In recent weeks, we’ve mentioned in passing that the Dude is not very food motivated. It’s been a big challenge for us because food puzzles and exercise are our deadly 1-2 combo in combatting anxiety, and with the Dude’s intensive heartworm treatment, the exercise is entirely out. With no visible food motivation, the food puzzles have been out too.

Until Monday.

On Monday, the Dude decided to turn a very sharp corner and become not just willing to work, but a complete food maniac.

We have seen a lot of dogs go from nervous and disinterested of food to gung-ho piggies, but never in the blink of an eye. The sun set on Sunday and the Dude nonchalantly walked away after sniffing his dinner, and the sun rose on Monday and he was an expert wobbler-holic, a brilliant kong-extractor, and a voracious devourer of bully sticks. Is this guy playing tricks on us?

We’re glad the boy has found his appetite — he has gained about 8 pounds since he came into our care, but is still a skinny little kid.

And with the doctor’s “Keep calm. Very, very calm” orders, food-driven training, puzzles, and games will –hopefully– keep us all sane until his 10 weeks of treatment are over!

By the way– did you notice the Dude’s new collar? Are you wondering what he did to deserve it? Tune in tomorrow to find out!

NEW POST today at our other blog — about nine new dogs traveling cross-country to join Love-A-Bull’s foster program! Click here.

Crate training the Dude has looked a little bit like this:

Some may recall that the night he came to us, we tucked him away in his crate and woke the next morning next to an intact crate halfway across the room, and a peacefully sleeping Dude on the sofa. Out came the zip-ties, and the Dude took an alternative approach: pushing and nudging at the metal bars until they gave in, bending into perfect diamond-shape patterns with jagged edges: just the right size and shape for a dog Snickerdoodle’s size to stick his head through and puncture his neck on the sharp corners.

A few failed attempts at buttering the boy up later, we landed a rehomed plastic crate (apparently better for destructive dogs).

Naturally, he was skeptical. The first day, he wouldn’t even come in the same room as the crate. The second day, he wouldn’t come near the crate. The third day, we came up with a brilliant idea: Invite his mentor/boyfriend/brother Chick into the crate first. We never did crate train the Chickster, but when we filled the bottom crate half with bedding and invited him in for a nap, he didn’t hesitate to hop right in to the cozy nest. And wouldn’t you know? The Dude dove right in after him. For the Doodlebug, it’s hard to resist a little snuggle-time with his big bro.

Eventually, we warmed up to where the Dude would enter the crate shell first– assisted by some hot dog bits — if Chick was nearby and looking like he was headed in the same direction. But if Chick was nowhere in sight? No way, Jose.

We feel really lucky that the two are such good compadres and are relatively trustworthy — barring any garbage can escapades — when left loose alone together in the house. And honestly, given how sweet these two look snuggled up like this, we’re not in too much of a crate-training rush.

For photos, bios, and adoption info about Love-A-Bull’s other adorable, adoptable pit bull type dogs, visit here.

It’s been a week and a half, and we can finally say that Snickerdoodle had become comfortable enough to feel at home.

Don’t believe us? Here’s our proof:

Different fosters have taken different amounts of time to really settle in, and we suspect that the Doodlebug’s trajectory was thrown off temporarily by his medical issues and his big scare last weekend. It’s true that he still won’t go anywhere near his crate (his third crate, after thoroughly defeating one and convincingly threatening the second) and he still gets a worried furrow in his brow when we leave the house. He still rolls his eyes and sighs when we pull out squeaky toys and balls. And he still isn’t entirely convinced that food is worth working for. But progress takes time.

We’ve hit some big milestones over the past few days: the Dude conquered his first kong snack. He learned how to walk into another room — not the one we’re in — for a nap on the couch. And he reclaimed that very primal, canine instinct to dive into the grass for a long, satisfying, post-bath back scratch, four legs pointed toward the heavens, with a big silly grin on his face. Our favorite milestone yet.

To check out our other blog — about pit bull advocacy, education, rescue, and events in Texas — click here.

After Snickerdoodle’s scary incident and subsequent visit to the vet this weekend, he and the Chick put their heads together and came up with what they considered to be the Very Best Course of Action: from here on, all dogs should sleep on the human bed.

When the vet ordered plenty of rest and TLC for the Doodlebug, surely this is what she meant.

But these guys know better than to think that us very disciplined human would let two filthy, smelly, frito-pawed, grass-stain-covered dogs sleep on our nice clean human sheets — least of all on “clean sheet Wednesday.” No, we’re too cold-hearted and clean-loving to allow that.

So the Chick and the Dude did an unprecedented thing: they volunteered for a bath.

I should have known they were trying to trick me. I should have seen it coming. But I blindly trusted these two con-artists, and gave them a quick hosedown and a good scrub with some nice shampoo. What resulted was some very clean, naked, and fresh-smelling wonderdogs — sleeping on our bed.

"Chick, do you smell that? It smells amazing." "Yes Dude, it's us, and it smells great!"

"I'm already daydreaming about nightdreaming in that nice, comfy human bed."

"Ok Chick, on the count of three, pretend to be sleeping in their bed."

"One, two, three. . . "

To check out our other blog — about pit bull advocacy, education, rescue, and events in Texas — click here.

We woke last Friday before dawn to the sound of Snickerdoodle coughing up blood. It was alarming, to say the least. A few minutes later, the Doodlebug was in the car on the way to the vet, and I was trying to contain my nerves as I drove there, glancing over at him every couple of seconds to make sure he was breathing.

Some extensive testing and a couple of X-rays later, we learned that Snickerdoodle’s heartworm is at an advanced stage. Although we knew he had heartworm from the beginning, he seemed asymptomatic, so everybody assumed that his was a milder case — as is normally expected of young to mid-aged dogs. However, the presence of blood in his lungs and the swelling of his heart and clouding in his chest revealed by his xray puts him at a Class 3 (out of 4).  Dogs with a Class 3 diagnosis are risky to treat and have a “guarded” prognosis with treatment — an expected mortality rate of 10-20 percent. Snickerdoodle’s generally healthy behavior and appearance put him on the optimistic end of the prognosis, but still — ample reason for his doting foster mom to worry.

We had planned to wait a month to begin his treatment (a series of very painful arsenic-based injections into the deep muscle tissue in the lower back), but the new information increased the urgency. He had his first injection on Friday.

For the next ten weeks, our task is to keep the Dude very, very calm. The injection’s task is to break down the worms and effectively kill the disease over the course of 10 weeks. But a big risk associated with the treatment is that any increase in heart rate for the 10-week duration poses a risk of pulmonary thromboembolism (blood clots) because of the pieces of broken-down heartworm traveling through his blood. This is the greatest danger for dogs undergoing treatment, and is more of a threat with more severe cases like ours. This means that for two and a half months, the Dude can’t go for walks, play or run in the yard, or meet other dogs (which gets him VERY excited). The poor guy is on a strict regimen of rest, and with the stakes as high as they are, we are taking the doctor’s orders very seriously.

For Doodlebug, the doctor’s orders are complicated by his serious separation anxiety, which in the first few days (pre-treatment, thankfully) induced panics that resulted in destroyed crates, chewed furniture, and huge puddles of drool on the floor. We have been working overtime to combat his anxiety through a combination of herbal remedies, anti-anxiety meds, lots of ride-alongs for the Dude, and varying degrees of “free range” status in the house when we’re not home. We have slowly begun leaving the Dude and the Chick loose in the house together when we’re not around, hoping that Chick’s stability and company will serve as a comfort to Doodlebug. We’ve even set up a complex video monitoring scheme involving the cameras on our laptops and an iphone, so that we may spy on the Dude when we’re not home and make sure he’s not working himself into a heart-thumping panic.

We’re not sure what his heartworm will mean for Doodlebug long-term. If he survives treatment, he may live a decade or longer, and grow to be a very old man. That is our dream for him. Some dogs treated for heartworm suffer from abbreviated lifespans, while others go on to live full and healthy lives. The result depends on the severity of the disease, how long it was in the dog’s system, the dog’s genes, and a little bit of luck. But for now, he needs to get through the treatment. If everything goes well through the end of March, we’ll know he’s out of the woods.