Detente with Treats and a Spray Bottle

I'm thrilled to report that the rather strained relations between Kirby and Remy have improved. While it's not yet an entirely peaceful household as far as the canines are concerned, we have come a long way and we had a true breakthrough this past Friday.

As I've chronicled here before, relations between Remy and Kirby have been a bit strained. If they're together, they're wrestling. At least that's how it has been pretty much ever since we brought Remy home. We've tried force -- pulling the dogs apart, telling them "leave it!" or "stop it!" but sometimes the grabbing and forceful words just seem to reinforce the fighting mood. Only a human-imposed segregation of the two dogs has allowed us peace for any extended period of time.

On Friday I was on puppy duty. (Jamie and I have been taking turns watching Remy and working downstairs while the other person works in their office upstairs with Kirby. Remy has a crate, but since we both work from home, we are afforded the opportunity to not have the little guy in a crate all day.)

Anyway... it was a day when we both really needed to work from our upstairs offices. I decided to go ahead and have both Remy and Kirby in the office with me. Of course, immediately there was a Tasmanian-devil-meets-Iowa-tornado-like whirling mass of rolling, growling, biting scruffiness happening under my desk. It wasn't long before I'd had enough. I went and got a spray bottle and a bag of little treats. I came back to my desk where the war raged on and gave them both a spritz. Immediately things fell shockingly silent. From under the desk there were four eyes focused on me, shining from from disheveled little faces, both wearing expressions of WTF?!?

Ten seconds later the wrestling started again. Another spray. WTF?!? After the third spray things were quiet a bit longer. I gave them both treats. Whoa. Treats! This process went on, with treats applied for calmness, until, I'm shocked to report, they each staked out a spot and took a nap. In the same room.  It was almost unbelievable...especially given that the spray bottle was just a mister I use for ironing.

That night we had both of them up on the blanket-covered couch together and they slept through an entire movie...side by side. Touching even. The spray bottle and treats (liberally applied for good behavior) were sitting on the coffee table. Again, an almost unbelievable turnaround.

We've now done this every evening since and it seems to be sticking. It seems rather silly to say this, but ever since we brought Remy home (and even before), I've dreamed of having the two dogs stretched out with me on the couch as we watched a movie. It's never happened before, so this is HUGE for me. 

Yesterday, while Remy napped in my office, I caught Kirby licking Remy's face and ears -- just like he used to do with Baxter -- and Remy seemed to like it. I think they genuinely enjoy each other's company, even if they have odd ways of showing it. And now that they know they can be together without fighting, they seem to rather like it. It's as if they've been given permission NOT to fight sometimes.

This is a pretty good testament to positive reinforcement -- rewarding positive behavior and applying just enough correction so the dogs know what's expected of them. Now it becomes a matter of motivation and choices...

A few days into this I'm finding the spray bottle/treat combo doesn't ALWAYS work. Remy and Kirby both understand the carrot and the stick aspect very well now. But sometimes the urge to wrestle is just greater than either of those options. I realize these guys need time to play and it would be wrong to expect them to never play together, even if the play seems a bit rough at times.

So now we're trying to dole out sanctioned play time. Of course, once they get into the fervor  of it, it's rather difficult to get them to stop. It's a learning process. And it's not fool-proof. I did have a harder time managing the under-desk wrestling today. The spray/treat combo was working at first, but not for as long at a time.

I asked myself what was different?  I think part of it is Remy has decided that he doesn't mind the spritz so much. (He is a water dog, after all, and he's also a fast learner...so that initial element of surprise didn't last long.)  But, moreso, I think it's because it was a blustery day and we didn't get Remy out for very much exercise. The little dude just HAS to get his gonzo puppy energy out somewhere and, at 5 months old, he has a lot of gonzo puppy energy. Today was evidence that at least part of the trick to maintaining the peace on the home front is having a tired puppy.

Note to self: weathering the storm outside means not weathering a dog tornado inside for the rest of the day.

Blessed are the Squeakmakers

It often takes me a couple of days to finish a blog post, mostly because I'm spending most of my non-work time playing with Remy. (What a joyful way to put off getting anything done around the house!) Well, I'd been working on the previous post about Remy and Kirby and their almost non-stop wrestling when, yesterday morning, they had a rare moment of togetherness without any wrestling happening at all. Then it happened again yesterday evening after I had just spent time on the Griffology Facebook page engaging with other Griff owners for advice. Lo and behold, detente was achieved yet again this morning. Could it be that the act of committing something to Internet-published verbiage changes the behavior just to make my posts out of date?!? Whatever it is, I'll take it as a sign to keep on writing.

The latest truce happened, somewhat surprisingly, over some squeaky toys. Yesterday afternoon, a friend came over to meet Remy and she brought a couple of rubber squeaky toys as gifts, a little one for Kirby and a big one for Remy. Both dogs loved their squeakies and immediately launched into fits of running around and squeaking that made human conversation a tad challenging, but we all were so happy that they were happy, we just proceeded to yell over tea.

After a while, Kirby decided to take his squeaker toy upstairs to hide it (Kirby now asks to go upstairs). Later that afternoon Kirby brought his toy back down the stairs and deposited it just inside his side of the gate at the bottom of the stairs...right out of Remy's reach. Remy spent a long time -- as in at least 15 minutes -- reaching through the gate with his paws to try to get that little squeaky toy out. I'm shocked at the degree of focus he has for a 14-week-old puppy. Eventually we moved on to something else.

After dinner and Remy's evening nap in the crate (during which time Kirby, Jamie and I settled in for a movie) we let Remy out for another play session. This time Kirby was on the sofa with the big squeaker and Remy was on the floor. Remy immediately found the little squeaker and went about chomping on it, much to Kirby's chagrin. Despite having a perfectly good squeaky toy himself, Kirby could not stop obsessing over the fact that Remy had the little squeaker.

I'm not sure what prompted this behavior -- whether it was an act of Griffy kindness or just a random act of play -- but Remy looked up at Kirby staring down at him, then brought over the little squeaker, put his front legs up on the couch and deposited the little toy in front of Kirby. He then licked Kirby's chin and looked at Kirby sweetly. Was this a peace offering?  Kirby just sat there looking at the toy, then looking at Remy. I wasn't sure if Kirby was in a state of total dismay, if he was basking in his moment of superiority or if he was just happy to now have possession of his preferred squeaker. Remy waited a few moments, then gingerly slipped the big squeaker toy off the couch and took it over to the rug to play with it. I've never before considered that peace might sound like rubber squeaky toys, but, apparently, sometimes it does.

Kirby and Remy have had a couple of wrestling matches since, but much to my surprise and delight, the truce thing happened again this morning, when there was just one squeaker toy between the two dogs. Kirby, who is prone to resource-guarding at times, didn't even growl when Remy came over. And Remy, to his credit, didn't make a mad dodge for Kirby's toy. He just stood there, tail wagging, staring at his little big brother. Kirby started wagging his tail, then proceeded to sniff Remy from nose to tail. Once they finished sniffing each other, Kirby calmly picked up the little toy and asked to go upstairs. And that was that. Remy's now running around the living room by himself, squeaking his toy with joyful abandon.

Life is good.

Morning Choreography and Wishing for Another Boat

This morning we had a rare moment of peace while Remy and Kirby were in the same room, untethered. Well, it was somewhat enforced by the fact that rather than putting Remy in his crate, we tried tying him to the sofa to keep them separated until they both calmed down. At one point, when the two dogs were resting quietly, I unhooked Remy’s leash and the two managed to be within three feet of each other without wrestling for at least 10 minutes. That is a record.

Just yesterday, as I worked on this blog entry, I was thinking to myself that this obsessive wrestling thing just has to stop one of these days. I had hoped that by now that Remy and Kirby would be able to curl up next to each other and nap once in a while…or at least be able to sit next to each other for 15 seconds while I put their leashes on. Nope. Unless there is almost constant refereeing, every chance they get, they are having at it. Up the stairs. Under the sofa. Around the guests’ feet. So, most of the time, we still keep them segregated: Kirby gets full run of the house when Remy is in his crate and Kirby goes upstairs when Remy is loose. (We put a gate at the bottom of the stairs.)

This passion for wrestling is particularly annoying first thing in the morning when one spouse is trying to sleep. Due to Remy’s early morning potty call, Jamie and I have been taking turns so that we both aren’t entirely sleep-deprived. Jamie has, by far, taken the majority of morning outings, largely because I’m a more sound sleeper and he hears Remy’s rumblings first. That, and he’s just a really nice guy. But lately Jamie’s been fighting off a cold so I’ve been trying to let him sleep in.

Of course, first thing in the morning (which, for Remy, is the crack o’dark) the puppy is all recharged from a night in the crate and is ready for action. Jamie describes the choreography of getting Remy and Kirby outside and fed in the morning as being like the old puzzle of the farmer with the fox, the chicken and the corn trying to figure out how to get them all across the river when his boat is only big enough to take one at a time…

The morning scenario goes something like this:

Remy needs to go out first because he has the smallest bladder, but Kirby wants to go out too. If I take Remy out without Kirby, Kirby will whine and bark and wake up my spouse. If I take Kirby out by himself, then I have to leave Remy unattended in the house with a full bladder. If I put Remy back into his crate he will whine. If I try to put leashes on both Remy and Kirby at the same time, I have to put Remy’s on first then step on the leash before letting Kirby through the gate so I can keep Remy from jumping immediately into a wrestling match with Kirby, which makes putting on Kirby’s leash impossible. If I don’t let Kirby out of the gate, he starts whining and barking (remember, I’m trying to do all of this while making as little noise as possible). So I reach over the gate to put Kirby’s leash on, and if I take too long doing that, Remy sits by the door repeatedly ringing the bells (which is really a good thing). 

Once the leashes are on, I open the gate and let Kirby out. There is a moment of mayhem as I try to get both dogs through the door…Kirby goes first while I yard back Remy’s leash to keep him from jumping on Kirby on the way out the door. We walk with Kirby on a longer leash and hold Remy back just far enough to keep him from grabbing at Kirby’s flank hair. On rare mornings they will walk and sniff the trees together for up to 15 seconds at a time, but unless one of them is doing his business, it’s usually a constant effort to keep Remy from jumping on Kirby. 

As anyone who walks dogs knows, there are those moments when you need to get the poop bag out of your pocket, get the pesky thing open and over your hand ready for use. On a cold morning, fumbling with gloves and two leashes and a fresh bag that doesn’t want to separate at the top is always a chore. Doing this while keeping two dogs from wrestling and keeping myself from shouting at them and waking the neighbors at 5:30am takes it to a whole new level. The ballet moves involve stepping on Remy’s leash with one foot to keep him at a safe distance from both Kirby and the poo while lunging out with the other foot and reaching to pick up the aforementioned poo without letting go of either leash. Of course, this has to happen at least once for each dog without losing a glove, the poo or my mind. Sometimes Kirby just loses some hair. That’s the way it goes. If he doesn’t get out of the way, there’s only so much I can do.

Back on the home front, it’s time for breakfast. I want to feed Kirby first, because he is the elder dog. This is all but impossible if one is trying to maintain peace and quiet. If I put Remy in his pen while I’m working on the food, there will be howling. If I don’t put Remy in the pen, he will eat Kirby’s food. Kirby is afraid of the sound of the metal pen when Remy jumps up on the side of it. Kirby runs upstairs. Remy gets his food first. Remy sits quietly at my feet watching me prepare the food and pour water into the bowls. The look on his little face is so sweet and innocent I just want to hug and kiss him and it’s hard to believe he is anything but perfect. 

I take Remy’s water and food over to his pen and give him the sit and stay commands while I set the bowls down. Remy actually does this now, which is pretty great. When I give the OK he launches into the pen, I shut the door, put down Kirby’s food and call Kirby back downstairs. They both gobble down their food. As soon as Remy starts jumping on the side of the pen, Kirby runs upstairs. I close the stairway gate and let Remy out. We have a few minutes of blissful quiet as Remy pads around, plays with his toys and lets me rub his tummy. Remy stations himself at my feet while I read or write on my laptop. Pretty soon Kirby decides he wants to be downstairs with us. He knows what will happen, yet he sits behind the gate and whines. Pretty soon the whines turn into barks (after all the effort to remain quiet, this is what usually wakes up the spouse).  Now I have three choices: put Remy back into his crate and let Kirby out (which makes Remy whine and bark), keep Remy out and let Kirby whine and bark at the gate (either of which will wake up my spouse and by this point I’m too tired and frustrated to care) or just let Kirby out and play referee as the two of them duke it out in the living room. None of these sound like good options at 6am. It amazes me that Jamie manages to do this a majority of the time without waking me up. Whether that’s a testament to my deep sleeping habits or his ability to execute the morning dance more effectively we may never know, but I’m thankful for it.

We don’t know how much refereeing we should be doing during these wrestling matches between Remy and Kirby. At nearly 14 weeks, Remy is now taller than Kirby, but Kirby still has the bigger teeth and adult strength. Kirby knows exactly what it takes to get Remy off of him (a yelp and a snap usually do the trick), yet he seldom does it. He dashes under the sofa, knowing full well that Remy is still small enough to get under there with him, and the two just roll around on their backs kicking at each other with their front paws and chewing on each other’s faces. Occasionally Kirby will make a break for it and run around the living room with Remy in hot pursuit. But it almost always ends up under the sofa. When I’m sitting on top, it sounds (and feels) like there are two wild animals under there, scratching and bumping and making little growly noises. 

These wrestling matches don’t just happen in the morning. They pretty much happen any time Remy and Kirby are together. Remy is the instigator at least 80% - 90% of the time. But it’s surprising to me — for how miserable Kirby seems when he’s being mauled by the puppy — just how often Kirby instigates it. It almost seems like he wants to wrestle. Yet, after a bit, he starts looking desperate and makes a mad dash for the upstairs, hoping that one of the humans will close the gate behind him. We worry about Kirby sometimes because these wrestling matches seem to wear him out. But Kirby’s level of agitation at being separated from the family seems even harder on him at times. 

What surprises me most is that still, to this day, there has been no bloodshed, no major squealing in pain, from either of them. Remy still manages to pull out wads of Kirby’s hair. Kirby has had various parts of Remy in his teeth many times and never clamps down enough to hurt the puppy. Like a good big brother, he knows just how far he can go without making his little brother cry. But like a naughty big brother, Kirby also knows how to lord his power over the little guy. This happens whenever Remy is being restrained in any way and Kirby is free. For example, over the holidays, when Remy’s leash was tied to a chair so we could keep track of him during a family game of Trivial Pursuit, Kirby (who had free run of the entire house) stationed himself 2” from the limit of Remy’s reach and proceeded to play with his toys. When Remy is in his crate, Kirby goes out of his way to get a toy and sit right in front of the door of the crate to play with it, just out of Remy’s reach. Yeah, sometimes Kirby is asking for it.

I don’t blame Kirby for wanting to get one up on the little guy. After all, he was here first. But I can't help remembering how much grief he gave Baxter when Kirby was a pup and feeling like Kirby does have a little of that coming back at him. At least Kirby, like Baxter, seems well aware that he should not physically hurt the puppy. I’m just wondering when the gloves will come off and if, by that time, Remy will be so big that Kirby no longer has an advantage. I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

In the meantime, if segregation is the only way to maintain some semblance of peace in the house, so be it...even if that means both Jamie and I get up at the crack o’dark (which is sort of like taking the fox, chicken and corn across in two boats...)