I haven’t had time to take any pix of the actual Rosie-dog yet, so these’ll have to give you the idea.
Rosie: World’s biggest love sponge and cuddle bunny:
Rosie: As seen by the cat and heard by the neighbors:
It’s been an interesting couple of days.
Ava, to my surprise, is tolerating Rosie without incident. I believe this is because Rosie projects slavish submission every time Ava’s within 10 feet. “Fluffball of Doom” is an image of herself that Ava appreciates. I’m not appreciating the acrid stench Rosie squirts from her anal glands every time Fluffball of Doom gets too close. But it’s better than blood on the walls.
The cat’s a different matter. The first few hours Rosie was here she ignored the cat even when they had unexpected encounters. I thought all would be well with them. So did kitty. By evening she’d decided Rosie was a potential new friend. She attempted a friendly greeting. At which point, Rosie snarled and ran her into a corner. When I pulled the dog off, the cat was on her hind legs, milling the air with every available claw.
Since then Rosie’s been obsessed with her to the point where the poor feline is safer outside (where she has a lair under the house) than indoors. With the rains upon us, this is Not A Good Thing, but it’s better than the alternative. Unfortunately, the house is so open-plan that other than the bathroom I have no good place to separate the cat. Mostly I’ve closed off areas with shoji screens in the past, but Rosie can go right through those. I’ll be working on a better sort of cat-protecting barrier today.
Indoors, the mad barking has abated. I’m now allowed to go to the bathroom or walk across kitchen without distressed bays and yaps. Outdoors, though — one second alone and the whole neighborhood hears Rosie’s ceaseless protest. A spritz bottle of water gets the no-bark message across — for about 10 seconds. Otherwise, I don’t even know how the poor dog gets a moment to breathe, she’s so busy disturbing the peace. Sigh.
One very pleasant surprise, though: She sleeps peacefully at night. This may be due in part to heavy drugs; but hey, whatever it takes.
The first night I crated her in the kitchen, went to bed with earplugs in, and braced for a bad few hours. She never made a sound. I wondered if I’d overdosed her and killed her. At 3:00 I got up to check and found her happily wagging her tail.
After a brief, supervised, outdoor potty break, she came back in, sneaked onto my bed, and curled up right on my pillows. I decided not to enforce house rules this time. Around 5:00, I crawled in next to her, laid my head against her back, and we snoozed until dawn.
* H/T to ~Qjay for “Rosie-colored glasses.”