Since we’re going away for 48 hours, a coworker of mine and his wife have volunteered to house-sit and take care of Rufus. I decided to write them a little guide to taking care of our boy. Because it grew so insanely out of hand, I decided to subject you guys to it, too.
Hey, guys: I know this is going to seem like a LOT of material for a 48-hour(ish) caretaking, but Rufus really isn’t that tough to take care of. In fact, the amount of details I’ve packed in here would indicate that I’m the difficult one in this relationship.
The short version of Rules for Rufus goes like this: scratch his back, neck and ears; pay attention to his “I need to pee” signs; take him out for a walk about 45 minutes after he eats; make sure he’s got water in his bowls, and maybe play tug-of-war with one of his toys. Oh, and give him a doggie treat now and then.
Here’s the long version . . .
Backyard Bathroom Breaks
First thing in the morning and about half an hour before going to bed at night, I take Rufus out to the backyard to pee. On a weekday, I take him out right after I get home from work. When you get here on Friday, let him out of the crate and play with him (read: scratch his back) for a minute or two, then bring him out back to pee. Since he’s gonna be in the crate by 6am, I’d appreciate it if one of you can get here by 2 or 3pm to at least let him out for a walk, even if you have to re-crate him to go out and do your thing.
On weekends, we take him out first thing after waking up (he’s patient), then play it by ear during the day. He’s been good about not peeing in the house, but if he decides to go downstairs on his own, that’s a near-guarantee that he needs to go outside for a pee. Chase after him; he surprised us about 6 weeks ago by getting up, trotting downstairs, and then peeing away on the carpet. Didn’t give us much of a sign that he needed to go, so keep that in mind.
Note: at night, turn on the light-switch next to the sliding door to nowhere, so you can see the backyard. It also scares the bears, I think.
Feeding
We feed him around 5:30am and 5:30pm, but that’s just because we’re up at that hour to start Amy’s workday. Like I said, he’s learned to wait for us on weekends, so I usually feed him about half an hour after we get up, and again around 5-6pm.
When you go downstairs with the bowl to get his food ready, don’t let him into that laundry room. Close the door behind you and scoop out 2 cups (measured, not two giant scoops). Once you’ve got it ready and you open the door to find him in that funny bowing position, give him a piece or two of his food and say, “Good doggie!”, since this is about the only positive reinforcement we have going on. (Oh, and close the door behind you; he got in there once and tried to drag his 20-lb. bag of food out to the rec room for a party of one.)
I give him 2 cups of food per feeding, pour some water in the bowl to slow him down ever so slightly, and hold him back for a 10-count once I put the bowl in its holder. Don’t be shocked if he finishes the bowl in about 35 seconds; he saves time by not chewing. Also don’t be surprised if he LOOKS like he’s going to puke. He won’t, but he will burp like Barney Gumble on The Simpsons.
Walking
I take him out for his walk 45 minutes to 1 hour after feeding. I usually walk around the block with him (about 1 mile), but because it’s going to be insanely hot this weekend, don’t take him on a full walk. I fear he’ll overheat and pass out (greys are sensitive). I’ll show you a good short area to walk that’ll still give him time & space to crap. Bring 4-5 newspaper plastic-bags with you for any walk, since he sometimes decides he needs to crap twice. The second time is never pretty, but that’s part of dog ownership, I guess.
He’s pretty subdued around other dogs. If you encounter any walkers while you’re out, he’ll probably be a little curious, but not as much as the other dog, which will likely try to drag its owner over to meet our boy. He’s also very pleasant around people on their own, so if you see someone who wants to pet him, you can walk him over (unless he seems crazy/agitated).
If he’s trotting ahead of you, try not to check out his ass. Just try.
To Crate or Not To Crate
If you’re going to be out for fewer than 15 minutes or so (a run down to Dunkin Donuts or Stop & Shop), here’s what you do: close the door of the guest bedroom, use that baby gate to block the top of the stairs, and let him hang out upstairs while you’re out.
If you’re going to be gone longer than that, then get him into the crate and lock him up. Make sure he’s got a toy or two in the crate to chomp on before you latch it. And even though he rarely drinks from it, make sure the bowl in his crate has water. (You should probably take him out to the backyard first, if you’re going to go out for a few hours.) The best (only) way to get him into the crate is to bring a treat of some kind with you, and toss it in. He’s an easy mark.
He will whine pitifully when you arrive at the house on Friday, as though he has been in the crate for 5 days without food. He sounds exactly the same if he’s in the crate for 5 minutes while I’m picking up my dry-cleaning, so don’t get freaked out if he does this when you come back after your thing on Saturday. He may snarl and bark at you every time you walk into the room when he’s in the crate, so make sure that you have a couple of small dog treats on hand to win him over.
“THEY’LL NEVER FEED ME AGAIN!!!”
When you’re getting ready to eat, you’re probably better off putting him in the crate before you bring your food out of the kitchen, since he will try to get to everything. Don’t let him out until you’ve gotten all plates and utensils back into the kitchen. He’ll probably also try to lick whatever glass or mug you’re drinking from, so feel free to use the half-wall behind the sofa as a tray.
Note: This doesn’t include breakfast cereal; he’s curious about it, but not enough to push his way through you to get to it. Unless for some reason you put sausage or bacon into your cereal. Still, put your bowl/spoon back in the kitchen, or he’ll make a move for it when you’re not looking.
The Stairs
He’ll always stay to your right, which means he’ll be along the outside of the stairs on the way down, inside on the way up. It’s good to know this so you don’t get tangled up with him.
Usually, he just follows me down, but if you want to get him to come outside and he’s just waiting on the top of the stairs, put the leash on him; he’ll follow.
Coming upstairs, he tends to pause on the landing, unless you have a bowl full of food, in which case he’ll race up with you and slide all over the floor like Kramer in Seinfeld. If you come back from a walk/backyard pitstop, and he hangs out downstairs for a minute before following you up, it’s alright.
Let Sleeping Dogs Lie
I’ve gotten pretty good at telling when he’s okay with letting me come over and tip him onto his side, but there are still times when he’ll growl at me as I touch him. Also, if he’s going crazy on one of his toys, I seriously advise not trying to pull it away from him. If you need him to get up, you’ll probably do okay by calling his name and slapping your leg.
He’s been known to wake up and growl/bark kinda ferociously. This is usually because of the sound of a nearby car door; he seems to think someone’s coming to invade his space. It also occurred when he smelled a bear in the woods behind the house. I took him outside to show him that he was barking at nothing, and then realized that, yes, he was barking at something.
In non-bear situations, he’ll go to the top of stairs, bark a few times, walk around growling, and eventually re-settle. It’s not you; it’s him.
Other Quirks
On the inside of his rear right leg, there’s this blood-blister-looking-thing. He’s had this since we got him. Occasionally, he tries to nibble on it. So if you see a little blood there or on his side (where the leg would rest when he’s lying down), don’t get freaked. I came out of the shower once and he looked up at me with blood on his forehead from one of these nibble-sessions; just rinse it off with a moist paper towel, if it bothers you.
He also nibbles on the bottom of his rear left leg. It can look a little gross, but again, the vet says not to worry.
The way his cheeks hang down, they sometimes vibrate when he’s breathing. This makes it look like he’s getting ready to kill. He’s not.
He will lick your face. I don’t consider that a quirk, exactly. Maybe it is a quirk if he licks Jason’s beard.
One of Rufus’s superpowers is his ability to pick up a tick within 5 seconds of going outside. We’re convinced the ticks think he’s a deer. Because of this, we sometimes call him “The Ginger Tick Magnet.” I take a pair of tweezers with me when we walk (left side of the bathroom sink), in case I notice one on him. When we get home, I bring him up to the bathroom and look him over, especially around his neck, ears and near his feet. (Okay: all over.) If you find one while you’re in the house, get it off with the tweezers, drop it in Lake Isopropyl (also next to the bathroom sink) and watch it drown in alcohol much more rapidly than the rest of us are.
Another of his superpowers is his ability to pull the mag-safe cable out of any MacBookPro.
He can pee so much at one time that we sometimes call him “Rufus . . . DANGER . . . Powers.”
When he yawns, he can sound like a rusty hinge. Because of this, we sometimes call him “Rusty Hinge.”
He’s king of the SBD. Because of this, I sometimes call him “The WWI Re-enactment Society.”
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