beast unburden

Maximum Training, Part Two: Never Say Die

2010-03-15T10:01:00.000-07:00

So it's been going pretty well these days. Here's what I've figured out lately:

The key with Max's aggression is to never let him win. That's why keeping him on the leash in the house has been invaluable. The more consistently I can enforce my ultimate correctness and power, the sooner he'll behave well off-leash, all the time. At this point, even on the leash, every day is a series of challenges from him, in which he tests his boundaries and pushes for control. The important thing to remember in this case is that this control that he seems to be fighting so hard for is not really what he wants. It's not good for him, nor is it fun for him. All it does is reinforce the notion that he has to fend for himself; that I am not a good leader; that the world is big and unmanageable and therefore he has reason to be fearful and aggressive.

Here are the times that Max will challenge me:

When the cat runs by - his prey drive gets the best of him. Some will say this is natural, but his desire to chase the cat is destructive and not healthy for either of them. It's good practice for the out of doors as well, to ensure that he doesn't bolt after anything and everything that moves.
When there is food on the coffee table. Or the counter. Or the kitchen table. He has yet to learn the boundary between food left unsupervised and food he is allowed to access. This is partly bad training on my part, because I used to let him lick my plate clean. It's also because, back when he was off-leash in the house, there would be no way to ensure he "lost" that battle. This continually reinforced the idea that, if he tries hard enough, he can enjoy the tasty reward of free food.
He'll also challenge me with non-food items, like bottle caps, plastic containers, toilet paper tubes and dirty underwear (what IS it with dogs that do this?). All of the above have been victories he's been allowed to achieve in the past, so it takes a lot more work to undo that learning than to never have allowed it to happen in the first place. He has to learn the difference between toys that he is permitted to have, and things that are not toys at all.
Any time he knows he's escaped my reach. I occasionally let him romp around the house with his leash on but without me holding it. I usually use this time to ensure that commands like "come," "look at me," "sit," and "lie down" all work without the physical manipulation made possible with the leash. This is usually fine. He responds well generally. But again, if the cat runs by, or he bolts up or down stairs, no matter how calm I keep my voice, he figures out that he has the space to do what he wants. I go after him to collect his leash calmly, before he wins any challenges, but that task alone becomes a challenge for him, one in which his aggression comes to the fore. It's also harder for me to keep my temper in circumstances like this, and he feels that frustration from me, which is probably what brings out his rage.
When I have guests over. He knows my defenses are down. I hate inconveniencing people. He never barks at me for attention if we're alone or with my roommates, because he knows I'll ignore him no matter what, and he won't win. But when there are guests over, my self-consciousness has, in the past, led me to cave sooner rather than later, bribing him or distracting him or putting him away instead of holding my ground. Social gatherings are also a place of anxiety for Max, so even me removing him from the room is a reward for him, and reinforces the idea that barking can solve his problems.
Any and all times when I am manipulating his body. If I want to remove his eye goops, dry off his paws, put on a jacket, cut his hair, clean his nasty butthole, and MOST OF ALL, cut his nails (a victory i have yet to achieve), he puts up a fight. It starts with just a kind of puppy-like, open-mouthed teethiness, and maybe physically avoiding my touch, but it can quickly turn into snarly wolverine-like Max, which is terrifying, really. I've been pretty desensitized to this kind of aggression coming from him, so I'm never really afraid to approach him or keep trying. But my anger does come out. It's disappointing when a dog you've spent gallons of time and money on, who you love dearly and want in your life, will turn vicious and try to attack you at a time when you're trying to take care of their health. Heartbreaking, actually, wouldn't be too big of an exaggeration. He often brings me to tears in this manner. The key is to keep going, and to practice mild forms of the desired contact at calm moments. And go into every interaction expecting the best. If you start thinking about all the times it hasn't worked, all the scars you already have on your hands and arms, it won't work. He'll go right back into that space, and there'll be no learning. I try to keep him calm for as much of the procedure as possible, so he's still in a functional state of mind. But once he loses his shit, it's important to keep going. Do anything you need to in order to keep the momentum of the task. Employ friends to hold him down, muzzle him, take deep breaths, think of golden retrievers in family movies... just a few of the things I attempt in order to get these things accomplished. He's great with almost all of these challenges now, but not consistently. *sigh* We'll get there.

In all of these cases, the speed with which I respond and the calm that I embody makes the challenge subside within a smaller amount of time. If I hesitate, if I am angry or frustrated, embarassed or nervous, or if I don't notice until he's already rewarded himself in some way, the challenge will come up again and again, and even defeating that instance will take a much longer time and incite more aggression and frustration from him. So it's a full-time job.

Another thing I've learned is that if Max knows what he needs to be doing, he relaxes and is less likely to get distracted or attempt to challenge me. The key to this is to talk to him. I tell him to lie down if I ever plan to be in any place for a period of time. If I'm sitting on the couch, he earns the right to sit next to my by first lying on the ground by my feet comfortably. The added command of "upup" (onto the couch) "lie down" again is additionally helpful. If ever I want to step away for a moment without dragging him with me, I get him to follow a couple of commands, ending either in "sit" or "lie down," and then i tell him to "wait." He's become quite skilled and patient with "wait," even in the face of distractions. This is a hard one to enforce, but he learned it before with treats. They understand the passing of time, and realize quickly that, if them moving means a longer wait for reward, moving's a bad idea and they should hold absolutely still. At this point, Max is also conditioned to understand my "no" voice and what it means. He doesn't want to hear that voice, not out of fear, but because this has previously meant the absence of a reward, or an increase in his level of subordination. He understands that when I say "no," I'm upset with him for not fulfilling his responsibility to me as top dog, and it's finally becoming clear to him that he doesn't want to let me down. Which is nice. I would say this is a promising first sign of a dominant aggressive dog letting go of some of his dominance and accepting leadership.

McDuff, Meiko and Peanut

2010-03-07T15:44:00.000-08:00

There is so much dog in my life right now.

Maximum Training, Part One

2010-03-05T08:58:00.000-08:00

PREFACE: The last time I mentioned anything here, it was merely to say that I'd adopted a dog, Maxwell. He's a terrier mix and a handful. Throughout my time with him, I've been working on rehabilitating his issues, which revolve around a hefty combination of dominance issues and fear-based aggression. I've had a LOT of great advice, not the least of which has come from my other dog-owning peers, See, KT, M and Em. This, along with reading training books and watching ridiculous but helpful shows like the Dog Whisperer, has allowed me to create a regime best suited for Max's issues. So far, here are the rules I use:

Max never eats before me. I prepare his food along with my own and keep his dish in sight but in my possession until I've finished eating. Thereafter, he has to lay still and look at me calmly before he's permitted to eat. While he's eating, I stand over him or near him, pet him, put my hands near his food, and at any sign of discomfort from him, I remove his food and the process starts again.
Max never walks in front of me. In the house, out of the house, doesn't matter. Currently, he's on leash even in the house, so if he gets ahead of me, he's immediately pulled back behind me and I don't continue moving until he's still and attentive.
Everything is mine. Max's bones are mine, his toys are mine, his bed is mine. Anything he has can be taken away at any time. This is practiced frequently in order to reinforce this message. This remains his weak point. Especially off-leash in the house, he has a tendency to grab something he knows I don't want him to have and run off with it in order to challenge me.
Max never chooses where he sits. I tell him where he can and cannot sit or lie down.
All of the above is dependent on MY attitude. I must never lose my temper, yell or back down. I must be consistent and calm in the face of ANYTHING. This is my weak point, to be certain, and were I a flawless person with a very even temper and the ability to stick to things like glue, I'd probably have a perfect dog. The reality is, none of us are that perfect. But I am aware that my temper and frustration have a huge affect on Max's understanding of me as a leader. When I lose my temper, with him or even just with the dishes or the internet, we go back five steps almost instantly.

So that's where we're at. Since consulting M in-depth, I've decided to start writing about my training experiences with him. I'm talking about it all the time, so why not write about it! I've learned so much, and I think it's important to share.

M recently borrowed Maxwell for a couple nights, in an attempt to better learn what his issues are. Since then, Max has been on a much more strict regimine, and my resolve has been strengthened. Max is now on-leash and attached to me at all times in the house. This allows me to better police his behaviours and instill a consistent sense of submission in him. Before, when he'd be off leash in the house, he would have the opportunity to "win" by stealing something he wasn't supposed to have and running off with it. I would attempt to retrieve the item by cornering him, and this is when his fear aggression would take over. At times like that, there is no way to train a dog. When they've retreated into fearfulness, aggression or a combination thereof, there is nothing you can do to teach them about what is expected of them. With the leash on, I'm able to stop the behaviour before it escalates into a showdown. Even with the leash on, Max will still attempt to steal food or pens or bits of paper or cans. He still tries to jump up on counters, tabletops and people. The difference is that I have control. I can stop him as soon as I notice him fixating on something and preparing for what would follow. So that's helped a lot.

But what all of this comes down to is an attempt to assure Max that I'm the leader, that I know what's best, and that he doesn't have to worry about making those decisions himself. This is a vital part of popping his dominance bubble. As Cesar has said countless times, a dog practicing dominance is also a stressed out dog. And Max is a perfect case of that. He wants direction, but isn't always willing to be directed. Especially when he sees the person who would lead him to be a faulty or untrustworthy leader. This is where my own consistency and calm is important. On-leash, Max is not only easier to control, but I feel more confident in my ability to control him. This makes my attitude appear to him as calmer and more capable. The times when I would lose my temper with him are diminished, and this allows us to build a more trusting relationship. Because Max is a rescue with a bit of an abusive past, it is vital that he never see me as aggressive, but only dominant and calm. When he sees me as aggressive, his fear response kicks in and he won't learn from me or trust my leadership. These are things to keep in mind when working with ANY dog, abusive past or not.

So, on to today's breakthrough.

While Max is on-leash in the house and on walks, I still let him off-leash in safe outdoor areas away from roads to allow him to exercise. These times are also opportunities to build and test our relationship. So today, I took Max to such an outdoor area and let him off-leash. Up to this point, I had been using food rewards any time he was off-leash in order to ensure he'd return to me when I called. It's important to recognize that I've been doing this kind of positive enforcement for months. EVERY time I called him and he came to me, I would give him a treat. I would call him often for no reason, so that he wouldn't associate my call with instantly being put back on-leash. This has been really useful in building trust, but the little bugger's smart, and often WON'T come when I call if he knows I have no reward. Any time a dog like Max gets to choose whether or not to listen to a command, that feeds his little furry ego, and that ain't good. It's important that a dog recognize your word as a reward in and of itself, because that means he respects you as a leader. So today, I aspired to instill in him that, reward or no, following my lead was important. I still had treats in my pocket as a back-up, but that was more for me than for him it transpired. I let him off-leash after walking him on-leash around the whole perimeter of the area. I changed directions often, so that his focus was on me, and got him to sit and lie down at irregular intervals or if he was particularly distracted by something. As soon as Max is off-leash, he bolts around sniffing, but because of the relationship we've built, he looks at me frequently. Without bribery, however, he is unlikely to come when called. So I tried something new. As soon as he bolted away, I called his name and then turned my back to him and walked with INTENT away from him. He would then start bolting in the direction I was walking. AS SOON as he got ahead of me, I would call his name again and change directions. After a couple trips around the park this way, he was glued by my side with his eyes on me, wondering what the heck was going on. Shortly after we'd reached that point, another dog approached the park from up ahead. He was behind me, snuffling around, and I heard his feet accelerate toward the dog. This is the kind of time that even a treat reward would normally not work. I turned towards him quickly, said his name sharply, and walked towards him with my arms out. He stopped dead in his tracks and lay down. Victory! He knew what I expected of him, and he knew that the other dog, however fascinating, was my turf and I would decide how he would interact with him. I was able to calmly put his leash on and he walked perfectly the rest of the way home.

Changing direction can be an excellent way to get his attention. On the walk home, I practiced the same technique in lower-case. He's usually pretty good at heeling on-leash, but often doesn't seem to have his head in the game. He snuffles around and stares at people or dogs across the street. With his mind allowed to wander, it's often too late for me to intervene in his behaviour before it moves into aggressive mode. It also means that he can convince himself that I'm not leading him, which enforces his dominance. So while walking him, I took note of where his little nose was pointing. Even if he was just snuffling the dirt, I would move him, behind me, to the other side, placing myself between him and whatever he was even remotely interested in. This helped him keep his focus on me and on the walk itself. It also meant that he didn't have time to think about dogs passing by, or a gaggle of kids on recess. And it enforced that whatever it is, I'm in charge of how he relates to it.

So yeah! That's today's story. Except that while I was writing this, I was eating a nice greasy hashbrown. Instead of protecting the food from him the way I normally would, I put the food on the floor. He went right for it at first, but a sharp no made him stop dead, and he then gave me a bubble of about two feet for the rest of the time I was eating! This is the first time I've done this, and I can't believe how logical it is, but now I'm going to practice that all the time, until all food everywhere is safe, because it'll be considered mine until proven otherwise.

Aw shit, now I've got a dog.

2009-10-25T09:25:00.001-07:00

this is Max. He is mad, mostly, but also malleable.
he likes his doggy friends, examples of which include cindy-lou, above, and gratch, below.

he also likes to run.

and bark.

and whine.

he is a terrier mix. i'm not so sure about this. wish me luck.

aww, shmumee!

2009-02-21T19:50:00.001-08:00

most prettiest cat

2009-02-05T19:05:00.000-08:00

Photo shoot!

2009-01-21T17:33:00.001-08:00

ferocious kitty enjoys catnip

more glamour shots! he so glamorous!

Ella cuddles with bears and helps me with homework!

Har Mow Nee

2008-11-20T12:49:00.001-08:00

I'm counting my blessings, because as poopy as I feel, it's not so bad! Look at my pretty friends! People may suck, but animals will always be the bomb.

Carma is my cat now. As evil as she is, she is the most cutest.
She sleeps with me every night, snoring and drooling.
For brief moments, she and Eddie share my lap.
Baby is getting a bit sick, wonkier than usual. But sweeter than usual, too. Love da rattie!
Ella is all ready for winter, with a toque hammock and a thick insulating layer of ratfat! So chunky and lovely!
An indoor cat now, Carma is pleased to observe the cold weather.
Wonkyrat is very very cuddly.

And Eddie loves the hay. He so purty and shiney! Look at his glorious gold flecks!

Eddie Piggie - Who needs girls?

2008-09-11T11:16:00.000-07:00

Again, we grow.

2008-07-17T22:34:00.000-07:00

So...We started with a hamster, along with three pre-existing cats and a dog. Then the hamster had babies. Then three down. Then we bought two guinea pigs. Then we lost one more hamster. Then we bought another. Then we bought two rats. Then we moved, leaving a dog and two cats behind at the house. Then two more rats. Then two less rats. Then a cat rejoined us. Then one less hamster. Now the dog has rejoined us. And other things have happened as well. So now, here's the story:

Minou cat is here, happy and, despite our best efforts, still relatively fat.

Daisy dog is happiest with her momma, even if it means up and down four flights of stairs three times a day. As she gets older and her remaining friends at the house move out and on, leaving her alone was a concern. So now here she is, and we're happy to have her.

Above and below are the two newest additions to L's menagerie - Above is Pancake, a big fluffy fat female Syrian. Below is Wall-E, a spun-out little Dalmatian Teddy Bear Syrian. Yes. They have Dalmatian. And they cost more than not-Dalmatian hamsters.

And here's Puffy, still the first and foremost of what is now a series of puffies.
And Marvin remains the Marvelous.
And Eddie remains philosophically inclined and enlightened. Hehehe.
And the girls remain my favourite girls. This is an older picture, as are some of the above, but they do this every night anyway, so meh.
So that's the story, morning glories. Lots of beasts and all in only a two bedroom flat. Just how I like it. hehehe.

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Now playing: Siouxsie and The Banshees - Twice Upon a Time - The Passenger
via FoxyTunes

Conquering A New Land

2008-06-05T19:54:00.000-07:00

We are here in Scarberia The Second now, in a glorious, spacious apartment.
With us are the most important of our animals. Unfortunately, the below-mentioned ratties were too much for us to handle, and found a new home.
So here they are, the residents of 404!

Marvin the Magnificent dares to venture onto the new parquet.
The girls enjoy their expanded cage, but still nag us to roam our vast bedroom in the evenings.
Eddie remains Eddie, though he enjoys being in a more frequently visited room - more chance to squeal for foodies.
Puffy remains puffy, and we've just discovered the secret to fattening him up! Below is a cat, content to be in her kitchen, where food could at any moment appear. We're still working on the secret to slimming her down.
Unfortunately, we recently lost a valued member of our animal family. Tommy, the hamster that started it all, has passed away, peacefully, in her sleep. We aren't sure why, because we didn't think she was that old, and there's some concern that a rather traumatic escape experience a couple of nights prior might have led to her demise. In the middle of the night, we awoke to hear a great deal of scuffling coming from Eddie's cage. The Minou-cat was looking far more active than her usual sleepy self, pacing the cage and batting at the bars. Upon investigation, Tommy was found in Eddie's cage! Mysteriously, her cage door was found closed. The mystery remains one of the many crowning achievements of her life. Along with that, we remember her as the mother of Bandit, Creamy and Ratchet, and a great lover of the male hamster form. Surviving her is her daughter, Creamy, and her would-be boyfriend, Puffy. We appreciate all she has given us, and miss her dearly. R.I.P. Tommy.
And that's the news for now.

Welcome Alfie And Dexter

2008-03-12T12:47:00.000-07:00

As you can probably tell, we are still all very much in love with our animals and their intense cuteness. What can we say? Below are the most recent and most cutest (no, i can't really say that, but they're damned cute) additions to our menagerie. The top picture is Dexter, then Alfie. Alfie's a huge pig. He's been known to completely empty a full food bowl in one sitting. Probably because I picked'm. I always get the food-motivated animal. Ella and Eddie are the same way. And, just like Baby, Dexter is a little spun, but very cuddly, not scared of much, and motivated more by the opportunity to explore than anything.

These boys are known as Russian Blue Dumbo Rats, and it's really amazing the difference in their personality from the girls. The girls are your average Fancy Rat, but it's their gender here that I think really makes a world of difference in their personalities. Girl rats are the actors, the doers, the movers and shakers, and they rarely hold still. If you have food in your hand and they know it, it won't be in your hand for long. With two healthy girl rats, one is constantly searching for new things to amuse them in their cage environment, and change in the cage design is necessary for their survival. They are also much happier to be free range, and really very much enjoy a good sprint along the back of the couch on a regular basis. But these boys, as well as boy rats I have known previously, are the exact inverse of all the above. While they are also smart and interested, and therefore need new toys relatively regularly, and decent free range time, they are also very much slower moving animals, with a sort of dopey calm about them that would never even remotely cross the eyes of the girl ratties, even when they are being cuddly (which Baby does relatively often now). They seem to enjoy comfort in all its guises, including soft things, little nooks and good food. While they do bop around the cage, it is not with nearly the same ferocity that the girls practice, in which everything gets relocated and shavings fly everywhere.
These boys were bought at a pet store that kept them on pine shavings in a very tiny little aquarium. When we first brought them home, they were sneezing with every breath, and we were worried they were victims of the dreaded Mycoplasma that rats are very susceptible to. However, after almost a month now on carefresh, with a little bit of aspen sprinkled in, in a well-ventilated, warm environment, they seem much happier, and we're hoping it was only sensitivity to the pine that made them so sneezy.
In any case, our next pet mission is to teach Ella and Baby, who are more used to us and quicker moving, to play rat basketball. First, we'll have to move, which will be interesting, and then we'll have to build a court, and then take the steps listed in the link above. I'll just be working and coming home all summer, with no school to drag my mental direction in a certain direction, so I'm quite looking forward to this plan. Bahaha. Look it up on youtube, too, this whole rat basketball thing. It's a sweet deal.

Run Rattie Run!

2008-02-11T10:46:00.001-08:00

Eddie

2008-01-22T16:55:00.001-08:00

isn't he perty!? working so haaard!? so CUTE!

Puffy's New Abode

2008-01-22T16:43:00.001-08:00

okay, so if you haven't met Puffy yet, here he is in all his splendour. he was getting bored of his cage arrangements, so once again, it was time to reorient his tubes for his enjoyment. here's the completed arrangement, which seems to be keeping him quite amused.the books have always been the most useful things, really, in terms of these arrangements. honestly, hamster psychology is really important with these things. the same number of tubes can seem like much more territory if rearranged with diversity and confusion in mind.
anyway. so there you have it.

Our Beasts, specifically

2007-12-03T16:25:00.000-08:00

My favourite cute YOutube animals, including some familiar faces

2007-11-27T18:37:00.000-08:00

Just me and my beasts

2007-09-08T10:03:00.000-07:00

So now, another school year starts and I'm back in Peterborough, with a quarter of the present animal life I had with my love in Scarborough. Ah well.
Travelling with me on this particular educational adventure is Eddie the guinea pig and Tommy the hamster. For a recap, here are their images.

Eddie's getting bigger every day, and sweeter by the minute. In the picture above, he is smaller still than a book he is now bigger than. I need more pictures of him. Sadly, he peed on my bed last night during a cuddle+carrot session. Tommy has stopped chewing so voraciously on her bars because there's no man-smell around, and because I've hung annoying toys with bells in all the corners, which is where she liked to chew. Outsmarting a hamster is not easily done.
Actually, when I think about it, something about animal intelligence is offputting to a lot of people. I think that's the root of a lot of people's strange animal phobias and disrespect. Because the kind of intelligent many animals are is not something we can comprehend.
Anyway, with that, I just got an idea of what would make me feel good - I really must go off to the pet store and look at treats for the aminals.

Intense Piggie

2007-08-14T20:25:00.000-07:00

Check This Out

And then....

2007-08-09T21:07:00.000-07:00

So now, we are here in Scarberia with a great large troupe of very happy, very loved animals. There's Minou, who's on a diet, and looking svelter by the day. After a terrifying mid-camping trip disappearance act, she's now restricted to backyard outings. There's Carma, who's becoming quite the lapcat thanks to our proximity to a large conservation in which she hunts from dawn 'til dusk. Daisy is as obnoxiously dumb and loving as ever, and we're building her a dog run with minimal exposure to other passing dogs so that she can stop her silly barking. And Cuddles is finally on a food that has stopped her diarrhea, and all the cats and dog have pretty pretty collars to carry their Toronto pet licenses.

And then there are the rodents. Seven now in total, and all happy as clams. We did a bit of a spending spree at the new PetSmart on Kennedy, and bought all new cages for all the rodents. Up until then, we'd had a sort of motley crew of mismatching and homemade houses that were taking up too much space and were just visually disturbing and hard to work with. So now Eddie and Marvin are in matching guinea pig condos with nametags and functional spaces. It marks the end of their litter-trained life, which I think is a relief for both the piggies and their diligent cleaners. Tommy and Puffy The WonderHamster (the latter of which is pictured below) also have matching blue hamster cages, side-by-each, which really illustrates WHY Tommy was pregnant when we picked her up at the store; frankly, she's a bit of a whore. But a cute little orange one, so what can you do? Puffy is very bemused and confused by the smell of girl, and has just got a bloody nose from chewing on the bars so much to try and see her. And then, there's our latest additions; Two beautiful black/grey rattie girls - Ella is the larger of the two, with a white point on her chest up to her white chin. Pippie, short for Pipsqueak, is the smaller, with a little white line on her chest, dipping into her equally cute white belly. Pippie is very slow-moving when handled, and she likes to hide in L's shirt. Ella is the investigator and the escapee-in-training - she moves fast all the time, but has moments of great calm, especially on my shoulder, or in the crook of my elbow.

PIGGIES

2007-05-24T14:41:00.001-07:00

Yes. This is why I kept a clause in there about this covering any other pets, because I am a voracious lover of aminals. (that was intentional. it's what i called animals when i was a wee bebe - just as pretty boy now says plaskit instead of plastic. classic, really) Anyway, here they are in all their glory. And then I really must get to work. Honestly. Seriously. Marvin is the sweet guy with the big white stripe and Edgar is the munchkin with the black fur with little gold flecks.

Ratchet's New Home...

2007-04-04T09:09:00.000-07:00

...is with a friend o' mine who i still live with, kinda, or with whom my things reside, anyway. She fell in love with wee Ratchet-poo while playing with him in my room, and decided to take him on. So there you go.
I have adopted Tommy, the mommy hammy, and she is the new subject of this blog - though its focus shall extend itself to include any other pets I am exposed to/may acquire.

Here are the animals of my current existence:
Daisy - a dalmatian of ten years, who looks five and acts like a wee suck. My love always says she would climb inside her pocket if she could. If you knew Daisy, this would go without saying. Biggest lovingest dog around. I bought her a pretty collar with daisy flowers on it. When you feel her, you have to scare the cats away, because otherwise they'll push her out of her own food. I don't think I've ever seen her teeth, and she only ever growls in her sleep, when she's having very intense dreams.
Karma - a small grey inbred barn cat with attitude for days. She's my little buddy. We play together in the evenings. She's a bit of an ass, tho, always after the rodents and the dog and the other cats, and knocking things off counters and attacking you at odd moments.
Minou - a large round black and white cat with a very distinctly lady-like manner about her. Sleeps most of the time, eating and playing with Karma the rest of the time. She has the most perfect purr, she never knocks anything over or scratches where she shouldn't. She's a pig with food, but she's not near as pushy as Karma is. Basically, she's the perfect cat.
Cuddles - Cuddles is the daddy cat, despite being female. She's talkative, and bonded primarily with her mama, but she guards the house fearlessly. She's often misguided though. Any tension that she senses usually results in the dog getting attacked, because I guess she figures that dogs are inherently suspect. She's hilarious and very pretty.
Tommy - MY hamster, now, as decided by myself and the boyo. She's a caramelly colour with eyes that seem more beady than most hamster's eyes for some reason. She runs incessantly, and chews all the right things, instead of going for her cage bars. Her favourite thing is running in her large pink hamster ball.
Creamy - the boyo's hamster, what he named himself. Loves her ferociously, and honestly, I don't think I've ever known a four-year old to be more conscientious and caring over the long term than this little dude has been for his little Creamy. She's a sweetie, having been hand-raised patiently. She's a bar-chewer and a ball-runner.
Bandit - my love's hamster. the sweetest little dude. he's just not normal. he seems downright insulted when you put him in a ball, and he likes to wrestle and play with cat toys. he's more comfortable in his owner's hands than anywhere. he seems smart, almost, which is strange in a hamster, really. anyway, he's definitely special for a hamster.
The Ducks In The Pool - Yeah. Apparently they're here every year. I have dubbed them Erold and Edith, because of the way they walk. Don't ask. Anyway, they're there doing their thing, so I figured I'd record that.

So that's the word. Talk to y'all later.

Update Number Two

2007-03-11T23:23:00.000-07:00

So Ratchet, the brown guy, has won himself over by virtue of a generally good disposition and two escapes. He is totally my hamster now. However, some doubt remains as to whether I'll really be keeping him. I'm really bonding with Tommy, the mommy hamster, and Evan's really in love with Creamy, the girl creamy baby he fought to keep. I also feel kind of bad for her, because those Crittertrail cages aren't really as big as they first appear, you know? But in any case, I'd be totally fine either way. But now onto the story of Ratchet's two escapes.

He was fighting with his creamy cagemate, Pinky, and so they needed to be separated. Pinky does most of the running, so I left him in the cage with the wheel and put Ratchet in a box. Love and I were headed to her place overnight, so we decided it would be best if the cage was off the ground, lest the housecat get into the room and into the box. So we balanced the box on top of the telly. Well, it fell. I got in that morning and it was spread out all over the bed with no Ratchet in sight. But he was easy to find. He must have just stayed where he fell, between the bed and the red chest on its side by the wall.
I had him out in the ball and he was having, well, a ball. I was talking to Love on the phone and noticed that he had stopped bashing into my chair. There was the ball, open by the door. He proved himself again. I got down on all fours and whispered "Ratchet!" and he popped his head out from under my bookshelf.

Now Pinky's in the box. He's been much more earnest in his escape attempts. He chewed through two layers of the cardboard in the corner, and he's discovered how to climb the side of the box. I'm a little concerned, as he's on his own tonight. Hmmm. We shall see. It hasn't happened yet, but the cardboard was looking a little thin and I was too stressed about my essay to do anything about it. Anywhooo, that's the update. Peace.

on various other species

2007-03-05T17:00:00.000-08:00

Jitterball - my first gerbil. he was splotchy black and white and he escaped exactly forty times. he moved from nova scotia to manitoba with me. at one point, he escaped in one of our hotels while we were out at dinner. he used to get terrible seizures and nosebleeds, but he lived to be four, which is a relatively ripe old age, especially with a move across most of canada.
Knorrig - my second gerbil. knorrig means "nibble" in german. he was a classy black gerbil with a white streak down his chin. he never escaped. he spent most of his life destroying cages and chewing bars and smelling like ammonia. in my childish stories that i made up about my animals, he served as a head general in saffron's army. he also got terrible seizures and nosebleeds, but i pretty much expected that after Jitterball. he lived to be three, and he was never really very pleasant.
Honey - a budgie we adopted from a neighbor after she apparently killed and ate her cagemate. she sang nicely and had an adorable tendency to throw things out of her cage and scream until you put them back. she was never really hand tamed and we ended up giving her away. i tried really hard to train her, but it never took. ah well.
Portia, Jeremy and Fred - three small goldfish who all died getting trapped in the same toy. stupid toy design. before that, they all had suffered a painful ailment called tail-rot, which necessitated seclusion in a jam jar with medicated water one after the other. after all that, i bought them a new toy to congratulate their health and vitality, and then they all got stuck trying to swing up the end of the boot. gosh darn it.
Aretha - a black rat with white paws, she was my best friend through most of high school. she was always small, but very sweet. i would open her cage door as i sat down to homework, and she would run all about my desk, down my leg and onto the floor, settling into my lap for a nap after about an hour on the loose. i even took her to school once in my hoodie pocket, and she was so well-behaved that my rat-phobic english teacher bought a rat for her son thereafter. i ended up putting her down when she was three because she had developed quite a painful-sounding wheeze. i thought maybe it was the more common rat lung ailment, but when i took her to the vet, he found a lump in her lung. poor sweet rattie girl.
Pigwidgeon - my brother's guinea pig and the sweetest thing in the world. he would breep for attention regularly, and we'd play with him in the backyard for hours. he lived four years and died of no discernable problem, which is strange, because they can often live for eight or nine years.
Madonna - i couldn't be completely without animals for long in residence, and i ended up getting a betta who had a strange habit of dancing to madonna songs that were often cranked while i wrote papers. hence the name. he died after two years, probably of old age.
Petey Quaife - named for the bassist in the kinks, Petey was a red-eyed saimese-coloured rat with a strange skin condition. i was very allergic to him, as a male rat, because of the oils in his skin. his cage was a bit of an adaptation, and it never suited him well. i'd let him swim in the bathtub and run around the apartment when my roommate wasn't in, but he wasn't ever very still, and unlike Aretha, never took to comfortable naps on my lap. he would have to hide wrapped around my neck or in my sleeve, and the itching would get too unbearable, so i'd have to put him back before long, poor bugger. the only thing that alleviated his skin condition was frequent bathing with dove soap. He, along with Winton, was given to a drug-using friend of mine to care for, a man who later attempted to rob five banks in Peterborough. Shortly before this, he set them free. I doubt Petey made it out there in the wide world, but for some reason I can imagine Winton surviving.
Winton - a hooded gray and white rat, Winton was ordered especially for me from the local pet store to keep Petey company. but he was always very aggressive with his potential buddy, so they never got to be close. he was skittish from the start, though his skin bugged me much less. when i let him out, he would simply try to get back into his cage, which never worked out because it was a fishtank and he couldn't jump. we never really bonded, he and i, because i bought him shortly before the birth of my cat, and once the cat was around, i was scared to let him out for any extended period of time - not because of the teeny kitten, but because of his mother, who was always very ferocious.
Blue Razumikhin - the cat-love of my life. he was born in my shower because the neighbour's brother was brewing crack in the washroom where the mother cat was staying. the kittens, for the most part, stayed with me until they found homes, and i bonded particularly with Raz because of his dog-like charm and pushiness. he was named blue because one of the nights when they were at the neighbour's place, they dyed him blue with food colouring to compliment their leafs game. razumikhin is a character in dostoevsky's crime and punishment who falls in love with protagonist's sister. he was always very friendly and clumsy and sweet, which suited his namesake's character as well. i moved to an apartment in october with him, where he had the run of the house and a window in the basement to go in and out of. but i spent almost every night at my girlfriend's house, and one day, he just disappeared. i still long to find him, but in know it's over even if i do, because he does NOT get along with lisa's cats, who are older and settled in their dynamic. nonetheless, he was my perfect cat. he had a purr like a tiger and this lazy elegance to him, but he'd fetch little bits of paper for you and follow you around the house like a puppy. god i miss him. i'll never stop missing him.

there are others whose stay with me was too short and/or painful to mention, and i have yet to address the various dogs in my life, but these are the ones who taught me something, in one way or another, whether it be merely basic cage repairs or how to dismantle plumbing to rescue them or how to let go.

So They're Here

2007-02-27T17:43:00.000-08:00

In a Crittertrail One cage with blue carefresh bedding. Two wee hamsters, Ratchet-poo and an unnamed creamy boy. They look like miniature full-grown hamsters now, and their awareness of their surroundings is making them in a bit of a skittish state. But they're sweet and cute and lovely, so there you go. Actually, I may just pester them currently, as they are awake and moving about. That's the update for now. Tata.

Welcome Ratchet-Poo, Bandit and Creamy!

2007-02-20T10:05:00.000-08:00

So we went back and forth and back and forth and back and forth for so long, and finally, we got realistic with ourselves. I am keeping one, the sweetest boy is keeping the momma and one baby, and the prettiest girl is keeping one. At one point, we were each considering keeping two, but that's just silly. So now, here they are. Ratchet-poo is mine, and henceforth the subject of this blog.

Ratchet-Poo

Bandit

Creamy

hamster history

2007-02-17T16:23:00.000-08:00

I got my first hamster when I was in grade one. Her name was Sarah, and she was pregnant. We didn't know that of course. She ate half her litter. Five survived and one was named E.T. after the movie. Yeah. He became the mascot of the third grade classroom at O'Kelly Public School.
My second hamster was Samantha. I got her when I was eleven. She escaped into the piano in the living room and we took the whole thing apart before we found her, somewhere between G and F#. Like many other female dwarf hamsters, she developed cysts on her hamster boobies. Very gross, but she was too cute for it to matter. She was my best friend for FOUR YEARS.
My third hamster, concurrently with Samantha, was Gabrielle, after Xena's hot sidekick. She was diabetic and pregnant. She died shortly after her litter was weaned. There were ten of them at the start, but three died. She was unmemorable because she was extremely unfriendly, but one of the babies, Jenny, was heartbreaking to give away.

My fourth hamster was Saffron. She got a sort of fake pregnancy, and died shortly thereafter of a horribly common hamster ailment, wet-tail, which is like diarrhea but way worse. I nursed her for weeks, until I saw she wasn't having fun anymore. The day I stopped nursing her was the night she died. I've never stopped wondering if she could've kept living. That's a lot of responsibility in eighth grade. While she was alive, she was a good friend. She'd sit in my hoodie pocket while I read for hours on end, never peeing, never getting squirmy.
While I had her, I had Paddington, a greyish teddy bear hamster we rescued from an unloving home. He was very very sweet, but his eyes kept sealing together. He escaped for three weeks once, and turned up FATTER than when he'd left. My brother's creamy teddy bear, Theodore, escaped around the same time, maybe hearing the food was good. But he came back sick from some poorly chosen ingestibles.

After Saffron, Aberforth. Aberforth was a very cool grey colour. He was always small, and when he was just a year old, his testicles got sucked back into his body because of a cancerous growth in his groin. Yeah. Poor bugger.

A year later, Sofi, another dwarf, also bought pregnant. I kept one of her twelve daughters, Magnoli, but she escaped once during a backyard play session and was never seen again. Sofi was the prettiest of hamsters, and like Samantha, developed cysts on her boobies. More experience and education meant that for two years, I drained these cysts with a syringe every month. Sadly, she died of wet-tail like Saffron.

I added it up, and I've had rodents for 3/5ths of my life. Hamsters make up eight years of that. I am not meant to exist without a small animal. It's just not meant to be.

Twelve days until Poo arrives!

a bevy of updates

2007-02-16T13:58:00.000-08:00

so the wee baby family grew and grew until, one day, three of the babies had names.
one, a grey/black hamster with lighter eye patches, was named Bandit.
another, pinky-creamy like Tom, was named Creamy.
and a third, still mysterious and unchosen, had the name Poo, though no one yet knew it. least of all the wee baby.
there remain a brown coloured hamster with a white belly, and two indistinct creamy ones who haven't made themselves likeable by nature of their activity.
the brown hamster, bandit and creamy are all bombing around the cage, climbing things and experimenting, playing with each other, sniffing things and being fondled by the prettiest girl and her beautiful boy. they will all be friendly, for sure.
Poo must be the most active of hamsters. s/he need not be distinctive in any other way other than his/her level of activity. that is the gadfli's only requirement for hamster companionship. and a lack of incestual pregnancy would be good too, but this ain't no rando pet store, so we can rest assured at that.

an introduction

2007-02-12T20:24:00.000-08:00

once upon a time, a very pretty girl got a very sweet hamster from a pet store for her very beautiful son. the beautiful son was playing a lot of Tom and Jerry on the ps2, hence, the very sweet hamster was named Tom. it didn't take long for the realization of Tom's apparent lack of testicles and apparent presence of nipples to set in. after that, it took even less time to notice a suspicious bulge around her midsection.
on january 31st, a litter of five wee hamsters was born, naked and pink. they grew so very fast, and homes had to be found pronto. the pretty girl decided she would take one, and for a time, the gadfli thought she would two. but upon reading up on hamster care and caging, and realizing that there is apparently a very real difference between syrian and dwarf hamsters, the gadfli got realistic with herself and decided to take one wee baby. she decided that, no matter what, this baby hamster's name was to be Poo. simple names work best for animals, in her experience - they always live the longest and fullest lives, and nothing weird happens to them. so Poo it was.
Poo has yet to be chosen from the litter of five, but when he/she gets here, he/she's going to be the most over-documented hamster around. this is because the gadfli AND the prettiest girl are OBSESSED with blogging and with hamsters, so what better way than to waste your rec time by recording for posterity the intimate lives and details of small fluffy rodents via blog?

so there you have it. the birth of Poo and her/his adventures in the grand world. please enjoy.