Silence is Golden

I've yet to meet a basenji owner who would disagree with this sentiment:

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By the same token, I've yet to meet a basenji lover who wouldn't agree they were totally worth the required extra vigilance.

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Hungry Little Munchkins

“Those babies were starving!” The baby-sitter exclaimed when I called for a report. The baby-sitter comes to give the Munchkins lunch and back yard time if we are both away all day.  Their state of deprivation is usually the first thing she mentions. The Munchkins love food.  Mealtime is the best thing that’s happened all week, three times a day.

Treats are wonderful. Ivan and Dasa are, shall we say, food motivated. They expect payment for all sorts of things, and their hearing is significantly improved by the inclusion of the word “treats” in any conversation. Their hearing is most acute when “chicken,”—the  magic poultry word—is murmured ever so softly.

Their meals are carefully measured out into their dishes so they receive uniform amounts of food. Ivan is food aggressive, so his dish in its little raised stand is delivered out to the patio or into the bathroom next to the kitchen. After the door closes behind him, Dasa is served in the kitchen. They fairly leap into their food, wolfing it down as though we’ve starved them for days. Their dishes are licked clean in minutes. Food, oh joy; it’s a wonderful thing.

 

The concept of free feeding is one we have no more than a nodding acquaintance with. Should we be foolish enough to give them continual access to nourishment, the Munchkins would look like those inflatable animals that totter unsteadily along on wobbly paper feet. Yes, my elegant babies would resemble those mini-blimps on ribbon leashes that florists and gift shops always seem to have in supply.

We cook for Ivan and Dasa, freezing containers of their food and carefully measuring out the pre-determined amounts. They would happily eat twice as much, and do their best to persuade each parent in turn that the other human completely forgot to feed them. They’ve succeeded in this ruse once or twice, and gleefully gobbled up a second meal without a moment’s hesitation. They were triumphantly stuffed little puppies, ready to go for thirds.

Eric and I learned long ago that we are much more appealing, fascinating, dare I say mesmerizing, when we have food. Our conversation sparkles, our jokes are funny, our stories are listened to with rapt attention. They very nearly rest their heads on their little paws and sigh with adoration. Should we allow this to go to our heads, all we have to do is look for the same reaction when we are empty-handed. It is, as one might imagine, not the same at all. Yes, they love us, but our rock star status vanishes along with our last bite of ice cream.

Meet Roscoe!

Roscoe

 
Meet Roscoe!  I began fostering him about 3 weeks ago for BRAT.  Things have gone much better than I expected considering this is my first foster dog.  He is a GREAT dog and gets along with my other two basenjis.  Wonderful personality!  He is an intelligent, confident, loving, energetic, and mischievous little guy!  Roscoe IS a typical basenji… he is mischievous and is destructive when he doesn’t get enough attention.  And he has lots and lots of energy and loves his walkies!  

Toni, Calvin, and Roscoe

Only problem with this little foster is that I am totally falling for him.  I have a much deeper respect for all of you who foster dogs.  I knew it would be lot of work, but I did not anticipate building such a fast emotional bond with the foster dog to then send him to his "forever home".  Right now I am waiting and seeing how the next few weeks unfold with Roscoe and I have a lot of thinking to do... because this little guy has stolen my heart!

Calvin and Roscoe

Basenjis on Vacation

Normally when we humans think of going on vacation, we look forward to it for weeks and view the experience as a relaxing and fun time.  However, I'm not so sure that all of our pets think the same way.  While some of our beloved basenjis may delight in having a new place to explore and more trouble to get into, others (I call them "homebody basenjis") may be stressed about not being in a familiar place. 

In our family, we have one of each:  Reef, the ever-curious intrepid explorer; and Biko, my anxious little boy.  Nevertheless, every year we cart them both with us when we make the annual family trek to the Outer Banks of North Carolina (after all, they ARE members of our family!), and we do the best we can to make the experience safe and enjoyable for everyone involved.  Here are some pics from this year's voyage:

Reef gets out there right away and explores the beach.  The sticks there were especially yummy.

Reef also wastes no time in exploring the beach house, eventually claiming the best seat as her own.

Biko hides under the chairs at the pool.

Reef, ever the cool cucumber, would rather sit in the sun all day!

Since Reef was so brave, we put her in the pool to cool off.  She most definitely did NOT like the Octo-Fun! 

Finally, Biko came out of his shell and decided to hunt some ghost crabs on the beach.

Reef was sad to go home.

Biko was delighted to go home!  He did his happy dance as soon as we pulled into the driveway.

So while not all dogs were happy about the idea of going somewhere new, eventually even Biko came out of his shell and had a good time at the beach.   But he definitely was the happiest of all of us to go home!  I guess some dogs just like their own palaces the best :-)

Concessions for Dogs

At aerobics I recently overheard a discussion about doggy day care.  One woman said her mother was horrified that her dog, Louie Adolphus, went to doggy day care, and insisted people made too many concessions for dogs. Apparently, concessions for dogs is a common and overworked topic for Louie Adolphus’s grandma.

Concessions for dogs, hmmm… I can see myself standing behind a brightly decorated little booth, wearing one of those canoe shaped paper hats, handing out treats to Ivan and Dasa while calliope music plays faintly in the background. Ivan and Dasa would give this idea baroos and enthusiastic tail wiggles. However, it is my strong suspicion this interpretation would differ significantly from that of Louie Adolphus’s disgruntled grandma.

The Munchkins bring us boundless joy, so the least we can do in return is make their lives as happy, healthy, and secure as possible.

What adjustments or adaptations happen at your house as part of living with your basenjis?

My first thought was that we don’t do anything special. OK, there are baby gates in front of all the book cases; the toilet paper and trash must be secured; the counters all have an Ivan Zone around the edges that must be kept free of temptations; the backyard has no lawn or garden care that is harmful to dogs; the fence must be maintained to the exactitude required for containing geriatric felons; and there is a required minimum number of dog beds and blankies per square foot of our house. While treats must be abundantly available, they are all made and sourced in the US, and we cook for Ivan and Dasa much more faithfully than we cook for ourselves.

  We automatically give edibles in such a way as to avoid snarks and snits. We arrange all day trips with the baby-sitter so the Munchkins’ routine three meals a day are not disrupted or delayed.  Travel that includes nights away from home requires the baby-sitter to stay with the Munchkins and sleep in the people bed with them. I mow the grass frequently, not out of any devotion to lawn care but rather so tiny white feet are not forced to wade through tall wet grass. In the winter I shovel paths and clearings all over our back yard so the Munchkins are not overly traumatized by snow when they go out to potty.

We think of these things as simply part of our lives. And if they were considered concessions, I’m not sure I would enjoy a concession-free life.  I think I would wander despondently through an unencumbered and uncomplicated life, longing for the joy and chaos our little loves bring.