good times
Okay, I described nano’s nighttime warbling as a walrus imitating a canary. Stuart thinks it sounds more like a llama with a seagull trapped inside.
It doesn’t really matter how you describe it, what matters is he’s been doing it every night for an hour. Well, not every night. That first night where we were loud looming hulking beasts, he fell asleep just fine in the living room all night. Probably less “fell asleep” and more “finally collapsed from sheer terror”.
But the downside to him bonding to us has been that since he’s only comfortable hanging out in the living room and hasn’t really gotten used to the bedroom, he doesn’t understand what we do in that other room. So we’re torn between allowing him into the bedroom and having him pace and sniff and try to jump in the bed, or leaving him in the living room where he’s used to falling asleep.
As you can see, nothing has really worked. nano is sort of still a puppy – he’s only about seven or eight months old. Puppies are used to whining and calling out so that the pack can find them. We are, for lack of a hoard of chihuahuas, nano’s pack. And we spend all evening on the couch with him only to inexplicably get up and go to that other room with all the tall furniture and socks on the floor, why? Why, humans?
Is what he’s saying with all the whining. And the warbling. And the drawn out syllables of high-pitched questioning. All the literature says don’t go! Don’t go out there while he’s whining! And all that literature is coming smack up against my every instinct to go comfort him, and also to go pick him up so that he will STOP! WHINING! OMG! So that I can sleep.
NOM NOM NOM
Unfortunately, on Thursday night, we sort of did exactly that. Stuart had stayed up playing video games so when he came to bed at 2, I’d already been asleep for three hours and then the whining and howling started. And after 45 minutes of it, I was crying from exhaustion so we decided to open the blockade in the living room doorway and see what happened. What happened was he came into the room and jumped right on the bed and generally made a nuisance of himself. Of course he did! When we finally put him back into the living room with NPR playing quietly, he whined for another twenty minutes before falling asleep from exhaustion. What a great lesson we taught nano! Whine enough and we’ll come get you! GREAT.
Of course, as everyone’s been reminding me, it’s getting a little better. Last night he only did it every two minutes for an hour until either he passed out from exhaustion or I did. You’ll note the scientific precision with which I clocked the frequency of whines. I’m going to be the valedictorian of contractions, lemme tell you. Stuart, unfortunately, can sleep right through it. (Hmph.)
We’ve bought him a dog bed, and have been acclimatizing him to it so that eventually, we can put it on the floor of our room and he’ll fall right asleep in it, and we’re introducing him slowly to the room so that he can come in at night without needing to sniff every single damned inch of it.
None of which makes me feel any better when it’s two thirty in the morning and I’m thinking of drinking two bottles of nyquil just to get some sleep.
Notes from the trenches of new-doghood would be greatly, greatly appreciated. Because what I need, of course, to really fully obsess about this, is more piles of information. Bring it!
bed snuggles