Puppy love: How the pitter patter of tiny paws can change your life

Friday, 28 January 2022

Oscar's week one of ball retrieval.

They call it puppy love - the beginning

It was the morning after the first night and I felt like I’d been to an all-night party and drank the bar dry.

But I hadn’t even left the house – not with an eight-week-old miniature schnauzer puppy joining me and my husband in our home.

It wasn't a hangover, it was being kept awake by a crying puppy at the other end of the house, and we were determined to keep that distance. Apparently getting up only encourages the behaviour.

It started out small, just a whine when we left him at midnight to retire to his crate and pen. Then, he used every note on his musical scales; whines, cries, mini-barks. That lasted seven minutes but through the night there were shorter, less intense bursts every hour.

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This adorable, 7-week-old miniature schnauzer came into our hearts and home at 8-weeks-old.

It had been a life-changing 24 hours for all involved; he was leaving his mum, siblings and human family behind, and we were raising our first animal together.

We drove 400 kilometres from Nelson to Christchurch, and picked up the little guy for the long drive home, unsure of how it would go. Would he get car sick? Would he cry? Would he pee in the car?

We felt as prepared as we could be though between the week we chose him and collection day. I’d been reading Mark Vette’s Puppy Zen; we bought the crate, the pen, the travel carrier, puppy wipes, blankets, poo bags, toys, leads, clickers, bowls, treat pouch, and a 10-kilo bag of food.

I visited the local vet and I lined up friends with dogs as potential visits for socialisation. We were determined to do everything right, and by the book, even if it meant our once tidy little house became strewn with dog paraphernalia.

The face that looks so innocent when he’s sleepy, is full of energy when he’s wide awake and ready to play.

The two house rules we are determined not to break were, no dogs on the couch or on the bed. I’m constantly told we’ll fold – we won’t.

Oscar meets his first mature dog friend.

We anticipated the five-hour drive home would take a lot longer after a suggested stop every 30-minutes for toileting – or “be quick” as we say to get him used to a command.

We couldn’t have asked for a better trip. He slept on a blanket on my lap (while the carrier sat unused on the back seat) with stops along the way, then we changed over half way to share the puppy love. He wasn’t car sick, he didn't cry, and he didn’t toilet in the car. Winning.

So as we settle Oscar into a new way of life, we’re discovering we may have chosen the pick of the litter.

But how do you choose your puppy?

Oscar was introduced to the hose, with great results.

Choosing “the one” is easy, you look into its eyes, and if it looks straight back into your soul, it’s the one.

Oscar has all the bells and whistles a puppy needs, including crate with a pen attached. He fell asleep in his crate with his leg hanging out.

That’s how we chose Oscar.

I was determined to buy from the right breeder, so after visiting a few, it turned out gut feeling won over credentials.

Play, training, separation and socialisation were an important part of daily life with Oscar in his first two months with us.

Oscar wrestles with his blanket.

The next choice was which one of three boys left do you pick to be your forever friend? We got tough with colour, then personality - not too peppy, but not too soft, we wanted a dog, not a pussy. It was Oscar who stared straight back at us, and we were instantly sold.

I had wanted a dog since I can remember. I grew up with family dogs; big, hairy rough collies. Then I married a man highly allergic to all things furry.

Then we discovered mini schnauzers – seemingly the dog of the moment had slipped under our radar. They ticked all the boxes: scruffy looking (the unclipped look has them almost unrecognisable compared to the traditionally groomed bearded schnauzers), small enough for our home and garden, but big enough not to stand on.

It had to be male, low shedding, and a South Islander for ease of transport. And along with looks and attributes, making sure the breed’s personality fit in with our lifestyle was also a big consideration.

Back-sleeping with his nose and belly presented, Oscar fell asleep in his travel case surrounded by his favourite toy and blanket.

‘Puppy Zen’ by animal behavioural expert Mark Vette was dog-eared and book-marked on our kitchen table while we learned the ropes on raising a well-rounded pooch.

After the first night with Oscar tested our strength, the second night was a breeze. We both hit the hay before it was even dark, and the puppy seemed just as pooped. No whines despite going through the same routine of leaving him in his pen with his crate, the only difference was we each left a t-shirt we had worn for the day so he could smell us.

Oscar, left, meets Richard who’s just one day younger. During their first play date they got along like best mates.

A complete package of shaping a dog is something you don’t think about when taking the plunge. Yes there’s toilet training, but on top of that, there’s just a window of four, maybe eight weeks of laying down some foundations before training becomes more challenging.

Oscar four-months-old, and slightly in need of an eyebrow cut.

And there’s a lot to tick off; socialisation with people and dogs, separation training, desensitisation to things they could be scared of, the basic house manners and what not to chew. According to Puppy Zen, all that can be curbed by the owners.

Reality of raising a puppy

Puppies are like Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, when they're sleepy, your heart just melts and they win you over with cuteness, but when they’re ready to play, the teeth come out and cuddles become like trying to hold a slippery eel with needle-point claws.

After four days of having Oscar in our home, he had become a fun part of every day, and a tonic for lifting spirits.

A common sight around the house is Oscar resting his head on the closest toy around.

The days have begun with getting up at daylight to let him outside for toileting and a play, usually with a miniature tennis ball for his miniature mouth, a tug rope, or his favourite toy, a toilet roll.

He trots by my side to wander around the house, outside he does rabbit hops; plants and flowers are something to chew on or leap into like a child jumping into a ball pit.

Training began with a number of “sit”, “come', “wait” and “stay” sessions.

Then it was introducing household items, starting with the vacuum cleaner. I remember one of our family collies used to go berserk when the vacuum came out, biting at the nozzle and barking maniacally. Oscar met the vacuum unplugged with treats, then when I powered it up, he followed me around the house while I sedately hoovered.

Next item of interest was the hairdryer. Again, same introduction, and again, no issues. He was passing with flying colours!

During one day together, I took him into the newsroom to meet new people. Oscar trotted in like he owned the place and lapped up the compliments on his colour, “nice disposition” and “calm” demeanour. Once he’s toilet trained, he may be required to be the office mascot, boosting staff morale with his calming effects.

I have to admit, it’s a little anxiety-building, thinking you have this little creature depending on you to do good by them. You’re tasked with more than just loving and feeding them, there’s a responsibility to train them to ensure they grow up confident and capable of handling the world around them.

Oscar can be a little terror, but at the end of the day, he brings a lot of love to our house, making it a home.

It’s extremely rewarding. I've never known the love of having a child, but I can imagine it’s similar, my heart just bursts with joy when I look at him, and even though he can’t understand me, I still talk to him.

At the end of the day, whether he’s Dr Jekyll, nice and decent, or Mr Hyde, causing terror while biting at furniture and peeing on the floor, he’s shaping up to be an incredible little guy.

Facing the world

It’s been more than two months since Oscar joined us, and he’s fully vaccinated, toilet trained, and a lot of laughs.

Every day I look at him in awe of how cute he is and his intelligence.

But he’s also still a puppy, at just over four-months-old, and he still has his moments of chewing things he shouldn’t and biting the hand that feeds him.

After taking advice from How Dogs Think by Stanley Coren’, I’ve taken to telling off the things he chews. Yes, you read right, telling off things. Last week I found myself smacking and saying, “No!” to the laundry basket after I caught Oscar chewing it and the clothes inside, as usual.

He gave the basket one last bite before walking off, and since then, the only attention he’s given it was to climb into it to sleep on the woollen jumper at the bottom. My underwear got a telling off this morning and my running shoes will be next when I catch him red pawed.

I think a woman I met on a walk summed it up brilliantly about having a pooch. As she doted over him, she said to me, “You’re so lucky”.

He always greets us with a wagging tail, he makes us laugh, and he gives us so much love.

And we still don’t let him on the couch or the bed.