Brutus and Rocky in ‘snow’ incident!

Posted on March 22, 2013 by Samantha Rose

I don’t quite know what happened last night, I can only relay what I heard the dogs talking about but the evidence was clear for all to see.

The boys had a fine old time in the garden urinating on one another, sniffing each others bottoms, I heard sounds of growling and found Rocky on his back and Brutus ‘killing him’ and then the tables were turned when Rocky got Brutus’s entire head in his mouth and he was chowing down on him.

‘Rocky spit him out now!’ I yelled to him.

Rocky looked sheepish and spat a rather damp Brutus out, Brutus come running up to me wagging his super long tail which obviously gets in the way and then grabbed his tail and started chasing it like a special needs dog.

Telling him to stop chasing his tail as that is a rather bad habit for any dog to get in to, I distracted him with the canvas orange bone – big mistake, that is all I am saying – huge mistake!.

The evening went rather swimmingly as both dogs enjoyed burning off energy outside and it was lovely to watch them playing together and interacting, a bit like my very own wildlife show in my garden.

Fast forward to Abdel coming home from work. As it is getting cold at night, Brutus is not liking being outside. I thought of getting him a dog coat but he has threatened to shit on it, piss on it and failing that, eat it so that is out of the question.

Abdel was laughing at Brutus with his handlebar ears sticking out and his nose pressed up against the fly screen. Rocky was nowhere to be seen but on closer inspection, I spotted him on the grass wagging his tail with his head down focusing on something on the grass. What on earth had happened? – I hadn’t seen him look so happy since the possum incident but the least said about that the better.

Going out to check on the dogs, I saw white stuffing – everywhere, and by white I mean that white fluffy stuff that is used to stuff mattresses and toys.

‘What the hell?’ I said in disbelief and wondered where it could have possibly come from. I checked Rocky’s mattress which was still in tact and in his kennel and that was there.

Abdel followed me out and said ‘what on earth is that?’

None of us knew so we asked Brutus.

‘Brutus – what is this?’ I demanded, the little brown dog put his head down and said ‘I don’t know’, then he looked up at me and said ‘What are your thoughts?’

Then I saw Rocky with white foam all over his mouth and he was standing by the orange canvas bone which I might add was one of his favorite toys that he had owned since a puppy. I knew he would not have instigated its destruction but once the foam was released, he would have positively relished in it. Just ask Rocky what he and Winston the kelpie did to Winston’s bed over Christmas.

‘Rocky, what have you done?’ I yelled – the black kelpie dog looked at me with the white fluff stuck to his teeth/chin/mouth and pulled a non committal type expression.

‘You’ve been a naughty bastard!’ Gordon yelled from the laundry room window. Brutus sniggered as he loved it when Gordon swore in his ginger voice.

‘Don’t ask me, I know nothing. Those bastard German Shepherd dogs broke into the garden, tied us up with gaffer tape and then spread this white shit around the garden and smeared it on our mouths so we would get the blame’ Rocky launched into an almost hysterical fever pitch explanation of the pretend German Shepherds that are responsible for canine naughtiness all over the world and blame ordinary household pets for bad stuff that their owners discover.

‘Rocky I know that you are lying now step away from that mess because I have to clean it up and at 10.30pm at night, I could do without it’ I sighed and then set about picking up copious amounts of white fluff from a fake lawn and I stress the words ‘fake lawn’ because try picking up white fluff from it, it’s bloody hard and akin to picking up diarrhoea.

‘Yippee! snow!, it’s snowing!’ Brutus squeaked and then set about jumping as though he had springs in his hind legs, and then started to try and run off with bits of fluff in his mouth whilst yelling ‘You were right Rocky, this is such fun!’

‘Bloody dobbing bastard!’ Rocky hissed to Brutus and vowed to bash him later.

It took a while to pick up the mess and the garden still looks like a war zone with the chewed camp bed and the stone collection by the door but hey ho, the puppy years don’t last forever do they? Although Rocky said that his have come back since the arrival of Brutus but I am hoping he is joking on that score.

I put Brutus to bed with his supper and tucked him in to his crate, made sure Rocky was on his mattress and turned out the lights. As I walked off I could hear Brutus talking to Rocky.

‘Rocky’ Brutus tried to whisper but not very successfully.

‘Piss off, you dobbed me in and that is the cardinal Kelpie Tenth Commandment – thou shalt not dob in another dog for doing damage’ Rocky said sounding annoyed.

‘But Rocky…..’Brutus asked again.

Sighing, Rocky snapped ‘What!’

Brutus pressed his head against the crate and gazed at the little kelpie curled up on his cushion, he could just see Rocky’s huge ears making a shadow on the wall.

‘Tell me about the time you ripped the mattress up’ Brutus said excitedly – he loved a bedtime story.

(silence)

Rocky rolled over to be closer to Brutus’s crate and took a deep breath ‘Alright then’ He replied.

And I could barely hear after that but I could just make out Rocky saying ‘Once upon a time, I had this mattress…..’

But before he could finish his story, you could just hear some gentle puppy snores coming from the crate. Brutus was fast asleep next to his stuffed elephant.

Rocky gazed at Brutus sleeping and looked at him kindly ‘Another time lad, another time’

And that was all I heard.

Happy Friday everyone.

Brutus – just one of those days!

Posted on March 20, 2013 by Samantha Rose

Gordon and Brutus planning ‘stuff’

I am not laughing today, honestly I am not and I don’t want to see any of you laughing either – especially Cath from CJ Animal Rescue as I can imagine her laughing the most.

I got home from work to a nice clean and dry crate and Brutus looking somewhat angelic saying ‘Please may I go and urinate’ He was trying to be polite and reminded me of a child creeping to its parents for stealing food from the fridge.

Opening the garden door I let him out and my eyes set on ‘the scene’ – obviously from early this arvo that hadn’t been cleaned up and I emphasise those words ‘the scene’.

My bottle brush tree had been dug enough to expose a large expanse of the beginning of the roots, several pieces of it scattered around the garden, couple that with the chewed bed and milk bottle – which was fine, the bed and the milk bottle but not the tree.

‘Who the hell did that?’ I demanded to know, Rocky lit up a cigarette (yes he smokes and I have told him not to), inhaled deeply and then blew smoke out of his nostrils that came out in funny shapes due to the shape of his nose.

‘Don’t ask me, I am a fully grown kelpie dog above such childish behaviour’ Rocky sniggered, not giving me direct eye contact, he then offered Brutus a puff of his ciggie, Brutus inhaled rather cockily and then choked on the smoke and looked throughly disgusted.

‘Was it you?’ I demanded to Brutus, he glanced down to the ground and said ‘It must have been the German Shepherd dogs that go around breaking into peoples houses and gardens, trashing them and the resident dogs get the blame’ Brutus said in a rather too quiet voice.

Sighing, I went to look at the tiny bottle brush tree which is the first thing I have ever managed to grow – well don’t count the ivy I planted against the wall of my Mums house in England which nearly ate away the brick and had to be professionally removed as that is still a sore point.

Ignoring the dogs for a moment, I tenderly tried to salvage my bottle brush tree and I suddenly heard Rocky yelling ‘Go on my son, good effort’ and I spotted Brutus taking a shit and my god the size of it, it could have been Abdels.

Not content with dropping the contents of his entire stomach in one spot, he then walks along in the ‘crapping pose’ with his tail stuck out like the handle of a water pump and does another pile further along, looks at me and then with his hind legs, kicks the shit and spreads it in a shower everywhere. All I remember thinking is ‘Thank god that is not diarrhoea’.

‘Beautiful’ I said aloud, ‘Just beautiful’.

‘I suppose you think you are clever, well I can forgive but I won’t forget’ I told Brutus as I picked up various lumps of turd in one hand and held his collar in the other to stop him ripping the bag open in his new found game. I am sure the neighbours heard me ‘talking dog’ and I am sure that they think I need certifying. But don’t judge me, I bet most of you reading this talk to your pets and I bet your pets answer back as well.

When you have a puppy, your life revolves around teething, turd, piss and hopefully NOT vomit, plus picking up dog shit as soon as it is produced because that really is to everyones benefit not to mention reducing risk of infection but for Brutus to enjoy kicking it around the garden, well that is not funny – unless it’s in someone elses garden with someone elses dog of course.

After their ‘garden games’ both boys were brought in and fed, I let their dinner settle and then let both dogs back out into the garden so I could sit down and watch Eastenders on Youtube and have some cheesecake, some rice crackers and an alcohol free beer – yes I know, healthy diet and all that.

Hearing Brutus ‘talking’, I crept to the door to see what they were up to.

Both dogs were by the bottle brush tree and you will never believe what they were doing. Rocky was giving the tree gentle tugs and using his front paw to poke it and Brutus was copying him!

‘You see, when I was a young pup not much older than you, I dug up an entire palm tree from a giant pot and dragged it round the garden’ Rocky told Brutus while poking the tree.

Brutus looked suitably impressed ‘Did you really?” The little brown dog asked in admiration.

Rocky nodded and recalled each and everything in his kelpie life; that he had dug up, chewed up and buried – including Winston the kelpie.

‘Go on, give it a poke’ Rocky said approvingly.

Brutus gave half hearted tugs on the bottle brush and Rocky bloody well joined in, I was furious – since when did Rocky go back to being destructive?

‘You naughty boys! Stop it right now!’ I yelled through the fly screen. Both dogs jumped in fright and Rocky said ‘Shit, she saw us!’, and Rocky actually shuffled off towards the shed and started whistling and pretending he was looking for tennis balls.

Brutus who hasn’t learned to lie yet, just crouched down in the soil and blushed.

There was some further chewing and chowing down on one another, Brutus tried to chew Rockys council rego tag and then made a big show of crouching down to herd up a wagtail which told him to ‘piss off’.

‘You expect me to take you seriously?” The wagtail laughed from the side of the fence.

‘Everything is a sheep’ Brutus said firmly, well as firmly as a puppy whose voice hasn’t broken could sound.

The birds in my garden are all friends with Rocky and Rocky tolerates them very well and even lets the doves come in the garden but he is guilty of telling Brutus that for the sake of making life easy, everything is a sheep unless it is a black cockatoo and that is akin to having the Queen in your garden and should be respected to the highest level.

Deciding that the dogs could come back in, after all Gordon had been fed and I was hoping they would all settle down so I could have some ‘Me time’ – does ‘Me time’ exist when you have a puppy? I don’t know, what are your thoughts?

Sitting down to finish Eastenders which had been paused on my computer, I took a deep breath in and thought ‘Oh God – I can smell shit’ – Gordon was walking round the living room looking a bit lighter so I went to his litter tray and sure enough, there were two nuggets waiting to be cleaned.

Got that out of the way, removed my thongs from Brutus’s mouth and swapped it for a rope toy and sat back down.

I breathed in again, bugger it – I could still smell shit, getting up towards the kitchen I could smell it even stronger and then I saw Brutus playing with something and Rocky was staring at him looking rather jealous. Glancing down I could see another large nugget of Gordon’s turd. Gordon gets them stuck to his bum sometimes and walks around like his arse is a Christmas tree with brown baubles on it, sometimes they get lucky and they fall off for me to pick up. That must have been what happened in this case.

Gordon sat on the chair nodding in smug fashion ‘Nice to know it can have it’s uses’ he said to Brutus as Brutus batted it towards the wall.

‘Oh Jesus Christ that is disgusting!’ I shouted and then immediately carried Brutus to put him in his crate for ‘time out’.

I went back to the offending turd and Rocky was about to start sniffing it and god forbid, even eat it. He used to have a penchant for cat shit but sort of grew out of it but I wonder if it was under his nose would he be able to refuse.

The horror in my voice must have shocked him as he shot across the living room as though that turd was on fire while Gordon was yelling ‘I dare ya to eat it!’

Rocky was duly dispatched to the laundry room with Brutus and after shredding his paper, Brutus is fast asleep and so is Gordon and anything to do with poo has been picked up and cleaned up.

I am so tired, it is one of those days where everyone in my house is naughty, if it can shit then it will, if stuff can be chewed then it will be.

I am beginning to wonder if it is a full moon and if Abdel comes home and takes a dump in my living room then I know it will be.

Now Cath – you had better not be laughing and I bet Cass is as well, I reckon this is karma, because yesterday I was laughing at Cass’s photos of the pups trashing her house and it made me giggle so this is payback.

Deep breaths – I am going to make a cup of tea, oh yes I am – don’t try and stop me. Brutus is fast asleep in his crate and I look at him and think how can something so cute be so naughty.

Later this evening…..

I was watching My Kitchen Rules with the delectable Manu for whom I have a strong garlic fetish for and I saw Gordon and Brutus by the door keeping watch. I turned around and to look by the dining room table and realised that yet again I had misread the signals that Brutus gives when he needs the toilet as in he is more naughty than usual and wont settle which can be mistaken for a playful puppy. For there by the table was a large turd steaming for all to see and appreciate should they want to.

‘I did that’ Brutus announced proudly, well there was no point in denying it really – you could almost see his name in it.

Over and out and a bit tired.

Brutus Update

Posted on March 20, 2013 by Samantha Rose

Brutus has taken to picking up lovely pieces of crunchy dirt and stuff and I only ever seem to catch him as he is happily at the end of crunching/swallowing whatever crap he has picked up and although I can open his mouth, I normally only find crunched up soil/grit and try as I might, I cannot get him out of the habit.

Please someone tell me this is normal behavior as Rocky was 5 months old when I got him and was never into that, he loved digging right from the word ‘go’.

So this morning I had a nicely cleaned out 2 litre plastic milk bottle and I removed the lid and put some puppy meal inside and gave it to Brutus. We used to do this with Rocky and enjoy watching him joyously run around the garden with a milk bottle in his mouth barking and then have to pick up the pieces afterwards.

Brutus was thrilled with his new toy and ran around the garden pushing it with his nose so that the biscuit fell out. Unaware that there was biscuit in the bottle, he didnt even see Rocky scooting behind him like a Dyson vacuum polishing up the puppy meal.

‘Ha ha ha, Derro Dog!’ Rocky yelled happily in between eating biscuit – as this was something we used to do for him, he knew exactly what was coming out of the milk bottle.

‘What are you eating you greedy bastard?’ Brutus shouted, his language already become ‘choice’ as Gordon and Rocky swear all the time.

‘Your biscuit – Derro Dog!’ Rocky smirked laughing, his new nickname for Brutus was ‘Derro Dog’.

Brutus bit his bottom lip, stopped for a minute and looked somewhat confused at where all the puppy meal was coming from. But the temptation got too much for him and he muttered ‘Bollocks’ and then carried on shoving the milk bottle noisily around the garden with Rocky continuing to scoot after him picking up the biscuit.

The noise was exceptionally loud and I had to shut the bedroom door as not to wake Abdel but I am sure the grating/scraping sound across the floor could be heard by the neighbours.

Toilet training – another dry night! Brutus actually woke me up yelping at 6.25am telling me that if I didn’t get to his crate pronto, he would piss the bed and not only would he piss the bed, but he would do cartwheels to spread it further. Rocky was snorting with laughter on his bed as he had dared the tiny puppy to say it, in fact Rocky is teaching him to swear as he finds it funny when Brutus swears in a puppy voice. A puppy voice for those of you that don’t know, is a high pitched cute ‘Babe – pig in the city’ kind of voice and the word ‘Bollocks’ sounds hilarious when said by a puppy.

I let Brutus out as one does not argue with a nearly toilet trained puppy with a foul mouth, not to mention the joys of finding a dry kennel, even if the paper has been shredded up by the lean mean shredding puppy machine.

Another bad habit Brutus has developed is once I have done a ‘turd run’ and picked up the shit in the garden which I like to do straight away, Brutus bounces up and down like a springbok and rips a hole in the bag so the turd sprinkles round the garden like a brown shower of shite.

‘Yippee!’ Brutus yells as he does it and Rocky claps from the side of the garden to encourage him ‘Go on Brutus, do it again!’ Rocky is reliving his puppy years through Brutus and is thoroughly enjoying it.

Aside from the crunching of various garden matter, ripping holes in turd bags, everything is going swimmingly.

Over and out from me

Brutus Update

Posted on March 18, 2013 by Samantha Rose

Brutus – on the mend

You may remember a blog entry I did about stress and Sjogrens syndrome and I mentioned that I had acquired a new puppy called Brutus, which was struck down with severe gastro which very nearly cost him his life.

Well Brutus now has his own Facebook page as he has many followers supporting his journey and progress and for those of you that are interested – here is the link to his page:

https://www.facebook.com/pages/A-Pup-called-Brutus/429308250490560

I have had a request on here for a Brutus update and photographs, these are all on his Facebook page but I shall do a quick update on here.

Here is a photo of Brutus two nights before the gastro struck:

Chunky Brutus – just before the gastro struck

Brutus was admitted to Murdoch two days after this photo was taken, he stayed for one day, was admitted to Swan Veterinary Hospital, came out the next day when this photo was taken:

Skeletal Brutus

He was then readmitted a few hours after being discharged from hospital where he spent the rest of the week – here is a photo of him in hospital:

Brutus in hospital with severe gastro

Brutus finally came out of hospital on 9th March and has been home for a week, on Saturday 16th March he went to the vet for his vaccine as the first hadn’t taken and he weighed about 7.8kgs which is still underweight for him although each day he is looking better.

Here are some photographs that I took from over last weekend and this weekend – see the differences and changes in him:

Look at my ribcage!

Rocky and Brutus

Brutus and his new ‘brother’ – Gordon

Brutus at the vets waiting for his vaccine

Am I a cat or a dog? (Brutus asks)

And finally, here is a photo that summarizes just how an older dog can guide a young pup and often teach them about life far better than their owners, I have cut and pasted an update I did on Facebook yesterday, it is about the relationship I have with Rocky as his owner and how although I thought I was doing what is best for him, the arrival of Brutus has taught me otherwise.

Rocky – Brutus’s guardian angel.

Dedicated to Rocky:

Today I realized that dog ownership often highlights issues that owners have with the relationship with their dogs and it often says an awful lot about the owner as well.

Rocky has been my ‘rock’ so to speak since we first got him. When I nearly lost my husband in a car crash, Rocky was the one consistent thing in my life, my husband was in hospital and I had been told to get his affairs in order and I remember sitting on the kitchen floor crying my eyes out so hard that I couldn’t breathe and the solid black body of my little kelpie dog pressing himself into me and washing my face – I will never forget it.

With each crisis that has been in our lives and trust me, in the 5 years we have lived in Australia, there have been many – health, legal, financial, bereavement, I shudder at remembering any of it, Rocky has been there and I too, wonder how I am still here – mentally and physically.

A year ago during a particularly financially difficult time when we came close to losing everything, I remember walking around Beeliar Wetlands with Rocky. He has hip dysplasia and I have severe joint issues from an auto immune disease. You should have seen the pair of us walking around Beeliar, both of us stiff as boards and of course you get halfway round and think ‘damn it, I shall have to complete it now’ and although Rocky looked horrified as he hates road work, he loyally kept up with me – his gait stiff as anything as I limped the 6km or so around the wetlands, we were like Forest Gump doing his long journey.

Rocky has been my best friend and I think with that intense dog/owner relationship that I have with him, I have rather unfairly and unknowingly (until now), taken away some of his ‘doggy-ness’ and stripped him of his normal canine behavior.

‘That dog is like your baby’ I have had said to me on so many occasions by child obsessed people. This I have to hotly deny because we have chosen NOT to have children. My animals are not the children we never had, having ones genitals stretched to 10cms never once appealed to me and I am sorry if that upsets people – I just don’t swing that way.

Yes, I love my animals and yes, having Brutus could be comparable to having a young child as I need eyes in the back of my head and let’s not even discuss toilet training and teething and sleepless nights.

But no, they are not children, and when you have come close to losing your partner – soul mate, when you have held your Mothers hand as she passed away, I can say now that there is no comparison for me. I love my animals dearly as you can tell and they will take priority over visitors but at the end of the day, I must stress that they are not children.

I will admit to humanizing Rocky and being more dependent on him than he is me. He is expressive, his face speaks volumes, so does Gordon’s – hell, I even ‘speak dog’ and make them talk, but then again so do many pet owners.

Rocky only tends to interact with other cattle/working dogs. before Brutus came to live with us, Rocky would happily sit in of an evening and smooch me on the sofa, washing my arms, or the sofa, or the wall – anything really and failing that, the cats ears were always clean.

Now Brutus is here, Rocky is somewhat distancing himself from me and becoming more of a dog and I am observing some traditional canine mannerisms and behavioral patterns that really do shoot the saying ‘I know my dog better than anyone’ into fresh air because no, we never really know our dogs, we domesticate them to a point, but no, we never truly know them because at the end of the day – wild is wild and you can take the dog out of the wild but you cant take the wild instincts out of the dog.

Today I took Rocky for a swim, Brutus had to stay behind as he only had his vaccine yesterday, so Abdel and I decided to go swimming with Rocky and Rocky did his usual swimming until exhausted, swallowing heaps of sea water and then yakking up and being reluctantly dragged from the water when we decided that an hour of solid swimming was quite enough thank you, besides, Abdel had to go to work.

I bathed Rocky in the garden and Brutus was washing the drops as they dripped off Rocky’s sopping black body – he looked like a shiny stag beetle – in fact my nickname for him is ‘beetle dog’.

I had bought Rocky a kangaroo hide chew which I had planned to give to him when Brutus wasn’t around. Trouble is, Rocky is a lazy bone eater – he still has a brand new hide chew from January but the kangaroo chew is much smaller and easier to eat. I have tried telling him that many a dog in Africa would be grateful for that bone but he tells me I am talking crap – which of course is quite plausible.

I had locked Brutus away in the laundry room and Rocky looked at the chew and said ‘Bollocks, I am not eating that’. Sighing, I let Brutus out and intended to pick up the chew, I was worried about Brutus trying to steal the chew as he is too young for stuff like that.

Rocky suddenly wanted the chew and curled his lip at Brutus, it wasn’t like ‘I am going to rip your face off’, it was a warning from a senior dog to the baby of the pack.

‘Piss off away from my bone’ Rocky said to Brutus. This is where it got interesting, Rocky never exhibits normal canine behaviors – why? because I have humanised him and made him the way he is – far too imprinted in a way he has forgotten how to act with other dogs.

‘Mum said I can have it!’ Brutus lied and then made steps to take the bone. Should I intervene? What would happen in the wild?

I sat there and did nothing, my heart pounding wondering if Rocky would hurt Brutus.

Brutus went nearer the bone and Rocky jumped up and really told him off – excuse the bad language but I can only relay it as it happened.

‘Get away from my bone you bastard!’ Rocky shouted, curling his lip up in a fine impression of of Elvis Presley (he used to curl his lip).

Rocky did a mock charge at Brutus while curling his lip, yelling at him to piss off and Brutus squeaked a high pitched squeak and went straight into submission. I saw for myself that Rocky did not actually touch him, but Brutus rolled on his back to say ‘sorry’ to Rocky.

The sneaky pup then went by the side of the coffee table with his rubber chicken in his mouth, laid the chicken by Rocky’s feet and then tried to swap it with the chew – I am being deadly serious.

Rocky did one more mock charge and that was enough to send Brutus on to the sofa, shaking like a girl while huddling up to Gordon, telling Gordon how awful it was. Gordon merely told him that stealing another dogs bones was akin to listening to Cliff Richard’s Millennium Prayer on replay and one should never ever do it. Brutus said he was sorry and Rocky as if to make a point of the Tenth Commandment ‘Thou Shalt Not Steal Other Dogs Bones’, ate the whole kangaroo chew, while watching Brutus, making one hell of a mess which I had to clean up.

I was so tempted to intervene because the whole scene made me uncomfortable but then I asked myself why, why did it make me uncomfortable?

It was normal canine behavior and pack hierarchal structure – dogs needed to learn their place, it isn’t just owner/dog boundaries that need to be set in the home, it is also canine boundaries as well and Brutus today learned that he cannot steal Rocky’s food until Rocky has eaten his fill and left scraps for him.

After Rocky had eaten his chew, there were lots of crumbs left on the bed, Brutus dutifully waited until Rocky had moved way and then jumped off the sofa, Rocky wagged his tail to the young pup and Brutus happily but rather submissively polished off the crumbs.

Once he had done that, he went up to Rocky swishing his long tail and cleaning round Rocky’s mouth and Rocky looked down at Brutus and licked one of his ears, gave a little tail wag and the pair of them carried on like nothing had happened.

And that is because nothing did happen – in their world anyway. It was just doggy stuff – we humans might not like it but it is their world and no matter how much we try and domesticate them, no matter how much we think that we know them, they are wild animals with very primal instincts just waiting to surface.

My dependency on Rocky was quite intense and in hindsight, not entirely fair. At first I felt guilty for Rocky as I had another puppy, a puppy that required a lot more attention but I should have given Rocky credit for how he would deal with it.

We can train/reprimand undesirable behaviors in our puppy’s/dogs but you know something? The best training for Brutus has come from Rocky himself.

When Brutus chews on Rocky, Rocky puts him in his place and Brutus very quickly has learned what he can and cannot do and what is acceptable.

Rocky now knows that there is competition for food and doesn’t piss about with his meals like he used to. Rocky has become a more proficient guard dog – although he is pretty on the ball now but now there is a puppy in his ‘pack’ to protect, he has gone up a notch.

My kelpie has changed, since the arrival of Brutus, he has gone from a childish 4.5 year old ex farm dog with some very babyish behaviors and some not so healthy acquired human ones, to an almost regal, mature, kind but assertive Kelpie that is far better in guiding this puppy than I could ever be. Don’t get me wrong, I do my best – you are all following me on this journey and I post with my heart but trust me, Rocky is much better at it.

So whilst I feel quite sad that I have sort of lost my good mate in so many ways, I am really proud of the dog he has become and if Brutus can learn half of what Rocky has to teach him, then we are going to be very lucky.

Humanizingyour dogs is one thing, but I have learned you have to allow dogs to be dogs, also watch their behaviour, watch them interact, watch how they sort out their differences and respect their ‘inner dog’.

So this entry is dedicated to Rocky, he has been where Brutus is now (we got him when he was about 5 months), he has chewed and destroyed a Palm tree, dug 4 feet under a retainer wall, eaten my entire CD collection, he has been there, he has supported me through the most traumatic times of my life and has been my best friend.

But now it is time for him to be a dog and enjoy being a dog, he is in the garden now with Brutus – both of them lying a few feet apart, both of them quiet, Brutus fast asleep and Rocky half asleep while keeping a watchful eye on the young pup that has barged into his life and prompting him to let his natural instincts take over.

As for me, well he is still my mate but now I have the pleasure of watching him become Brutus’s mate as well.

Let dogs be dogs.

And Finally…

Brutus is a puppy that is exhibiting normal puppy behavior and his reactions are guided by Rocky. Donkey if you remember, was exhibiting dog aggressive behavior towards Rocky to the point he wouldn’t let Rocky even drink from his water bowl and could not be left alone with him. Having been castrated quite late in life, he had developed some of the not so nice traits typical of an ‘entire dog’ If he was going to live with another adult male dog, it needed to be one that was big enough and strong enough to hold his own which Rocky isn’t. Donkey was also not good at all with cats and both SAFE and I believed it would be at a huge risk to Gordon to keep him – we needed a dog that we could trust with out cat.

Brutus will be going to puppy group and training and is being de-sexed next week so won’t have chance to develop his sex hormones and ultimately undesirable behavior but I will stress that if you have any concerns about your dog exhibiting aggressive behavior towards other dogs, I would say take him to your vet to rule out illness and then take appropriate expert advice on where to go from there.

Donkey Diaries – Donkey has a new home!

Posted on February 27, 2013 by Samantha Rose

Donkey showing off in his new home

Donkey has finally found his home I can exclusively reveal in my blog. A lovely lady came forward and said that she not only can offer him everything he needs – including his own car, but she can also give him as much love and cuddles as he can cope with.

Donkey Dundee who flew from Karratha to Perth in the eye of TC Narelle, has now settled into his new home and was rather thrilled at being given his own set of wheels which has enabled him to drive around Perth to look out for hot bitches.

Donkey in his new car – a ‘babe magnet’

Donkey is living in a house which is on two levels and not being used to stairs, was confronted with them on his first day. Aside from saying ‘What the bloody hell are they?’ as he looked on in horror when his new owner walked up them, he was damned if he was going to try so thought he should go through the rubbish bin instead.

We spoke to Donkey to ask him how he was getting on in his new home; “Well it’s kind of cool really, I get my own car and I even get to have a shower as well which is nice as after I have been raiding the bins, I can smell a bit”.

When asked if he missed his life in Karratha, Donkey replied simply: “I miss parts of it, but I prefer it in Perth, the bitches are far hotter and it’s nice having someones face to wash – every dog deserves that”

It is thought that Donkey is so thrilled to be in his new home that he carries a photograph in his wallet of his new family, instead of carrying a torn photo of the Simpsons like he used to.

Donkey finally has ‘his day’

Please continue to follow and support the Donkey Diaries which are now for all SAFE rescue animals and will carry on in Donkey’s name.

If you enjoy these stories and would like to donate to SAFE Karratha, their bank details are as follows:

SAFE Karratha/HQ

Bank:
Account Name:
BSB Number:
Account Number:

Commonwealth Bank
Saving Animals From Euthanasia Inc
066-531
101 488 05

Remember every little donation helps and if I believe that my animal stories can raise money for SAFE Karratha, then I will make them a regular feature. Interest is already being generated in other countries – Cyprus, USA, UK so I shall make it my mission to keep writing the stories to help their cause.

All I ask, is that if you do donate, if you could reference it as ‘Donkey Dundee’ so that SAFE know who it is in relation to.

Donkey, Parties and a New Home!

Posted on February 15, 2013 by Samantha Rose

Party Dog – me?

Donkey Dundee has caused a rumpus in his new foster home by having a ‘Project X’ style party and inviting all the hot local bitches, I can exclusively reveal.

Donkey who was initially sent from Karratha to Perth to live with myself, did not get on with my existing kelpie dog Rocky, and due to Rocky being a bit of a ‘girl’ with hip dysplasia, Donkey realized that it was in fact quite easy to wrestle him to the ground which then became a game and one that was fun to play.

Sadly, Rocky being the ‘Tiny Tim’ of the dog world (think ‘calipers’) and a bit of a ‘special needs dog’ was not up to the strength of the young and fit Donkey Dundee and after an incident which left him lame for a few days, it was decided that Donkey would go into foster care in Fremantle until he could find a suitable home.

Anyway, it has been reported that Donkey settled into his foster carers home so well that he had decided to hold a ‘Project X’ style party and invite lots of nice hot bitches and Donkey now has a name for himself as a ‘party animal’.

Now I wasn’t there at the time but I have it on good authority that there were dogs in bikini’s jumping on a bouncy castle, large bones were involved and someone even said that dogs were smoking joints of catnip but how true that is I do not know.

Donkey was found the next day with a severe hangover lying in a laundry basket with no memory as to how he got there.

Donkey with a hangover

The party became so raucous, it was described by neighbors as ‘the party that rocked Freo’. We spoke to one neighbor who preferred to remain anonymous, he told us “There were bitches everywhere flashing their lady-gardens, and empty cans of dog food all over the garden, I have not seen anything like it in all my 100 years”

When Donkey was later questioned about the event, he replied simply “I partied hard in Karratha and I will party hard in Freo, what can I say, I am a party kinda guy”

A new chance….

Donkey appears to be enjoying the laid back Freo life and although he hasn’t taken up swimming as yet, he does enjoy his trips to the beach and can be sighted on the dog beach checking out the female dogs sunbathing.

Checking out those bitches baby!

Although Donkey is loving his foster home, it is hoped he can find a new home to call his own. It is sad that it didn’t work out with me but not all dogs are compatible and I guess that my Rocky needs a friend that is a better match with energy levels and one that won’t challenge him to defend his position in the house, not to mention Donkey not taking to Gordon which resulted in an argument between them where insults exchanged place and dreadful words being used like ‘big ears’ and ‘ginger bastard’ and my personal favorite ‘no balls’

And finally….

You know that song by Icona Pop ‘I love it’? Well that reminds me of Donkey – hell raising round my garden with squeaky toys in his mouth, bowling Rocky over, causing a storm, a tatty terrier charging into and out of my life in a flash yet leaving a lasting impression in the short time he was with us.

So Donkey – this video is for you:

Donkey Update – News just in!

I have just received an email from Sue from SAFE – Karratha, Donkey has been adopted by his foster mum’s boss and is settling in to his new life! A further update and photos to follow.

Please continue to follow and support the Donkey Diaries which are now for all SAFE rescue animals and will carry on in Donkey’s name.

If you enjoy these stories and would like to donate to SAFE Karratha, their bank details are as follows:

SAFE Karratha/HQ

Bank:
Account Name:
BSB Number:
Account Number:

Commonwealth Bank
Saving Animals From Euthanasia Inc
066-531
101 488 05

All I ask, is that if you do donate, if you could reference it as ‘Donkey Dundee’ so that SAFE know who it is in relation to.

How quickly things can change

Posted on January 20, 2013 by Samantha Rose

My apologies for not updating this blog sooner but it has been a fraught and stressful week for all concerned.

I mentioned a fight with Rocky and Donkey on the first day which was sort of what was expected in order to establish pack leader between the two of them. Things were not too bad after, they even enjoyed some games on the lawn and had heated discussions about local bitches over the dog biscuit – you know the sort of thing.

However, things took a very different turn in a couple of rather worrying ways and it was decided on Wednesday 16th February by SAFE and myself that Donkey had to be removed from the house.

As some of you may have been aware, we were trying to get Donkey used to Gordon the cat.

Gordon – King of his castle

Gordon was sitting on the chair when Donkey first walked in the house and Donkey immediately went to attack him, so we pretty much knew straight away that Donkey was not safe to be left with Gordon or even have him in the same room unrestrained. Now upsetting though that was, it was good in a way because no chances were ever taken with the two of them, as you can imagine had we left them for even a second; what could have happened.

So Donkey was having controlled sightings of Gordon as in he was in the laundry room behind a 1 metre high baby gate. Although Gordon was calm and showed no fear against Donkey, Donkey on the other hand would almost have a ‘brain switch’ that flipped him into the ‘cat zone’ and he would ignore all other stimuli as in clicker/treat/voice command and would totally fixate on Gordon to the point he tried to push the gate down to attack him.

We had plans to shut Gordon away each time Donkey was walked but how realistic is that? How safe is that when all it would take is for one of us to forget and walk Donkey through the house on a leash and the fact that Gordon likes dogs, if this elderly cat walked up to Donkey, we would have very little chance of stopping him attacking the cat.

We thought of keeping Donkey outside but how fair is that if Rocky enjoys an indoor life? Donkey needed to be part of our family unit and keeping him as an outdoor dog would not only be unfair on him, but we would still have the issues for the next few years of Gordons life, watching our every step and move to ensure this Jack Russell/Staffie cross did not attack our precious ginger parcel that had flown all the way from the UK in order to get here.

Donkey the mountain goat

Whilst at first I felt confident that Donkey could not jump the baby gate, the little dog surprised me when I found him perched on top of the BBQ the day after I got him, peering over the top of the gate – the BBQ being much higher than the baby gate inside and he obligingly showed me how he could almost jump vertically like a mountain goat and comfortably perch himself on the highest point. You could almost hear him bragging about his jumping ability which I must admit, was rather impressive.

He also enjoyed doing the same with the garden patio table so this added to my concerns that if he really wanted to, keeping in mind his total fixation of getting Gordon to the point he hears and sees nothing else or no other command, all doubts that he couldn’t jump the baby gate had now been blown out of the water – he could and he could do so efficiently which now meant that he couldn’t be left in the laundry room if Gordon was in the the living area which would in turn mean Gordon had to be shut away in the ‘cat room’ and that was also cruel.

The Achilles heel of Rocky

My Rocky has hip dysplasia and a weak patella joint caused according to our vet, by ‘blunt trauma’ as in a possible kick to the hips when he was a baby. He has 4 monthly injections to help him and occasional pain relief. His hip has been known to give way if he does off the leash exercise of if people throw toys/balls for him and the hip joint swivels/twists/turns.

So Rocky’s hip management is crucial to his future as we have been advised that he is not the best candidate for surgery so we have to look after him as best we can, limit injury potential and really take care of him to make him have the longest possible life.

Anyway, we noticed that Donkey had started to bite Rockys hind legs – not mark them or even enough to visibly bother Rocky but whilst it was amusing to watch initially, it became a game for Donkey to bite the hind legs, and latch onto his rear end and bring him down to the floor and because Rocky’s hip is so weak, he spent more time on the floor than he did anything else. It was rather bizarre to watch – Donkey gripping Rockys legs and wrestling him to the ground – see photo below taken just before Rocky fell to the ground which on the face of it looked quite funny but after a few goes, Rocky’s hip had indeed paid a high price for such hierarchal canine games.

On Tuesday night when I got home, my husband told me that Rocky was lame and when I checked him myself, his hip had slipped out of joint and he was unable to get up from the floor and when he did, he was literally hobbling about on three legs.

I had decided that night to keep Rocky inside away from Donkey but when I carried Rocky outside to go to the toilet, he refused to go. I don’t even think it was because he disliked Donkey but more the association of Donkey+Play=Pain kind of thing, or perhaps Donkey intimidated him in his battle to be top dog, – who knows? The play had certainly become more aggressive as each day went on and that was obvious.

After a long discussion with my husband and also Sue at SAFE, it was decided that the energy match of Donkey and Rocky was not suitable, Rocky according to our vet, is a somewhat ‘special needs’ dog with his hips and a young dominant male dog is probably not the best companion for a kelpie with hip issues and no hope of ever keeping up or defending his patch.

But the real deciding factor was Gordon because Sue was right, if there is any risk of Donkey killing Gordon then it is a risk not worth taking and the thought of spending the next few years of Gordons life with the comfort and mental welfare of both animals being compromised to keep one from being attacked or killed is overwhelming and daunting. Because if anything did happen to Gordon – I for one would not be able to forgive myself and not only did Gordon deserve the right to live in his own home, but so did Donkey and the barriers that would need to be installed in order for that to happen – would not be realistic or possible.

The next day Sue had organised for Donkey to go to a lovely foster carer in Fremantle, we met at my house and Donkey said goodbye with a damp and smelly beard and trotted off with his new foster ‘mum’ without a care in the world and as he went, I swear I could hear him say ‘Hey, you’re pretty, fancy showing me around Freo some time?’ in true flirtatious Donkey fashion and as quickly as he arrived – he disappeared taking his new collar and tag with him.

Rocky

Rocky’s gait is very stiff, he is still favouring the left leg and saw the vet on Thursday 18th January for his Cartrophen injection and hip assessment – walks for the time being are out until he feels better. After just a couple of days of rough and dominated play by a younger, stronger male dog, I can only pray that his hip can recover.

The veterinary nurse at the surgery clarified what Abdel and myself had suspected that Donkey was targeting Rocky’s ‘weak spot’ as in his hips. Animals in the wild that are elderly, sick or weak are targeted and Donkey was doing this to become ‘head of the pack’ so to speak. The nurse also confirmed that Rocky was simply not up to that competition and his hip is exceptionally fragile.

Now Winston our foster dog from the week before was a perfect match for Rocky and there was no contest between the two of them – my goodness they even enjoyed urinating on one another and washing each others faces. Still, it takes all sorts and who knows what goes on in the minds of our pets.

Rocky still struggles to get up from lying on the floor so today (Sunday 20th) I took him for a drive to the pet shop and bought him a new collar and a Kong toy and he is now resting in the laundry room.

His favourite rubber chicken is in pieces as Donkey thought it to be a daft toy and not worthy, leaving Rocky with a small piece of rubber so I need to buy him a new one although trying to find one is impossible as I have tried a couple of pet shops including the one today and they have sold out – severe rubber chicken shortage, that’s what it is.

Donkey left behind a small piece of hide chew which I found Rocky curled up on his camp bed happily chewing on it. Aside from Rocky’s bad hip and his new appreciation of his toys and being nervous to go into the ‘Donkey Zone’, it’s like Donkey was never here.

Dog Training Advice

As this blog is linked to the SAFE website, I feel it would not be appropriate to publish reader comments on dog training and would recommend that if you do have any concerns about your pets behaviour then I would suggest you consult your local vet regarding an initial check up to rule out illness or injury and they will be able to advise you about consulting a qualified pet behavioural specialist.

Pet behavioural issues can come in many forms and whilst the internet can offer helpful advice, it really is best to consult an expert so that your pet can be assessed on a one to one basis and the appropriate training given.

Dedicated to Donkey

Do I regret getting Donkey? – No, not at all in fact I am pleased that we got him because I think the right home for this little guy is in Perth and it will be a home where he can either safely be the dominant male or he will be an only dog with some rough and tumble type teenagers that can give him a run for his money in the energy stakes and he may well have not had that chance in Karratha.

To quote Sue from SAFE, even if I was Donkey’s temporary home until he found his next home, it was all meant to be – he was meant to come to Perth and I was meant to be put in touch with SAFE.

Because this is not the end of the Donkey Diaries, they will continue in the name of Donkey and instead of just Donkey being in them, it will now be dedicated to all of the SAFE dogs in Karratha that need loving homes and also in the hope of raising much needed funds for SAFE and the wonderful work that they do.

And of course, how could I regret turning up at Perth airport with Tori, Dee and Clare to pick up the little guy and having the privilege of a ‘wet smelly beard’ type kiss from Donkey. Donkey is a bit of a ‘derro dog’ as in you can imagine him getting into various scrapes and fights, escaping from his garden to flirt with the local female dogs, and probably fathering a few litters of pups in his time as well.

Now he will be starting his life in Perth, it has been established what he is like, the stuff he likes and what he doesn’t and I reckon for this little/big dog it will be his best paw forward from now.

Thank you Donkey Dundee – it has been a pleasure knowing you.

If you would like to donate to SAFE Karratha, their bank details are as follows:

SAFE Karratha/HQ

Bank:
Account Name:
BSB Number:
Account Number:

Commonwealth Bank
Saving Animals From Euthanasia Inc
066-531
101 488 05

All I ask, is that if you do donate, if you could reference it as ‘Donkey Dundee’ so that SAFE know who it is in relation to.

Every Donkey has his ‘day’

Posted on January 15, 2013 by Samantha Rose

Good morning! – Donkey surveys his new home in Perth

Donkey’s side of the story

Who is Donkey?

Donkey sat in his cage at Perth airport in the Australian Air Express depot, he could feel his SAFE scarf tied around his neck, his thin canvas collar with a small SAFE tag containing his animal number – that was it, the sum total of his identity.

Even he was beginning to question who he was, all he knew was that he was Donkey, his first owner had died, his second one was unable to keep him, neither had de-sexed him so his burning desire to mate with every female dog in Karratha had blighted his life somewhat.

He knew he had stayed at a couple of foster homes that had cared for him very well, he knew that some things were just too tempting – like Pad Thai noodles and rummaging through everyone’s bins and he knew that Sue’s dog Malcolm was ‘top dog’ and there was only room for one top dog and it couldn’t be him.

He knew that he was going on a plane to Perth where a lady called Samantha had her heart set on adopting him to share her life with a black kelpie dog called Rocky and a ginger cat from the UK called Gordon – and although he didn’t know it yet, he wasn’t going to like Gordon.

So who is Donkey? What does Donkey have to his name? Well ALL Donkey has to his name is in fact, his name – and his collar, scarf and SAFE tag.

Donkey’s arrival

Donkey was met with hugs and kisses from Samantha, he wagged his tail – he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to but he did it anyway, it was sort of obligatory. He was sure his previous ‘crimes’ were written all over his head – bin rummaging, being cheeky to alpha male Malcolm dog, escaping, mating with the local bitches, Samantha could see his naughty crimes and he was sure of it.

He wanted to smarten himself up, he wanted to straighten his thin canvas collar and polish his tag and smooth his prickly beard but he looked scruffy, he looked tatty and really at the end of the day, you cant polish a turd.

Suddenly his collar and SAFE tag seemed the most important thing in the world to him, they ware all he had aside from his name, his history was a sad one and hardly something he could brag about and he dare not tell anyone that he was a food thief and a bin raider. So all he had to his name, was his collar, his scarf and his SAFE tag and of course, his name – Donkey.

The journey home made him feel sick, how long would he be in this home for, how long could he behave himself for – could he resist the bins and the rubbish? He felt himself being hugged by Samantha and kept giving her a somewhat grateful lick on her face and he enjoyed listening to Tori’s high pitched girly voice as she drove them towards his new home.

Home sweet home!

Donkey was greeted by a sleek black kelpie wearing a nice red collar and a dog tag. Instantly he felt envious, this dogs collar had a history, it was covered in mud, his tags chewed and scratched – yes, Rocky had a history, he had his name, his collar, his tags and a history.

After that initial walk and introduction on neutral ground, Rocky and Donkey were finally allowed to meet off the leash in the garden. Donkey had found a squeaky purple bone – that he wanted to claim it for his own, it could be his and the start of his new life would revolve around the purple bone. Unbeknown to him, Abdel had bought him that bone just for him.

Watching the curious young kelpie come towards him, Donkey let out a growl that said ‘bugger off, it’s mine’ – Rocky not being used to sharing his garden and toys and generally being rubbish at ‘speaking dog’, did not read the signals and continued to try and take the bone.

In a flash, Donkey attacked him – he had to, it was survival for this little desert dog to defend what he felt was rightfully his, his primal instincts kicked in and he fought with Rocky who was shocked, surprised and not sure how to react – a bit like a street kid fighting with a posh kid over a train set.

Samantha sat back and let it happen, why did she do that? Because it HAD to happen, boundaries had to be established, both dogs made noise, both dogs were ‘mouthed’ and both dogs had saliva over them and both dogs were visibly shaken after their altercation and stood looking confused as it was over as quickly as it started.

Donkey left the bone, Rocky left Donkey and Samantha checked to see that neither of them were hurt – they weren’t (except for their pride).

Convinced that was it, second crime committed (first was trying to attack Gordon the cat), his copybook was blotted, he just knew he would be sent away, he could feel his thin canvas collar on his neck, he could feel his SAFE scarf and the tag and he knew he still had his name – he was Donkey, ‘they’ could send him anywhere and he would still be Donkey and more to the point, his ‘crime sheet’ was growing and would follow him wherever he went.

New ‘clothes’

Samantha called him over and he felt her hands on his neck, he heard the ‘click’ of his collar and felt it loosen as it was removed from him, he had already removed his SAFE scarf earlier and buried it in the mud so he could pretend that he never was a rescue dog and he could start afresh, providing he wasn’t sent away for being naughty.

In its place, Samantha clipped on a smart thin green camouflage collar on his neck and on that collar was a huge silver heavy tag with the Australian flag on one side and his details on the other and the biggest thing engraved on the collar was his name ‘Donkey’.

Quivering with excitement, Donkey wanted to cry – his very own proper collar with his name on it. He wanted to stare at it, to touch it, he liked to hear it ‘jingle’ as he shook his head but more to the point, he was also aware of the little kelpie staring at him, confused – why was HIS owner making a fuss of the NEW dog that had already bashed him for trying to take a toy?

The little dog was only too aware of the pressure to try and behave so he could keep his home – the stakes were high and he knew it.

That night

Donkey had his own area – the BBQ area as it was too early to leave Rocky and Donkey together. He had also been given his own kennel – he had never had his own kennel before, what did he do with this large plastic house with a blanket in it? Did he sleep in it or chew it?

Beside the kennel was a camp bed with a quilt on it and next to that a large shiny silver food bowl and an even larger bowl of water and next to the kennel, a giant hide chew – was that really for him, was he still a foster dog or was this his home?

That night he was allowed in the laundry room, he could see Gordon the cat staring at him through the baby gate, he wanted to chase Gordon – the large fat ginger rat/cat but something about Samantha’s face told him he couldn’t, self control on this issue posed a big problem and Donkey had in fact built his own ‘fence’ to stop him going in to the living room to sit with his family, because quite simply – he could not be trusted.

He could feel his tummy rumbling, he was hungry, he glanced round looking for bins to empty and food cupboards to look through and wondered if there were any tasty morsels he could find?

Samantha came into the laundry room, she looked upset as though she had been crying. What had he done aside from fight Rocky and go to attack the cat? Surely his naughty thoughts could not have been discovered by Samantha, he was terrified to move, he was scared to be a normal dog so he did the typical rescue dog thing, where they don’t know what to do or how to behave so they do nothing.

Donkey sat down and wagged the tip of his tail, he wasn’t sure whether or not he should wag it, but he did anyway. Samantha sat beside him and she was crying – what had he done, had he upset her? He licked her face frantically to say ‘sorry’ for whatever it was he had done since he arrived.

He felt her arm go around him and he wriggled his small tan and white body and pressed it against hers and washed her face – it tasted salty, he would say ‘sorry’ anyway as he may have been naughty and not realized it.

‘We have a rule in this house’ Samantha said in between wiping her eyes, ‘And that rule is that no animal should ever go hungry, so do you know what I am going to do now?’

Donkey didn’t know, so he licked her face again.

‘I am going to feed you again’ and with that she placed some biscuits in his bowl. Samantha had heard of Donkey’s habit of bin raiding and knew of his food issues.

Should he eat them? Was it a trick? Was he meant to eat them? And more to the point, were they Pad Thai noodles?

Temptation got the better of him as he sniffed the gravy dust from the large dog biscuits and within a few seconds, the bowl of biscuits were gone and the bowl was clean. He licked her face again, his beard brown from gravy dust and damp from drooling.

Bedtime

Donkey sat on his camp bed, not sure whether or not to go in this kennel that was supposedly now his, he had decided to sleep on the camp bed instead. Rocky was kept inside that night to allow Donkey to relax in his new environment.

The kookaburras made their noisy call, the last call of the magpies and the odd Carnaby’s cockatoo could be heard and then aside from the cars going up/down the main road, it was silent – just Donkey – and his collar, tag and the purple bone which had magically reappeared by his kennel.

Donkey curled up to make himself as small as possible, it wasn’t cold but he shivered anyway. You see dogs that have gone from home to home including foster homes become unsettled and separation anxiety can set in, it is nobodies fault, just one of those things and each new home can add to the issues and Donkey had some issues.

He could feel his collar around his neck, his SAFE scarf had gone – buried in the mud somewhere, but he could feel the weight of his new tag and that weight was heavy, he had to be on his best behavior. This place was cold compared to Karratha, it was new, it smelt different, even the dogs looked different and whom, I ask, gave a cat THAT many rights that it could live in the whole house and not be confined like Donkey?

The little/big dog did a loud sigh, his purple squeaky bone was held tightly between his paws, and even in his sleep, Samantha could periodically hear him squeaking that bone as if to remind him where he was, or was it to remind him it was his toy, or that he was in his new home? Donkey – he now not only had his name, his new collar, his tag and his new home – he had a new toy as well, his identity was growing.

Donkey’s story – to be continued

Samantha’s Story – Donkey Diaries

Donkey and I get acquainted

Tori and I were at Perth airport, waiting to be seen by AAE, we stood outside and peered through the gates to see if we could see Donkey.

‘There he is!’ I yelled to Tori as I spotted this little/big dog sitting in his cage, appearing as chilled out as can be, with his paws crossed and a bottle of water between them.He wagged his tail and then just stared at us, did he want to come home with me – he barely showed a reaction.

We were taken through to the holding pen where I had to remove him from his cage, his whole body wriggled and his tail wagged and I felt him lick my neck as though I were his long lost owner. He smelt of bones, meat and ‘dog’ if you know what I mean, we all have our own smell and that was Donkey’s smell.

He wore a thin black canvas collar, a blue SAFE scarf tied neatly round his neck and he had a SAFE dog tag on with his animal number. This was my new dog – Donkey.

I won’t bore you with the journey home, I am sure Donkey has told you his version and that will do for me.

Gordon

Gordon was sitting on the sofa as we walked in and although Donkey was on a tight leash, he made a very quick grab for Gordon, no growling – nothing, just opened his mouth and lunged at him, tapping him on the snout and saying ‘No!’ in a loud voice, I removed him from the living room, feeling shaken – I mean everyone loves Gordon and now I had brought in an animal that wanted to eat him.

‘That is not a good reaction’ I said to Tori, feeling upset, Gordon however had refused to run away and stared Donkey straight in the eye and told him to ‘piss off’ but I think even Gordon was rattled at how quickly Donkey went for him, basically had Donkey been off the leash he would have killed him. Trouble is, Gordon was right by the door when we walked in – but anyway, it’s over and done with.

Now as many of you know or if you read my ‘Sjogrens Diaries’, you will now that I am quite sick with an auto immune disease and I take steroids, anti malarials and a low dose chemo drug to suppress my immune system so I am not that best equipped to deal with stress really.

The build up to getting Donkey had been so intense and picking him up the day after my methotrexate injection (which always leaves me tired), had sort of brought things to a head. As you can imagine the reaction with Gordon had left me shaken with feelings of ‘what the fuck have I done’ – how could I keep them separate, I had even worked through the scenario of Donkey killing Gordon and what would I do as it would all be my fault. I had lived and played out every possible scenario and to be quite frank, I was exhausted.

With regards to Rocky, I had expected a fight to break out, it is normal canine behavior to establish boundaries but I never realized how much it would effect me seeing my kelpie have to defend his patch, when in fact I should have also realized that Rocky is not a dominant male and one of them has to be and really, Donkey is the better candidate for the role. The only thing that Rocky dominates is his rubber chicken and even now, the head has been bitten off that (thank you Donkey).

So seeing my new dog go for my cat and establish himself as new pack leader in my garden all in the space of two hours was not only upsetting, but exhausting as well for me. Normally the day after my Methotrexate injection I usually rest, not act as referee between animals and the whole day had left me feeling drained, both mentally and physically.

What have I done?

I don’t know about any of you that have rescued animals but have you ever had the ‘what the fuck have I done?’ moments when you have got your new pet home? The excitement of actually acquiring the cat/dog has worn off – he/she is home, it is now down to you to iron out bad habits, raise them, discipline them and get them to blend in with your family.

It is also worth remembering that when someone is in your home or you in theirs, you are all on best behavior because you know how to behave. Well a rescue dog doesn’t know how to behave and just because he/she is in your home, bad and undesirable habits can often be displayed quite early on in the relationship and instead of earning your trust and respect, you have to earn theirs – despite the naughty stuff that incidentally, falls down to you to sort out.

I fell asleep on the sofa and woke up some hours later, my mouth was so dry, my eyes itchy and burning, my joints swollen as I had some sun exposure that day and it was typical Sjogrens syndrome symptoms of waking up feeling shit. Then I had that moment of realization – there was an extra dog in my garden, my new dog and he had a tag with his name and my address on it, he had an identichip that linked back to me and his council rego papers had been paid for – Donkey my new dog that had already tried to eat the cat and fight Rocky. What the fuck had I done?

And with those thoughts, I burst into tears (well I don’t produce tears but you get my drift) and I cried like a baby until my ribs ached, my throat hurt and my arms went numb – the past few weeks had caught up with me and let’s just say those emotions – well they well and truly kicked my arse.

I crept to the laundry room where Donkey was lying down with his hind legs splayed out in a frog like pose behind him, he looked up at me nervously – let me tell you now that dogs pick up ALL of our feelings, our own behavior and emotions, even our bad moods.

Donkey’s tail wagged a little and as I looked into his eyes, he sat up and washed his empty food bowl and then looked at me. I felt this overwhelming feeling of sadness that I was not up to the job of giving this little guy a good home and that he had already been through so much, he was better off somewhere else.

Donkey looked down at his bowl, licked it and looked up at me again.

Please Sir, I want some more

I went in to the laundry room and sat on the floor and started crying again, I felt ill, I felt exhausted, I felt tired from the Methotrexate injection, I was tired of all the medication I had to pump into myself in order to function and now I had adopted a problem dog that hated my cat and had ousted my kelpie from his position in the household.

And with those thoughts I carried on crying for some time until I felt Donkey washing my face frantically and giving me one of his huge, chunky and rather deformed paws. ‘What the fuck have I done?’ I kept repeating in between Donkey face licks.

What did we both have – I had a problem dog, my ill health, my home, my husband, my kelpie and my cat and my temp job, Donkey had his name, his tag, his collar and at the moment – his new home, everything and I mean everything seemed so damned fragile.

Trying to compose myself, I stared at Donkey and told him that in our house no animal ever goes hungry and then placed some biscuits in his bowl, as I watched him hesitate and then hunger get the better of him (rescue dogs often have food issues if they haven’t had a regular mealtime or have been in a few homes, it does NOT always mean they have been made to go hungry), he wolfed down his biscuits and then said thank you with a damp and smelly kiss and wiping his gravy dust beard on my face.

Later that night Abdel came home and met Donkey and it was agreed that he was cute and also agreed that he must be kept away from Gordon at all costs.

Donkey was put to bed in the BBQ area with a few more biscuit and his hide chew and his new purple squeaky bone, Rocky was cuddled and reassured that he was the ‘Number one boy’ and I had a shower and cried some more because I felt so ill from medication, and emotional from the entire day.

It was 2am when I heard it – the squeaking of a toy, every half an hour or so that purple bone would squeak – not very loudly but enough to hear it. And even I knew that it was probably Donkey using it to comfort himself and tell himself that he was still here – in a strange place that was meant to be his home.

6am the next morning

I woke up feeling better, heaps better, I had a mouth full of ulcers and my eyes were sore but that is the nature of my illness. Then it hit me – shit, I had a new dog that hated my cat and those awful visions of potential problems that had not occurred yet were still haunting me.

Creeping out to the garden to let Rocky out, I nervously peered over the BBQ area and was shocked to see Donkey still fast asleep on his camp bed, he had made himself so small it wasn’t true and in between his paws held quite tightly, was his purple rubber bone.

‘Donkey’ I said calmly, and then repeated it a little louder ‘Donkey’

He opened his eyes, looked somewhat confused and then jumped up to greet me, I opened the gate and he ran out to the lawn to play with Rocky, both dogs seemed to forget that I was there and proceeded to play for a few minutes, chewing on each other, posturing and sparring together. Donkey glanced up at me, then ran over and licked my hand and went back to playing with Rocky.

And from that very moment I decided to take one day at a time, Donkey was here living in our house, Gordon was still OK and it was down to us to protect him, Rocky had accepted Donkey as the alpha male and we were all about to go on a steep learning curve.

I stared at Donkey for some time after he had finished playing, do we look like his owners, are we up to the job and does he look like ‘our dog’?

Donkey, with his collar and his tag (and his name)

Who knows, but it is a case of one day at a time and friendships are not built in a day, nothing becomes ‘home’ in a day and everything worth having takes time and effort. Besides, if I am honest, the only thing that Rocky was in charge of was his rubber chicken and was never ‘top dog’ material so perhaps it is me that is more upset at him being ‘ousted’ as top dog and not Rocky who admittedly was in dire need of canine guidance.

And you know what? I think we just might be OK – baby steps and all that.

Until next time..

Note: I am not asking for opinions on dog training – I am taking advice from my vet regarding this. I am just writing this diary to express what I am feeling and how I am finding this process as I am sure I am not alone in the roller coaster that is involved in adopting a new pet.

Donkey Escapes from Karratha!

Posted on January 14, 2013 by Samantha Rose

Desert dog – Donkey Dundee has escaped Karratha despite the best efforts of TC Narelle to stop him, I can exclusively reveal today.

It was tense, it was fraught with danger, lots of people were involved, a scarf was tied around his neck in case he became lost in the desert, people cried, people laughed and people cheered – although who laughed and cheered I do not know.

It is thought that Kelly Wheeler from Australian Air Express was heavily involved in getting Donkey out of Karratha and this cannot be denied as she is in the photograph.

The Departure

Donkey settles in car

Donkey technically didn’t have a proper red carpet but the red towel sufficed nicely and Donkey didn’t seem too worried at all about it being a towel.

Donkey – where is your seat belt?

When Donkey was questioned about his position on the situation, he replied ‘What can I say, I like sitting on the front seat, I am that kinda guy!‘

And he’s off!

On arrival at Karratha Airport, Donkey met Kelly Wheeler from Australian Air Express, now please do not be fooled at her innocent face because she was heavily involved in the smuggling of Donkey Dundee to get him to Perth and out of TC Narelle’s clutches.

Kelly did a sterling job in keeping this top secret and even wanted to put a balaclava on Donkey’s face to keep him in disguise but Donkey refused and a compromise was made when Donkey agreed to wear party hats on his ears in celebration of his new life.

It’s party time!

Donkey joins in the celebrations

Sue and Lelly (Australian Air Express) do the final checks

Sue sends Donkey on his way via the ‘red carpet’

It was an emotional Donkey that took off from Karratha that day, the only identity that he had to his name was in fact his name ‘Donkey’, a plain black collar with a small SAFE tag with his animal number on it and a blue SAFE scarf tied around his neck.

What is the big deal with that? I hear you ask, well every dog should firstly have his name, his owner, his toys, a collar that tells his story and a disk that tells everyone including the ranger, just who he is.

Rescue dogs tend to lose their identity, they have the collar from their old owners, the tag from the rescue but often they don’t have their toys and some of them don’t even know their own name. You see part of being a dog is having your dignity and dignity comes in the form of the above and Donkey took flight that day only knowing his name and having the love that the SAFE girls had shown him but other than that, he just had the collar and scarf he stood up in.

Welcome to Perth Donkey!

Donkey was collected at the Australian Air Express depot and was seen sitting with his front paws crossed and a bottle of water between them (yes really!) and he looked as cool as a cucumber and wagged his tail when I shouted his name.

Now for those of you that don’t ‘speak dog’ – please look away now because you totally won’t ‘get it’.

Donkey had that look about him of people that arrive at airports that are awaiting their friends/family to meet them and they are late. You see the panic in their faces, will they turn up? What do I do if they don’t? – you know the kind of thing.

I swear Donkey was saying ‘Shit, they are not coming, the bastards, I don’t care, why would I? Who cares, I am Donkey, I can do anything! Bastards, they are not coming, what am I going to do?’

It was like the little dog kept looking at my friend Tori and I through the holding pen, hoping it was us, not sure if it was us and clutching what little identity he did have – his name. Because each time we called him, he would look up and say ‘Donkey, that’s me, I am here, can you see me!’

We were led into the holding pen to remove Donkey from his cage – the arrival and first intro can be seen by clicking on this link: Donkey’s Arrival

Samantha meet Donkey, Donkey meet Samantha!

Donkey recalls his experience with TC Narelle

Donkey arrives ‘home’

Donkey arrived home and was immediately introduced to existing kelpie dog – Rocky, on neutral territory where they were both take for a walk. Rocky was somewhat dismayed to discover that Donkey is rather generously ‘blessed’ in the genital department whilst he in fact, resembles a lady-boy.

I would like to say that Donkey liked Gordon but he didn’t, in fact he rather wanted to eat him with some sauce and it didn’t help that Gordon isn’t scared of him but suffice to say that Donkey has to be kept away from Gordon and can only admire him from the safe confines of the baby gate and no, I am afraid I will not be using Caesar Millans technique of putting Gordon in a small cage because Gordon won’t feel safe in a cage, he hates all cages and at 12 years old, I am not about to start stressing him out.

The simple answer is that they will NEVER allowed to be together and can only admire one another from afar. Gordon was sighted yesterday sitting by the baby gate telling Donkey to ‘piss off’ but trust me, Donkey’s prey drive is as such, Gordon would not stand a chance and I personally do not think it is worth the risk anyway.

Please Sir can I have some more?

A New Identity

It was done in exaggerated fashion and really should have had an audience. Donkey tore off his SAFE scarf and buried it in the mud and said ‘I ain’t no rescue dog any more!’ He then came up to demand a change of ‘clothes’ as in a new collar in a bid to leave his old life behind.

A green camouflage collar was put on him with his new disk with his name/details on it, Donkey gave a nod of approval and then went and took a shit on the lawn to mark his territory, a shit I might add which was almost as big as he is.

Donkey was asked how he felt about life in Perth, his response was ‘How long am I at this home for?’ and then glanced down at his ID tag looking somewhat thoughtful.

I would like to thank SAFE Karratha for all their help and support, everyone involved in Donkey’s foster care – especially Sue for ‘jail breaking’ him out of kennels and also Lelly at Australian Air Express for all her help.

And now the challenge of settling Donkey in to his new home, ironing out his bad habits and installing new good ones begins – wish us luck.

So that is the latest update – Donkey Diaries will continue from Perth and take the following angles:

1. Donkey Diaries – Mock newspaper updates

2. Donkey Diaries – from Donkey’s point of view

3. Donkey Diaries – taking on a rescue dog from MY perspective.

Donkey ‘Break Out’ Assisted by ‘Mystery Man’ in high viz!

Posted on January 11, 2013 by Samantha Rose

Mystery Man assists in Donkey’s ‘jail break’

A mystery man has been caught on CCTV camera assisting Donkey with his ‘jail break’ I can sensationally reveal. In an unprecedented move, Jot-it-me-down News has decided to do a further Donkey Diary update because this news is so hot you could burn your fingers on it (and I already have).

The mystery man wore jeans, high viz top and a wide rimmed brown hat – a bit like a cowboy hat but only this man never had a horse, only a large pair of bolt cutters – his face remained unseen so nobody is any the wiser as to who he is but we can reveal that he has big strong hands and muscles to be able to cut through that fence and may have a following of ladies interested in him – (Sue L will start a fan club)

Donkey can be seen gazing through the fence although nobody knows what he is looking at in the photograph, some say it could be the ‘taste of freedom’.

Other photographs of Donkey after his escape include him eating a bone whilst being totally oblivious to those around him.

Donkey eating his bone in a secret location

Sue Hedley at SAFE was asked about the mystery man with the strong hands and big muscles but remained tight lipped about the whole situation. Sue L however, could have been involved but only Donkey and the ‘mystery man’ would know and they are not telling.

Australian Air Express are on standby to smuggle Donkey out of Karratha tomorrow morning to his new home in Perth, it is hoped that the press won’t turn up because if they do, blankets will be required to cover the heads of the SWAT team and a large pillow case to put Donkey in and everyone will have to shout ‘go go go!’ like they do on ‘The Bill’ (UK TV)

Australian Air Express were asked for their opinions on this high profile little dog with big attitude, they were quoted as saying ‘All we know is that Donkey is famous and is trying hard to break out of Karratha, that is all we are saying’.

They also denied all knowledge as to whether or not Donkey would be flying his own plane ‘Air Donkey’ or in fact flying in a Qantas jet.

Air Donkey Vs Qantas!

More news as it happens.

Donkey Donations

SAFE Karratha have done a fabulous with the homing process for Donkey, their efficiency in processing the adoption and sending out the paperwork has been excellent, not to mention the support that they offer with the re-homing process.

Donkey’s stories are going to continue as Donkey becomes a part of our household, thus making up the ’3rd family member’ with Rocky and Gordon.

If you enjoy these stories and would like to donate to SAFE Karratha, their bank details are as follows:

SAFE Karratha/HQ

Bank:
Account Name:
BSB Number:
Account Number:

Commonwealth Bank
Saving Animals From Euthanasia Inc
066-531
101 488 05

All I ask, is that if you do donate, if you could reference it as ‘Donkey Dundee’ so that SAFE know who it is in relation to.

The Pigaloo Diaries

The magical world of talking animals and my view on life

Tag Archives: Pet Rescue

Brutus and Rocky in ‘snow’ incident!

Brutus – just one of those days!

Brutus Update

Brutus Update

Donkey Diaries – Donkey has a new home!

Donkey, Parties and a New Home!

How quickly things can change

Every Donkey has his ‘day’

Donkey Escapes from Karratha!

Donkey ‘Break Out’ Assisted by ‘Mystery Man’ in high viz!