The decision about when to spay a girl doglet; going before the first season is thought to reduce the risk of some cancers and increase the risk of others in certain breeds, and to be a cause of joint problems in larger dogs. Going after can expose the dog to the risk of phantom and actual pregnancy. We chose to have Poppy spayed at six months, prior to her first season – just as we did with Beanie. By a spooky coincidence the date of her operation landed on the first day that Monkey was cleared to go for walk in the big wide world; similarly when Beanie and Biggles were pups, Biggles got to have his first walk on the very day that Beanie was on the operating table having pieces of brittle, sharp plastic removed from her gut.

As expected Poppy’s spay operation went well, though she also needed a little fix to her umbilical hernia and the surgical removal of her baby canines (they were hanging on and obstructing the permanent teeth).

By contrast Monkey’s first outside walk was a drama-filled rollercoaster ride. It started cautiously, with Monkey being wary of traveling down our driveway on his own four paws instead of in someone’s arms. As we got to the end of the drive he suddenly gained confidence, and it was all “Oh yeah, I’ve got this. Follow me, I know what I’m doing!” Then we got to a road and he saw a big lorry pass by; apparently lorries are much scarier when you see them from low down on the pavement, and Monkey started having misgivings about this whole walk thing. Every time I got him convinced that everything was OK, we’d only get a few yards further before another vehicle drive-by sent his confidence crashing to the deck. I stuck with it, plying him with treats until he became less sensitive to the traffic, but our short walk was still punctuated with long pauses as Monkey tried to process his new experiences. He got back from his walk, ate well and slept deeply, and I collected our little girl from the vet. All went well that night, and then our ear-bursting ordeal started.

It’s a very big world when you’re just a little Monkey

Poppy came home to us with strict instructions to allow only short on-lead pee walks for the first three days and gentle well-controlled walks for the seven subsequent days to give her post-op wounds the best chance to heal. No more zoomies round the garden; no more leaping on and off the sofas, and most especially no more play sessions with Monkey. This was fine while she was still woozy from the anaesthetic, but on day 1 of her recovery and with a fresh dose of painkiller in her belly, she felt the need to vent about the restrictions with a low key but wearingly repetitive whimper. When I took our three other doglets out for their morning walk, the whimper turned into full volume wailing, which according to Susan, was sustained for the entire duration of our walk. Certainly I could hear it through the double-glazing on the way down our road and on the way back. The complaints died away on our return, but then Monkey began his own song of distress as his frustration at not being able to play with his big sister grew.

To appease them both – and most especially to give our ears a break – Susan prepared and distributed 4 filled kongs. For a few minutes there was peace, but only for a few minutes. Poppy launched into a new composition entitled “There’s a biccie at the end of my Kong and I can’t get it out”, and Monkey joined her shortly afterwards with his own cover of the same song. Never ones to miss out on a good sing-off, Beanie stunned the audience with “Count yourself lucky, my Kong’s empty” and Biggles answered that with “I haven’t a clue what everyone’s wailing about but I love the sound of my voice”.  Although Poppy and Monkey delivered the most emotional performances and Biggles gave the most warbling one, Beanie’s power ballad definitely won on volume.

Over then next few days things got noisier and noisier. Poppy delivered multiple Beaglese covers of Nik Kershaws’s most famous 1980’s hit, you know that one that goes “I’ve got it bad, you don’t know how bad I’ve got it”. Biggles was keen to voice his own unique composition “I’ve got a sock, two cow hooves and a Santa hat, how about that!”, while Beanie and Monkey never missed an opportunity to remind us they had the blues. At one point we got so sick of it we gave everyone some crate time and ordered a Chinese meal through the “Just Eat” service. Feeling a little recovered after our hit of E-numbers, fat and sugar, we let the little furry buggers out for more power-ballad practice before bed time. At some point Monkey and Poppy must have got access to our leftovers because later that evening Susan had to clean up two pees on the rug, a poo in the corner by our wood stove (all fairly normal), and a barf which was topped by a piece of fortune cookie wrapper (not so normal).

You’re looking stressed Dad. Just tickle it and you’ll feel better – or at least I will :)

In the midst of all this chaos I had to take the Beanie to see a canine physio for a checkup. She’d been showing signs of rear leg weakness and having a couple of staggering episodes over the last month so we just wanted to see if it was an early sign of something bad. As it turned out the Beanster was in remarkably good shape for a lady of advanced years. Her flexibility was right up there with some pups, and though one rear leg showed a little muscle wastage compared to the other, it was nothing extreme. I came away with a few balance and proprioception exercises to add to the strength exercises we’ve been doing for the last 2-3 years; hopefully they’ll help to keep her bombing along the beach for some time to come.

We’re now almost at the end of our ten day ordeal; Poppy gets a final checkup tomorrow and then we should be able to let her loose to play with her brother, after which peace will finally descend upon our house (always assuming Biggles doesn’t get hold of another sock or Santa hat).

To finish, here’s a few more recent shots:

When you can’t have this, you just have to amuse yourself

An oinking pink pig helps

Unlike Beanie, Biggles and Poppy, Monkey quite likes Kongs even when they’re empty.

And if things get really desperate you can try getting a humie to have a playful romp with you, although they don’t seem to like bitey-face games as much as Poppy

The Beanster always likes to worry us, but with a little extra work we should be able to keep her active and full of beans

Once this little boy’s got his playful sister back, all we have to do is get him over his nibble and pee habits and life will get a lot easier. How hard can that be?

Why are you grinning at that Poppy?

On Dec 22nd we loaded our 3 pups in the van and went to collect number four. We’re calling him Monkey but his Kennel Club name is “Wishmaker”. If Poppy had any say in the matter I think she’d call him “Wish Granter” because he’s the best Christmas present we could possibly have given her.

Monkey and Poppy snuggling up on Susan’s lap

Poppy gets on great with Beanie; they often go out on rounds of the garden together, and snooze together when we let them into our bed on a morning. Her relationship with Biggles is still developing; he behaves protectively towards her and he loves running alongside her on lead during walks, but in the house he pretty much just wants her to leave him alone, which most of the time is exactly what she does.

Now closing in on 6 months old, we both feel she’s been increasingly desperate for a play session with another pup. Now, thanks to Monkey, that’s happened.

She’s still going to have to wait a little while before Monkey’s ready to join in the high energy antics that Poppy craves, but he’s growing in strength and confidence very rapidly. On the day we brought him home he was very sleepy, very unsure of himself and not very steady on his feet. In just two days he’s become a fearless explorer, scampering round the upper part of the garden. He’s worked out how to negotiate doors that open outwards and has even clambered up the steps up to the patio – both skills that Poppy took a week to acquire.

He has however demonstrated a few little quirks that lead me to believe that Monkey will turn out to be a fitting name for him. For one thing, he had some strange ideas about drinking water; for the first two days he was happy to drink from the same bowl he eats from and from puddles, but he treated regular water bowls with the utmost suspicion. I repeatedly introduced him to our dedicated water bowls, but he stubbornly refused to drink from them, crying to be let into the patio so that he could slurp from the puddles there.

He also had an issue with pooing; apparently there was an unwritten law forbidding the depositing of poos on grass. He would circle round and round in the lawn, whimpering in desperation, but only when I relented and carried him back into the kitchen would he finally relieve his bowls. I only got him over that one when I remembered that the floor outside the breeder’s kennel was concrete. I took him down to our slabbed patio – the nearest thing to concrete that we have – and hung out with him, refusing to take him back inside until the deed was done. It was touch and go for a while; it was cold, windy and wet, and as much as I wanted him to overcome his poo demons, I didn’t want him to catch a chill. I started cheerleading him to hurry things along: “Go on Monkey, just drop your furry pants and let rip! You can do it little boy!” When he finally did the deed I celebrated quite loudly, and then a few noises from the garden next door told me that our neighbours had heard the whole thing. This didn’t bother me particularly; after living next to us for twelve years they should already know that we’re weird.

One other thing that we haven’t addressed yet: he’s an incorrigible nipple nibbler. Poppy would nibble fingers and arms, but other body parts were mostly safe. Monkey on the other hand will puncture digits if his grip slips while gnawing on a toy, but it’s the nipples that he really wants. I guess he didn’t get that big by being at the back of the queue when it was time for his mum’s milk!

These minor quirks aside, things are going very well. Poppy is over the moon with her little brother, while Beanie and Biggles already seem to have accepted him. I’ll end the update now with just a few more shots of Monkey, Poppy and the gang.

It’s noisy enough with three Beaglets; how bad is it going to be with four?!!!