Archive: Dogarazzi

Before Christmas, we were having problems with Ted sleeping through the night. More accurately, Ted kept waking up and barking at all hours, so we were having problems sleeping through the night. With our crazy holiday travel schedule, we took the easy way out and let Ted sleep in our bed for the rest of the month, and JG made an appointment with the vet during his winter break.

At the appointment, JG described our sleep troubles and what we had tried to alleviate them, and the vet took notice when JG said that even if we let Ted roam around the house at night, he would just end up sleeping outside our bedroom door in the hallway. “Hm,” the vet said.

“Does Ted favor one of you?” Yes, he favors JG.

“Does he bark during the day?” No, hardly ever.

“Does he have accidents when you’re at work?” No.

“Hm.”

After confirming Ted’s health with bloodwork, the vet concluded along with us that Ted’s sleep stubbornness was purely behavioral. We would have to train it out of him, he said, and it was probably going to mean some degree of suffering for us. The vet recommended not letting Ted sleep in our bed any more, especially since he favors JG over me. Ted was likely jealous of me, he guessed, and it would be best to establish our bed as a no-dog zone so he wouldn’t fret when he wasn’t included. Also, the vet suggested putting Ted’s crate in our room and then slowly phasing it out into the separate room so that Ted wouldn’t associate the create with separation.

Okay. We had our marching orders.

We set up the crate in our room and put Ted in it, along with a new chew toy to buy his affection. To our great surprise, Ted didn’t let out a peep for the rest of the night. Hallelujah! As the week progressed, JG and I agreed that while the situation wasn’t ideal, we could manage with this set-up — at least we were sleeping, right?

At least, we were sleeping.

After six weeks of bedtime peace, Ted’s erratic sleep behavior returned with the start of the Olympics. I doubt that the two events are related, but the coincidence could not be any more painful because we are already sleep-deprived from trying to keep up with primetime coverage. In any case, Ted has begun to wake up at various times at night (11pm, 2am, 4am) with incessant whining and scratching at his crate. During the day, he barely makes a peep, which makes the sheer range of whining unbelievable. There’s the guttural, low-pitched growl-whine all the way up to the shrill soprano shriek, and the entire spectrum rakes at our ear drums and steals hours of sleep. We can’t pin down what’s causing it because every night has its unique variables. One night, I watched the Olympics in our bedroom, and Ted acted out. The next night, I didn’t, and he was quiet. Another night, JG was charging his razor, and Ted whined and whined, so was it the flashing light? Last night, he let us get a mere hour of sleep before starting off his tirade, and we let it go on for two hours before JG finally let him out to run around the house. Thankfully, Ted did not leave an accident to clean up. That time, anyway.

The short-term plan is to let Ted sleep in our bed for tonight and tomorrow night for the sake of getting rest. I hesitate to defy the vet on this point, but the loss of sleep has reached an intractable limit. During the day for the rest of the week, I’m putting Ted in his crate in an effort to reacquaint him with the darn thing and let him get his whining out of the way when we aren’t trying to sleep. I hate to regress like this because Ted is house-trained, but I see no other recourse right now. Over the weekend, we’ll try out Ted sleeping in his crate in a separate room. If we end up with sleepless nights, well, we can take naps. We’re not even considering how to handle next week.

I say we have a plan, but we are really stumped. JG is completely exhausted. I am at my wit’s end. Letting Ted sleep in our bed is not the real solution. This whole struggle jabs at my Cesar-Milan-induced sense of pack-leadership — why can’t we control the situation if we are in charge? How do we train Ted to behave correctly when sleep deprivation renders us unable to be calm? We just want to have a reliable night’s sleep without spikes of anxiety and anger aimed at our usually-docile dog when he has instantaneously morphed into screaming banshee.

Last night, Ted and I had a slumber party, and it was not as fun as it sounds.

We put him to bed in his crate after 10pm, and he started barking at semi-regular intervals. He paused for a few minutes — just enough time for us to think it was over — and started up again with a vengeance. The previous night, JG was determined to let him “bark it out,” and Ted eventually stopped. So, last night, we thought, “Hey, let’s just do that again. We can last twenty minutes or however long it took.”

Incorrect.

By 11:30, Ted had not given up. He scratched at his crate, whined, and barked, and the time was ticking ever closer to JG’s 5:45 wake-up call. Just before midnight, I gathered my glasses, book, and Slanket, and trudged to Ted’s crate to let him out. Experience has shown that if one of us was out in the house, Ted would be quiet, and we had a fighting chance to get some sleep. After Ted wandered around for a while, he settled himself on the couch at my feet. Two hours later, he was asleep in my arms, and I debated walking him down to his crate. If he started barking anew, though, JG would wake up again, and he wouldn’t necessarily go back to sleep. I shook my head and resigned myself to a night on the couch through no fault of my own.

This nocturnal interruption is a relatively recent development, but nothing has changed in our schedule, so we are at a loss as to what to do. The time of the barking fits varies: sometimes it’s late at night, sometimes in the wee hours of morning, and sometimes just before JG gets up. A common thread is that it is always loud, and I’m concerned that we are becoming That Barking Dog House in the neighborhood. Ted doesn’t need to go out, and he isn’t hungry; he just seems … mad at us. As if being in the crate is an indignity he should not suffer.

I know, it’s stupid, but that’s how it feels. Of course, we ask, what would Cesar say? He would tell us not to let the dog dictate our schedule. He would say that Ted needs to know who the pack leaders are and when we want to get up or go to sleep is when the followers should, too. That’s all well and good, but what do we do? Truth be told, it is very hard to resist plopping Ted on our bed to pacify him.

Ideally, Ted would be calm and quiet in his crate overnight until someone lets him out in the morning. We do not want him to grow accustomed to sleeping in our room. Even though Ted almost has free rein in our house, it’s helpful for him to be crate-trained for when he stays somewhere new. JG and I can not figure out what is going wrong, especially recently. Is he unused to the crate from being out of it during the day? Should we bring the crate up to our main living space so he can learn to go in voluntarily? Should I leave Ted in the crate during the day occasionally? Does he need a longer walk? Is he too stimulated at night? These are all questions we have asked, and there are no clear answers. Even worse, with Christmas travel approaching, we are in no position to set up a new routine until after the New Year, and the very thought is exhausting.

We are tired already, and we just want our dog to shut up and go to sleep. Heck, he doesn’t even have to go to sleep.

Our Thanksgiving get-together at my in-laws’ house was just as I expected. We ate lots of turkey,

got sleepy,

and took naps.

We watched some football and basketball. We took many family pictures. We played Musical Catchphrase, Blokus, and Perudo.  I started knitting what will turn out to be a massive scarf, ate green Jell-O salad for breakfast one morning, came away with fuchsia shoes on Black Friday, and zoomed through a margarita sampler.

However, as far as the main events were concerned, Ted had them down.

Those of you keeping track of Ted’s fascinating life will remember that we bought him a new crate for some roomier digs.  For the time being, we spread out old beach towels on the floor of the crate and had every good intention of padding it up with a pillow … or a cushion … or something … Um, yes, that was five months ago, and I’m sure that in the eyes of some, that time lapse makes us terrible dog owners.

Anyway!  JG and I agreed to get Ted some sort of dog bed to pad the crate, and I found a cushy one that was fairly inexpensive while I ran my errands last weekend.  When I got home, I made sure that it would slide in and out of the crate without any fussing, and we discussed how to introduce Ted to his new cratemate.

See, Ted is a bit, uh, sensitive to changes in his environment.  When something unusual enters the domestic atmosphere, he automatically launches into “INTRUDER INTRUDER” mode in the form of frantic, incessant barking.  Can’t we see that there is a large, cooler-type item in the kitchen?!  Isn’t it obvious that these boxes of Christmas decorations pose a very serious threat?!  It helps us understand whoever said that Westies would make excellent watch dogs if they weren’t so comically small.

With that in mind, I was hesitant to put the dog bed straight into Ted’s crate and leave it to fend for itself in the dark of night.  Instead, we decided to keep the dog bed in the living room and let Ted sniff it out on his own.  As we observed, Ted had a specific method of determining the safety of this new addition:

1. Proceed with caution
One never knows what sort of hostile newcomers might be lurking, so Ted sniffed the dog bed timidly before stepping in slowly.

2. Investigate thoroughly
Ted made a great show of sniffing and pawing, but we had to reprimand the inevitable chewing.  I was determined that the bed would not become Ted’s most expensive chew toy yet.

3. Size up the situation
I was a little concerned that Ted would be too big for the bed, but he wriggled around in it until he found the position to suit him the most.  The sides are supportive but soft, and he figured out how to use them as pillows.  The chewing subsided, and occasional sniffs remained.

4. Approve accordingly
If Ted does not like something at this point, he will resume his barking alert.  However, in the case of the dog bed, he assumed a stance of hesitant acceptance.  Every so often, he chewed on the edge, but he eventually fell asleep, with obvious resulting cuteness.

We haven’t left Ted alone with the dog bed in his crate yet, but I think we’re on our way.  With each introduction, Ted needs less acclimation time to remember that the bed isn’t a dastardly intruder or a chew toy.  I’m sure that our reasoning with him — “I don’t chew on my bed when I go to sleep, Ted!” — makes all the difference.