were here. I had to make a rule. “What’s the one thing you are not allowed to say when Winston comes over to you?” Answer: “AAAAhhhhhhh!”

Winston was mostly housebroken when we brought him home. Unless he wanted to make a point. If I took a sock or a toy or a pair of underwear or a towel or a piece of paper or a dead bug from him, he showed his displeasure by peeing on the bathroom rug. It’s like a little kid acting out to get attention. It got our attention, and it got Winston a little time in the cage.

A lot has changed in the last seven months. By putting all the kids’ toys out of reach and buying a nice selection of toys and chew sticks at the pet store, Winston slotted into good dog behavior. A little bit of prong collar leash training brought him to a nice heel and automatic sit. The grandkids have not only gotten used to him, but ask to play with him. He woofs at the back door if he needs to go out. He catches rays in the backyard every morning. He spends his early afternoons napping on the love seats or the bottom bunk bed. He gets along well with my daughter’s Florida brown dog Kennedy, my other daughter’s Golden Retriever Rex, my neighbor’s Shiz-tzu, Bailey, and is working things out with my in-law’s Westie, Brodie.

Yes, we had Winston neutered. When we came in for our pre-op visit, the front desk woman at the veterinarian’s office was from Scotland and said with her best Mrs. Doubtfire accent, “Helloooo! What a cute wee one. We’re country cousins! Let me have a look at ya.”

Westin is a white dog. But he’s rarely white. He loves to dig and usually comes inside with dirty feet and a ring of dirt around his mouth. He is usually covered with “hitchhikers,” small weed seeds we can only get out of his coat with a special comb. I always thought a dog that had to be groomed wouldn’t shed. Wrong. He doesn’t shed as much as Samson, but he does leave traces of white curly hair all over the house. Winston has a strange appetite for bugs, lizards, moths, sticks, leaves, and rocks. I’m always pulling something out of his mouth.

Oh, and Winston is also a runner. If he gets out an open door or escapes from his collar, he’s gone, he’s fast, and he’s elusive. But I’ve learned how to get him back. I simply call out, “Do you want to go for a ride?” He’ll run right over to the car and jump in the passenger seat. He loves to go for a drive, let the AC blow on his face, and watch all the other cars pass by.

Winston is a cuddler. If I sit down to read a book or watch TV or talk to my wife, he jumps up and sits across my lap. His favorite place is to be with his people.

Winston is also a sleeper. When I got in the back bedroom to let him out of his crate in the morning, it takes him about fifteen minutes to get up and out to go for his morning walk. He wanders out, does a perfect down dog and up dog, and then rolls around a few times before he’s ready for the collar, leash, and walk. All my other dogs have woken me up. I’ve never had to drag my dog out of bed in the morning!

Winston is a faithful buddy, but he’s also everyone’s friend. He lets me comb out his hair, but then nips me afterwards to let me know he doesn’t like it. He loves to play in water, but hates to take a bath. He is, as one website described Westies, a big dog in a little dog’s body.

I think that’s why we get along so well.