Woe is me. I have a weirdo for a rescue dog. I am her third owner. Things go well most days, but then she growls at my bigger dog, who is usually chill with the little goofball. But sometimes the big dog goes off on the little dog growling at her. She pins down Daisy, and if she fights back, the bigger dog reminds her why she should stop fighting back.
Then there is blood. The big dog pins down the little dog as if to say, “I was here first. I can take you. My teeth are bigger. Why are you here, anyway?”
I give them both love and equal amounts of dog treats and ball throws. I stand between them during treat and mealtimes. I take them to the park next door one at a time for their ball-throwing or their walks.
They each have lap privileges as needed. The newer dog, Daisy, needs them the most. The big dog comes around every now and then for neck rubs and head scratches. Then she goes to her recliner and watches Daisy jump onto my lap. When Sis was here, they each got a lap.
Daisy is a nervous sleeper. She is a nervous ball-throwing game participant as well. If a truck goes by, or a man shows up on the playground with a grandchild, Daisy hightails it home (which is just next door). I can often lure her back to the park after the truck has gone, or the man is busy putting his grandchild on the slide.
Daisy is a nervous sleeper, with one eye open most of the time. When she does dose off and I snap her photo, she is awake again, wondering where the light is coming from. She absolutely hates flashlights and the way the sun bounces off my diamond ring onto the walls and ceiling.
Daisy is a nervous eater. She inhales her food, so I have to use a slow bowl. She worries that somehow she won’t get it all. I stand over her until she is done. This is usually when the altercations happen if there is going to be one. It’s over food.
But this time it was over a bucket of toys. Daisy tried to play with one. Pepper said no way. Daisy wouldn’t drop it. Daisy growled, and then there was blood. The bleeder is always Daisy.
I have a tube of Neosporin at the ready. It’s really only the 5th time in seventeen months. I guess we are making progress. Sometimes it doesn’t feel that way.
I put the bucket of toys back into the closet.