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Posts Tagged ‘Mini Schnauzer’

Help! I think I’ve created a monster!

A couple of weeks ago, I had a rare piece of luck. While searching online for a dog buggy for his lordship, up popped one for sale on Marketplace. Not only was it the off-road type we need for trips to the woods, but it was being sold by a lady in the next village whose own dog had only used it twice. The listing was just six minutes old – it was meant to be! Fast forward twelve hours, and Bear was the proud owner of his own set of barely used wheels.

As Other Half commented wryly on the way home though, ‘It’s only a bargain if the little bugger will use it.’ Quite.

The logic behind the buggy is quite simple. Although he’s still very fit, at fourteen, Bear can’t do the long walks he once did. We love walking though, but they’re slightly ruined by having a carry a 9kg lump of dog who will insist on sitting in your arms like a ventriloquist’s dummy. The backpack experiment was a failure, so Plan B is the buggy. Plan C is a personal trainer to help me work on my biceps!

Our fears that he wouldn’t tolerate being pushed around the neighbourhood were, thankfully, unfounded. He absolutely loves it. So much so, I’m starting to worry whether I should be insisting he walk a bit more. Once in, he shows absolutely no inclination of wanting to get out again. He lords it up, woofing self-importantly at passing dogs and cats from the safety of his chariot, his ears flapping in the breeze as I march up the hill on our evening walk, looking for all the world like a dog who’s finally got his humans where he wants them. Then again, I suppose he has!

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I can ‘bear-ly’ believe it, but last week, Little Bear celebrated his fourteenth birthday. We had an agility party with a couple of his best pals, Paddy and Barney, and the smile on his face was a joy to see.

Any thoughts of slowing down were obviously far from his mind as he flew over the jumps, raced up the dog walk and, giving us all a heart attack in the process, deciding to scale the full height A-frame! He was probably rolling his eyes at the level of over-protectiveness after that one, but even if he’s unaware of his advancing age, we’d rather err on the side of caution.

Things took on a farsical note back home when posing for a picture with his cake obviously stretched his patience a bit too far. He made a grab for it and point blank refused to let go. In the end, I had to lift the cake out of its ribbon or else I think we might still be there!

It was a fun, memorable day, if tinged with the sadess of remembering those furry friends who weren’t able to join us this year. Archie, Molly, Mickey and Bella. Even our Annie was too stiff to make the journey, although she didn’t say no to cake at home. Precious memories. ❤️

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As it’s day four-thousand and twentyone of lockdown, I thought I’d have some fun. Here are my top ‘facts’ about life with a Mini Schnauzer. Well, life with ours anyway….

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They bark – but only a lot 

I know there are exceptions to the rule, but most minis I know love the sound of their own voice. They’re vocal little dogs and will woof at the drop of a hat. Little Bear sometimes barks just for fun (or to annoy my husband). We’ve neither of us finished a complete sentence in his presence for the last twelve years.

 

Mini Schnauzer being carried

They like to be carried 

All puppies do the ‘stop and stick’ to the pavement routine when they’re tiny and are a bit worried about the world.

Schnauzers, however, don’t seem to have forgotten that often, once the treats had run out, their exasperated people resorted to carrying them.

Little Bear is an old master at this trick now and will even limp dramatically to get a lift. Like a fool I usually give in and hey presto, the minute I close the front door, he’s racing about the house like a spring lamb.

 

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They hate coats

I often think Schnauzers are the polar opposite of the House Elves in Harry Potter. Give an elf an item of clothing and you free them from servitude – give a Schnauzer a coat and he’ll look at you like he’s a newly condemned man.

A few years ago I decided that Bear’s statue routine could be ‘fixed’ by just   waiting him out.

I popped his new coat on him and waited. After an hour of him standing rooted to the same spot in the kitchen, I caved in. It was a battle of wills. I lost.

 

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They have sensitive fur 

While dog coats can render them instantly and completely immobile, so can other ‘unexpected items’ about their person.

Leaves on the legs, a twig on the toe and most infamously, a minuscule bit of poop stuck to the botty fluff. That one cost us £50, a mad dash to the vet with our ‘paralysed’ puppy and lost dinner reservations. We also had to change vets.

 

 

Mini Schnauzer curled up on the writer's chest

 

They’re incredibly loving 

Mini Schnauzers have huge characters. They’re certainly not a breed for anyone who wants a quiet life.

Little Bear is and always has been, a total drama king, but he is also the most sensitive, loving little soul imaginable. I suppose, in the end, that’s all we really need to know.

 

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Mini Schnauzer dog Bear sitting on the pavement next to a chalk drawing of a rainbow and the word 'Smile'

Little Bear posing next to the chalk art rainbows that kids have been drawing around the neighbourhood

While walking Bear yesterday at our local park, it dawned on me that we’ve been social distancing for years.

When you have a reactive dog, you quickly learn about distances. Keeping your dog(s) sub-threshold usually means keeping enough space between them and whatever scares them (with our two, it’s other dogs) to ensure they feel safe.

After close to a decade of training, we’ve shrunk the distance down from the width of a football pitch to around four metres. With that much space, a little encouragement and the promise of a biscuit, they’ll usually walk past without kicking off.  Much closer and they’re likely, even aged twelve and thirteen, to have a mini-meltdown of barking and lunging.

I need space 

While things have improved over the years, in part thanks to the excellent, ‘Yellow Dog’campaign of wearables and education, there are still those who don’t seem to get why you might need a little extra space. Bear has an ‘I need space’ lead wrap and for a long time, I even wore a fluorescent bib on walks emblazoned on both sides with ‘Reactive dog in training, please give us space,’ but even that wasn’t fool-proof.

Some people just don’t seem to accept the fact that not all dogs are as placid and calm as theirs. Others I’m sure are driven by the mistaken belief that their superior dog-handling skills could solve the problem in two minutes flat if only you’d hand over the lead.

I’m used to the odd looks we get as we detour through shrubbery, turn tail and retrace our steps on narrow paths and generally deploy the raft of avoidance techniques we’ve had more than a decade to perfect. Not everyone is kind and I’ve also had more than my fair share of abuse over the years from clueless dog owners who’ve allowed their off-lead dogs to corner my on-lead ones.

So I was tickled yesterday when, doing what we always do, people waved, gave us the thumbs up and said thanks for giving them space. Perspective is a curious thing, isn’t it?

Stay safe and well everyone. xx

 

 

 

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Back in the summer I watched The Great Hack, a documentary about the insidious world of big tech, the systematic erosion of our privacy and the manipulation of the masses by companies such as Cambridge Analytica.

It confirmed most of my fears about the reality of social media and after watching it, I swore I’d take a break. Like a lot of people, it’s become a distraction and an interruption that I know I could live without. That I could be being subtly manipulated in the process just adds another reason to the long list of reasons for spending my time more wisely.

Twelve hours later, I was reminded of the flip slide to social media.

Bear takes a tumble 

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Little Bear during his ‘no walk’ week 

With Other Half away, the dogs by some miracle had granted me a rare lie in. Annie’s patience wore thin at around nine am and a polite woof reminded me that it was her breakfast time. Dogs fed and their garden wandering complete, I headed for the shower.

I knew instantly that there was something wrong with the tone of Bear’s whine. The baby gate at the top of the stairs is the only thing stopping him from ransacking Vizzy’s room and scoffing the cat food, so I’m used to him lying on the top step grumbling, but for reasons I can’t put into words, that morning, I knew something was very wrong.

In the three seconds it took me to run from the bedroom to the landing, it all happened.  As I grabbed the stairgate his head lolled back, gravity pulling it towards the bottom of the stairs and then, before I could save him, he was falling like a ragdoll, bouncing off the stairs as he went, before landing in a heap in Annie’s bed at the bottom.

Panic stations

Screaming after him, I reached him just as he started to come around. Obviously dazed and very confused, he sat up and looked at me as if to say, “what am I doing down here?” I raced him to the vet and sat with him in my arms in the waiting room trying to fend off the panic attack that I could feel hovering. A frequent occurrence since my mum passed last year, I had thought I’d learned to control them, but sitting there alone not knowing whether this would be another goodbye, was just horrendous.

By the time the vet called us, I’d breathed myself to, if not calmness, then at least a focused sense of control and Bear had recovered enough to bark at an unsuspecting Bassett Hound which I took to be a good sign.

Ticker trouble

By some miracle he’d not broken anything, but an ECG revealed an abnormality with his heart that would likely require a pacemaker. With orders to watch him closely, keep him calm (fat chance of that happening) and not walk him until the referral to the cardiologist, we headed home.

With my mind unhelpfully replaying on loop the scene of Bear falling, I turned first to Google and then, overwhelmed by technical papers I didn’t understand, the Mini Schnauzer UK Facebook group. I needed to know what to expect and most importantly, what to hope for.

Mini Schnauzer UK 

Screen shot of Facebook post asking for help for a sad looking Mini SchnauzerWhat I had wanted was information, but what I hadn’t bargained for was the outpouring of kindness that went with it. Along with the stories of other Mini’s who had had the same procedure and recommendations for specialists, total strangers sent him love and wished him a speedy recovery.  A couple of members sent me private messages, one even giving me her phone number if I wanted to chat about the procedure her dog had had.

With Other Half away and being effectively confined to the house on Bear watch, not knowing if he would collapse again at any point, these wonderful, caring people reminded me of just how lovely people are.

Twitter love 

Screenshot 2019-09-01 at 07.31.45The night before the referral appointment, sick with worry and unable to sleep, I tweeted into the void. But the void answered back – with love and prayers, crossed fingers and paws, funny giffs and cute pictures and the sweetest messages.

I read them to Other Half as we waited impatiently for our boy at the vet’s the next day. Then I took great delight in Tweeting the ‘all clear’ message once the cardiologist had confirmed that they could find nothing wrong with his heart over and above a slightly slow heartbeat.

The whole experience was so humbling and so touching that I was reminded that despite living in worrying times, where everyone is at pains to tell us how divided we are, people really can be truly incredible.

Have I changed my mind about social media? No. Like most people, I’m still very concerned about privacy and the use of social media to manipulate and control, so I’m rationing my use. What the experience has taught me though, is that the world really is full of amazingly kind people and thanks to social media, with all of its flaws, we now have more opportunity than ever to connect with them.

Thanks to everyone on Mini Schnauzer UK & Twitter for their love & kindness 

xxx

 

 

 

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Annie and Little Bear with their friend Grace

Annie and Little Bear with their friend Grace

Oh my poor neglected blog. Seven whole months on its lonesome, twiddling its pixels in cyber space wondering if this was it, the thing every blog dreads – the last post.

Well, despite my tardiness, TLBDB, now in its fifth year, need not fear, I have no intentions of abandoning it. I have though come to accept that my posts may not be quite so frequent as they once were.

My less frequent updates are due to a couple of factors.  Finding a group of people locally who are all living and working with reactive dogs has been an enormous help, not just for the opportunity to socialise our dogs, but to find support from people who really, genuinely understand the challenges.

Working for myself also means that I now get paid to write. Admittedly, I don’t get paid to write about dogs, but you never say never!

Little Bear and Annie have come such a long way and continue to be a source of joy and hilarity.  They still have issues and we’ve come to realise that when working with fearful dogs, there’s rarely ever a destination, just a better quality of road.

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Mini schnauzer Little Bear having a cuddle

Bear deals much better with firework night if he has someone to snuggle with.

“Remember, remember the fifth of November, gunpowder, treason and plot.” For some unknown reason we’re still celebrating Guy Fawkes’ failed attempt to blow the Houses of Parliament to smithereens 400 years after the fact.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for tradition if it brings a smile to people’s faces, but when you have a dog that’s terrified of loud noises, firework night is traumatic. Picture your dog hunched in a corner, shaking like a leaf and panting so hard you’re afraid he might pass out.

It’s a pitiful sight especially when you’re unable to control the source of their fear. What’s worse is the fact that as the sale of fireworks is unregulated, fireworks ‘night’ now seems to last up to two weeks meaning another assault can come at any time.

Advice 

Lots of dogs are of course frightened of fireworks and social media has been awash with people asking for advice on how to cope with their terrified pets.  On the whole the advice offered is sound: Turn up the TV; try a Thunder-shirt, herbal calmers, hormone collars and diffusers like Adaptil and for those instances where nothing works, a consultation with your vet for a prescribed tranquilliser.

However, there are still those who insist that ignoring your dog is the only way to deal with the situation.  I understand where this thinking may have come from – in positive reinforcement training we often ignore bad behaviour like jumping up for fear of reinforcing it with our attention.  However, YOU CAN’T REINFORCE FEAR! Once your dog is afraid he’s incapable of learning anything so you won’t make it worse by giving him attention.

For pity’s sake, just cuddle your bloody dog! 

So please, if your dog is frightened and wants to be near you – CUDDLE HIM! Distract him, play with him – hell, wrap him in a blanket and feed him roast chicken off a fork if it’ll make him feel better but please, PLEASE do not ignore him.

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Mini schnauzer puppy Little Bear

So cute my eyes are actually hurting!

Seven years ago today my life was tipped upside down by a small, yappy bundle of cuteness. I thought I’d done my homework. I thought I knew dogs, but in hindsight I knew about as much as Jon Snow. I’m still only scratching the surface in terms of my understanding of these acutely intelligent, sensitive creatures so many of us share our lives with.

As my blog has chronicled, Little Bear hasn’t been the easiest of dogs. He has challenged me emotionally and intellectually from day one and we’ve had our fair share of dark days when I’ve doubted us both.

I used to often catch myself wondering what life might have been like had he been a different dog. If he’d been born with the laid-back genes of my beloved childhood Springer or had the take-anywhere personality of those dogs who happily lounge under the table at pavement cafes…. But he is not that dog. He will in fact never be that sort of dog, but that’s fine with me.

I’ve been blessed not just with an amazing companion, but with an incredible teacher.  The irony is of course that in searching for ways to better understand and help him deal with his fears, I’ve had to face down quite a few of my own. So thank you my Little Bear. Thank you for being the funny, sensitive, sweet little soul you are. My life is so much the richer for you. xxx

And now for some shamelessly cute photographs for no other reason other than the fact that you’re shamelessly cute!

Two mini schnauzer puppies

Little Bear and his brother.

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Our first picture

Mini schnauzer puppy Little Bear

So cute my eyes are actually hurting!

Mini Schnauzer Little Bear with his teddy

Mini Schnauzer Little Bear in the garden

Mini schnauzer Little Bear sleeping on the sofa

Mini Schnauzer Little Bear in the autumn leaves

Mini Schnauzer Little Bear looking out to see

Mini Schnauzer Little Bear in witches hat

Mini Schnauzer Little Bear in a hat

Mini Schnauzer Little Bear in the pool

Mini Schnauzer Little Bear laying down

Mini Schnauzer Little Bear sticking out his tongue

Mini Schnauzer Little Bear

Mini Schnauzer Little Bear in the  field

Mini schnauzer puppy Little Bear

So cute my eyes are actually hurting!

 

 

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Like most aspiring dog owners, before I actually had a dog I used to indulge in the odd reverie about our wonderful future life together.  I had visions of us playing catch in a sun drenched meadow on a warm August afternoon.  I imagined us kicking up a pile of crisp autumn leaves and leaving cute paw and foot prints in the winter snow before heading home to snuggle on the sofa.  

Having grown up with a Springer Spaniel, I wasn’t entirely naive, but I suppose part of me choose to block out one of the not so welcome seasonal realities: Mud.

So long nice clean car

So long nice clean car

Mud magnets

If you’ve not got a dog and you’re thinking about getting one, please, hear me now:  They will get muddy. You will get mud: in your house; in your car; on your clothes and more often than you’ll care to think about, on your face and in your hair.  

You will have an almost daily routine of wiping mud off the walls, radiators and any small children who may happen to walk past. Your pile of dog towels will quickly outweigh the human ones, your washing machine will work overtime and in the winter months, you’ll start grading your walks not on how enjoyable they are, but on how muddy its likely to be. 

Paddling Bear

Paddling Bear

 

 

Who chose the cream tiles?

Our battles with mud are exacerbated by some pretty unpractical home decorating choices.  In answer to the question ‘Which idiot chose cream floor tiles, white walls and a light beige sofa?’ I have to foolishly raise my hand.

In my (feeble) defence, I made those choices when we only had Little Bear and as much as he loves paddling in puddles and rolling in cow pats, he’s not a big fan of deep mud. But then of course, we got a Labrador. 

 

 

 

Annie the Labrador covered in mud

Annie the Labrapotomous

Labrapotomous

Annie is a mud magnet.  She’s the Labrapotomous of the dog world and loves nothing better than getting caked in the stuff from nose to tail.  In the Forest she’ll find the deepest, dirtiest, stinkiest puddle and fling herself into it with the wild abandon of a lemming on a cliff top. She emerges beaming as if she’s just won the lottery and annoying as it is, we don’t have the heart to stop her fun.  But even on a road walk, she has an amazing ability to attract mud and will invariably return home with dirty paws, legs and tummy. 

Adjustments

We’ve made some practical adjustments at home, including installing a new door to give us direct access to the garage from the house.  This means we can bring the dogs in through the garage, avoiding the daily splattering of mud up the walls of the hallway.  It also gives us more room to do the towelling off.

I’d be lying if I said that dealing with constantly filthy dogs is much fun. But here’s the rub: when we took on our dogs it was to give them the life they deserved. And we made that commitment for life. We knew there would be compromises along the way and a pristine home is just one of them. What we get in return though far outweighs the inconvenience and of course, we still have those sunny August afternoons to look forward to.

 

 

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Little Bear hates having a bath. He’s not unusual as I suspect most dogs dislike our penchant for making them sit in warm water while shampooing away all those delightful doggie aromas: mud, stinky puddle water, poop (LB loves the fox variety but will settle for cow pats at a push) and his particular favourite, dead stuff. The day he rolled in a long dead rat is still chillingly fresh in my memory as is the sight of him swaggering home, proud as punch not realising that six baths would be necessary to rid him of the stench.

Bath time blues
Little Bear is now six so I’d sort of resigned myself to the fact that bath time would always be a necessary evil where he turned on the puppy dog eyes with the occasional shiver for good measure and I ended up feeling guilty.

Positive reinforcement
As a big fan of positive reinforcement I’ve tried using toys and treats over the years but he largely ignored the toys and took the treats with a reproachful ‘this isn’t working you know’ glare.
So imagine my surprise when yesterday, LB jumped into the bath on his own!

Bath time Bear
We’d been out for a long forest walk and he was really muddy. But as he’d only had a bath last week I decided to let the mud dry and brush it out. Bear though had other ideas.

While I was hanging up the towels in the bathroom he trotted in, rested his nose on the bath and wagged. Then came the cute over the shoulder look to see if I was looking and another wag. I quietly closed the door, usually a cue for him to dart out of the room, but he just stood there wagging at me.

Now LB loves chasing stones in the ford and over the summer he’s been playing in a paddling pool my mum found for him. He’s so obsessed with the stones I’ve got a handful in a jug in the bathroom in an attempt to make the dreaded bath time more bearable.

I picked up the jug and before I could do anything he had jumped into the bath! What’s more he was wagging fit to bust!

Needless to say he got his bath but not until we’d played stones for a long time – it seemed only fair after he’d asked so nicely!

Lessons learned
Yesterday reminded me of an incredibly valuable lesson: never underestimate the power of a positive reinforcer – they work, but they’re often not the things we think they are.

(Please excuse any formatting issues, I’ve had to write this on my iPhone as he’s fast asleep on my lap and looking way too cute to disturb!)

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