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arrival of Neville
Tuesday, March 29 2016
We had a power outage this morning, freakishly on a day when I'd scheduled two separate job interviews. But the outage only lasted about two hours, and the phone was working for my 2:00pm phone interview and the internet was working for my 6:00pm Google hangouts interview. That last one was the more important of the two, so I freaked out a bit when I initially experienced technical difficulties on my desktop. I solved those by switching to a laptop and plugging in a speaker (Windows 7 audio can be set up to output sound to just the audio jack, not the speakers). The interview, which was with the technical team at the animal rights organization, went well, though such things are always a bit awkward. especially for an introvert like me. At this point I've put a lot of work into getting a job, so I hope I eventually get one.
Over the past few days, Gretchen has been in correspondence with the folks over at Animal Farm Foundation regarding Kenai, the adorable young Pit Bull with the luxating patella. It turned out that his knee problem was considered only a "stage one" luxation, meaning the proper course of action was not surgery but was instead exercise, development of muscle mass, and teaching him how to de-luxate his patella. Once I'd heard that, I was satisfied that his knee wouldn't be too much of a problem. So I gave his adoption my blessing. Gretchen was overjoyed and immediately arranged to pick him up. She did so this afternoon. Not wanting to crowd all three dogs into the car, only Eleanor accompanied her on the drive out. To fake out Ramona, I acted like Gretchen and I were going somewhere in separate cars and I had Ramona get into the Subaru with me. After Gretchen left and it was clear I wasn't driving anywhere after all, Ramona seemed to understand that I'd basically told her a lie and went off to the greenhouse to sulk. She would be in a pissy mood for the rest of the day, and only grudgingly tolerate Kenai when he finally arrived.
As for Kenai, we quickly renamed him Neville, and he seemed to settle right in. Before long, he'd sniffed noses with Clarence the Cat, who immediately sensed that the new dog was no threat. Though Neville is only a year old, he is so calm and slow that he seems more like ten.
But it wasn't long before Neville was showing himself to be not all snuggles and kisses. He soon did some marking pissing near Gretchen's first floor desk, and not long after that we found a pile of his feces on a small throw rug. Then he showed himself to be an occasional drooler, which is something none of our dogs have ever been. He's not as bad of a drooler as, say, Bruce (Ray's brother's big-headed Pit Bull), but when he gets really relaxed sometimes ropes of drool start the form from the pink corners of his mouth.
We took Neville outside numerous times in hopes that he would come to view that part of the world as the preferred place to piss and poop. But, strangely, he didn't seem to want to join us on any walks, at least not initially. Eventually I was able to lead him on an evening stroll through the forest between the Farm Road and the Stick Trail, but he tended to lag behind me by as much as fifty feet. I'm not used to dogs showing so little excitement while free to run around in the big outdoors. It can't all be due to his luxating patella; Neville's energy set point must just be innately low for a one year old dog.
We'd been warned that Neville is a chewer, but fortunately he was showing himself to be so fond of the many old bones in our house that nothing else much interested him. Neville also quickly mastered the dog door, which resembled a door at Animal Farm Foundation. But at one point Gretchen caught him wandering off towards Dug Hill Road, so she decided it was best to latch the dog door until Neville arrives at the conclusion that our house is his new home.
Susan and David came over tonight for a meet and greet with Neville. They're huge fans of Pit Bulls with his look, though what surprised them even more was his serene temperament. They just couldn't get enough. At some point Neville's snorty pleasure breathing sound turned into something of a purr. "He's a dog who purrs!" David exclaimed with delight. Meanwhile, Ramona sulked and pouted over on the ottoman in front of the woodstove. I tried to give her attention to demonstrate that she remained an important and essential dog in our lives, but she wasn't really buying it.
Me with Neville this evening.
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