My Diva Dog

If you’re reading this, chances are you know that I adopted a rescue dog last August. Libby had been used as a breeder at an Amish farm and while we’re not sure, it seems that the farmer may have decided to stop breeding Bernedoodles, which is a cross between a Poodle and a Bernese Mountain Dog.

Doodles have definitely become a thing in the past maybe ten years. I think it started with Goldendoodles (Golden Retriever crossed with a Poodle) and now there are crossbred doodles of all kinds. The idea, originally, was that since Poodles don’t shed much and are pretty safe for people with dog allergies to be around, someone decided to breed the persnickety Poodle with the loveable Golden (and other long-haired, big, sweet, goofy dogs) so they could market a “hypoallergenic dog.” I’m not sure how successful the allergy part has been, but that’s another story and one I’m not qualified to weigh in on.

But back to my dog, the beautiful Libby, she had been stuck in a cage in an Amish barn for at least two years — her age wasn’t recorded - and was inseminated to churn out other puppies. We have to guess she wasn’t treated with love or socialized with people or other dogs. Puppy mill breeders see their animals as merchandise, not pets, and the Amish in particular believe animals don’t have souls or require anything more than feeding to keep them alive while they’re productive

When Libby came to me last year she was a shy, skittish little thing. She didn’t trust anyone and while she’s made great strides in our home, she’s still a long way from being “normal.” Her confidence and comfort level are shaky, but I’m patient. My girl can take as long as she needs to relax into her loving home.

Here she is. Gorgeous, right? What a little beauty! No wonder the farmer wanted to breed more like her. However, since I abhor Amish (or any other kind of) puppy mills, I hope she disappointed her breeder and that’s why she was cut loose.

So, how did shy little Libby turn into a diva dog? Two things. First, she’s a girl.

Obviously, I’m a girl, too, so I’m not very happy about admitting that the general consensus is that female dogs are more likely to be divas than males. That is not to say that every female is a diva, any more than you can say that every male is easygoing. I’ve only had male dogs before Libby and this is my first experience with this behavior.

For example, we’ve had really high temperatures recently along with some hellacious downpours. Rain in buckets. I have a doggie door in my craft room that opens onto a deck and the fenced-in back yard so the dogs come and go as needed.

The other day I was reading, and it was raining, and Mick Jagger, my longhaired dachshund (another rescue, 13 years old) started rolling around on the carpet at my feet. I looked down to see what was up and he stopped, smiled up at me, and I realized he was soaking wet. I grabbed a towel and rubbed him down and he was happy as the proverbial clam. No matter what the weather may be — heat, rain, snow — when Mick has to go, he goes outside and does his business.

Now, there has been evidence of accidents in the house on occasion, but I thought Libby was following Mick’s lead until I discovered a puddle streaming across the floor in the craft room right after I finished drying Mick. It looks like she held it as long as she could, to be fair, but then she told herself there was no way she was going out in that mess and she let loose. I’m glad I put down vinyl plank flooring in the craft room, but she’s also fond of a small area on the dining room area rug. (I recommend a product called My Pet Peed, BTW.)

When you have two dogs in the house and don’t catch one in the act, it’s with some degree of reluctance that I blame this solely on Libby. I’ve given her the benefit of the doubt any number of times. But when Mick came in dripping and trying to dry his happy little self on the carpet, I had to admit that the culprit was certainly Libby.

Unfortunately, unless you do happen to catch a dog in the act (they can be very sneaky), there’s no point in reprimanding it. They simply don’t remember. They may act guilty if you take them over to the scene of the “crime” and tell them how bad it was to go potty there, but the remorseful puppy dog eyes are really just responding to your scolding voice. Pee? What pee? Who? Huh? Yeah. Doesn’t work. Or so the experts tell us.

Diva behavior part two has to do with feeding Libby. Over the years, I’ve put down a bowl of kibble (good quality, but still, basically hard brown lumps of whatever) and my dogs ate it. And if they didn’t eat it, I’d pick up the bowl, put it away, and put it down again for the next meal. When they’d get hungry, they’d eat. Never failed.

Libby, however, took a dislike to her kibble. For months she had agreeably eaten whatever was served, but apparently, she’d had enough. Her brand contains a mix of hard-ish little brown nuggets and a lesser amount of lighter stuff that I learned was freeze-dried meat. Libby ate the freeze-dried stuff and started scattering the brown bits on the floor and walking away. I repeatedly employed my usual method of adding a bit more, then putting it out for the next meal. No dice.

She started losing weight. I wish I could say I held out longer than she did, but I couldn’t stand it. Who am I to starve this little creature and make her eat food she obviously hates? Oh, man.

So I started adding a little shredded cheese into the mix and that helped for a few weeks. Then she became adept at separating cheese from the brown nuggets until she was essentially living on Kraft shredded cheddar and a few of the freeze-dried globbies.

I consulted with Jenn, my dog walker and canine sensei, and she suggested changing dry food brands. I went to a very cool shop in nearby Strongsville called Hollywood Feed and picked up the brand that Jenn’s dogs like. I chose the roast pork with applesauce flavor. Sounded delightful to me.

When changing foods, it has to be done gradually or dogs’ stomachs can have nasty upsets that may result in something far more disgusting than a puddle of pee to clean up. However, even with mixing in bits of the new food with the old, Libby wasn’t impressed. I could almost hear her saying, “Brown lumps are brown lumps. What am I? Stupid?”

Hollywood Feed said they’d take back the new food for a full refund and donate it to a shelter if Libby wouldn’t eat it, so I drove back to Strongsville where I was helped by a staff member, Laura, to look for new alternatives for Miss Lib.

Here’s what we ended up with:

To make what appears to be a palatable meal for Libby, morning and evening, I start with breaking up a few freeze-dried chicken pieces and sprinkling some of the dreaded kibble into her bowl. I add a little hot water to reconstitute the chicken, then scoop out two tablespoons of turkey mush and juice to warm up with the water and spread it all over everything to get a nice, goopy entree that disguises the kibble base.

So far, Libby seems to find it all acceptable and is now eating both meals. Heaven forbid that my little diva starve.

And Mick? He devours his kibble in less than ten seconds, then trots out the doggie door with a smile on his face. (Below - Mick and me from a few years back)

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