Break in the rain yesterday afternoon, and on a whim decided to take Pika for a walk, and why is it do you imagine, when wearing barefeet in rubber boots, jacket thrown on, with the ragged eaten away BamBam jammie shirt she destroyed peeking out, like I’m wearing the skin of some wild cat underneath, hair wrapped up on my head, that’s when ya run into the neigbhour? As I’d decided on the spur of the moment, that what the heck, and THAT’s when the world decides to come outside and view my shambled self dressed like a vagabond with a bat eared, bow-legged ninja weasel on a leash?
So, there we were chatting, she met Pika for the first time, we hadn’t seen each other since the summer, and related the news of Irish passing, and my new canine companion in my arms.
One thing she said struck me, she commented on how attached Pika is to me, how she looks to me for approval, I’m her human, and it shows. Shy and reserved, she looks to me for guidance, which is a rather daunting thought, sometimes.
We are kindred souls, her and I.
Did you know, Chihuahuas make this mewy noise? Both Pika and her sister Rosie make it, a almost cooing. Unique, I’ve never heard a dog make this kind of sound before.
What does Pikachu mean?According to series producer Satoshi Tajiri, the idea of the name came from a mouselike animal called pika and then derived from a combination of two Japanese sounds: pika, a sound an electric spark makes, and chu, a sound a mouse makes. [Wikipedia]
Although, I honestly didn’t know that when I named her Pika, it just came to me the day before, like kismet.
Anywho, now one of the challenges I’ve found with a puppy, or a kitten, a baby anything really, is to remember that whatever behaviour, energy level of an attack hummingbird on crack sort of Chihuahua energy, or otherwise, this too shall pass.
I find myself saying that to myself, like a mantra. And, once again she goes into attack ferocious puppy mode, putting more holes in my cloths.
I’ve taken to completely re-thinking my hang-around-the-house attire, with her concerted determination to seek and destroy, this hell-bent for leather burst of raw energy overwhelms her puppy brain.
Then, eventually, with as much patience as I can gather, in time she calms to a trot, like this wave of madness evaporates, and she merrily again entertains herself without having to make me a part of her puppy dog games.
So now and again I get glimpses, of whom she may be as an adult, and I concentrate on that, learning how to curb this chaotic tenacity, generally using positive reinforcement, praising her when she does something good, ignore her when she does something bad.
Well, aside from the attacking my pant leg, which is rather difficult to ignore, nipping the backs of my knees, the sensitive parts, the fleshy parts, as I whelp in pain. Look at her puppy dog eyes staring back at me, locked in this grip of madness, then gone, POOF!
I use bones with peanut butter, grab stink off the floor and give it a squeeze, and with her focused attention, swing it strategically, getting her to concentrate, she takes a couple steps towards it, and OFF it sails in the air over her head, and she goes racing off to catch it, skidding across the vinyl floor.
Bits and pieces of this box she was determined to destroy last night lay scattered about, her Pikacho toy on the settee now, stink lays forgotten on the floor, and she’s curled by my side as I write these words.
Last night after she’d finished her destruction of the cardboard box, after she had exhausted her focused intent of destroying my right pant leg, after that, there she was sprawled out on my lap with complete faith, exposed and vulnerable, she knew I would protect her wee self, and that is a beautiful thing.
This style of training I suppose can be described as more guidance than concrete training, more than just sit, stay, fetch, because quite frankly she is one of the most stubborn dogs I have ever encountered, and as such I have to appeal to her positively, calmly guide her in other directions for her own well-being.
Well, when she is not friggen LITERALLY biting my damn ankles.
This too shall pass, this too shall pass.
I have flashes, beyond the snarling and vicious growly focused high octane, I see her passionate nature, and it is this that I love, yet not in THIS manifestation.
We have a ways to go yet.
Watching her wee self bouncing down the wet sidewalk yesterday on our walk round the block, her confidence and sense of self is absolutely adorable, and every single day she makes me smile, laugh, and she is good for the soul, takes my mind away from all the chaos emanating from the land of my birth down yonder.
Sure, I follow the news, read the views, but turn away at her rolling around on the settee across from me, playing with her now filthy Pikacho toy, perfectly absorbed, and so I am pulled away from the fray.
And that, maybe the very spark of inspiration, to be pulled away from whatever has your focused attention, to see something differently, as we draw back from something we were too close to, lost our way.
That is soothing.