The Little Pack

Tonight I was sitting on the loveseat with Jackson next to me and Baby Titten on the armrest furthest away from me, but next to where Cheyenne normally lays. Cheyenne came and pawed at me with her razor sharp talons and I told her no. She pawed at the coffee table and I told her she was pushing her luck. She then jumped up on the armrest and walked along the back of the couch before stopping on the armrest next to me, sniffing my eyeball and promptly pawing me in the face. No one ever said she was normal. She was trying to tell me that the cat was by her spot, and yes, I am also disturbed that I understood what she was telling me. This time I decided to test her. I said, “Cheyenne there is plenty of room to lay in your spot next to the cat.” I didn’t even say any of this like a command. I said it like it is normal to reason with your dog, as though we were having a conversation. And to my amazement, she went and laid down exactly where I suggested. If Cheyenne were a person, she’d be the brilliant kid in school practically failing because she was not applying herself. My new theory is that just like the brilliant kids in school who are not applying themselves, she is really just bored and needs to be challenged. Apparently by holding conversations. We’ll see how far this theory gets me.

I thought that I knew everything about having a dog, that there was no dog I couldn’t train, nothing I couldn’t conquer. I trusted my instincts would see me through. Indeed, a lot of my identity was tied up in being great with dogs. Truth be told, I fancied myself a Dog Whisperer. And then, along came Cheyenne. Two and a half years later, Cheyenne’s only 2 “tricks” are “Sit” and “High Five”. “High Five” occurs without fail, because there is a treat. “Sit” occurs 98% of the time, and of the successful attempts, most of those occur with additional prompting, such as “What do you need to do?” and/or gentle tapping on her flank. Often “Sit” is successful because there is something that she wants involved, such as treat, her dinner, or to go outside. Other inconvenient commands such as “lay” and “come” have about a 50% success rate. It is not that she doesn’t know what they mean. She just absolutely cannot figure out why she should lay down when she is doing something else, like, say, pawing at my face, or chasing the kitty, or sitting. The best part is that my 2 perfect angel dogs have learned by her example instead of the other way around and frequently ignore my increasingly frantic pleas to listen. I have learned the truth and that is that the serene pack leader I once imagined myself to be was all an illusion, fostered only by the sweetness of my other 2 dogs placating my fantasy.  In retrospect, I suppose I had it, and by it, I mean Cheyenne, coming to me.

Let me start by explaining that I understand, or more accurately thought I understood, dogs with issues. Jackson, my Border collie, was an emotional wreck when I adopted him. He was terrified of everything, most notably stairs and riding in the car. I worked tirelessly to get him over both fears. I learned what motivated him, I encouraged him, supported, pushed and comforted him. We sat in the car without it running, I treated his motion sickness and I was patient and encouraging, and he not only conquered these fears but worshipped me in the process. I let his adoration go to my head. Looking back, I was probably quite smug; I thought I knew it all. I expected Cheyenne to react the same way, grateful, hanging on to my every wish, existing only for me. I had no idea what was in store for me or the ways that my life would change. The thing is that somewhere in between the many, and I do mean many, eaten shoes, chewed up couches, shredded blankets, books, pens, holes in the backyard, chases through the neighborhood, small rodent kills, and rolling and eating decaying creatures and feces, this little brown spotted dog has run away with my heart.

Cheyenne’s other new routine involves snuggling with me about 20 minutes before the alarm goes off. Which sounds sweet until you realize all that is involved in this process. The dogs each have specified spots in the bed. Jack sleeps on the outside of the bed next to my side, and Cheyenne sleeps next to me, but towards the end of the bed. IO sleeps in the middle at the foot of the bed and Dixie sleeps towards the foot of the bed on the outside of the bed by my husband. Often Baby Titten sleeps between my huband and my pillows. So Cheyenne wanting to snuggle means disruption for at least one other animal. For about a week now, early in the morning, she stands on my pillow, and usually on top of my hair–she has learned that more pain means more urgent attention will be paid to her. I tell Jack to go down to her spot, which he usually will and then Cheyenne will spend several minutes pawing my face, to “ask” if she can cuddle with me. After several moments of coaxing and cajoling her, she will snuggle into me, and just as I fall asleep relieved that she did not cut my face open with her razor sharp claws, the alarm goes off and it is time to start my day. Today, however, Jackson and Cheyenne managed to coordinate the switch without me, and Cheyenne figured out how to lay down without me prompting her. So this morning we were all happy. Let’s hope this is the new trend.

You don’t see this everyday! To my knowledge, this may be the only time this has happened since Cheyenne came to live with us. Also, Cheyenne’s afghan (for back ground read here and here) can be seen in the bottom left hand corner. Speaking of Cheyenne’s blanket… last night I curled up in the chair and a half with an afghan and Cheyenne began digging at me. I got out a 2nd afghan so she could have one and so could I. I didn’t notice that I had grabbed hers. I curled up in it and started to fall asleep and next thing I know I feel someone taking the blanket off me. I open my eyes aand what do I see but Cheyenne on the floor with the afghan in her mouth, attempting to pull it off of me… I told her no, and made her curl up on the ottoman. When I woke up, she was curled up on top of both the red afghan (the one I wasn’t using) and as much of the fuzzy afghan (“hers”) as she could possibly pull of me without me noticing. Seriously, this dog is something else.

Some of you may remember the first afghan incident. Since then, the saga has continued. Somehow, Cheyenne has adopted my favorite afghan as her own. My husband’s grandma made it for me when we were first engaged.  It is super fuzzy and soft and just the right size. The other animals have all tried to adopt it as their own and failed. Through the years I have successfully fended them all off. Cheyenne, however, is a different story. If I have the fuzzy afghan, and she has a different one, she will paw at me until I switch with her. The first time, I gave it to her because I was curious to see if that’s really what she wanted. Oops. That only reinforced her behaviour. Now it is a pattern. Further, somehow I find myself carrying the blanket from room to room for her–to the bedroom at night and to the living room during the day.