Tegid
Well, it's been a couple of months since young Tegid arrived on the scene, so I thought I'd give you an update on the new DevilDog.
The small bundle of cute naughtiness has grown into a much larger bundle of boundless energy and teeth. Most dogs investigate the world by smelling it, from a quick casual sniff to long minutes of intense aroma-snorting. Tegid investigates the world by biting it. Size is unimportant. Even if he can only fit a small piece of, say, my knee into his mouth, he'll try it, just to see what it's made of. The Labrador's jowls are a particular favourite, and now sport a crust of painful-looking scabs. Boots and shoes have to be raised beyond terrier reach, a surprising height, or risk being lost. Tegid hasn't so far destroyed anything, in the way that the SausageDog will slowly, methodically, render eighty quid's worth of boot down to tuppence-sized chunks of leather and plastic - he lacks the attention span and determination - but he will take things from one place and leave them somewhere else entirely.
Early on, he had a problem with stairs. Going up was fine, but coming back down again, not so much. You'd think that an animal with half a brain would learn not to go upstairs then, but no. The lure of forbidden realms was ever too much. Now he's got the hang of it, I don't have to worry if I've not seen him for a few minutes. Before that, a slip of attention risked soiling the new carpet. I do have to remember to close the bedroom door, however, since he's big enough now to jump up onto the bed and thinks that King Size is just about right for a terrier.
Now he's undergoing intensive cat-flap training.* It's taken a while, but he seems to be getting the idea. The real leap in education will be when he puts two and two together and works out that he doesn't need to crap at the closed front door because no-one noticed his silent vigil, but can instead take himself down the back stairs to the basement and then out the cat-flap to do his business. He's already worked out that he can do that to go and catch beetles, so I'm hopeful it won't take much longer. He's fascinated with creepy-crawlies in a very cat-like way, but then he's a terrier so I should expect inquisitiveness.
Tegid's a good eater, too, despite being as skinny as a rake. All that exercise he gets from beating up Haggis and biting the world, I guess. Either that or the worming tablets aren't working. We've started weaning him onto grown-up food mostly for economic reasons, although he seems to prefer it to the puppy stuff anyway. It's what the big dogs eat, after all, and he's determined to be a big dog.
The worst problem is an old terrier trick, perfected by Mortimer and obviously handed down as a race memory. Tegid learnt early on that peeing outside on the lawn got a reward, so now of an evening, when we're sitting down and trying to enjoy something on the telly, he leaps up and scratches at the door to be let out. Into the darkness, back again an instant later and then a perfect sit, head cocked slightly to one side in query: where's my treat? Once, he might get away with. Twice is pushing it. Every three minutes starts to get annoying, so you ignore him. Which, of course, is when he pees on the floor.
None of this should surprise me. I've over twenty years experience of terriers, after all. But it's been a long time since we had a puppy in the house, and you forget just how much hard work it can be.
It's fun though, and he's a cracking wee dog.
* well, technically it's a dog-flap, but for some inexplicable reason that sounds rather rude
The small bundle of cute naughtiness has grown into a much larger bundle of boundless energy and teeth. Most dogs investigate the world by smelling it, from a quick casual sniff to long minutes of intense aroma-snorting. Tegid investigates the world by biting it. Size is unimportant. Even if he can only fit a small piece of, say, my knee into his mouth, he'll try it, just to see what it's made of. The Labrador's jowls are a particular favourite, and now sport a crust of painful-looking scabs. Boots and shoes have to be raised beyond terrier reach, a surprising height, or risk being lost. Tegid hasn't so far destroyed anything, in the way that the SausageDog will slowly, methodically, render eighty quid's worth of boot down to tuppence-sized chunks of leather and plastic - he lacks the attention span and determination - but he will take things from one place and leave them somewhere else entirely.
Early on, he had a problem with stairs. Going up was fine, but coming back down again, not so much. You'd think that an animal with half a brain would learn not to go upstairs then, but no. The lure of forbidden realms was ever too much. Now he's got the hang of it, I don't have to worry if I've not seen him for a few minutes. Before that, a slip of attention risked soiling the new carpet. I do have to remember to close the bedroom door, however, since he's big enough now to jump up onto the bed and thinks that King Size is just about right for a terrier.
Now he's undergoing intensive cat-flap training.* It's taken a while, but he seems to be getting the idea. The real leap in education will be when he puts two and two together and works out that he doesn't need to crap at the closed front door because no-one noticed his silent vigil, but can instead take himself down the back stairs to the basement and then out the cat-flap to do his business. He's already worked out that he can do that to go and catch beetles, so I'm hopeful it won't take much longer. He's fascinated with creepy-crawlies in a very cat-like way, but then he's a terrier so I should expect inquisitiveness.
Tegid's a good eater, too, despite being as skinny as a rake. All that exercise he gets from beating up Haggis and biting the world, I guess. Either that or the worming tablets aren't working. We've started weaning him onto grown-up food mostly for economic reasons, although he seems to prefer it to the puppy stuff anyway. It's what the big dogs eat, after all, and he's determined to be a big dog.
The worst problem is an old terrier trick, perfected by Mortimer and obviously handed down as a race memory. Tegid learnt early on that peeing outside on the lawn got a reward, so now of an evening, when we're sitting down and trying to enjoy something on the telly, he leaps up and scratches at the door to be let out. Into the darkness, back again an instant later and then a perfect sit, head cocked slightly to one side in query: where's my treat? Once, he might get away with. Twice is pushing it. Every three minutes starts to get annoying, so you ignore him. Which, of course, is when he pees on the floor.
None of this should surprise me. I've over twenty years experience of terriers, after all. But it's been a long time since we had a puppy in the house, and you forget just how much hard work it can be.
It's fun though, and he's a cracking wee dog.
* well, technically it's a dog-flap, but for some inexplicable reason that sounds rather rude
Comments
Ha. I relate to the whole post. Makes me wonder about the intelligence of we humans who do this with the canines. Hahaha.
You know, he looooks like miniature Lab, like my Emerson looked as a pup earlier this year!