I May Have Been a Dog Person for a Second

We fell in love with our adorable little fur ball the moment we met him last October. That’s the thing about puppies, they’re so damn cute they hook you before you remember the upheaval a baby of any species causes to your life. But by the time we drove the twelve hours from Erie, PA to Knoxville with the little guy, it was coming back to me. Still, I wasn’t too worried because my husband, Tim, had always taken the lead with our dogs. I did kids, he did dogs. That was the deal with the first pup, and I never saw a reason to change it.

Ours has been a collie household since our children were young, and we’ve been lucky enough to share a lifetime with two great ones – Kory and Brady – both of which were the classic sable and white variety, a la Lassie. Cooper, our newest addition, is our first tri-color; it was more by circumstance than choice, but I liked the change.

Cooper is also different in another big way, he’s our first collie that delights in being a dog. The others had always distanced themselves from the canine label, seeking instead a higher rank in the family order. And they were both so serious; no frolicking about for them. They spent their life vigilantly waiting for that critical moment when they would need to rescue one of us from the proverbial well. I imagine Cooper to be less helpful in that moment of crisis; he’d more likely jump in right behind us.

To this day Cooper spends countless hours in the backyard playing with dog toys and devouring bones, both activities shunned by our previous collies. He enjoys our company, but there’s no question digging, chewing, and pursuing critters amuses him just as much. He’ll fetch everything we throw, but getting him to relinquish it without a chase is pure fantasy. He declares war on the sprinkler heads every morning; it never seems to get old. He’s ravaged half the ornamental shrubs diving in to retrieve stray balls, and the other half by splitting them apart branch by branch because…well, just because he likes destroying things.

Relieved that he kept his deviant behavior outside, I have to confess to being mildly entertained at some of his stereotypical doggy ways. It was all new to me and I kind of liked his spunk. And I was grateful he was so loving and sweet with people; it’s vegetation he reveled in terrorizing. Of course, our grandson had a mad crush on him immediately; a new pal with energy to match his own. It was cute, they seemed to be endless amusement for each other. So, I looked past the war-zone-like destruction in our gardens assuming it was part of this puppy stage which we all know is temporary…right?

As the weeks became months, his backyard antics soared. Surprisingly, I was still tolerant and stayed hopeful he’d outgrow it all. I remained that way until the day he decided to bring his devilish inclinations inside, setting his sights on our most expensive rugs. When I spotted the softball size hole in the Persian in the foyer, all bets were off. How silly I’d been to assume he’d soon outgrow his puppy vices; he was ten months old and just getting started. I on the other hand was done; dogs may be capable of unconditional love but apparently, I am not.

So, you canine lovers out there are probably thinking puppies will be puppies. Maybe. That rationale had certainly won Cooper more patience these last few months than he deserved. Fortunately for him, my daughter and I were leaving on a trip the next day providing Tim some time to get him back in line. Overnight his destructive tendencies had vaulted from pesky to intolerable, and sweet face or not, this four-legged dude had worn out his welcome. My short-lived trip to Planet Dog Lover was officially over.

I didn’t immediately notice any change in Cooper when we returned. I did however, spot two new holes he’d dug in the backyard and another section of one of my hydrangeas missing. Yep, that’s our Cooper. He greeted us enthusiastically: jumping, kissing, trying to get us to chase him. My irritation had mellowed in the Big Apple, and while I was still squarely in the “take them or leave them” camp as it related to pets, I had to admit I had missed him just a wee bit.

Then Tim broke the news. A few days after we left Cooper developed an aversion to walking on smooth surfaces. Yep, you heard right. There were lots of people around – our son, his family and friends had come for the weekend – but nobody knew exactly what led to the sudden onset of his newest quirk. Long story short, it’s over a month later and despite hours of pleading and coaxing he still won’t walk freely on surfaces that appear slick – like the hardwood covering most of the main level, bathroom tile or the painted concrete in the storage areas or garages.

It’s not so much that he won’t walk on smooth surfaces; it’s more like he can’t. He wants to, especially when we’re tempting him with some of his favorite foods. But in the end, he can’t take the step. It’s a fear thing; it’s the exact same reaction I see from everyone in our family that has acrophobia. He whines, his legs quiver and ultimately, he always seeks refuge on the carpets or rough textured tile finishes that are his safe zones. When he’s feeling brave he’ll jump from one area rug to another until his leaping abilities take him to the end of the carpeted road. And during particularly daring moments when the temptation is sufficient, he’ll step off with his front paws and stretch as far as he can while keeping his hind legs safely on the rug behind him. Watching him stretch, I’m struck with the thought that he must be a reincarnated first basemen.

Tim’s done enough research to determine this phenomenon is not as uncommon as you’d imagine. While we may never know what brought it on, usually a trauma of some sort, it seems patience goes a long way toward recovery. I guess that’s encouraging because living with a loco anything is harder when you don’t understand it. Since Cooper is making strides, albeit slow, Tim’s optimistic he’ll work this way through it. If his progress stops, a trip to the vet is the next step and then there’s always the option of consulting a canine behaviorist. Geez… a dog shrink.

I’ll stay hopeful but something tells me this won’t be the last time Cooper lands himself in my blog; seems like once you board the crazy train getting off is much easier said than done.