Five Acres with a View

This is a general response based on questions in the comments.
 
Orion was nine weeks old last Monday, having been born in foster care on October 20. As far as we know, since he was born at a Pikes Peak Humane Society foster home, he is a purebred Miniature Schnauzer. Based on his size at nine weeks, I think he may run big for a male. From observing his behavior, his foster family did a great job with him. According to notes from his veterinarian, his mother was not good at keeping her puppies clean, and the foster family had to help, but otherwise the puppies in the litter were considered healthy. 

Lody, our elderly Collie, had a very hard time with him Saturday, and was extremely anxious even being in the same room with him.  Then, since Sunday, she has become increasing comfortable with him.  She now shows the same resigned tolerance that most elderly dogs display around obnoxious puppies.  She growls at him occasionally when he becomes particularly obstreperous, but hangs out with him with no signs of stress. 

Schnauzers frequently turn gray as they get older. However, we cannot find any gray hairs on his body, so he may stay black.  Based on his puppy coat, I expect he will have a very wiry, dense, long adult coat. 

Orion just discovered how to make one of his toys squeak.  I am so proud, in a “why did we give Junior a drum set” way.

I made a strategic error when I got home last night:  I was so tired myself I didn’t wake Rion and play with him for a while.  He had been sleeping on Jack quietly, so I took him outside and then put him in his crate, and went to sleep myself not long after.  Rion must have been tired his first night here, because last night he woke me every sixty to ninety minutes after midnight. Then I compounded the error by giving him one of his new toys, and Rion evidently decided “Wow:  this place rocks at night.”  On the other hand, watching him pounce and kill his little plush hippo toy was worth the price of admission.

Rion seems totally at home now. Like any properly adjusted puppy, he views everything as a potential toy.  The puppy toys I brought home yesterday are nice, but nothing beats a human being.  The Collie has potential too:  if he could just figure out how to get her to cooperate.

We have the house set up in zones.  The small puppy proof zone is the master bathroom.  The associated bedroom is puppy safe:  he could damage stuff, but is unlikely to get hurt doing so.  The remainder of the ground floor on this side of the French doors should be puppy safe after today, except for my office.  We are not even going to attempt to puppy safe the area on the other side of the French doors.  He still cries when he doesn’t have Jack or me in sight, but is more apt to wander off exploring on his own for a while before realizing he can’t see us.

The biggest surprise is how cheerful Rion is about going outside.  I am sure he doesn’t understand “walkies” yet, but he is enthusiastic about following me to the mudroom door.  This morning he was frolicking about in 14F and seemed quite comfortable, at least for the five minutes I was willing to keep him outside.  So far walkies consist of going the length of the dog run to the gate to the horse field.

He can now jump down from the bed, and is quite indignant that he can’t get back up under his own steam. I started brushing him with a puppy brush, but it wasn’t doing the job, so I’ve been using a tiny wire brush which he thinks is a game. 

Rion, our Miniature Schnauzer puppy spent a relatively quiet night. I, on the other hand, was too jazzed to sleep more than a few hours. Although he is really too small, he somehow manages to get up the stairs out of our sunken living room. He flows up them, rather than climbing them. I am trying to avoid the temptation to carry him everywhere: he needs the exercise, even though he is very cuddly when I lift him. I also need to get him some smaller toys: all our existing dog toys are bigger than he is. So are my Crocs, though he is perfectly willing to try to chew on them, especially if my feet are in them. He seems to have the appropriate instincts about not soiling in his crate, and let me know emphatically that he needed out about 11:30 pm last night. So far, the one thing that seems to worry him is doors slamming. He must not have heard that noise where he lived with his litter mates.