Raising Charley, Part V (?)

We were on our last camping weekend of the year, enjoying each others company and the peace of a weekend away. Friends drove the half hour to meet us for a nice dinner and a great evening out together in the little town where we were camping.

We walked the three blocks back from the restaurant to the campsite, all of us stuffed to the gills. Lots of chatter. Lots of laughter.

As we neared the RV, I saw movement at the lighted window over the kitchen sink. Puzzled at first, I finally realized it was Charley standing up on the kitchen counter!  "Lovely," I thought to myself as I hurried toward the RV, "another scolding for Charley." At the door, we found water steadily dripping out from underneath. And I could hear more water streaming from somewhere underneath the RV itself.

Upon opening the door, a cascade of water poured out, with more still coming. I stood motionless, trying to wrap my head around what I was seeing. How could there be a flood in the camper? We hadn't left anything on. Had a hose or fitting broken open somewhere? What on earth happened here?

Number 7, bless his teenage soul, leapt into action, grabbing the rubber broom and using it to push water out the door. Tim went one way and another, trying desperately to find the source of the flood. And all the while the water continued flowing out of every sink, out of the shower, and out of the toilet (don't worry -- the black water tank was still sealed off).

Finally Tim grabbed the cap on the gray water tank (shower and sink drainage) and opened it. Gallons more water flowed out of that hose than could possibly have gone into the tank in the 24 hours we'd been there.

But we remained puzzled. And frazzled. Still we could not find any breaks in the water lines. But what else could have caused the flooding?

Then I remembered that Charley had been up on the kitchen counter when we came home.

And it dawned on me that Charley had to be the source of our problem. Sometime during the evening the dog got up on the counter and managed to flip the kitchen faucet handle from the off to the on position. Water poured down the kitchen sink drain into the gray water tank. And the rest is history.

He weighs 80 pounds. He stands at least three feet tall while still on all fours. He's nosy and slobbery. He's thick as a plank. His tail is lethal. He can ruin your slacks in one second flat with his humongous wet nose. He means absolutely no harm at all and he's a teddy bear inside and out.

Charley is a force of nature.

We're still cleaning up.

- Catherine

Raising Charley, Part IV

Remember, this is what 5 month-old, 50 pound puppy-monster Charley looks like now:

Yesterday I was standing at the kitchen sink, refilling the dogs' water trough bowl. I was vaguely aware that Charley had come into the kitchen, but otherwise was absorbed in my own thoughts during this time-consuming process. I didn't feel him settle onto the floor right behind my legs.

Switching off the faucet, I turned my body away from the sink. Immediately my legs were twisted; both feet dug underneath Charley's considerable body, pinning them nicely while my upper body continued forward motion.

And then I danced.

To the breathless tune of "oh no! oh no! oh no! oh no ..." I lurched around the kitchen, fighting for control of my body and the water bowl.

Yes, the mop was required later, but I did stay on my feet and eventually made it to my destination with the still mostly filled water bowl. 

I call it The Charley Dance.

- Catherine

Raising Charley, Part III

If you follow my blog, dear reader, then you already are acquainted with our Charley, the Shepherd/Great Dane mix puppy, born last October.

Charley has grown to be a genuine snuggler, especially in the evening when the day of play is over.  He wants someone to sit next to or, preferably, on.

Unfortunately, Charley now weighs in excess of fifty pounds, so snuggling can be ... shall we say? ... problematic.  In fact, it could be detrimental to your health if he chooses to take a running leap onto your lap.

It's easy to forget that this medium sized dog, who is now taller and longer than our 7 year-old lab mutt, is only five months old.

Five. Months. (i.e. approximately 150 days).

As in ... still a baby because he hasn't been breathing oxygen for more than a half a year yet.

Fifty pounds at five months. And he wants to snuggle with us on the couch. Where he takes up the same amount of butt room as a full size human being.

Unless he is draped across several laps.

Which is heavy.

He was neutered a couple of weeks ago, and I am happy to report that some degree of calm has come upon him. He sleeps a bit more during the day and is not as quick to chew on everything as he used to be. He sleeps all night now. And he no longer clings by his teeth to my bathrobe in the morning as I get his food from the 50 lb. dog food sack (which sack gets us through, oh, about a month ... if we're lucky).

He is very definitely a Mama's Pup, sleeping as close to me as he can get all night long (he's on the floor, but woe betide us both if I don't check where my feet are going before I get out of bed, because Charley is Right There).

So, that's Charley at five months. It's hard to believe that he was this tiny once upon a time (at the age of four weeks):

Because now he looks like this this: 

- Catherine

Raising Charley, Part II

Charley had his very first walk on harness today.

It's one of those contraptions that is supposed to cure a dog of tugging. This seemed good for us since Charley will be gargantuan in a few months time and good leash manners are invaluable. To that end, I purchased this harness some months ago when I knew we were going to have the kind of dog that could pull me flat to the ground with one good tug.

What I didn't do is double-check by peeking through the clear packaging to see the color of the actual harness that I was buying. I just looked at the cardboard signage tucked into the front and back of the clear package, which showed a red harness.

Red is a good color for both my dogs. So I grabbed it and headed home. 

That was in November.

This morning I opened it up.

It's pink.

A pink mesh harness with pink fleecy padding and a pink lead.

Sorry, Charley.

And Number 7 won't be best pleased because he won't want to train the dog with a pink harness. But it's too late to take it back now.

The good thing is that Charley won't care, especially after March 1st when he goes to the vet for his, um, transformation.

- Catherine

Raising Charley

For your reading pleasure, today's blog post is in free verse form. I've no idea why. That's just how it started and kept on going.

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Charley gets up at three (a.m.) to pee

He's quite big now, but the puppy-sized bladder 

still won't hold it for long

Then, if we're lucky, he will settle back down 

for a three-hour nap with Tim

If we're not lucky

then the day has begun.

Charley's day begins in a frenzy

All teeth and barks and romping around

Two cups of dog food are scarfed down 

as though he is starving

In and out and in and out the back door

He cannot make up his little mind

where to play.

Ever concerned for my rugs

I let him in and out 

and in and out the back door

Because Charley is not completely trained

Yet.

Three months old, Charley is enormous and larger than life 

When breakfast is served, he jumps and turns in circles of delight

Someday soon he's going to clunk his head on the table

I just know it

Charley loves a good gladiator romp

with Hank

Hank does not.

As he grows

Charley's body is always out of proportion

His legs are still short

Which makes him cute

And his little back legs now move independently

Instead of the puppy scamper

That I loved so much.

When darkness falls, Charley needs comfort.

Mama's feet

Daddy's lap

Anywhere that he can snuggle before bedtime

and kennel are announced.

And the day is over.

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Charley-on-a-Harley is what I've taken to calling him. It fits.

- Catherine