Archer week 6, has it only been 6 weeks? It seems like an eternity. He’s now just over 3 months old and continues to grow at an incredible rate. He looks very gangly at this point with legs that are far too long and paws that look like hand-me-downs from an older sibling. I’m sure he’ll grow into them. In addition, his front end appears to be growing at twice the rate of his back end, so he’s starting to look like he’s skipping leg day at the gym.

Along with his physical growth, he continues to mature as a stroppy, arrogant, opinionated little bundle of attitude. He’s almost perfected his sad puppy eyes look, which he pulls out anytime he’s asked to do anything. He just needs his bottom lip to wibble and he’d be able to do a very passable impression of a rain-soaked orphaned child from a Dickensian novel. It’ll be a future Oscar-winning performance for sure. The only cure for such attacks is to pull out a treat, which has the instantaneous effect of returning him to being a lovely cuddly model of man’s best friend. It’s fair to say this Jekyll & Hyde act is running a little bit thin.

Rice and chicken

As far as I can make out, raising a puppy especially a Golden Retriever appears to be mostly about trying to secure a solid poop. I can now measure the quality of my days by the firmness of my pups faeces. After last weeks bout of diarrhoea, we managed to get Archer back to solids. Unfortunately, this only lasted a couple of days before I was facing another 3am double cleanup; at least this time he didn’t walk it around the room.

We knew it was bad when Wednesday morning he decided he wasn’t going to have breakfast, he didn’t even go and look at the bowl. This was a first, he’s always eaten his food no matter what consistency it might be coming out the back. We gave him until lunchtime to see if he’d turn it around, no joy. It was time to break out the secret weapon – rice and chicken.

For a pup that had 10 other siblings, Archer has surprisingly never been what I would call a food-oriented dog. He sits quietly and watches me prepare his kibble, I put it down, he’ll stroll over and slowly chomp it down over a few good minutes. In fact this week I was deliberately putting my hand in his bowl and taking bits out while he was eating it, an exercise from puppy club to stop him being possessive around food, and one Archer clearly didn’t need.

Until of course, he tasted rice and chicken, he literally breathed the whole bowl down in 10 seconds flat and I was in no doubt that if my hand had been in the bowl I’d now be fingerless. This was his first taste of chicken and it might as well have been the first time he’d ever eaten. He had to go back and check his bowl several times to ensure that he hadn’t missed anything before trying a “Please sir, can I have some more”  act for several minutes.

He had rice and chicken for supper as well, breaking his previous speed record by a clear 2 seconds. The good news is, it sorted his bowel movement out beautifully. He made it through the night and delivered a prize albino deposit the next morning. The only issue now is he won’t eat his scientifically balanced puppy kibble anymore. We tried for two meals and he skipped both, in the end, we ended up having to put a bit of chicken under his dry food to get him to eat it. So it appears we’ve made a rod for our own back.

I Have A Voice

Archer has well and truly discovered his voice. What started as a whimper which tended to scare him more than anyone else has developed into a full-throated and at times ear piercing bark. I’m trying to convince myself this is a good sign of his ongoing development, What isn’t so great is it’s now his go-to form of communication, he’ll bark when he’s happy, excited, frustrated or upset. Which pretty much covers all the waking states of a 3-month-old puppy. And if you thought there was at least respite when he sleeps, think again he whimpers, chomps and muffled barks his way through the nights as well.

When left in the garden, invariably to let him get on with his number 2’s as he doesn’t like being watched (don’t go there), he used to just sit at the gate when he was done. Those days are gone, now it’s barks of “Oi! I’m done” echoing around the neighbourhood at 6:30 in the morning or 10 in the evening. Best of all if he keeps barking for more than 30 seconds he’s joined in serenade by at least two other dogs in the vicinity.

The real problem is the first and most important rule of training him not to bark, is to never return to him when he’s doing it. Whoever came up with that sage piece of advice I wager has never had to balance its application against continuing to let your pup wake up the entire neighbourhood. During the day I let him bark his heart out, but it’s not a strategy I can employ at all hours unless I want a brick through the window. We are going to make a few changes to his morning, evening routine to reduce the chances he’ll need to feel the need to bark.

He’s also taken to barking when he’s frustrated, either because someone isn’t playing fair with him (usually me) or if someone is doing something interesting (i.e. anything) in another room and he isn’t involved, he’ll whine and then start barking. These two are much easier to correct, although I’m not sure I can resist winding him up.

The last form of barking is insanely overexcited barking, if he thinks he’s getting chicken in his kibble (see above) he literally loses it. He honestly just doesn’t know what to do with himself, so he’s taken to barking out of sheer joy, I suspect if he wasn’t barking he’d have exploded in a puff of fur. It’s an easy one to fix, but funny as hell to witness.

Puppy Club

He finally made it back to Puppy Club this week, and in addition to the usual pups:

• Teddy the tiny Maltese terrier cross (I’m not sure what with – possibly an ant). He’s tiny!
• Lucy the Golden Retriever, a month older than Archer
• a Pomeranian (I keep missing the name of)

We were joined by two lovely French pugs, whose names I didn’t catch either. The usual round of letting them off their leashes, leaving Lucy and Archer to last. The other pups tentatively explored the room and carefully introduced themselves to each other, all very civilised. Then the terrors were unleashed and all hell broke loose, with the usual violent play of two retrievers going at each other hammer & tong. Archer as normal spent most of the time on his back with Lucy at his throat, tail wagging, like a concuss boxer pleading for the towel to NOT be thrown in.

Amazingly the other dogs were starting to get the hang of this game, the french pugs joined in. Archer had Lucy and the two pugs on him at one point. Still loving it, still pleading for one more round. When Teddy the Tiny Terrier launched himself into the fray as well, trying to bite Lucy’s legs out from under her there was almost a cheer, this was the dog under the underdog. I think it’s the first time I could see the attraction of such a small and tenacious breed.

This weeks command was “wait”, we were on shaky ground as Archer has yet to fully grasp the temporal aspects of anything. If a dog year is equal to seven human years, a dog second equates to about a micro-second, I’d tried to teach him the command a dozen times over the last few weeks and it always ended up with a confused pup. Luckily Wen had decided she was going to do this week’s command before we got there.

The rest of the pups did fairly well, in fact, one of the pugs was doing so well that it took several minutes for him to actually realise he could have the treat. When Archer’s turn came, the first attempt as far as Archer was concerned was a complete success. Sit, Wait, Treat (all in under 3 microseconds). To the casual observer it might have looked like he had gone straight for the treat, but with the right equipment, it’s possible to see him sit, look at his gangly leg at an imaginary wristwatch and then casually get up to retrieve his reward. No point waiting for the specific commands, better to anticipate.

His second attempt was helped by the lady running the session firmly holding still for approximately 2 seconds given the definite impression of a planned wait.

Pooping Feng Shui

I’m sorry to labour the pooping anecdotes, but it’s a big part of my life these days and I need to get this observation of my chest if only to ensure I’m not going mad. Archer’s trip to the garden for number twos should be a straight line from the patio to the poop spot, on a chilly evening that would be by my reckoning the most efficient way to get this simple task done.

Why therefore does he spend a good minute of his (and my) time, nose down tail up darting around the lawn like he’s trying to find pooping nirvana. As far as I can tell the route to the spot is as close to seemingly random as I’ve ever seen in nature. I’ve been fooled on occasion into thinking he’s found it only for him to change his mind at the last minute (the tease), the stars clearly did not align. Before I waste the rest of my days trying to find order in this chaos, I’m hoping someone already has some insight.

In the last week, he’s also taken to doing a final flurry after pooping, where he walks forward two steps and makes a token gesture of trying to bury it with two quick back kicks before walking off. He does it with such gusto he looks like a prancing Matador, after an epic victory. What in all of nature is the purpose of this move? He’s not buried it, at best he’s taken another two notches out of my lawn. If someone could please explain to me what the purpose is other than a puppy fist pump at another successful delivery, I honestly would sleep better at night.

DRAGGIES

Last week we were enjoying some lovely walkies. This week Archer has given up walking in favour of sitting and staring into the middle distance or working on his orphaned child impression. This has taken what should be 15-20 minute sessions and extended them out to roughly an hour. A combination of treats and tricks usually gets him moving again. On a couple of occasions I’ve been tempted to drag him (I am only human) he goes down more spectacularly than Ronaldo in the penalty box, so it’s hardly practical.

It’s frustrating, to say the least, there is definitely a pattern here where he will learn something, do it correctly for a period of time then regress, we keep seeing it playing out in different forms and has to be hands down the hardest part of raising a pup.

The highlight of this weeks walking was the opportunity to meet a truly humongous gentle St Bernard. The paws of which were the size of Archer’s head, when he went to unceremoniously sniff him between the legs (as is their way) his muzzle was larger than the gap between Archers front and back legs, sending him onto his back. All the time covering him in a wall of drool. What a fantastic creature, I’m not sure Archer was so impressed he seemed to have pissed himself. I doubt he’ll meet many dogs larger, which is a real shame.

I’m sure we’ll get the walking back on track, I have to keep reminding myself he’s only 3 months old. Patience, grasshopper!

 

Walkies

We’ve been on several walks now and Archer is not surprisingly loving them. He loves being constantly fussed over by every passerby. He invites it, pulling at the leash to meet each and every new friend. Most people (80%) will take the time to run through the “ohhh he’s so cute” routine, usually asking his age and pointing out how fluffy he is, just in case I hadn’t noticed (my black t-shirt covered). He laps it up.

I do however worry about the odd person who doesn’t interact with him in some way, not even a smile. I’m not talking about runners or otherwise occupied people or the small number of people who are obviously afraid of dogs, you can spot them a mile off, their body language gives it away and I make a point of putting him on a very short leash. I’m talking about the very small number who upon seeing a puppy making a bee line for them, show absolutely no interest. It seems unnatural to me, and I find myself thinking Archer is a natural Voight Kampff test, and worryingly not all of these people are passing it.

After the attention, it’s the smells he loves the most, the little nooks and crannies that have obviously been turned into doggy bulletin boards. He reads each one avidly decoding the secret messages left by his kin. Occasionally he’ll just stop, head up, nose twitching he’s definitely having a completely different experience to me on these dewy morning walks.

He had been pushing his luck when greeting other dogs in the park for the last week. Clearly not showing respect and tending to bounce around a little too over excited. That was until a lovely German Shepherd finally annoyed by his over zealousness decided she had enough and gave him what for, pinning him to the ground and giving him a close up look at her very impressive set of teeth.

He got the message and it stuck, since then he’s approached all dogs (big or small) with a little bit more respect Getting down low and reducing his bouncing as much as any excited pup possibly can. It’s funny to try and see him get lower than a terrier, especially as he gets bigger.

devourer of worldS

At home things have not been so great. He loves to chew things, all things. If it fits in his mouth he’ll chew it and given half a chance swallow it. The biggest problem with his chewing is it’s left him with an upset stomach for the last week. He couldn’t make puppy class, for fear of leaving a stream of brown stinking liquid across the vet reception. It’s hugely frustrating that he doesn’t seem to connect his predicament at the back end with what’s going in at the front end.

The lowest point was 3am on Thursday I’ve awoken to a godawful stench I’ve got up and gingerly tip toed to the light switch to discover a chocolate milkshake. Luckily he had hit the puppy pad and so in my bleary eye state I’ve started to clean it up. I tie it up in a bag and take it downstairs. On my return I’m hit again by the smell, only to realise he’s done a second equally large pool of poop, again on the remaining pad (good boy). I then realise in horror that’s he stepped in this one and walked it around the room. Quarter of an hour later and another bag of liquid poop, I head downstairs to lose the bag. On my final return to the room, I find Archer on my bed, on my bed with uncleaned paws. I think that’s when I lost the will to live.

The next day I woke up in a fowl mood, too little sleep and the smell of doggy poop still in my nostrils, worse Archer also woke up on the wrong side of the bed and he was being extra arrogant too boot. We spent the morning huffing and puffing at each other. I finally went for a run to clear my head and get some alone time, to get my shit (no pun intended) together.

He continues to push the boundaries of what’s acceptable at all times, it seems like a battle of will’s most of the time. In many instances the only way to win is to distract him with treats, but it’s a hollow victory to have to cheat.

Back to the vet

By Saturday he’s dropping dark (although thankfully solid) black poops, which can be a danger sign of an upper intestine/stomach bleed. He’s not got any other symptoms, in fact he’s his usual arrogant self. But we resign ourselves with a trip to the vet, if only to put our minds to rest. Waiting in the vet reception (the same one he plays in weekly) he’s loving meeting all the dogs and people going past.

A gorgeous border collie sits down next to us, 2 years old and a professional working dog the owner tells us, in fact on his way up to Yorkshire tomorrow for two weeks worth of competition trials with the rest of his pack. I can’t recall seeing a dog that was so focused, just sitting there looking around the room you could see it analysing everything, it interacted with all the other dogs and people.

When Archer decided to do his puppy play nonsense the border collie growled and bared it’s teeth, Archer was being very slow on the up take, continuing to annoy her, until she had no choice but to make her annoyance clear. As with the German Shepherd earlier in the week he was solidly put in his place. It is a lesson he needs to learn, not every dog wants to play, especially a working dog that has little tolerance for the bullshit of a puppy.

The vet finally calls us in and gave Archer the once over, everything was normal he wasn’t presenting any  issues, he maybe a little bit gassy. The vet took his temperature for the first time, catching him off guard, but it too was normal (i’m not sure Archer agreed it was normal). The general consensus was whatever it was it looks like he was practically over it, obviously keep an eye on him and he should be fine.

The vet had also reminded us to sort out his Pet Insurance, Archer was covered a few more days under the original policy thrown in when we picked him up. We had been umming and ahhing about it, trying to make that financial vs risk judgement call. The situation was rapidly resolved when the vet, pointed out a foreign body removal in a big dog could be problematic and they’d just done one that ran to £3k. Imagine a couple of those in the first two years, my sisters lab had already suffered similar self inflicted problems, luckily avoiding a worse case scenario.

Building Bridges

If there’s one area that has made progress, beyond archers ability to grow millimetres with every sleep, it’s his relationship with the cats (photo proof above). There is now mutual respect, he understands not to bounce at them and they’ve twigged if they don’t run he won’t chase them. In fact it’s gone the other way the cats will lay in the hall because they know he won’t pass. If he still puts his nose where it’s not wanted he gets a hiss, with the constant threat of a double tap to the head. I’m starting to think the animal approach to dealing with puppies seems to be far more effective than my treats and kind words.

It’s been the toughest week so far, between his dodgy tummy and Archer’s increasing bloody mindlessness it’s not been a huge bundle of fun this week. The only silver lining is I might still be on target for a Xmas card with cats and dogs sleeping together, fingers crossed.

 

It’s been an exciting week for Archer between puppy club and his first walk, he’s continued to grow at a prodigious rate. An update on a few of the key areas:

• he’s finally learnt to climb the stairs on his own, just in time because he’s getting a bit to heavy to be lugging around. We are still working on coming down them, which involves me animating him like a marionette, but he’ll get there.
• toilet training is going well. He can now almost get through the entire night, and the number of accidents has dramatically reduced. His clear preference is to get outside now. On the odd occasion if I’m busy/distracted and forget to take him, he’ll now come over to me and make it clear he wants out.
• his relationship with the cats continues. They will often now pass each other without incident, it’s a bit cagey but they are getting there. Archer has had to be told to “back off” a couple of times by the cats with a double jab to the face, it’s a language he understands all to clearly. Wen discovered that the cats love for catnip overrides any fear they still have of the dog. Wen will spray the catnip on the carpet and both cats will get down of their perches and push past the dog to get to it. That’s been hugely helpful because calm (high) cats are far more tolerant, and because they are relaxed Archer realises it isn’t play time and is calm as well. Hopefully we’ll close the last few inches in the next few weeks. I have a target to send out Xmas cards with both cats and Archer sleeping together, Archer with a Santa hat and the cats with elf hats, I can dream and there’s always photoshop.
• training hasn’t made much progress this week, we’re still bedding in the basics (come, sit, down, paw). The biggest priority is to nail “come” in all situations. To that end i’ve got some “higher commodity” treats in the form of cocktail sausages, which I’ll only dish out if “Come Now” is successful.
• his food bowl has been moved out of his crate into the kitchen, it’s simpler and less prone to me spilling on the carpet. The kitchen is also where his remaining accidents where occurring, I’m hoping by putting his food there he’ll get the message.
• being able to sleep through the night means we have a much more solid routine and are generally in a better mood on both sides.
• he had his 2nd bath this weekend. I can’t say he was happy, but he accepted it with good grace and he really enjoys being dried off and the general pampering Wen gives him afterwards. Just before he goes and rolls in the dirt again. He was a very dirty dog judging by the colour of the bath water.
• he’s been far less belligerent this week. He’s had a lot more opportunity to socialise than in previous weeks, both at puppy club and more visitors. Coupled with a bit more freedom in the garden, as I blocked the last of the areas he would get into the most mischief. He seems to be more relaxed than last week.
• puppy maintenance, we had to cut his claws again (only 2 weeks since last time) and I finally had enough of the pissy stained wick of hair hanging of his old boy, and got the scissors out. Shudder, the things that aren’t discussed about puppy ownership, oy vey.

Puppy Club

On the Monday he had his first of four visits to the vet’s for puppy club where he has an opportunity to socialise with pups of his own age and the nurse briefs us on aspects of owning a puppy we might not have considered. There were meant to be 8 pups but only 4 made it (it is after all summer holiday season). The pups that made it beside us, included:

• another golden retriever female called Lucy. 4 weeks older than Archer and it showed, she was a inch taller and a few kg’s on him
• a pomeranian, a lovely bright eyed ball of fluff about the size of two hands
• a tiny terrier cross, which could literally sit in one hand

The nurse did the introductions, and we got into the main event letting them off the leash. First was Lucy and the pomeranian, not surprisingly the pom was overwhelmed by the attention of her boisterous new friend and made her feelings clear, bringing their first brief encounter to a curt end. Next Lucy had a run at the tiny terrier, Lucy tried to be a little less scary, sensing she needed to be more gentle, but dialling it right down from 11 was still to full on for this pups first outing.

Then it was Archers turn, I was in two minds whether he would go the way of the first two pups, or if he would be up to the challenge. I needn’t of worried 30 seconds later he’s on his back there’s flashes of teeth and claws and he’s loving it. Lucy is beasting him, and he’s having the time of his life, tail going part in submission and out of sheer excitement. The other two pup owners look on in horror at the violence of the scene, the nurse reassuring them it might look like something from Fight Club but it’s actually quite normal for this breed (and Lab’s).

They are in danger of going at it all night so the nurse get’s us to break it up and runs through the finer details of Coprophagia a word I’d never come across, which is surprising given I’d eaten enough in my career. Archer I’m afraid  is most definitely a coprophagia connoisseur, favouring cat then bird. Luckily he’s not a huge fan of K9 either his or the foxes. He should grow out of, in the interim I’m doing my best to reduce his access.

Next it’s the sit demo. First up the terrier who does a sterling job, although to be fair his bottom is only 1cm from the ground so it’s not exactly a challenge. Lucy after a bit of coaxing mangers her sit, followed by the pom who was straight in there. Then it’s Archers turn, he’s been doing sit for weeks, we’ve got this one in the bag. Sit Archer, nothing. Out with the treat, Sit! He’s too interested in the other dogs especially Lucy. Sit! I’m trying to get his attention and it isn’t happening, I take him further away and stand in his line of sight so he can’t see the other dogs, Sit! The nurse offers up a new treat. Sit boy! Nothing. In the end I finally managed to get his attention by shoving the treat in his mouth and taking it out again, I seize the opportunity and bellow SIT! Finally, he puts his arse down, thanks mate!

The nurse weighs each of the pups during the evening as well to make sure they are hitting their targets (for each of the breeds). Archer has put on the best part of a kilogram since his measurement 3 days earlier, proof that we’re not going mad and he really is growing millimetres during every sleep, and he still sleeps a lot!

The session ends in another all out royal rumble, this time the terrier and pom start to come out of their shell if only to egg on the ongoing prime time Lucy and Archer bout. Archer still looks like he’s losing, and loving it. Every time Lucy’s owner calls Lucy off to give him some respite he’s diving straight back in. His interaction (when he gets a chance) with the terrier and pom is much more nose bumps and sniffs.

The nurse hands out some free samples and the session is over. Lucy & Archer definitely loved it, I’m not sure the other two pups were quite as impressed. He slept well that night, whimpering and kicking Lucy in his sleep.

First WalkIES

FINALLY the day had come, a week after his 2nd set of jabs and “I” was allowed back out. Sweet freedom, oh and Archer was allowed out the first time as well. We’d been training him to walk on leash in prep and he’d been for a few car rides by now, so it wasn’t going to be a complete shock. I’d arranged to meet with a friend and her dog Syd, a lovely old girl (the dog that is). His first outing was going to be at the local country park a leisurely stroll around the lake.

So on with the leash, the 4 photo montage (see above) was pretty much his reaction:

• photo 1 – walkies? I don’t know what that is but I’m excited because you are, let’s do it!
• photo 2 – actually I really don’t know what walkies are and the leash means we are going out
• photo 3 – out is scary, so many noises and smells
• photo 4 – i’m scared, let’s just sit here a while

In the end end I gave in (again) and carried him to the car and clipped him in the back. The irony that in a couple of weeks he’ll be chewing my arm off to get out the door and in the car. not being lost on me, so we’ll entertain it for now.

We get to the park and have to drag him out of the car, he’s not a happy pup. I start him slow walking towards the path round the lake. Everything is getting super sniffed, he’s very skittish, totally overwhelmed by it all. Then he spots our friend and her dog and his tail goes up wagging and he forgets how scared he was. In a split second he’s now all about a walk with the pack and making new friends.

So we walk around the lake a couple of times enjoying the weather and the cool breeze. He’s as good as gold, walking nicely on the leash. He greets everyone he meets as a long lost friend, he’s gentle with the small children and respectful to the bigger dogs. All in all a perfect walking companion even at this point.

I’ve decided he will be better of on a harness than a collar and I’ll investigate getting an extending leash, not that it would have been usable today but there will be more open walks in the near future. I have to keep reminding myself that he is still a pup and try and it keep these walks to 15m tops, especially in the sun. We’ll keep it to one walk a day until he gets used to it. It’s obvious even from this first walk that the stimulus he gets is going to make a huge difference to his and my general temperament during the day, and it’s the perfect antidote to the weeks of cabin-fever.

 

It’s week 3 and we’ve lost our lovely puppy, he’s missing. Replaced instead by a feral egotistical belligerent bundle of teeth and attitude. I know they grow up quick but this is ridiculous, how did we get to the terrible two’s in 3 weeks?

Physically, he’s easily doubled in size and I know it sounds impossible but every time he sleeps, wakes up and stretches he’s noticeably bigger. Two days ago he didn’t have a chest, now when he struts (and trust me he struts) it’s puffed out like a prize roosters. His stubby little legs, are gone, in their place long muscular limbs, he barely has control of. The darker (slightly goldy) cream that tipped his ears is now flowing down his back to the tip of his tail.

I think it’s fair to say he’s settled in. We are now the peasants in his glorious kingdom and as the ruler, he obviously doesn’t need to heed our commands anymore. It’s not that he’s forgotten what NO and COME mean, it’s that they obviously don’t apply to him anymore. A NO at this point will often elicit a snarl and a couple of air chomps, puppy speak for know your place pleb. Training this week has if anything gone backwards, having made such great progress in the first two weeks, it’s a little bit frustrating but evidently normal, so we’ll just work through it.

The situation has been exasperated by a heatwave baking the UK, with temperatures above 30c for over a week. Being the UK, of course, there is no aircon and therefore no respite, during the day or night. So it’s fair to say patience on all sides is running a little thin. Worst still we still can’t go out as he hadn’t had his 2nd set of jabs, so there was a definite case of cabin fever kicking in, and I’m not even talking about the pup.

The poor bugger spent most of these dog days on his gel filled cool mat clutching one of two 2 litre bottles of ice water that get rotated to/from the freezer. But come midnight, he’s got to unload all that potential energy in the way only dogs know how, zoomies! The nights I’ve spent teeth flashing past me in the darkness. Between the pup and the mosquitoes feasting on my legs, I’ve felt like a fatally wounded antelope hoping for a quick end to it all.

I was sharing our stroppy pup woes with my sister one scorching afternoon. She has a year old chocolate Labrador and had been through a lot of these problems already. Having described the symptoms, her advice was to do something to push him out of his comfort zone. He was likely far too comfortable in his little cabin-fever world and probably needed a different perspective on the situation.

Great idea, we have to expose him to lots of new things in these critical weeks, planned amongst them were trips in the car. The car also has the added bonus of having sweet sweet aircon.

Car Drive

I got the car ready, aircon on full blast and dismissed the forge workers who were using it to melt iron, blanket on the back seat, pup on his leash I coaxed him towards the front door. He was being his usual belligerent self, right up to the point I opened the front door. The sight of a huge expanse probably blew his mind. The noise of cars and people in the street added to the experience.

Yep, I think he was definitely outside of his comfort zone, it took 10 minutes to get him 10ft across the drive and into the car.  With him clipped in with his dog seatbelt, rear windows down an inch or two and sunroof open (aircon off at this point we can’t cool the planet) we went for a half hour drive. After some initial whining he settled down, I wouldn’t say he was enjoying it but he was hanging in there (not like he had a choice). After 15 minutes I pulled over, checked on him and gave him some water, he’s definitely outside his comfort zone.

By the time I’d got him back home and back in his safe space I had a happy, compliant little puppy again. I can only assume he decided there might still be a use for these peasants in his world. We’ll see how long it lasts!

Vet Visit

On the same day of his first car drive, we shoved him back in the car and took him to the vet for his 2nd set of jabs and a quick check-over. We were sitting in the vet’s reception for a few minutes and I’ve got Archer in my arms, he can’t touch the floor, I’m not sure if it’s because it’s lava or germs. He’s being a good boy, or more specifically he’s freaking out quietly, looking for reassurance. There’s only one other animal in reception and it’s a stunning border collie with piercing blue eyes, being a very good boy, he’s just sitting on a seat waiting his turn. One day that could be us!

We get called in by the vet and I plonk Archer down on the table, expecting the mad scramble you usually get with vet visits, but he just sat there. For the entire session he just froze, even after being poked, prodded, injected and weighed (8.3kg at just over 10 weeks) he didn’t move, he didn’t whine, he just took it all in. I’ve never had a pet like him, and he’s undermining my tales of woe to the vet, clever bugger.

The vet checks Archer’s white puppy coat and spots something, out with a comb and wet tissue and sure enough, the poor sod has fleas in spite of having Frontline only 3 weeks earlier. Then the vet spots one of the little blighters and kills it. Damn! The chances are they are cat fleas, the cats had their treatment just before he turned up but with the weather as it is, it’s inevitable they’ll be in the house and garden. Ho hum! The vet gives us some better flea treatment that covers a bunch of doggy maladies. Fingers crossed it does the trick.

Other than a few extra passengers, the vet gives him a clean bill of health. We enquire about socialisation classes and luck out filling the last spot in the next class held at the clinic on the coming Monday, fantastic. He can terrorize something else for an hour and will learn to associate the vet with fun, what a great idea.

The last week has been tough on Archer and his staff. But just one week to go and he can finally go out into the big blue room proper and we can start having some real fun. Extra leash training this week in preparation, for freedom!