Tucker is an uncle again

We have a new set of kittens, Heaven help us.
Tucker is an uncle again, and couldn't be happier.
Not quite sure how the kittens feel about it - but Louie (who turns out to be a girl, after all) is perfectly content to let Tucker help take care of her babies. After all, Tucker did such a wonderful job raising her that she's confident in his ability to care for her own kittens.

They like him. They just aren't quite sure what to make of their giant uncle.

Tucker, of course, thinks he's half - at least - feline, so he's perfectly comfortable, too.

Walk. Walk. Walk. Walk.

Tucker is SUCH a working dog.

He is happiest when he's got something to do. All day long, this dog could be busy; honestly, I'm about ready to teach him to read, just to give myself a minute.

I'm contemplating teaching him to help me set up my road gear. This way I could live for the little while I have to without Peter, but I'm a tad concerned about his teeth and the guitar wire.

I can live for a month or two without Peter, if I must, but I don't do well at ALL without my dog.

We had to live without regular walks for a bit -- that didn't do EITHER of us any good. We both got out of shape, lazy and cranky.

There is absolutely NOTHING better for owner and dog devotion than regular walking. The more you walk your dog, the better he will behave, the better he will obey, and the better you BOTH will feel.

To tell you the truth, if I didn't have an actual life to lead, I'd basically be out hiking with Tuck most of my natural lifetime. It's peaceful, it's calm, and he's the very most excellent listener I've ever dealt with in the whole wide world.

Not to mention, he never sneers at my French.

Oh, did I mention? He's so freakin' smart that I re-taught him all his commands in French, just to keep in on all four sets of toes.

He learned it quicker than my daughters are learning it. Hilarious.

Actually, French is an excellent language to teach a dog commands in, because of its natural cadence, if you get it. Unlike English, or Spanish, or Italian, which has a lot of up and down in its natural rhythm -- as in "ba-DUM ba-DUM, etc." -- French is more "ba -ba- ba- ba -ba..."

That is, there is less hard stress on any particular syllable. You pick up that there's more of an even cadence, if you have the privilege of learning it from someone who's from Paris (or lived there), as I did, rather than in school.

Makes it GREAT for dog commands. (Sorry, France. It's not REALLY insulting if you love dogs the way we do.) Why? Because dog commands shouldn't really be barked, if you'll excuse the pun.

They should be spoken firmly and calmly -- and evenly -- like French.

French makes an EXCELLENT confident sound in your mouth. You should always sound confident to your dog -- not like: "If I don't yell this out to him, he might not do what I tell him!"

Actually, since dogs respond so much better to body language, your dog, in fact, will probably respond best of all to unspoken, hand signals. Tucker will do just about anything I want him to do without my ever even opening my mouth.

I really knocked my nephew on his butt when he watched me do that. It was FUNNY.

Anyway, time for Tuck and me to hit the sack.

Nice talking to you.

A bientot!

Tucker has some new adoptees to love.

Tucker has some new little friends to love.

We've adopted some new, nine-month-old ferrets. Why we did this, I have no real idea. It brings the total of animals in the house now to Tucker, our 70-pound, long-legged bundle of love, three cats (two geriatric, one zippy 1-year-old), numerous fish, and now two odd little wiry mongoose-type cat-dog things.

Ferrets. Supposedly trainable, definitely lovable. Infinitely patient creatures, that's for sure.

They don't seem to mind being caged, although it pains me to see anything caged -- still, in our old house, full of nooks and crannies, with the cats and the dog, and the newness of it all, better that the romp in the enormous "habitrail" style thing we procured for them than have the run of the place, I suppose.

They are adorable, though. Truly.

Bonnie is white. Clyde is black and gray, with a raccoon face.

I think Tucker is all ready to love them. He's a patient dog, under any circumstances, but I think they put him in mind of the kittens, way back when -- and he adores little animals.

Since these won't grow any bigger, Tucker should be fine with them.

My only concern is this: we were at a friend's house s few months ago, and he didn't take to that friend's ferret too well -- although what I believe happened was that Tucker was trying to play with the ferret, and he got a bit too rough -- the kittens would have loved it -- but this ferret lived with a single man, and was used to a far quieter, gentler existence.

We'll see.

They're always love to go around.

Especially with Tucker.

Weird, how everyone loves him.

How did I happen to get the Universally Popular Dog?

Even when he's in uniform, helping me out -- even when he's got that little button I bought for him: "Please don't touch my service dog" -- they can't help themselves.

I have GOT to get him a gig as a therapy dog. Lucky for Tuck, he loves to be touched.

Luckier still for me, he won't break his training, even if the strangers he draws by the love he exudes come running to handle him.

Although I do warn the children: Never, ever, approach a strange dog without asking the owner permission to touch him. Not every dog is Tucker.

Not ANY other dog in the world is Tucker.

Sleeping: One of our favorite hobbies.

Tuck and I sleep together on an old leather couch every night.

You know what would be terrific? If it were just about two feet longer.

He sleeps at my feet. In fact, if I end up working too late at the computer, he'll nudge me with his nose and give me a signal. "Time for bed."

I wondered, when we first met, if he'd be a little too warm in the summer, but it's worked out way more than fine. He's a real cuddle monster.

On the few nights that the girls and I cuddle up all together in the big bed upstairs -- well, Tucker adapts nicely. He curls up at the bottom of that bed, too.

What's really funny? Since we have three cats, there's a little cross-species behavior going on. I wonder sometimes if Tucker thinks he might actually BE a cat.

Like cats do, before Tuck lays down on a bed, he'll circle three or four times.

Makes me laugh. I've never seen an 80 pound cat.

Then again, if he's got an identity issue, for sure, he thinks he's a lap dog.

Then again, my lap -- although I'm 5-foot, 1-inch tall, 115 pounds -- will always be big enough for Tuck.

"C'Mere, Boy."

The Dog Whisperer -- Cesar Millan -- is one of my heroes, when it comes to the philosophy of dogs.

Of course, he is enormously entertaining. Of course, the television show is enormously edited.

But what he understands -- as a behaviorist, rather than simply a trainer -- is that dog's minds work so very differently than humans do.

We tend, so often, as people, to "anthropomorphize" our animals. That is, to give them human characteristics -- to imbue them with qualities they do not, in fact, possess. To assume they feel a certain way -- when they don't.

Makes for a lot of miscommunication -- and a lot of frustration for human and animal.

For instance, when teaching "the recall command" -- that is, how to get your dog to come -- too many owners call and call their dog. The dog takes his own sweet time to come around to the owner, and the owner -- frustrated and peeved -- barks at the dog when the canine at long last ambles on over.

Now: if the dog were a child, the child might put it all together: "Oops. Didn't listen to Daddy. Should have come when he first called my name."

But the dog isn't a human child. Dogs live in the immediate present. The dog is now thinking: "Shoot. What did I come for? To get barked at? This coming nonsense is TOTALLY not cool."

Tucker is Two.

Tucker is two years old this month. Hard to believe we've had him a year already -- even harder to believe he's so good on the leash now I barely need it.

In fact, all I need to do is attach the leash to the belt loop of my jeans with a carabiner, in case, G-d forbid, I faint or something -- and he does a perfect heeling walk for me as we go.

Unfortunately, he only does it for me. If Tom takes him out, Tucker walks Tom.