Tales of the Tribe: Madison
Nov. 15th, 2006 02:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hwrnmnbsolMadison is our second oldest dog; she's about 8. Madison is a purebred Great Pyrenees, so she's this enormous fluffy white dog with black eyes and a black nose. She gains and loses weight seasonally, and she also gains and loses fur as it gets colder, so in the summer she's lean as a cat, but in the winter she looks as round and furry as a polar bear. I'm estimating that she's about 115 pounds right now -- I don't know for certain, since it's been a while since her last vet visit. Madison has double dew-claws that wobble when she walks, a long and sinuous furry tail, and extremely cute small floppy ears.
Great Pyrenees are bred to be guard dogs. Madison has never had to guard the house from anything, unless you count mailmen or squirrels, but she nevertheless displays all manner of guard dog behaviors that must be instinctive. When my kids aren't living in the house, Madison beds down in our bedroom with her nose pointing towards the entry door. When the kids are in, however, she locates herself strategically in the house such that she can keep an eye on their bedroom doors as well as the front door. Madison also makes regular nighttime patrols of the house, waking at intervals and padding around to stick her nose into any room with an open door. Until recently she also liked to sweep the perimeter outside, so she had been in the habit of waking me at 3 in the morning to let her out. She did this by shaking her head to flap her ears loudly, which coincidentally jingled the tags on her collar. I'd wake from a deep sleep to the sound of JINGLE JINGLE JINGLE Fwap Fwap Fwap! and I'd blearily open my eyes and look down towards the foot of the bed, and I'd see this glowing white moon-face looking back at me, with dark spots for nose and eyes. She wouldn't say anything, but she also wouldn't let me go back to sleep, because if I rolled over I'd get JINGLE JINGLE JINGLE Fwap Fwap Fwap! again and again until, grumbling, I shuffled to the back door and let Madison out. Then she'd go to the fence and slowly nose her way along it until she was satisfied that no rogue ninja squirrels had breached security, and then she'd want to be let back in. Woe to any man unwise enough to fall asleep after letting Madison out, because she'd indignantly demand to be allowed back in with a mighty WOOF! repeated every ten seconds or so until the door was opened. I think I have finally trained her out of this behavior, however, mostly by enduring a lot of JINGLE JINGLE JINGLE Fwap Fwap Fwapping without caving in to her terrorist dog demands.
Madison is a large dog, but she thinks she's dainty. She sashays around the house in a highly mincing fashion, and she perches on her pet-bed like an oversized cat on a pillow. In fact, Madison is much more like a cat than a dog in many ways. The other dogs are fairly canine in their pursuit of affection, demanding to be petted and played with. Madison is more aloof, preferring to invite attention by dint of native cuteness as opposed to going and seeking it out. She also flirts, especially with boys, and she likes to swish past a person and then turn her head to bat long eyelashes invitingly at the object of her affection. Madison is a shameless camera whore, and she mugs for the camera by tilting her face slightly and grinning. In every picture I have of the dogs, Madison is keenly aware of the camera while the others are oblivious. There is no such thing as a candid Madison shot.
Madison is a stinker when it comes to taking her medication. She's diabetic and needs a pill for that every night, which is currently being dispensed inside a slice of American cheese. When I pill the Madison, she usually spits it out. This isn't because she hates the cheese; she loves it. This isn't because the pill is unbearable; it's about the size of a pencil lead. This is solely because it's HIGH-larious to cause the fuss that always results. I combat this by giving her lots of pets and then giving her the pill; if what she really wants is attention, I can fork some of that over. Nevertheless, sometimes she's really in a mood to not take her pill, and then I have to pry her jaws apart, stick the cheesy pill in her mouth, clamp her mouth shut, and stroke her neck until she swallows. Madison thinks this is hysterical as well. The really aggravating thing is, Bon can just hold out the pill and she'll snap it up. She only yanks *my* chain.
Madison likes to inform people of her property rights. When she's outside, she spends a lot of time looking through the fences, either out into the street or into our neighbors' yards. If she sees a person, she gives a single low, resonant WOOF. It's not a ferocious back-off-bitches kind of bark; it's just informing potential intruders: Madison lives here and you don't. She also likes to tell the neighbor-dogs who's boss. Our neighbors on all sides have dogs, and yell-wars are known to arise from time to time. Madison WOOFS mightily at the other dogs, although she generally doesn't get as excited as the other dogs. She doesn't really see the neighbors as threats or rivals; she just likes to read them the riot act. It's kind of like The Dozens for dogs.
Madison is usually a sedate dog, but she has a playful side -- especially on the cold end of the year, which makes her downright frisky. She likes to engage in wrestling matches with her little sister, and while Mojo is far too dignified to participate in such shenanigans, Madison has been known to walk past him, bite him on the ass, and then flee. Madison also has a winning strategy in what I call The Chew Game. The Chew Game is a sport played by all four dogs when they receive a rawhide strip as a treat. The dogs like taunting each other with their treats and attempting to steal treats not belonging to them. Madison has developed a sandbagging strategy; she sits where she can observe the other dogs and watches them carefully. When one of them gets excited about the possibility of stealing something from a sibling, it usually leaves its own chew on the ground while it goes out scrounging. At this time Madison delicately gets up, snags the forgotten treat, and returns to her bed with it. She sits on top of the stolen chew while she gnaws her own. Many times Madison wins the game outright, and I'll find her sitting on top of a pile of four chews, surrounded by puzzled and chew-less dogs.
Madison hates being bathed. This is bad, because as the furriest of the dogs, Madison is often also the stinkiest. She also likes to roll on the ground, so that dog gets grubby. We don't bathe her as often as we should, so we sometimes have a Madison that smells like a combination of corn nuts and stinky feet. When it's bath time we do all the dogs at once; none of them love the process, but Madison likes it the least. She knows when it's her turn, and she hides. When found, she goes limp and makes herself a big dead weight. Fortunately I am capable of carrying her, the sight of which causes Katherine to fall into paroxysms of giggling, because it involves a wriggling giant dog with her four feet flailing in the air while dad manhandles her into the shower. Then she gets all sullen and mopes while she's being soaped and soaked, losing half her volume in the process when she's all slicked down, and remains out of sorts for days after she's been cleaned. She's really much more nice to pet when she's clean, though.
Madison has a wicked sense of humor. We have a small guest house behind our house proper. The back yard separates the two, with a winding concrete path linking them. The dogs crap in the backyard, and with four large dogs all going at it, walking through the grass is as dangerous as traversing a mine field, especially in the dark. The path, however, is usually pretty safe. However, Madison has decided that it's hilarious to crap on the path, so now when we go out to the back house at night, we have to bring a flashlight. She has also been known to crap on peoples' driveways when we go for walks, so we have to watch her. She's evil like that.
Great Pyrenees are bred to be guard dogs. Madison has never had to guard the house from anything, unless you count mailmen or squirrels, but she nevertheless displays all manner of guard dog behaviors that must be instinctive. When my kids aren't living in the house, Madison beds down in our bedroom with her nose pointing towards the entry door. When the kids are in, however, she locates herself strategically in the house such that she can keep an eye on their bedroom doors as well as the front door. Madison also makes regular nighttime patrols of the house, waking at intervals and padding around to stick her nose into any room with an open door. Until recently she also liked to sweep the perimeter outside, so she had been in the habit of waking me at 3 in the morning to let her out. She did this by shaking her head to flap her ears loudly, which coincidentally jingled the tags on her collar. I'd wake from a deep sleep to the sound of JINGLE JINGLE JINGLE Fwap Fwap Fwap! and I'd blearily open my eyes and look down towards the foot of the bed, and I'd see this glowing white moon-face looking back at me, with dark spots for nose and eyes. She wouldn't say anything, but she also wouldn't let me go back to sleep, because if I rolled over I'd get JINGLE JINGLE JINGLE Fwap Fwap Fwap! again and again until, grumbling, I shuffled to the back door and let Madison out. Then she'd go to the fence and slowly nose her way along it until she was satisfied that no rogue ninja squirrels had breached security, and then she'd want to be let back in. Woe to any man unwise enough to fall asleep after letting Madison out, because she'd indignantly demand to be allowed back in with a mighty WOOF! repeated every ten seconds or so until the door was opened. I think I have finally trained her out of this behavior, however, mostly by enduring a lot of JINGLE JINGLE JINGLE Fwap Fwap Fwapping without caving in to her terrorist dog demands.
Madison is a large dog, but she thinks she's dainty. She sashays around the house in a highly mincing fashion, and she perches on her pet-bed like an oversized cat on a pillow. In fact, Madison is much more like a cat than a dog in many ways. The other dogs are fairly canine in their pursuit of affection, demanding to be petted and played with. Madison is more aloof, preferring to invite attention by dint of native cuteness as opposed to going and seeking it out. She also flirts, especially with boys, and she likes to swish past a person and then turn her head to bat long eyelashes invitingly at the object of her affection. Madison is a shameless camera whore, and she mugs for the camera by tilting her face slightly and grinning. In every picture I have of the dogs, Madison is keenly aware of the camera while the others are oblivious. There is no such thing as a candid Madison shot.
Madison is a stinker when it comes to taking her medication. She's diabetic and needs a pill for that every night, which is currently being dispensed inside a slice of American cheese. When I pill the Madison, she usually spits it out. This isn't because she hates the cheese; she loves it. This isn't because the pill is unbearable; it's about the size of a pencil lead. This is solely because it's HIGH-larious to cause the fuss that always results. I combat this by giving her lots of pets and then giving her the pill; if what she really wants is attention, I can fork some of that over. Nevertheless, sometimes she's really in a mood to not take her pill, and then I have to pry her jaws apart, stick the cheesy pill in her mouth, clamp her mouth shut, and stroke her neck until she swallows. Madison thinks this is hysterical as well. The really aggravating thing is, Bon can just hold out the pill and she'll snap it up. She only yanks *my* chain.
Madison likes to inform people of her property rights. When she's outside, she spends a lot of time looking through the fences, either out into the street or into our neighbors' yards. If she sees a person, she gives a single low, resonant WOOF. It's not a ferocious back-off-bitches kind of bark; it's just informing potential intruders: Madison lives here and you don't. She also likes to tell the neighbor-dogs who's boss. Our neighbors on all sides have dogs, and yell-wars are known to arise from time to time. Madison WOOFS mightily at the other dogs, although she generally doesn't get as excited as the other dogs. She doesn't really see the neighbors as threats or rivals; she just likes to read them the riot act. It's kind of like The Dozens for dogs.
Madison is usually a sedate dog, but she has a playful side -- especially on the cold end of the year, which makes her downright frisky. She likes to engage in wrestling matches with her little sister, and while Mojo is far too dignified to participate in such shenanigans, Madison has been known to walk past him, bite him on the ass, and then flee. Madison also has a winning strategy in what I call The Chew Game. The Chew Game is a sport played by all four dogs when they receive a rawhide strip as a treat. The dogs like taunting each other with their treats and attempting to steal treats not belonging to them. Madison has developed a sandbagging strategy; she sits where she can observe the other dogs and watches them carefully. When one of them gets excited about the possibility of stealing something from a sibling, it usually leaves its own chew on the ground while it goes out scrounging. At this time Madison delicately gets up, snags the forgotten treat, and returns to her bed with it. She sits on top of the stolen chew while she gnaws her own. Many times Madison wins the game outright, and I'll find her sitting on top of a pile of four chews, surrounded by puzzled and chew-less dogs.
Madison hates being bathed. This is bad, because as the furriest of the dogs, Madison is often also the stinkiest. She also likes to roll on the ground, so that dog gets grubby. We don't bathe her as often as we should, so we sometimes have a Madison that smells like a combination of corn nuts and stinky feet. When it's bath time we do all the dogs at once; none of them love the process, but Madison likes it the least. She knows when it's her turn, and she hides. When found, she goes limp and makes herself a big dead weight. Fortunately I am capable of carrying her, the sight of which causes Katherine to fall into paroxysms of giggling, because it involves a wriggling giant dog with her four feet flailing in the air while dad manhandles her into the shower. Then she gets all sullen and mopes while she's being soaped and soaked, losing half her volume in the process when she's all slicked down, and remains out of sorts for days after she's been cleaned. She's really much more nice to pet when she's clean, though.
Madison has a wicked sense of humor. We have a small guest house behind our house proper. The back yard separates the two, with a winding concrete path linking them. The dogs crap in the backyard, and with four large dogs all going at it, walking through the grass is as dangerous as traversing a mine field, especially in the dark. The path, however, is usually pretty safe. However, Madison has decided that it's hilarious to crap on the path, so now when we go out to the back house at night, we have to bring a flashlight. She has also been known to crap on peoples' driveways when we go for walks, so we have to watch her. She's evil like that.
