Life with Max

I believe in a higher love. Without it, life is wasted time. I haven’t written much since the holidays because in late October I adopted Max, my new service dog. I met Max at the Humane Society in Milpitas. My son, Jesse, and his family were with me. We let his girls know we’d only be looking at dogs, not getting a dog. I was hoping to see some older dogs who would be potty-trained, lay at my feet, and nug me when it was time to go for a walk. Bonus if they knew CPR.

We visited with a couple of dogs and were getting ready to leave when our host brought out a small, ginger-colored dog with a body like a dachshund. Max had been living on the street, so no one knew exactly what breed he was, although the medical staff determined he was a chihuahua.

I don’t think he looks like a chihuahua; well, maybe a little in the face. He looks like a cross between a dachshund and a Jack Russell to me. Max has a long body and short legs with paws that turn outward. He definitely has the energy of a Jack Russell. Max is very shy, and my youngest granddaughter is very shy, so when he kissed her nose, I knew he was the perfect dog for me. Max still needed to be examined, de-flea-ed, have his chip inserted, and get neutered, so I had to wait a few days until he was ready to leave.

Having a new puppy (Max was 10 mos. old; he’s now over 1 yr.) is like having a toddler; he likes to chew on everything, demands all your attention, and is a picky eater. Since Max was found living on the streets before he was brought to the shelter, he was used to doing his business anywhere he felt the urge. The first month was the hardest. I didn’t think I’d be cleaning up pee and poop again at my age. I bought giant puppy pads from Chewy, which have worked amazingly well when Max actually uses them. The pads are absorbent, and I use a product to spray the area to reduce the smell. Here it is January and Max is using the pads every time. Sometimes. (Insert crying emoji here.)

Max has perfected a circular game since he's moved in. It’s an easy game but with specific rules: Part 1 is Tug of War. This can last up to 30 minutes. He has 3 stuffing-free soft animals (A raccoon named Rocky, a Mouse named Greyson, and a Fox named Foxy Lady – I didn’t choose these names, I’m just the translator). Part 2 is Catch. If at any time I get the toy away from Max, I throw the toy, and Max will do his best to catch it. He’ll jump very high and twist his body, so he can snag his teeth into the toy. Part 3 is Keep-away. Max usually returns the toy to me 90% of the time, but sometimes he will just run around my studio apartment. He expects me to chase after him, but I won’t. This part makes him very, very happy. Max will suddenly become a greyhound chasing an imaginary rabbit, racing around and on my furniture, into the kitchen, back around the living room, into the hallway, and back to the living room. He’ll jump on my chair, then quickly go back to chasing that damn rabbit. Max is relentless. Eventually, he’ll tire and lay down for a whole minute before the game starts again. This goes on ALL DAY!

Another part of Max’s routine is to jump unto my lap, scratch at the closed drapes, which is his demand that the curtain and window be opened so he can smell the air and check out the neighborhood (we live on the 5th floor, so we have a nice view).

While his front paws are on the arm of my chair, his butt is sitting on my left breast. Max is content to sit in this position several times throughout the day. This could also be a contributing factor in the lack of writing output from me. It’s difficult to type when you have 17 lbs. of fur-baby on your chest.

Max rarely naps unless you can count the 5-10 minutes he’s asleep on my lap while I’m trying to write. Lately, I’ve decreed Max to take a nap from 2 pm to 4 pm in his doghouse which has a flat sheet and blanket inside (it’s a crate that I’ve covered with towels and a quillow). It is very cozy. He’s gotten so used to nap time, he does it on his own. Sometimes.

Unfortunately, Max has one major issue that has kept me from introducing him to the rest of the residents in my building. He distrusts people. Mostly men (I can relate). I believe he was terribly abused by his previous owner(s) which has made him fearful of everyone. He doesn’t like ANYONE to touch his head. He doesn’t want ANYONE to pet him. It’s been three months and he is only now allowing me that privilege. Sometimes. If he wants to be friends, Max likes to make the first move.

When that doesn’t happen, he’ll growl, snarl, bark and then he wants to attack. He’s always on a leash so I’ve been able to stop him before he can attack anyone. I’ve bought a soft muzzle for when we go for a walk or to the dog park. After an incident, Max comes to me, hat in hand, with big, brown puppy-eyes, and swears he didn’t mean anything. He was just protecting me. I’ve told him I’m the Big Dog. If there’s a need for barking, I’ll do the barking. I’ll do the protecting. In my heart, I do believe that we’ll get past this phase, and he’ll learn to relax, let go of his need to control the environment, and just chill. As one of the coolest guys on the planet said, “Roll with it, baby.”

Peace, Sheri

P.S. The question is “Who is Steve Winwood?”