Yesterday, I talked about some of the differences between Ray and Jubes, ending with Julius’ freedom run from his former home (Smokey’s home) into my heart. 

Some of the similarities of the two are that they are both Mama’s boys (ass attachments, my husband calls them, though I think entourage has a nice ring to it), though they both love all of our family members to pieces.  They are both great with the baby, with Ray having a gentler mouth and Julius being smaller, so when he bumps into her, usually the impact is slightly less dramatic.  Ray is very guttural when communicating but rarely barks.  Julius is never guttural but barks quite a bit.  We’re working on that barking thing but it’s a slow process.

Both boys are chipped and I’m sure that if Ray ever found himself outside the gate, he would take full advantage and snoop out all of the tasty parts of the neighborhood.  Julius showed us that while he might not be an Einstein, he has his street smarts and he’s not afraid to use them.

Julius may not be housebroken, but he came to our home old enough to have been crate trained for whatever reason.  After the first few nights in the smaller of our two crates with absolutely no incidents, I moved him into the extra large crate.  That gave him more leg room for the days we were all at work and still he maintained a clean, dry crate.  Housebreaking is a slightly different matter.  He knows what “outside to go potty” means, but he doesn’t go to the door to ask like Ray does.  By keeping a watchful eye, we’ve kept accidents to a very minuscule number.

One such accident did occur this week when our Directv guy was installing some equipment.  I was at work and received a text from Asia.  “Kevin just let Juli out and forgot the gate was open and all of a sudden Juli is at the front door looking in, lol.”

I immediately saw red, but knew there would be no ‘lol’ if the matter was serious.  Apparently, Juli started to potty on the floor, so Kevin let him out, the gate was open because of the Directv guy and Juli ran from the back yard to the front door!  Kevin’s first thought was that dog at the front door looks just like Julius!

So, my anthropomorphic conjecture is that Smokey ran from his home seeking a better life as Julius.  Julius knows when things are good and has no desire to wander farther than his own front porch.

I try to be very mindful when talking about Julius to not let too much conjecture creep into my vocabulary. It just seems too self-congratulatory and judgmental. I know where he lived before coming home with me and that he “wasn’t housebroken,” his left ear was a raw, open-scabby area where flies had been biting him, his hair was thin, spotty and a dull grayish-black. Julius is lanky and lean where Ray has always been stocky, but at his initial vet visit, was found to not be too lean. Conjecture: outside only dog.

Julius is highly food motivated where Ray is only highly treat motivated. Ray has never wolfed down a meal but will do nearly anything for a treat of any kind while Ju-bers wolfs down meals and treats of all kinds though so far the only vegetable that he will eat is a carrot. Conjecture: Ray has never missed a meal in his life and has never had to wonder when or where the next meal is coming. Julius may not have had the same feeding schedule and has certainly not enjoyed a variety of good healthy foods.

GoRay knows a variety of “commands” and he learns at a scary-fast rate but Julius …doesn’t seem to learn as quickly nor is he as manipulative as Ray. There is no fancy “leave it,” “drop it,” or “wait” (yet) in Julius’ vocabulary, but we’ve been working on “down” for about 2 weeks now. One thing Julius does know is “no.” He’s also afraid of the fly swatter, which in our home is used only to swat flies. Conjecture: I shudder.

All of the above conjecture though, is normal, in a way. I’m human and we tend to make guesses about things. Tomorrow marks four weeks since I brought Julius home. In that time, his ear is completely healed and nearly all of the hair has grown back in. Though he is still lanky, he has filled out to nearly 43 pounds from the 36 pounds he weighed at his neuter. His coat is silky and shiny and all of the thin spots are filling in nicely. He knows that “who wants one?” while not a “command” is answered by a butt-on-the-ground sit to indicate “I do.”

Because I’m human and need to anthropomorphize, I imagine that when Julius ran out of his yard that day, he was running to a better future, which is why what happened yesterday is funny, though only in hindsight. Tune in tomorrow to find out what it was.

This weekend was another busy one in the Peaceabull household.  Julius needed his puppy booster, so he and I went up to his vet for that and visited a few friends in Fort Wayne.  Poor Julius is not a good rider still and has upheld his record of not holding his food down well during a car ride.  I think maybe we’ve had two mess free rides, the first one being his freedom ride with me.  We were gone about two hours and luckily I have learned that, though I have a  cover for the dogs in the back seat, I now double cover for Julius.

Ray, meanwhile, waited patiently at home for his turn to have an adventure. This past week was Pet Appreciation Week at Tractor Supply Company and this year we actually had an opportunity to go.  Since this store allows dogs and is nearby, Ray and I had been going there quite a bit, especially last fall but had missed the appreciation day last week. 

In addition to the dogs a rescue had brought, there were some longhorn cows (cattle?) one of whom moooed at Ray and stopped him in his tracks.  I imagined him issuing some sort of challenge related to Ray’s bully stick addiction, which made me chuckle.  I have to admit, though, on the way to the store, I second guessed myself.  Why was I taking socially inept Ray to a place that I knew would have various dogs and cattle as well as other customers with their dogs.  It’s a fairly small store, so there was little chance for avoidance.  I decided we’d drive over and check it out from the car to determine the level of chaos before venturing in. 

All seemed to be going well, so we entered, selected a few items for purchase, collected our swag bag of gifts and proceeded to check out where two smallish dogs came up to greet Ray and Ray…greeted them back appropriately!  I think Ray has really gained a great deal of, well, everything in the social skills department thanks to his little brother.  I couldn’t have been prouder.

I’ve known or at least suspected for quite a while that Ray really just needed a playmate who could play appropriately with him and handle his size.  He had a bit of that with Glamour (now named Kya) but her time with us was short before moving on to her perfect forever family.  Julius is still young and easy going but strong and fast enough to handle Ray (with Mom always overseeing the shenanegans.) 

So, actually, nothing Earth shattering, but still a great way to spend a Saturday, though being proud of my boys is a daily thing, not just a weekend thing. 

I don’t remember life before Samantha.  I guess technically, she was my uncle’s dog because he got her when he was in high school, but I was just a year old when she came to live with my grandparents.  To me, there was no life before Samantha. 

Childhood
We grew up together and I always was stymied as to what breed of dog she was.  I used to pour over pictures in my Grandma’s encyclopedia of dog breeds looking for one that might be a match.  Was she a lab?  No, she was too short.  A beagle?  No she was black.  On and on we went.  Mutt was the best we could ever come up with or Heinz 57 if you’re feeling fancy.  She was black with a white blaze on her deep chest and she had ears that were not droopy but flopped over themselves (rose, they call it) a squarish head and short coarse hair.  Her long tapered tail always wagged in my presence.
Recently and out of the blue, I texted my sister:  “I think Samantha was a little staffie mix.”
“Who’s Samantha…oh our Samantha!  Makes sense.” 
“Yes,” I replied. 
“Kind of throws things into perspective,” was her reply.

Girl’s Best Friend
She was the kind of dog who played dress up with me and adored wearing  pretty necklaces.  In fact, if I put a necklace on her she would get upset if my grandparents would try to remove it.  Samantha loved me that much and wanted to wear anything that made me happy, because of course, I made over her and her prettiness.  I can only imagine how many tutus she would own if she were alive today.   She never wandered off although she was never leashed, chipped or tagged other than her rabies tag.  In fact, I don’t ever remember anyone ever correcting her.  In my memory, Samantha was perfect in just being her.

Oh, Samantha!
I can still hear her excited yowling whenever I came to visit.  “Ohhh, Samantha!  Myyyy  Samantha!” I would say over and over and she would whoop and holler back, so excited to see me.  Back in the day, we didn’t worry about things like super excited greetings, separation anxiety or other behavioralisssues.  She was always super excited to see me and I was always happy to feed the fire.

The Teen Years
Like a ]typical teen, I started coming less frequently and tried to avoid getting her “Samantha hair” on my clothes.  Visiting my grandparents and my adoring Samantha was becoming more of an obligation than a privilage.  How many of us would give an arm to spend more time…and hour, ten minutes…sixty seconds with a loved one who is gone. Eventually, the day came that I was visiting the grandparents and after having been there for awhile, I finally asked if Samantha was outside. 

No, she wasn’t.

Gone
My grandparents had a cottage in Michigan.  Like Samantha, there was never a life for me without the cottage.  We went every summer and it was as much a part of my life as my toothbrush.  We’d pick Grandpa up at work and he would drive to the toll booth and pull up a little further so I could get the ticket.  We’d stop in the same town at the same deli for cheese and in the same town we’d roll up the the windows because for whatever reason, the smells of that town made Samantha want to run and catch the feeling.  While they were in Michigan at their summer cottage, the place we all loved going, Samantha died/  The dog that never ran away or awry grew old, slow, hard of hearing and weak of sight, was hit by a car and was buried in a place that she loved. 

The Bridge
Sometimes when I see the cartoon above, I think about Samantha.  I wonder if she waited for me, if she waits for me still or if she went on with my grandparents  when they arrived.  What do I hope for?  Is she waiting still?  How many years did I spend wrapped up in my own life while she “waited at the bridge?”  I’ve held this  post for so long, because I know I’ll never be able to do her justice.  I just don’t have the right words to bust past the lump in my chest.

My Samantha
I’ve always had a soft spot for black dogs and upon reflection, it makes sense.  Like a parent, she was always there to support and love me.  She was so there, that I didn’t realize how much until it was way too late.  I guess back in the day, people didn’t just take pictures of their dogs like we do today and the ones I posted yesterday pretty much show that her presence is kind of random in the snapshots.  Her presence in my heart, however is neither random nor insignificant.  She became the unspoken standard of a great dog.  Was she  part Staffie or a Pit Bull mix?  I don’t know, but I prefer to believe so.  Is the “Nanny Dog” a myth?  No.  Samantha was my nanny dog and you can bet that whether she was a beagle, a lab, a Pit mix or a billy goat, she would protect me and watch over me at all costs.

Somewhere there is a picture of the two of us sitting in a box as babies together.  I really need to find it and make sure it is kept safe but if it turns out that it really is gone, at least I have a copy in my mind’s eye. 

Oh, Samantha!  A better dog never lived.

Every so often this cartoon makes it’s rounds on Facebook and each time it appears, it never ceases to choke me up.

Charles Barsotti

While we had a variety of dogs when I was growing up, there is one that will always be my “childhood dog.”

Pop in tomorrow to read about her.

There are times when I just shake my head and wonder why I thought having two rowdy boys would be a good idea. I would liken them to loud little boys, but my nephews who are 8ish and 5ish were visiting over the weekend and were perfect angels. My boys, though, can rough-house with the best of them. Fortunately, they also embrace the joys of couch potato-ness and are becoming able to share not only Mommy, but the sofa as well.

After much jockying and posturing we have finally figured out our cozy spots and are settling in, which is great since for the last two days a certain new puppy has been waking up at 4:00 a.m.

Wow, what a busy couple of weeks. Smack dab in the middle of our transition to a two dog household, Kevin’s dad passed away. That actually gave all of us more time at home and helped ease in the dog transitions, I believe.

If you follow us on Facebook or Instagram, you have seen by now what a great pair we have here. My fears with Ray were that he always was so large and “in your face” when trying to initiate play, that he would crush another dog in his enthusiasm. Also, once he gets wound up, it is harder to calm him down, though we work on it a lot.

Julius is so good natured and sweet that he has really helped Ray become the great big brother that he is today. Julius steals toys and chews on Ray’s neck and head while Ray is much more tolerant than I ever thought he could be.

Our two dog world isn’t without challenges, though. When they play together I constantly watch them. Ray is very vocal when he plays which sounds like growling. He has always been that way, so the only way to tell when he’s “had enough” is a nose wrinkle that goes along witht the sound. When I see that, I break up the play for a few mintues while everyone gets water or rests. This has generally worked out really well.

Over the weekend, we celebrated our Granddaughter’s birthday with a pool party, tasty food and of course cake. Since we are still settling things with Kevin’s dad’s passing, we opted to let Ray sit out the party at the apartment and let Julius attend the party. It actually turned out that my sister got a touch of food poisoning the night before, so she and Ray chilled out with a long nap and each other’s company.

Julius captured hearts left and right with his calm, sweet demeanor and even had my dad asking if he could have the Ju-Ju Bean. Ray and my sister came back towards the end of the party and got to enjoy a bit of poolside fun and sunshine after all. One thing is very apparent fromt the number of people coming and going in and out of the house and gate; my pit bulls are not good guard dogs, everyone is a friend and all are welcome.

Thanks for hanging in with us, I promise better updates with pics soon.

In the summer of 2011 we put our house up for sale and ended up having it on the market for just under a year.  Nearly every summer, I’ve expressed my desire for an in ground pool and we figured that it would be easier and more cost effective to find a house with a pool already done.  Our home sale was a nightmare of epic proportions so we took it off the market and installed a pool. 

After not even an entire year with our wonderful pool, we have again put our house on the market.  With the pool, we have limited space for Ray to run and very little space for a foster.  Priorities, right?   Naturally with a pool we’ve had a lot of showings in just a week and one of them, I discovered was for the day after I first met the puppy.  Knowing the kind of stress we have, especially my foster-resistant husband, on the eve of a showing, E and I formulated a plan; I would pick up Puppy on my lunch hour and E would puppy sit until I get off work. 

The best laid plans crashed when I lost the scrap of paper with the address, and I ended up driving up and down the street a few times searching.   It ended up not being  the same one I was near when I found Puppy.  I narrowed had it down with the help of my memory and the recognition of the car from the previous day.  It was parked in the drive, so I began ringing the doorbell, pounding knocking on the door and “helloooo”-ing at open windows.  I saw a dog chained in the backyard.  She lay there without making a peep, but I saw nary a sign of Puppy.  I texted E with my findings and went back to work vowing to return  at five. 

At five, the same car was in the drive and after the same knocking and shouting, I just stood near the back gate and  shouted G’s name over and over until a young man appeared.  I asked if they still had the puppy and if they were still willing to turn him over to me.  “Smokey” was wearing the collar that I had gotten from the shelter and though I was told the previous day that he already had a rabies tag at home, my tag was on the collar. 

He was obviously confused by being handed over, but in the truck he settled with a dehydrated duck foot and rode off to a new future.  What that future held for him was still a bit murky about the details.  He definitely needed a bath, some TLC, a microchip and a neuter, so in that order we set out to check off the list.  I had gotten my sister’s agreement to foster if necessary and her rescue could arrange adoption if we needed to go that route, so I felt pretty good that no matter what, he would be taken care of. 

Kevin spent most of the day that I was to pick up “Smokey” on the phone trying to find an adopter. Because of the upheaval in our lives right now and because of the mystery of the pup’s past, Kevin wasn’t sold. Until they met. I had lined up a foster (with my incredible sister) and gotten a Rescue committment, if necessary, but waited to see what Kevin’s reaction would be.

I had been considering the name Marcellus (he’s black, he’s bald…) but this lanky little guy was not up to carrying that name so after we bandied about a few possibilities, we chose the one that was nearly Ray’s name. Julius.

Julius was understandably timid the first day or two. We knew he was not housebroken so opted to crate him in the smaller of our two crates. This is the one Ray used for his first six or seven months and was the perfect size for Julius. He seemed grateful for the safe spot and took to it right away. Because the weather has been cooler, and we had to keep the boys separated at first, we put the crate in the garage so that he would be close to the family room and us.

The first night went extremely well with a dry and clean crate, the successive nights followed suit and we’ve kept the crated door open during the day and have been rewarded with a clean and dry garage. We’ve also had successful visits in the house. With these early visits, I anticipate a little bit of counter surfing, but he is so easily corrected so far.

Surprisingly, or maybe not, I’d say that I was the hardest sell. Adopting Julius would put an end to my fostering plans, at least for the forseeable future and if we could be assured of him going to a great home, I would be all for it. The other tough sell would be Ray himself. Back when we came so close to adopting or at least fostering King, I shared a reservation that I had in a conversation with Jessica, our shelter Director. My fear was that with King being so awesome, that Ray may suffer by comparison and Julius appears to be no different.

Ray is a work in progress, he’s challenging, frustrating and awesome. He is my baby, my puppy and my heart dog and nothing will ever change that. Julius is great and I love him. He has the makings of a great ambassadog and will probably be the one taken out to many of the outings Ray previously attended. Ray will still shop in his favorite stores and we will never stop with his training.
I can’t even begin to count how many hearts Julius has collected in just  a few days.  He’s absolutely adorable and beyond sweet. 

So, is he a Foster or a Lockhart?