Tabasco

At the end of my last post, I mentioned the sad passing of Sass, our lovely and hilarious and ultra-smart Australian Shepherd, last November. And I tempered that fact with a teaser about a new family member. This time, I have the happy task of introducing you to the newest member of our homestead family, another Aussie who came to live with us a couple of days into the new year.

Meet Tabasco.

This was taken the day after we fetched her home. At this point, she was ten weeks old. I just love her magnificent white shirtfront in all its feathery glory. As she’s grown, it’s diminished in proportion to the rest of her. 

We had an anxious time, that first week, because the day after this was taken, Tabby got sick. Really sick, so sick that we (and the vet) thought there was a good chance that we would lose her. We have no idea what the cause was, but she became very nauseated, didn’t want to eat, vomited over and over, and was losing weight and obviously feeling awful. Our fear, and the vet’s, was parvovirus (we have the kind of vet you can call on a Saturday morning at home for advice, bless her). But we got Tabby into the clinic first thing after the weekend, and a quick blood test (amazing technology) ruled out parvo in 15 minutes. We can only assume that during one of the brief times when we took our eyes off her she ate something that disagreed with her. The vet gave Tabs an anti-nauseant injection, suggested we invest in some Pedialyte (electrolyte solution often used for babies with the same symptoms), and hope for the best. A day later, we were beginning to believe we’d saved her, and by the end of the week she was pretty much back to her bouncy puppy self. But it was a worry, as you can imagine.

The next consideration was introducing her to Django, who had been missing Sass but was not at all prepared for a new puppy in his world. Here’s a moment of relative calm, one of the first moments together.

Did Django take to her? Right, like a cat takes to water. For the first two months, he pretty much abandoned the house, refusing to come inside even to sleep on cold nights. (Good thing he has a cozy doghouse on the porch.) Tabby was in his face constantly, jumping on him, chewing on him, trying to get him to play. We figure that Django is something like ten years old now, and has achieved a level of dignity that was affronted by this new riot in the house. As dh kept saying, it’s a good thing that adult dogs are inherently programmed not to harm puppies because she tested the very limits of his endurance. There was a lot of barking, snarling, growling, teeth-baring, and quick exits from the house, but not even a nip from Django. He did his very best.

Things gradually improved. Here’s a rare moment of calm as my dear husband tries to dole out attention equally while sitting on the front step of my studio in the winter sun. Tabasco is actually sitting quietly as dh’s attention is turned to scratching Django’s head.

It all blew up again a second later, but it was a start.

It didn’t take long for dh to teach Tabasco that the horses are strictly off-limits. Look at the different in size between horses and puppy. I love this shot; note that all four paws are off the ground.

As for Winston, things were even more harrowing for him than for Django, poor old cat. He’s seventeen this spring, and really ought not to have had to tolerate a puppy in his great old age. Tabasco fell deeply and instantly in love with Winston from the very start (we think she thought he was another puppy, being about her size). After being knocked over several times and having his ears chewed on a lot, Winston took refuge on my armchair, where he stayed for the next three months, getting down only to eat and to answer nature’s call. I got really good at balancing my lunch and a book over his sleeping form on my lap. 

I don’t remember what’s happening in this photo but rest assured that the ski boot wasn’t involved. I wouldn't have allowed that.

After a while, though, Winston gathered some courage or some bluster and took up his old habit of dominating the dog bed at times. Tabby saw this as an open invitation to join him.

Here’s an early attempt that ended in failure. Tabby has just settled, and Winston is gathering himself to stalk away.

But Tabasco kept trying. Below, she’s just crept, one paw at a time, into the dog bed, pretending Winston wasn’t there, and is turning to see what the cat’s reaction will be.

A little juggling for position ensued. Then, success!

Here’s a different occasion, in which Tabby crept in from the right, again one paw at a time, until she could stretch out behind Winston. Another win! Though it looks as though Winston is about to bail out. That’s a pretty cross face.

Grandchildren are also excellent companions. Our grandson, eight years old, is dwarfed by Tabasco looming over him. It’s a strange optical illusion, because she’s still pretty much a puppy in this photo and he’s a regular-sized eight year old.

In the absence of grandchildren, Django, or Winston, Tabby has a range of toys to amuse herself with. Not the store-bought kind (or only two, one of which is awol and the other completely trashed by overuse), but the homesteading kind. She has a collection of four holey old lumberjack socks and three or four ancient leather work gloves. She likes to know where her treasures are. Notice the splinters of wood on the floor; kindling is another good toy, so satisfying to chew.

She does play with these items by herself, but really prefers me or dh on the other end tugging. Below, she looks alarmingly pug-like, with her eyes bugging out with excitement.

We didn’t really want Tabby to develop into a champion fetcher, because Sass became obsessed with fetching, but Tabs appears to have taught herself how to do it. Retrieval in process below. Again, wild eyes. These are the occasions that lead me to say, “bad craziness.” This is not a quiet game. And it’s a small house. Imagine what it sounded like, the few times she had a squashed empty gallon plastic milk jug to play with.

And my goodness, what a little thief she’s been! Socks and gloves, in particular, take some hunting for if we’ve made the mistake of putting them down anywhere she can reach them. Boots, slippers, and shoes are close seconds. Dh’s crocs, in particular, are a favourite and it’s amazing how much abuse they can stand. Dh uses his crocs as slippers and also wears them outdoors, even in the snow, so they are often somewhere Tabby can find them. Dh’s feet are somewhat huge, so the crocs are too, and Tabby constantly smacks herself in the face with them as she tries to shake the life out of them. Not that that stops her.

But her saving grace is that she rarely chews anything to pieces. The one time she did was pretty expensive and could have been dangerous. I inadvertently let the “toothbrush” end of the power cord to my Macbook dangle off the kitchen table and that was the end of that cord. $100 and a trip to Vancouver later (to see my Mum, but a replacement was no closer than two hours away in Kelowna or Penticton), we were thankful that the transformer for the cord is right at the plug end and thus unreachable for a dog. Otherwise we might have had a bad electrocution event on our hands. Puppies require a lot of vigilance. I think we’re still tired from the first two months of having her with us.

But oh, what a joy she is. And just look at what she’s grown into! Dh took these portraits a couple of weeks ago.

There, isn’t that something to brighten your day? She brightens all of our days (well, the humans’ days, anyway).