On a whim, we introduced Pyper to a nearby veterinerian. Each checked the other out, and found himself pleased. Pyper was in good health, checked in at a weight of 71 lb. However, our teeth cleaning efforts were apparently insufficient. It is likely that we had started too late. Pyper was on the verge of gum infection and needed treatment. Dental treatment for dogs usually means general anesthesia and a day's hospital stay, and this was Pyper's lot too.
It was the first time Pyper spent a whole day away from us. He accepted his foodless and waterless night before, and apparently was a champ at the vet. I did not fare so well. All day, I couldn't get the darned dog out of my head. The next morning, we picked up Pyper. (Why do some vets insist on decorating the returned pets with bandennas or bow-ties?) The anasthesia had not worn off completely yet, so Pyper fumbled around for a few hours. His teeth looked better, maybe even worth the 24-hour separation.
Due to Juimiin's generosity, Pyper is now allowed to visit his masters on the imperial bed. Because he needs help to climb up the 60cm height, he usually needs help. Two paws appear, then a nose, then a scratching sound as the dog attempts to push himself up. It rarely works, so I or Juimiin get up for the moment, lift up the dog's big butt onto the bed. Rapture! But there is a catch: the moment he is up, Pyper seizes the most comfy place, and stretches way out. Unless the lifting assistant rushes back to claim spot previously possessed, the dog will stay there, and of course be just cute enough to prevent retaliation and eviction. Strangely, Pyper is very eager to climb up onto the bed, but he very rarely stays for more than a few minutes.
There is much contradictory information about what is best to feed to a pet dog. Some say that a dog should stay on a pure kibble diet, some make awesome meals for their dogs by hand, some mix the two. Each approach is described as "the best". With such cacophony of opinion, of course we do our own thing. Pyper eats mostly a "lamb & rice" packaged kibble. When we cook something good for ourselves, he usually gets small bits. He loves bread and yogurt and big long carrots, and is grateful for any other smelly food. Our policy is simply this: share with the dog small fragments of our food, unless it is spicy or weird, or if the dog had previously gotten sick from it. I hope he will share his just as good-naturedly: his "Jerky Treat" collection smells wonderful to my nose. If only I was unable to read the scary ingredients list.
His love of yogurt deserves another note. You should be familiar with the geometry of a collie nose. It's as long as a head of corn, and features a tongue that is rather exaggerated in length. When we give him yogurt in a small cup, he works feverishly until it's all gone (about five seconds). Then he comes back to see what else we are eating or giving him. (He does not beg though - he stays at a good distance, and is not offended if we eat all our own food.) But the yogurt does leave a permanent mark. At the top of his nose, there is invariably a small dab of the stuff! His tongue can't reach it (he tries), so it remains with us to wipe off the slimy mark.
Even at those lonely times when two people are not available, it is still necessary to wash Pyper sometimes. Still it is not warm enough yet, this means taking a dip in the jacuzzi bathtub upstairs. This device has a high side wall, presumably designed to make it impossible for a tantrum child to escape, and consequently Pyper cannot just jump in and out. With two people, the situation is managable: one person lifts Pyper's front two paws, the other lifts the dog's butt. Well, with just one person, the challenge of the task may be clear: one set of arms too few! Rather than invest in genetic engineering research, or anti-amputation surgery, I figured out a way of transporting dog between the inside and the outside of the big tub. Standing to one side of the dog, one arm reaches from behind the left front leg over to the right front leg, grasping the latter well. In the mean time, the other arm reaches over the dog, and back under the butt, to grasp the near rear leg. Lifting these places together appears to do the job: neither human nor dog is hurt, though I suspect dog is humbled by his sudden repositioning.
Pyper is such a regular at Cygnus now, that mentioning it is almost
unnecessary. Sure, he's a charmer. Sure, he is well behaved. Here
is a picture of him on guard duty. During his employment contract, he
negotiated capably for the pillow and some other perks. I want his
agent.
When Pyper sleeps, like most higher animals, he dreams. When he dreams about exciting chases and jumps, his limbs wiggle and he makes light whiny sounds. When he does not dream, he just lies there. He is usually a very light sleeper, so on a strange noise, his head pops up, and is ready for investigating. Other times, he sleeps right through people walking all around him. One time, while in an inter-dream quiet sleep time, I saw the single funny moment that this has been leading up to: his tummy rumbled. (This rarely happens. It is more usual for him to walk around, and let gases out of his tummy by burping into the face of a loved one.) In response to his tummy rumbling, the dog did not wake up, no. But his ear twitched, to track the noise. He could not bother power up his brain completely, but his ear autopilot was fully energized.
Every weekend or so, we take Pyper down to the Beaches area: Ashbridge's Bay Park. During winter, many people walk their dogs there on the weekend, almost all of them leash-free. So the dogs have a hey-day, running through the snow and ice. After several fun visits, bad luck struck. As we were heading homeward one day, Pyper ran through an unusually sharp bunch of ice. I noticed nothing wrong until another dog started licking at Pyper's paw. It was pink with blood. We drove home quickly, and took a close look at the injury. Pyper had managed to split open his dew claw (the little backward toe above and behind his foot).
We tried to sterlize it with hydrogen peroxide, and bandaged up that part of the leg. Some of the bandages held well for a few hours, but Pyper tried to lick at the area, so eventually they all fell off. For the next few days, I covered up Pyper's wound only during our walks outside, which I made much less physically demanding than usual. After about a week, the wound dried up and new skin formed. After two weeks, we could actually see clearly what happened: one whole side of skin had separated. By now, it was just hanging on, desiccated. His desire for activity didn't decline through the whole affair.
Pyper weighs around 70lb, but he does not know it. Every couple of days, if his morning walk takes too long to materialize, he does his "berserk puppy" routine. A part of this routine is picking up some object, then running around the house, up to and away from people, as fast as his rippling muscles can carry him. It looks a little dangerous, for in this mode, he does tend to knock into thins. Surprisingly, he can be made to calm down with very little effort: just an order to sit, and some "ssh" sounds.
Another puppy behavior is quite endearing. When he's half way between awake and sleepy, he likes to be be physically near his subjects. He often climbs up to share seating space. When we sit on the ground, he want so to sit beside, or even better, on us! He maneuvers his body so he is standing ahead of us, facing away, then suddenly his bum drops into the victim's lap. If he misses the first time, he moves his butt around until it's nicely centered on top of the person's legs, then often lets his front legs go too. Sometimes, he's so clumsy that I reach around him, and put him into the sweet spot. When he's finally where he wants to be, with a slave mattress, Pyper tends to give a little satisfied "huff", and tries to have a nap.