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.

After the drama with Dixie the past few weeks, tonight finds me writing about a more familiar topic: Cheyenne. Also, I am thinking I have used the phrase “tonight finds me” a few too many times recently. But I digress. Cheyenne. Is too smart. For real. We have now had this unique, hilarious, spirited, stubborn dog for a little over 3 years. You wouldn’t know it, but she is 4 years old. You wouldn’t know it because until very recently she a) acted like a puppy on speed most of the time, and b) didn’t really know that much. Maybe that last statement is inaccurate: she knows plenty, just not the things I would choose, or have attempted to teach her. And to be fair, she sits almost every time now, lays down and even comes most of the time. But “Don’t smash the cat” and “Quit pawing” still aren’t going so well. So I have known all along that she is super smart, but not motivated and I finally have proof. She has this really fun game she plays where she refuses to come to bed at night and I have to put her on the leash inside the house to get her to follow me. A coworker of mine thinks she likes the extra attention, and I am pretty sure she is right. Sometimes I just show her the leash, and I say, “are you really going to make me use this? Inside? Really?” And with the last “really,” I drop my voice an octave, like I am tough, and I give her The Look. You know the one where I raise one eyebrow, and look super serious because I mean business, young lady, and pretend to be badass but really no one, even my dog, actually believes it, but it works because it plants a seed of doubt in her little brain, like maybe, just maybe, this time I mean it. And I don’t think I can actually raise only one eyebrow, but, you know, its sort of along those lines. Lately, more often than not, she then gets up and walks down the hallway and goes to bed. The other night she went into the bedroom, and while I was brushing my teeth, she slowly and deliberately wandered into the hallway and began to head back to the living room, all the while looking over her shoulder to make sure I knew what she was doing. Sternly, I said, “Shooey, no.” She waivered but decided to keep going.  Sterner yet I said, “That is e-nough. You go back in the bedroom and go night-nights. Now.” And then I employed The Look. (Note to self: use of the term “night-nights” may hamper the effectiveness of my sternness).  She did. Which proved to me she understood everything I said to her. I told she no longer had an excuse, I knew her secret. The next day she was super-excited when I came home, smashed the kitty excessively (I can’t even comment on how disturbing and ridiculous the last sentence sounds to me). So I put her in time out, in our bedroom, by herself. Which didn’t work, because she scratched at the door. So I went in there and I told her to sit and that she needed to calm down. Then I pointed at the bed and said, “get on the bed, go to your spot, and lay down.” She tried to look confused and wagged her tail as though she was unsure. Nice try Shoo Shoo. I am on to you, dog. So I pretended to raise my eyebrow, and cocked my head to the side like I meant it. And she complied. Which means she understood every single word I said to her and all 3 commands I had given at one time. They say that knowledge is power, but I am pretty sure that this knowledge doesn’t help me make her behave.

The other night, I took Dixie outside. As she was doing her business, I wondered if she had something in her mouth, and upon further inspection, thought my fears were unfounded, so we went in the house. Moments later, I saw something long and dark hanging out of her mouth. I called my husband in for reinforcement. Dixie will bite if you try to take something out of her mouth. It is something we need to work on with her, but at 6 years old, I am not sure if we can break her of it. Its in her little dog DNA. She was bred to hunt little rodents after all. Speaking of little rodents… my husband got her to drop her treasure and excitedly told me to pick it up. It looked like a shriveled piece of poop. It wasn’t. Trying to think quickly and get rid of it before she captured it again,  I  grabbed a sock and picked it up. I suddenly realized that it was in fact, a small, dead, stiff little rodent. For whatever reason, although it was already dead and I wasn’t actually touching it, this freaked me out and I’ll admit it–I panicked! I promptly shrieked and threw the rodent–and the sock–out the front door. Meanwhile, Cheyenne was outside and immediately appeared to investigate what all the fuss was about. We told her no, and to leave it, and I am still in disbelief that she listened. My husband and I are still laughing about this one. Oh God in heaven what the neighbors must think…

Jack and Cheyenne have had a rocky relationship from the moment that they met. She loved him immediately, and he hated her from the beginning. He loved to chase his toy, and she loved to chase him. She flaunted her speed, which inspired him to prove he could outrun this new annoyance that had been brought into his life against his will. She would herd him as he brought the toy to one of us and he would glare at her, as if to say, hey, I am the one who is supposed to herd everyone else, noone herds me. Although she has only wanted to be his friend, she also delights in taunting him, by sniffing him, or putting her face really close to his face, or nipping at his back and running away really fast. I have literally seen her leap over his back repeatedly for no other purpose than to infuriate him.

Jackson, on the other hand, does not try to hide his dislike of her. When she comes near, he growls and shows his teeth, snarling at her. She disregards this warning and will often playbow him. Sometimes he will bite her hard enough to make her cry. Of course, being the good dog that he is, he immediately punishes himself and goes to lie down. He seems to  resent her very presence, as though his life was perfect before her arrival.

Recently, however, his resolve has began to crack. We have known for last few months that he has been playing with her outside when we are not looking. Last week my husband stood at the door watching them chase each other and play until Jack saw my husband. He promptly bit her and snarled in her face. And then. Today. We woke up to Jackson and Cheyenne curled up together. Her head was literally on his back, and they were content as can be.  He forgot that he is supposed to hate her. It all just a matter of time until he gives into loving her.

I have noticed that Cheyenne responds better to visual cues than verbal ones. If I have her attention, she will respond almost without fail if I use a visual command rather than speaking it. If I hold my hand up, or tap her rump, she will sit. If I point, or tap the floor, she lays down. I am learning to be patient and just wait after asking her to do something. Most of the time she will do what I have asked, although sometimes only after an exaggerated delay. I can only assume this is evidence of her sight hound heredity.

She is finally begining to act like a teenager instead of puppy. She still has her moments though. We have seen quite a transition since Dixie came to live with us. Now Dixie is the newcomer, and because she associates herself with IO and Jack, by default, she is graduating into a “big dog.” I am amazed that she is beginning to take direction and have high hopes that in another 6 months or so, she will be a really good dog.