Right after an emotional week after Dora's spaying, it looks like a puppy has adopted us. Dora has reached a stately middle age and in a few years might think about retiring from aide-dog duties, or at least slowing down. It takes a good three years to train one up, and we've known the clock has started ticking.
It's a rare litter that at seven weeks has that one real velcro-puppy. Out of those velcro-puppies, only some will use their eyes and not their whole heads to look at you when you engage them. Out of those, only some will actually pay attention when you speak to them and make baby-sign. Out of those, only some will begin to work out and grok that baby-sign has meaning.
That's a tiny-tiny fraction of all the puppies in the world that have the
potential to make the cut to aide-dog. That's just how hard it is to find a possible replacement for what Dora does against the day she decides to slow down or fully retire. In our life as a couple, these 13 years, we've managed by luck alone to be blessed with two such: Sadie, now across the Rainbow Bridge; and Dora who just turned seven on our anniversary, this past February 12th. Now, we seem to be blessed again with such another rare creature.
I would sincerely have doubted it, given this one's parentage. I know the sire and dam; one is a box of rocks and the other is a mud fence, to put it kindly. When this accidental litter came along, I was dead-set against accepting ANY of the product from my neighbors, love them and animals as I do. But this little one (through serendipity or design of Laughing G'ds) chose me, finding ways to wriggle out of her pen to escape her box-of-rocks mom and box-of-rocks siblings and find my door when none of the others could think their way out of a wet paper bag.
Though up until now, she has been raised outdoors with her mom, she is clean; insisting to go to the door when she has to go potty (at seven weeks! without coaxing!). She understands every basic thing I'd want a sharp puppy to understand (yes, no, good girl, give-it, signs for follow and hungry) in just one night. There's light in her eyes that none of her siblings possesses and she
watches her older counterparts in the house. You only have to show her something once and she's got it.
It's never to early to begin training. I use all-positive, zero-aversive methods, encouraging each one to bloom, to stretch, to think independently. An aide-dog -- if she's going to be one -- has to have that ability; to generalize, to do the best she can in a moment, because aide-dogs have to be in a lot of public situations where she might not be completely familiar with her surroundings. Again, it's the rare puppy who exhibits signs that it
might can grow in that direction.
Tiniest girl doesn't have a name yet. We weren't actively planning to have a new puppy, but we were making room against "some day". In our situation, we don't choose the puppy so much as the rare opportunity arises and we have to accept it, be ready for the mountainous task of shaping her life and reshaping our lives around a new individual in the family. The household dynamics change, just like any family's does when a baby arrives.
Ashley-Marie and Callie have been amazing. Callie's maremma instincts have kicked in strong, and she is very protective. Ashley-Marie is very watchful and lets me know if baby squeaks to go out or for hungry and I don't hear her or react immediately. Dora is still evaluating, but I see her packaging information to hand out as she will see fit. She has been reassured she's still Queen Bee and she's now cool with the idea. (Dora has always been exceptional on the up-take.)
Here's a picture of little Miss Precocious. We're still beating our brains for names that don't sound like a command and don't sound like one of the other girls' names. Something girly but not foofy (little girl is definitely feminine, but not a wilting flower); something different, but not weird... lordy, I don't know. But it'll come to us.
And PS: I'm drunk as hell on puppybreath!