Why Did You Call Your Dog Something So Stupid?,

 I can imagine that a big question from the last blog post would be "Why Did You Call Your Dog Something So Stupid?" and honestly, I would a hundred percent understand why anyone asked that question, because it is a really dumb and ridiculous name, but I guess the first answer is it's not actually her name.

Chai wasn't Chai until she met me. Her name was China, and honestly, I like the idea of changing a rescue dogs name as something of an ending of a chapter and to try and help them partition in their mind that when things were like X I was called Whatever... I know that that is way too over complicated for a dog, but I kind of hope calling her something different she associates with something good, if that makes sense. Honestly, the intention was just to call her Chai and that was that. 

Except for sone reason, I called her Chai Pants once, and it stuck. And then a couple of weeks later I was packing a bag to go *somewhere* can't remember where, it's not like it matters, and she was on my bed (must have been a few months later because I wasn't worried about accidents at the time) and I was putting out things on my bed that I needed to pack and that included pants. And I'm setting them out on my bed and I go back to the drawer, turn around and see she's toddled across the bed to the pile of pants and she has a pair on her head. I honestly couldn't stop laughing. I don't know if it was something in the universe saying, well if you're going to call her something loopy she's going to have to earn it, but it was brilliant.

Then another time, I called her Chai Bean. And I have referred to her as just Bean a few times and she knows I mean her. Maybe it's just my tone or something, but she will occasionally answer to Bean, although I have also called her Chai Banana before and she doesn't answer to Banana in any tone. 

I picked her up at one stage and was playing around and jamming all of the names together and one of the things that came out was Chai Banana Vanilla Coca (I think I'm spelling that right, but I'm spelling it phonetically to how I was saying it so it doesn't matter) Bean, and it amused me, so it stuck. What helps with that is that she didn't care. I mean, obviously she didn't care, she's a dog, but some dogs get upset if you laugh at them, particularly if you dress them up for Hallowe'en and then laugh at them, but Chai isn't like that. She has this incredible expression that is like, what on Earth are you doing to me now you weirdo, but when I dressed her up in a dog safe doctor (or dogtor) costume and laughed, she wasn't fussed, and I honestly think her Percy Pig hoodie is her favourite thing in all the world, and honestly, it's mine, too, especially with the hood up. She's not a dog, she's a living ball of fur that I make ridiculous, but she's the light of my life. 

Chai Banana Vanilla Coca Bean,

 Out of all the silly titles I have ever given my blogs, this one is probably one of the silliest and that's because it's named after a few of the silly names that I give to my silly little girl. 

This blog has been morphing in my head as I've been trying to get to write it (it's been a whole process - do not judge) and I have to admit that I think I've written something close to being like this before but decided for whatever reason I was not going to publish it and I don't know if I actually deleted it or not, because when I searched the blog for Chai's name, precious little actually came back, but I did find this little gem from around 2021 (note to self, write reference to the thing first before closing the page the thing is on so you can go back and check dates etc)

"She came from a breeding farm, peed all over the carpets and crawled her way into my heart when I wasn't looking, but she's wonderful - except when she is barking at three o'clock in the morning, at which point, she's a lot less cute. She petrified of everything, but getting braver, meeting the family and starting to have a life that doesn't involved producing and looking after puppies, and I couldn't want any more for her."

I stand by almost every word of this, but the thing I can't stand by is the 'I couldn't want any more for her' because honestly, I want her to have a sibling, and there is a big reason for that. 

This whole post has come about because I saw a beautiful and broken dog on the page of one of the rescues I really need to unfollow for the moment, because I know there are things I need to do before committing myself to getting another dog, and it's not fair to Chai, to me, or to any other dog to even think about rushing that because I've seen 'the perfect dog' on a Facebook page. This isn't going to make a lot of sense outside of my head, or has the potential not to anyway, but here goes nothing... there is no such thing as THE perfect dog, because every dog is the perfect dog, what there is such thing as is the perfect home for each dog. I know that Dogtor Chai (she was dressed up as a dogtor for Hallowe'en and it is still the funniest thing I have ever seen bar one video about flags in the Six Nations) and I would both love to have another dog living with us, and I also know both of our minds would be totally blown and worlds would be turned upside down when the new girl (because let's face it, we're probably going for another girl because we're an all girl household/ Coven of Bitches) arrived, but we have plenty of love, blankets and tuna to spare and I think we could help another traumatised girl to find herself again, but this time it might not be as hard as it was before. 

What do I mean? Well, the topic of conversation which cropped up around aforementioned beautiful and broken dog was this "unfair" stipulation of having to have a resident dog to adopt dogs with certain backgrounds and issues, and how *IT'S NOT FAIR*. Firstly, any adulting using that phrase makes me want to sarcastically ask ARE YOU NEW? and secondly, that depends who you're trying to be fair to, and the rescues are trying to be fair to the dog, and that is the right thing to do. It might make you feel all happy and special to think, oh, I can nurse this dog back to whatever with all my love and affection, but there is a reason that they need another dog. I say this as someone who is one hundred percent a dog lover and not anything close to a dog or animal behaviour expert, but also someone with first hand experience with dogs who are shut down. If someone is saying 'must be homed with another dog' it's not to stop you owning a dog, it's not to be unfair to those without a dog and it's not discrimination, it's putting what the dog needs first and not producing a situation like Chai and I.

I'm not going to get too much into the circumstances Chai was in before I got her, because it's not fair for me to do that. I got a snapshot of her life, I don't think the people had her were bad people at all, but she was a part of a business and the product they were selling was her pups. Being a breeder does not make a person inherently bad; not by a long chalk. What I will say is that she was not lead trained, didn't wear a collar, wasn't socialised with people and she had had multiple litters of puppies.

I turned up to get her with a gorgeous new collar and lead (yellow and bees, a thousand percent me, definitely not something the dog gave a single sh!t about. She was running around the garden refusing to come near me or the person who who had just transferred her ownership chip to me, but eventually they got ahold of her and I clipped the collar on, and bingo, we're off to go home. Except we're not because it took her less than two seconds to slip the collar and go back to playing the game of Round and Round the Garden. So we try tightening the collar and go again. Same result. No dice. Thankfully, they had a spare harness, which despite a lot of wriggling in protect, Chai couldn't slip, but not for lack of trying, and at this point both the humans are thinking this is taking an age and we're getting nowhere, so she's carried to the car by them and then my mum drove me and Chai back to my place for the simple reason that I can't drive and when I said to my mum, she's nervous as hell, just don't engage with her, don't try and stroke her, just don't even look at her if you don't need to, because she's going to need time, my mum does just that. She drops us off and she leaves me to it. 

It's mid August, but not the hot kind of mid August, and my house feels pretty cool, but this scruffy little ragamuffin is panting like she's being cooked and I know enough to know she's terrified, because she's in a new place with a new person and she doesn't know what's happening, so I just think, screw it, I'm going to sit on the floor in the same room, I'm going to put on some easy background noise (didn't think about the fact that she wasn't used to a TV) so Beauty and the Beast live action on, and I'm just talking to the air occasionally, calmly, quietly, just to let her get used to the sound of my voice. When I tried to take her outside to see if she might pee outside (I was trying to save the carpet - it didn't work) she found the dip in the grass (she says as though there is one single dip and not a multitude of them) and sat in it, and she didn't want to come out. If I had a jar that I had to pay every time I thought 'What the DUCK have I done?' for that first day, week, month, probably four months, I would be simultaneously rich and poor, because all of my money would be in it and I would have a heavy reliance on IOUs. 

This was two and a half years ago, so the exact details of every day that happened between then and now is obviously not seared into my brain like the lines on a steak, but there were some highlights. She seems a bit more chilled so introduce her to the person who was my intro to the person I got her from. She's a woman, so not someone Chai will be immediately terrified of... except I then needed to get the sofa cleaned because she went from sat on one side of it to jumping across it and over the air to the floor, peeing all the way. She would hide behind the sofa if there was even a small gap for her to squeeze through, she peed all over me because a motorbike went past when we attempted a walk, she tried to get through the fence at the park to get away, she got away from me on a walk once and ran across every exit of a five exit roundabout and nearly got hit by two cars. I was screaming her name after her, crying my eyes out and I couldn't find her, so I called my mum devastated and not sure what to do. One of her best friends is decidedly not a dog person (both my dog and my mum's get called Mutley by this person and I'm not sure it's a compliment) but when I called my mum because I had found her - her lead got caught up in brambles that I cut my hands to ribbons getting her out of - was just about to drive my mother to me so they could both help me search and find her. I felt like the worst dog owner for losing her in the first place, and in my head it just meant that she didn't want to be with me and effectively saw me as her captor. I know that was daft, but I was spiralling.

There were times where I sat on the stairs with Chai in the living room, and I cried on the phone to my mum because I felt like I was failing her. I felt like the worst dog mum (and yes, I do call myself a dog mum) in the world and like everyone else was so put together and it was so easy, and here I was with this little fluff ball who thought I was the devil. I said a few times that if she had been from a rescue I would have taken her back. It wasn't a lack of love, because I did love her, but I just couldn't cope, I didn't know how, and neither did she. The big turn around, the part where I thought MAYBE I can get through this, maybe we can get through this, was having my mum's dog stay with me for two weeks.

All she wanted was to be close to him, to follow him, to do what he did, and although they both had accidents, during those two weeks, we got the hang of toilet training and there was a significant amount less p!ss on the living room carpet, and it felt like I could breath again. Not just because there wasn't the cloying smell of piss coming from a fresh puddle, but because there was light at the end of the tunnel. When Ted went home she did backslide a bit, but not so much with the toilet training, and honestly, I was thanking the gods because it got to me far more than I thought it would. When that carpet went, I wanted to throw it on a bonfire, but also felt like it should go into an incinerator for toxic waste because it was disgusting (I spot cleaned it thoroughly as things happened, but some things will never come off of a carpet, and I'm so glad I now have a solid floor there). As she's been out more, been to cafes and pubs and things, she's grown more used to people and noise and different smells, and whilst she isn't completely food motivated (giving her sausage won't make her like you, if she's scared, she won't eat it) she's started to understand that people aren't all bad, that noisy cafes might serves sausages and she can swim. She's been on holidays, she's ridden up front in the car (with the airbag turned off and appropriately restrained), she's been paddle boarding (wearing a life jacket and with me refusing to try and stand up so I don't knock her in without the ability to pull her out again) and there are a few things lined up for her to do this year which will mean she's done even more. It's a big life, but she would be more comfortable with another dog to share it with, because she is always happier when she has Teddy with her, and they spend A LOT of time together. 

I'm glad I didn't give up on her, because it would have broken my heart to do it, but I also know that it very nearly broke me keeping her, more than once. She was a lot for one person, with no other dog, and she has learnt so much and become so brave, but when I think about how challenging it has been for me, I can't help but think what I put her through to be with me, and to an extent I do feel really guilty. She could have been homed with someone else with another dog or with a pack of shih tzus and whilst she wouldn't have the life she has with me, she would have maybe been calmer quicker, and maybe she wouldn't have needed to be learning to love pubs, like paddling and maybe more. She might never have had to get used to kids, which is the really challenging one at the moment. There are reasons why I decided I needed to take her and they were mostly good reasons mixed with maybe a little bit of selfishness and a lot of misunderstanding of what it was going to take to look after her and help her, but I would like to think she wouldn't trade me for anyone else, and I definitely wouldn't trade her, but if we can one day adopt another, and she can be a big sister to a girl who is recovering from what she went through, I will be glad, because for as long as dogs are treated this way, I would like to help, and I know now what it takes and how much it takes to do that. 

So why did I write this? Because no one should feel entitled to rehome an ex-breeding dog, and because the thing to remember is it's not about you. I know when Chai and I are ready, there will be a dog out there who we can help, and that's what it's about. We can help them, not a we need them to come and live with us to help us be more of a family or whatever.

I Never Thought That,

Someone that was here when I grew up recently reminded me of how naive I used to be. Much as I would love to point out she didn't know me then and definitely doesn't now, I guess that there is a certain amount of truth in it and maybe still is...

A perfect example of that happened today. 

I had always assumed that people who abused animals knew what they were doing, and they knew it was wrong, but they did it anyway for unknown reasons. I thought I would never see someone do this, because why would they? Why would you abuse an animal in front of an animal lover? Or better, why would you do it at all? 

As I have mentioned before, I gave up eating meat over a decade ago and that was because I love animals. I love them all - maybe not equally, but still. And before anyone says anything spiders do not count; especially if they are in my bedroom. HOWEVER, when my dog is sick, I cook chicken for him, because it's what he needs to get better. (Bloody shih-tzus and their rubbish stomachs.) Even when he is well, I will put his dinner out which is basically meat, meat, more meat, bit of rice, some veg and blend. I don't take issue with this, because I know that dogs would pretty much always choose a meaty option over a veggie option. I love him enough to get over the whole handling meat thing, for him, even if it's not ideal for me. 

Now today I was walking the little fluff, and he has been really vocal in his disapproval of certain other dogs. Not being with him 24/7, I don't know all of the dogs that he has an issue with, so I'm being somewhat overcautious with the bigger ones that could actually do some damage to him. That being said, I make sure he is within grabbing distance so if he starts something, I can finish it. 

Today we came across a man with two big dogs. He has one lead in each hand, but the dogs looked like they were trying to pull him in half, meaning it was a little bit difficult to get Ted out of the way, but as we approached and I pulled Teddy into a short lead, he did pull the one on our side closer to him to give us space to give him a wide birth. Now, Ted wasn't always so yappy with other dogs, and this mouthing off hasn't come from a specific event so far as we can tell, so I'm trying, the best that I can, to socialise him a bit better and hopefully calm him down a little bit, so I let him approach the dogs for a sniff, until they all started barking at each other, and one of the other dogs - thankfully the one who was furthest away from us - started growling. 

Like I said, I keep Teddy in grabbing distance, so he was away from them quickly, I had the hold of the back of his harness and then he was in my arms within seconds and then I was getting us the heck back to the house. I looked back because I could hear the guy yelling at his dog, which I already thought was a bit unnecessary, but what I saw then made it worse. Not only did he hit the dog twice, he then started whipping the dog, who was cowering on the floor, with the lead of the other dog who he had, by then, let off of the lead.

After the whole thing of reporting this to the appropriate people, I still couldn't get it off my mind, because I can't help but feel that any time you have to hit your animal to regain some semblance of control over it, you have failed as a pet parent. And if you feel the need to not only use your hands, but employ some form of weapon against your animal, then you are the problem, not the animal. If that dog has previously gone to bite other animals or a person, why on Earth does he not walk him in a muzzle? Why on Earth does he walk him on a pathway which is highly frequented by dog walkers? This happened on the same day as another dog walker went off this path with a muzzled greyhound when he saw other dogs in the area. 

I know for some people that this might be a small issue, but it is just the latest in a line of crappy things and it's also one of the small things that add together to be a big issue. The way we treat animals and women and the environment and communities and property, well all of it adds up. Okay, so smacking your dog for growling and going for a smaller dog is nowhere near as bad as intensive farming or the killing of sea life which occurs in several countries around the globe, but it's the same problem attitude that women are lesser. Telling women that they belong in the kitchen as a joke and allowing girls to be married and have children in their early teens aren't the same thing, but both are products of the belief that gender has a bearing on our value, purpose and abilities (shouldn't have to say this, but IT ABSOLUTELY DOESN'T!!!!) Dropping litter does not equate to dropping bombs anywhere you fancy, but you kind of see where I am going here... 

Anyway, my point is that the little things matter, be they animal, vegetable or mineral. Catch you later. 

The Cold,

As I wrote yesterday, this past week I have done a fat lot of nothing much, and whilst that has been great I seem to have acquired a cold. Well, a sore throat and sinus pain, but those do seem to be the pre-warnings of a cold for me. 

Whilst that is quite frustrating, I guess that it is better for it to happen while I can sit at home and take it easy as opposed to push myself to go into the office and feel crappy whilst doing it. 

Unfortunately though, I had hoped to get through some writing or editing or something whilst I was back at home and one week in, I have not really done that. I haven't really felt like it. Granted there is the usual issue of urgh, I wish I had a laptop with everything collated so that it wasn't so much of a mess about, but still, I have access to a laptop, I have my netbook with me and a couple of notebooks, but aside from one brief scribbling session, I haven't really touched any of it. 

Oh God, I just sneezed and it truly upset my dog. I think I need a hot tody.

I'm not sure how it has come to this because I would have thought that having an abundance of time would be just what I needed, but apparently not. Too much time with absolutely no structure is possibly - well, no, definitely - not productive. 

I think I needed something like NaNoWriMo in order to keep me on target and unfortunately that wasn't going to be a thing. Also I think that I would be tempted to go for another fifteen thousand word day, which, whilst very beneficial, would be pretty painful and probably would have brought on another nasty dose of NaNoFlu, which is never enjoyable! 

Anyway, I should probably put some effort in while thinking about it. 

Catch you later.

Imagine Dragons...Oh Baby, I Do,

With NaNo having been over for more than a week I have finally had time to stand and catch my breath for a minute, though not too long as I'm currently back in Manchester marvelling at my mother's little fur baby and his insistence at "doing a Pudsey" and walking around on his hind legs when he can balance. It's very sweet when he is grabbing your hand between two fluffy paws and babbling at you like a toddler, though he does sound remarkably avian when he does it, which is mildly disconcerting to say the least. I kind of wonder if he is having a little identity crisis and wondering just what kind of animal he is. 

Somehow, it is really strange to try and imagine my mum with a dog, probably because I was pleading for one for so long and it was never practical, so we didn't get one, but then things changed and he's here. Somehow, it feels strange not to be able to imagine my mother with a dog, because although I don't write about dragons as pets and other such wonders as large fire breathing reptiles, I do write about pets like rabbits and goats, and the wonders that the experience of having a pet can bring. I love writing about little animals and their big personalities, so it does seem somewhat unnerving that my mother having a dog was somewhat on the limits of my imaginings, but here he is. He's sat in the small walkway of space between the dinning chair I am writing this from and where I have moved his dog bed to so that he could have a sleep if he wanted to since we did go on a pretty big walk just now and even had a little bit of a run. 

The poor sweet isn't used to me though - I merely arrived last night, caused a frantic amount of excitement, wouldn't let him sit on my knee on the chair by the window and kept hold of him whilst his mother put eye drops in. And I did it again today. I, therefore, am 'orrible. 

However I am also the person who produced a cloth newspaper which rustles and squeaks and has been thrown around the living room repeatedly for him to run after and chase (though bringing it back was slightly beyond capacity at first) and produced an antler chew to be destroyed at will. I'm choosing to believe that the little pupsicle is simply having a philosophical debate in his small fluffy head at the moment as to whether I am the devil or a magical blue Santa Clause. Yes - I do believe my dog understands both of those concepts... Okay, maybe not entirely, but he'll get there.

I hope he's leaning towards Santa, but really he hasn't seen anything yet, because Christmas is not yet truly here and when it is...Oh I am sure there will be excitement.

Christmas has come slightly early for me though, with the addition to the tool shed of a small netbook which I will be able to carry around and write on! This is not the make do and mend of having an iPad keyboard and the iPad which is five years old and was never really intended to live that long I suspect. It is not the slumming it of using Alphie, my lovely AlphaSmart, which is a wonderful piece of kit, but slightly irritating by the fact that it does not inform me of the word count which I have produced without plugging it into an actual computer - nor can I edit files on it. It's also not spending £400 on a laptop just to be able to have the luxury of a computer out of doors. It's small and light enough to carry, fast enough to run, but not all bells and whistles which is good because I'm very good at getting - ooooh, what did the dog do now!! - distracted.

Well, I'm going to go try and teach the dog to play fetch, so I'll catch you later.