Ozzy: The First Two Weeks
Tonight marks the second week of our lives with our new family member, Ozzy the black labrador.
His mother – a black lab cross – found herself in Bath Cats & Dogs Rescue Home through no fault of her own. It soon turned out that she was in fact pregnant. Ozzy was one of the cheeky fellas who popped out. After receiving a phone call from the rescue home (we were on the puppy waiting list) that some black labrador puppies, 6 weeks old, had just come available, we jumped at the opportunity and went to see them as soon as we could.
We couldn’t touch the puppies as they hadn’t yet had their vaccinations, but one of the members of staff held all of the still available puppies up for us. We saw three, all very cute, all looking very relaxed and puzzled at the same time. Ozzy was the only one with a white stripe on his chest, and he instantly looked at us in a more curious and inquisitive way than the other puppies had, and was particularly interested in Elliot (I guess it was the facial hair). He reached out for us with his paws, and promised us that if he had the chance, he would without a doubt give us a licking the likes of which could not be rivalled.
He was the one, we both decided instantly. It was a good job he had the white stripe, as the other puppies were indistinguishable from each other.
So, we waited a couple of weeks for them to have their vaccinations before we could go and collect him. The ‘collection’ was an odd experience. All of a sudden this strange little plump black guy was thrust into our arms - his fur had a sheen, and not a good one. I believe it was a wee sheen. But he was very good and waited patiently in my arms until we could go and put him in the car.
Then we were home. He took to his new life and his new surroundings exceptionally well. People walk past our window being loud, he barely bats an eye; new people arrive, he greets them with nothing short of genuine pleasure; he picked up the fact that he must go outside to the toilet pretty quickly; he falls asleep in the car, and he enjoys watching Frozen Planet.
He also enjoys gardening: he tears leaves and twigs off the plants in the garden, and finds snails on the ground to bring into the house and crunch. It’s not that I particularly mind his passion for gardening, but the fact that so many plants can be poisonous to dogs. He also eats his poo, so he can never be left outside on his own. I stand outside in the pouring rain, in the cold, at 6.20am in the morning when I am barely awake and wait for him to take his time decided whether or not he wants to have a poo, and if he has decided that he does indeed want to have a poo, where might be the best place for it? Here? No, no. Not there. Here. Yes, here. No, not there. Here.
He is a curious, confident, and intelligent dog, which means he is always interested in everything and thoroughly enjoys testing us to see what he can get away with. This makes me feel really bad, because I always feel like I am telling him, ‘No, you can’t do that’, which is true, actually.
From his perspective, I would be really put out: ‘What do you mean I can’t dig up the rug, pee in the house, jump on the sofa, chew your shoes, eat snails, or jump up? Man… What CAN I do!?’
In the two weeks we have had him, he already feels like a good friend, a member of our little family, and a complete brat. Elliot (my fiance) and I are constantly exhausted every evening, and more often than not find ourselves reaching for a glass of wine. Aside from that, he definitely makes up for it with amusement value. He dances at sticks, he jumps in the air and then falls on his face; I often could just watch him instead of the TV.
At dinner we sit down and sigh and try to relax. Before too long Ozzy is moving around in a way that makes us nervous, before squatting and deciding that this is where he will pee tonight for reasons best known to himself. One of the other of us is then saying ‘Ozzy, no!’ in slow motion and running to pick up him under the armpits. Fortunately he stops mid-flow and continues once placed on the ground outside. Then the other one of us gets the mop while the other one keeps him distracted so he doesn’t eat the mop. Once these tasks are complete, we can sit down. Again. And try to relax. Again. Turns out we’re a pretty good team, and we tend to laugh about it more than get annoyed. But there are times. Oh, there are times…
Ozzy loves people, he loves us, and he seems exceptionally intelligent. It only took him a couple of days to understand the command ‘sit’, and ‘come here’. Whether or not he always decides to do this is another matter! He has also decided that he will sit on the sofa, thanks very much. Every time we turn our heads, he’ll jump up, and if he has time, he’ll curl up into a ball and close his eyes. I can’t think what else he could be doing but feigning sleep and pretending that he has been there for hours, he can’t believe we hadn’t noticed. He seems to like to sit in the place where Elliot often sits to work when he’s downstairs. If Elliot leaves his iPhone on the sofa, we both independently find Ozzy sitting on the sofa with his paws either end of the iPhone, looking at it. This has convinced Elliot that Ozzy is trying to be him.
Possibly the worst thing is that we have had to keep Ozzy indoors until he’s had his final vaccination. His pent up energy has been finding its place on our clothes, arms, and just about everything else. We’ve been dying to take him out for a walk so we can get out of the house together, and so we can walk off his energy and exhaust him so he will be healthy, will sleep, and will stop taking his energy out on us and the house.
After receiving his final vaccination, we were told by the vet he had to stay in for another week, which will be this Tuesday. We were completely dismayed. If Ozzy knew of his situation, he would also have been dismayed.
My evening has consisted of having my socks attacked, telling him he can’t go on the sofa about one hundred times, and trying to stop him from chewing wires, whilst running outside when he looks like he needs the toilet and then picking up his poo before he turns around and decides to eat it.
Tuesday can’t come soon enough…
