Week 30: Tension

I’m in the kitchen, steel polish in hand, finishing the cleaning of the range cooker. I’m feeling a bit choked-up as I squirt what amounts to over-priced baby oil onto the clean steel surfaces. Now I don‘t know about you, but as a rule polishing cookers is not usually something that brings a tear to the eye, unless you’ve gone in too early after the hob has been running at full tilt. But there I am, feeling a bit blubby as bright, clean steel emerges from under two weeks of cooked-on spillages and spatters.

”What gives Mr H?” I hear you ask? And the answer is .... Milo the puppo.

Our Running Around friends John and Al (fine name I always thought) told me a little tale on the day that I picked up the crate for Milo from them. Whimsically, they recalled how poor Al had been reduced to tears about a week in to puppy care because it is so bloody hard. I should have known that there was no exaggeration in this; Running Around Al was formerly known as Special Agent Al because she worked for the government, was incredibly calm and collected, and could detect SMERSH Agents with a single look. So if she says it‘s hard, it’s hard. But you know, the older we get, the more we think we know better. And generally, the more wrong we are.

And oh boy was I wrong to imagine this would be reasonably straight forward. In my defence, all the training guides make it sound so simple. Want to stop him weeing indoors? Spend all you time with him, determine the frequency that he widdles, as soon as he shows signs of it, whip him out the back door. Job’s a good ‘un.

Except ..... have you tried spending all of your time in one room trying to work out whether a young, mobile animal is about to launch something unpleasant? It’s entirely possible at the expense of almost everything else, which is fine if you don’t like Everything Else. I though do like Everything Else.

So back to me in the kitchen. I’m feeling all emosh because after six days of being on almost permanent Milo duty, we’ve finally worked things out so that it’s not all me doing the work. The big change that has precipitated this is BT (Boy Teenager) realising, after quite a lot of tension, harsh words and tears, that he can’t just carry on with his old life if he wants to form a strong bond with his dog. Because I’d spent most of my time feeding, playing and training Milo, he was naturally gravitating to me when BT and I were in the room. And then he started trying to bite BT, I assume in some early effort to establish his place in the “pack”. Poor BT was devastated. Milo was meant to be his new, canine buddy, giving BT a reason go outside when his mates are in school, and it was all going horribly wrong for him.

Just as it was all looking extremely shaky, BT showed us how far he has come since he first got ill nearly three years ago by Sorting It Out. I talked him briefly through some of the things I do with Milo in play and training and he got it. He completely changed his approach to the dog and started spending hours with him each day, and it worked! It worked not only for his relationship with Milo, but also gave me some time to do other things, which meant I no longer felt the need to Snap at Everyone and Everything. I couldn’t be prouder of him. Only yesterday, BT taught Milo to “Sit!“. He was so pleased with himself; for a young lad that is given to believing that he can‘t achieve anything, things like this are so important for him. And for us. It’s hard to describe just how much progress he has made since April this year, but suffice it to say that CAMHS (the NHS mental health lot) are now talking about closing down their support for him as it may no longer be needed.

And the Sorting It Out with the dog was also a big plus for GT (Girl Teenager) too. GT was dead-set against getting him, but she has completely changed her mind. So much so that in the middle of one of he more Tense Episodes in which I shouted “we should never have bloody got him” and Gin (so called because she is a mother and is doing her best to ruin every bottle she gets her hands on) added that “if it’s like this in a week, he is being sold”, GT declared that she loved the little fellow and didn’t want to be without him. Well, there you go.

And so a difficult week started to ease, which is just as well as Gin has had One Of Those Weeks at school. She has been lumped with all the more challenging kids, who appear to have lost what plot they had through lockdown. Gin likes teaching the challenging kids because they are sharp and funny, and usually they respond to her, but there are some that have become semi-feral, and she is a tired, tired lady. Just what she needs then is a young hound that wakes up twice a night, and which has caused the family’s normal functioning to go haywire.

By the the latter part of the week, things were moving in the right direction, with us and the dog learning rapidly. I’ve introduced Bruce (the Shark cleaner) to Milo without any issue, which is a shame as it means I now have to do the vacuuming again. And I’ve managed to cook a few meals: mostly relatively simple pasta dishes from Genaro Contaldo; there’s no longer the time to make Unicorn Fillets with a Jus of Platted Mist and Caramelised Dandelions. We’ve had a few bottles of wine (to check that our sense of taste and smell are intact; a sure sign that The Covid hasn’t got us) and fallen asleep in front of several programmes on the telly. I could almost believe normality is just round the corner, if it wasn’t for the fact that Milo has learned not to wee on the hardwood floors, but thinks the carpet is fair game. Or the fact that he still sees the cat as a potential best play-mate that he can chase just for fun. Until those are resolved, he can only stay in one room, which isn’t the one with the good telly and Sky box with the recorded programmes. And in the main, we want to be with him so that he feels part of the “pack” and gets used to hustle and bustle, so we are based in his room too.

And so we reach the end of week 30. I wonder what week 31 will bring? More sleep? More harmony? More endless clearing up puppy poo from the back garden? More wonderment at how fast he learns? Probably. What it won’t bring is another golf trophy (did I tell you I won the Chas Earnshaw Putter competition at the club I belong to in Brighton? I’ve been a member for 9 years and this was my first proper win. No idea who Chas was or why he donated his putter, but win it I did). Alas I’ve managed to twist my ankle again (playing golf. Bloody dangerous game). Same one as last time, just as lock-down started to ease. Here, maybe my ankle is a Pandemic Lock-down barometer which twists when the lock-down status starts to change. Best get to the pub quick, looks like they will all be shut very soon.

Love & elbow-grease,

Mr H