A Dog's Broken Heart by Chi-Ping

Blondie trusts that woman; not me, I know better. You try really hard to please them. You never know what they’re yelling about, and then one day you go for a car ride never to return. I don’t care how nice they seem; they’re all no good. We animalitos should just take what we can get. Worry about a human is a waste of time.

Look how long I worried and prayed for the one who dropped me off on the hill. My heart ached. I thought she cried for me. She threw me out. I didn’t know, I thought the SUV made her do it. She threw me out; didn’t want me.

She picked me up. She hugged me so tight I thought I’d never get my breath. She would shake me before dropping me like a rock. When she did this, she squealed. The rest of time I was tied up right there with my waste. But I loved her. She was my life and she threw me out.  

I wag my tail for any human. It’s better when they are nice. When a hand comes my way to hurt me, I bite hard. I no longer have to put up with shaking and being squeezed ‘til I pop.

Word on the street is to never get into a car. You don’t come back. So this has happened to more than me. One day you’re an unsuspecting pet, and the next you’re standing on the side of the road wondering what happened. What kind of a creature does this?

Blondie went for a ride. I held my breath the whole time she was gone. Blondie and Stormy were my first street dog friends. Stormy died before Christmas in 2011. He was hit by a truck. Blondie went to New Orleans with me. She’s my best friend. I’ll hate that woman if anything happens to Blondie.

The car finally pulled into the driveway. Blondie barked. I barked. Blondie couldn’t wait to tell me about the super market, all the good stuff in the trunk of the car, and how she barked at all the satos she passed on the street. She said, “Look at me. Look at me. I’m in a car.”

I took the treat she offered, as she put the things away. Later, I fell asleep at the foot of her bed. She stroked my head and kissed me good night.

Chi-Ping

A Case of Predatory Drift

Hi,

Recently been reading some posts on line questioning the if predatory drift really exists. The following experience is in my opinion an example.

Chi-Ping, the rat terrier mix and Blondie, the big former street dog were playing tag running from the yard to the porch. Smoki, the curmudgeon cat inserted himself into the game hissing and puffing at the big girl, who had her play face on and backed up as he puffed at her. She even gave him a half assed play bow. It was a sweet family moment. I smiled feeling good about my animal friends.

Something in the grass or down the hill caught Blondie’s attention for a second or two at most. She looked in the direction of the edge of our property, when she looked back her whole demeanor had changed. She was stiff, upright, ears forward.

The cat raised his paw to swat her again. Her mouth opened. I delivered the stop what you are doing sound. Luckily both critters looked at me. Blondie looked as if she came back to a place where she wouldn’t hurt Smoki.

The whole thing lasted but a moment, but it was a Jekyll and Hyde moment.  I suspect this was one of those predatory drift moments.

Blondie and Smoki have lived together for eight months. Smoki is the house boss because he is the one most comfortable with his humans. With a life time of experience training dogs Smoki had no problems with the tough street veteran in the house.

Outside on Blondie’s home turf where she has killed rats and cats and who knows what else. This was the first time I had all three of them outside together.

So much of the discussion on line is about dogs in play groups. During my years running dogs in day care groups, it seemed to me that most of what people thought of as predatory drift was another behavior anomaly or one dog with a history with another taking a cheap shot.

So what do you think?   

Chi-Ping Says Dog Problem, No, Human Problem

She goes from window to window looking to see where Blondie is. I can feel her tension. The mystery is why she worries. Blondie has spent five years living on the street and only almost one living with her. She prepares dinner, when not watching for the sata with the identity crisis. I rest on the sofa considering Blondie’s problem. It is a problem when you have a home with people who love you, and you think you should be out on the street barking at cars in honor of your dead sato friend Stormy. She’s right, Blondie is one messed up critter.

Whatever she’s cooking smells good. My right eye opens just as a morsel falls to the floor. I’m on it before the cat knows what happened. That was good. Her cooking isn’t bad. I don’t care what they say. She rushed out the door to look for Blondie while I licked the floor. So suddenly there I am with a powerful urge to pee. I stayed out all last night just so I wouldn’t pee in the house. I’m back in for five minutes, she gives me a tasty bite and then she’s not there when I need to pee. I’ve got to go and, no, she’s not here for me. She’s looking to see what Blondie is doing. That’s just great.

Quickly I dash into the office behind the massage table. Poppy’s already gotten his treatment for the day. She won’t be in there until tomorrow. Oh, that feels better. Maybe she won’t know. The door opens. She goes to stir her pot, so I am back on the sofa, when she turns to look at me. My face and ears just fall when she looks at me. At first it seemed like she didn’t notice, but when she set her spoon down and walked toward the office I knew.

I give her the patented, Chi-ping, I know I did wrong, but I’m a poor little girl look. She smiled. It looked like I was home free, when she picked me up and carried me to the door. I still maintain that it was not my fault.

Blondie the fat house pet is making a fool of herself in the street barking at cars. Blondie’s been doing that a lot lately. We both have been thinking about Stormy since we’ve been back. Stormy taught us all we know about being street dogs. He was a great street dog. We miss him, but Blondie doing this chasing cars thing like him doesn’t make sense. He tried to teach her how to chase cars, but she never could get it. She never understood why he did it until the day one killed him. She hates the truck that ran him over. She is starting to hate cars.

Better to run in the woods chasing lizards, so we’re off. Enjoy your day. Chi-Ping     

A Dog Day by Chi-ping

Oh, happy day, she’s so proud of me for not soiling the house last night, she gave me some of the cat’s moist food from a can. The cat was having a fit, telling her that’s my food, my food. She doesn’t speak animal or didn’t care. The cat food was coming my way. Yeah, the hell with Smoki, the complaining cat. Give me some good stuff!

Smoki had moist food in his bowl, but he wouldn’t shut up about his food. He gets me all nervous because he is the number one pet. I can’t chance that he won’t make her change her mind. I gulped that Fancy Feast down fast. I felt rushed like Blondie was breathing down my back. She wasn’t even in the house or you know whose feast that would have been.

I was so excited. You know what I did? I ran into her office and wet. My ears gave me away. I ran back in the kitchen where she was and gave her the, I’m sorry I screwed up ears. She knew right away what I’d done.

With the humiliation I could have died. There’s Smoki, meow, meow; still complaining about his food, and she’s looking for the mishap. When she found it, she didn’t say anything, just gave me a look that told me sad and disappointed.

Being outside in Puerto Rico is not a punishment. Knowing I’m not inside on a pillow hanging with her because I screwed up is a punishment. It’s all her fault; she gave me the cat’s food. She should have known I’d get all excited. A girl forgets her manners sometimes, when she gets excited. I’m just a little girl. I grew up on papers.

Before long I headed down the road to see what the neighbors put out for the satos. The corner sniffing post, which in human terms is a bulletin board, had a strong masculine scent. This required further investigation. He’d been and gone the story of my life. Woe is me. Some of these bitches getting ready to go into heat; just what this island needs is more puppies.

At nap time, I headed back to my porch. She opened the door. The pillow called me. I swear it spoke my name. Wake me for dinner. Chi-ping     

Chi-ping's Night Without House Soiling

Hi, again; it’s Chi-ping. I have been trying really hard not to pee or poop in the house. It’s hell, when she’s not happy with me.


Last night I slept in the living room on the sofa with Blondie, who doesn’t sleep in the bed because she’s an old street cur. When she sleeps Blondie doesn’t like anything touching her. Slightest bump she jumps up with a bad attitude, no cuddling during the night with that bitch.

I went to bed at first. She was on her side reading, so I could snuggle behind her knee. I get right in there at the bend and push into it with my back. Let the breath out slowly. I say aah, and then fall into a restful sleep.

The next thing I know she was stretching as she put her book on the nightstand. Needless to say this wakes an animal up. But I realized when I am in the bed I sleep more soundly.

“So”, you say. This is not good because when I wake up, I stagger over somewhere to wee-wee. What do you want from me? That’s how I grew up. Papers, to this day I see a newspaper and I want to wet it.

This doing your stuff outside is new to me. My human mom got lost in her SUV, and left me by the side of the road. With no papers in sight, I had to improvise. I wet outside. Now, this woman thinks I should do it outside all the time. The pressure it puts on a little girl like me is just too much.

Still, I try to work with her, so I slept on the sofa with cranky Blondie. When I woke up having to go I cried. She came flying in the living room on cue. I ran outside, did my business. She’s going to be so happy today. I can see some treats coming my way. Ha-ha!

Now, it’s 6 am, just getting light; let’s see what shit we can get into before breakfast! Enjoy your day, Y’all.