Elliot: The Gentle Giant

Elliot's Yard

2010-10-10T19:51:00.000-07:00

As soon as Elliot’s fence was complete, I opened the front door and, for the first time, he was allowed to leave the house alone and without his leash.

He raced to the kennel - the gate was open - and brought all his toys out into the big yard. The quilt he was used to lying on, was also dragged out to join the toys.

As I sat on the porch steps watching him, he chewed his marrow bone, then picked up a tennis ball, left in the yard with many others that had belonged to Sarah, and brought it to me to throw. All I had to do was tap the step beside me and he dropped the ball right there. Either he is the smartest dog I have ever encountered, or somewhere in his early life, he was taught these things, although I don’t think he was taught how to move house from kennel to open yard – fenced in of course.

I thought of Sarah, who spent her outside time chained to a tree with twenty-five feet of plastic covered wire, which allowed her to lie in the yard or on the porch. Sarah had no fence and was prone to roaming, and often managed to race out the door and disappear for a couple of hours

So far Elliot does not spend much time on the porch. Down the steps he races, as he runs to his cache, chewing a bone, pulling the stuffing out of the quilt, or playing with a toy.

The six foot wooden fence hides his outside view. So, when he hears another dog on the street, he races across the yard to the wire fence that separates him from the parking area. There he can look out through the metal gates to activity on the street. Once he is trained, he will be able to join them outside the fence.

Elliot's Fence

2010-09-21T20:46:00.000-07:00

It is almost a month since I contracted for Elliot’s fence; for a place where he can run, and I can work on training him.

In the meantime, Elliot has his kennel, where he plays ball briefly, chews on a bone or some toy if I am with him, or lies waiting for me to take him out if left alone. He also has the back yard, which he is trashing: pulling out plants, eating others, and digging holes.

In the hot weather, his running around and digging has churned up the earth so there is a large ground cover of fine dirt. This dust does not bode well for Elliot’s eye, where, due to the surgery the vet advised, the lower lid does not adhere close enough to the eyeball.

It is not a problem and does not bother him,” he said. But dust can irritate it.”

“He’s living in dust,” I replied.

I try to walk him every day, but due to his lack of training, and a collar that doesn’t work, it is almost impossible on our hill, and somewhat difficult elsewhere. I try to find a different location every day: a park, a golf course, a quiet neighborhood, and sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. Lately, the fence construction has made it difficult to get my car in and out of the property, so we haven’t walked that much.

I walked Sarah up and down our almost empty cul-de-sac when I trained her, but now there are more homes and dogs making it difficult. I can cover the same area inside my front fence once it is complete. The only question is: When will it be complete?

A Bundle of Contradictions

2010-09-09T23:15:00.000-07:00

As he gets familiar with his environment Elliot is more sure of himself. He asserts himself more, yet breaks barriers when he doesn’t want to follow the rules.

He is afraid of losing what he has. When I took the cover from his bed to throw into the washing machine, he became very upset. He did not know what I had done with it. Then when I took the mattress to air out on the rail of the side deck, he followed it out and lay down beneath it.

I am usually with him most of the time because he has to be watched carefully, to protect the house from his chewing, and to make sure he doesn’t eat something he shouldn’t. Usually, if I go somewhere in the car, I take him with me. However, when I took my granddaughter to lunch in Ukiah for her birthday, it was too hot to leave him in the car. I left him with Bill. When I returned he would have nothing to do with me for the rest of the day. The following day he was back to trailing me around.

He is curious about everything around him, and is easily distracted, particularly when being walked. He has gained 10 pounds since I got him and is not easy to walk. We walk at 6:30 in the morning, because there aren’t too many distractions. On a Sunday morning, with not even a car driving by, the walk was going well. Then a man ran by in the other direction. Elliot began jumping up and wanted to run with him. Trying to keep an 80 pound giant puppy focused and obeying is difficult. Yes, he has gained weight.

I am searching for a trainer.

The Sun Shines Through

2010-09-04T10:34:00.000-07:00

It was 21 days since the last trip to Marin and time for Elliot to return to the Marin vet.

On arrival, Elliot was greeted by the office receptionist, and as we were a bit early, we were told to sit in the waiting room. However it was hard for Elliot to remain sitting, and even harder to get him to lie down. There were too many distractions.

As I struggled, a young women employee, laden with goodies, came out and began working with Elliot. She did better than I did but, although the goodies were good, the attention span was minimal. There was too much going on. So many people to check out. So many dogs he wanted to meet.

After a short wait, she brought us into a back room and told us the doctor would be in shortly. Since it was just us, Elliot lay down without being asked.

When the vet arrived, he greeted Elliot, then sat down to review his situation He was pleased with Elliot’s weight gain – no more ribs sticking out – and worked his legs.

“There was no need,” he said, “for any more x-rays.”

Then he had me take Elliot outside and walk him.

When we returned to the room, he said Elliot was fine. There was no need for surgery.

Elliot, of course, did not understand what was going on, but I was ecstatic.

A few nights later, my regular vet called.

“I just wanted to celebrate with you,” he said. “I’m so glad my diagnosis was wrong.”

Diffused Rays

2010-08-25T19:25:00.000-07:00

A few days after our visit to Marin, the vet called. The radiologist agreed with most of his assumptions, however, other problems had come to light.

Elliot’s white blood cells showed he had allergies or parasites. I had dropped a fecal sample of at my regular vet’s, and Elliot did not have worms or parasites. That left allergies. They also found an old fracture where Elliot’s sacroiliac joined his pelvis, which did seem to be stable.

Okay, now we aren’t talking surgery, but there appears to be an abundance of problems. I begin to wonder whether Elliot had been hit by a car, What was his life like before he went to the shelter?

Though sweet and loving, he is also skittish. Loud sounds frighten him: The slamming of the refrigerator door, heavy footsteps, a dropped pan, and he is petrified by the broom.

On the other hand he is connecting with me and Bill. He sits for hours at Bill’s feet in the den and follows me around the house and out to the back yard. Mornings he runs from one side of the bed to the other waking us both up.

He loves his walks through the neighborhood, trips to the park, and riding in the car, but is easily distracted by people, dogs, cats, birds or dropping leaves. He plays in the kennel, where some of the neighborhood dogs visit him through the fence. They are not as friendly when he is loose. However, I am having a fence built so there will be more room for running, playing, and visiting. If only his health would improve.

A Ray Of Light

2010-08-15T22:11:00.000-07:00

It was time to visit the Marin vet. Elliot and I left home at 6:30 a.m., and drove to Mill Valley, Elliot lying quietly in the back seat. In Petaluma we hit traffic. I don’t know why I imagined no one would be on the road that early. As we crept along, I began stressing. Elliot was still perfectly happy alternating between stretched out and head hanging out the window. What do dogs know about time?

My eyes shifting from the road to the clock, I estimated my chance of making my 8:30 appointment. It didn’t seem promising. Yet somehow we managed to arrive.

As I struggled with Elliot, the x-rays, and my purse filled with all Elliot’s information, a man approached offering help; I handed him Elliot’s leash and followed him into the clinic where I discovered he was the vet.

I checked in, left Elliot, headed for downtown Mill Valley, ate breakfast and hung out until 3:30, when I was due back at the clinic for a conference with the vet.

When I returned, he ushered me into a back room, set up new x-rays and told me Elliot had spit up something pink, and there were some problems with the sedation. They had to reverse the process. He thought Elliot might have worms. Bummer. What next?

However, as he explained the x-rays, he offered a ray of hope. Elliot’s elbows were inflamed, but he did not believe surgery was necessary. He would give him anti-inflammatory medication and would check him again in 21 days. He also questioned the need for hip surgery. He would confer with my regular vet, with whom I was to check about the worms. He would send the x-rays to a radiologist that evening and get back to me with the results.

I drove home with a lighter heart. There was a glimmer of sun on the horizon.

A Mind Of His Own

2010-08-11T14:35:00.000-07:00

While waiting for the time to pass when I could take Elliot to Marin, life became a series of walking him and introducing him to neighbors as we passed. Elliot showed his social proclivities. He loved people. He also loved children and other dogs, at least the ones that weren’t aggressive. He didn’t pay too much attention to cats.

However, as we walked up and down the steep hills surrounding my home, I began to notice a change. Whenever we came to a house where he had met someone, or when voices drifted out from homes, he would stop heeling and pull towards the driveways. When I pulled back, he showed his other side. He would sit down and refuse to move. Sometimes he jumped up, and I had to fight him to get down. He had a strong stubborn streak.

When we returned to our house, he refused to climb the porch steps. He sat and stared at me, as if to say “you can’t make me.” Elliot had a mind of his own.

This had to stop. I filled my pockets with reward goodies and stepped up the dog training. It seems to be working – everything but the steps. I can’t help wondering whether they have something to do with his bone problems, but I don’t really think that’s it.

Then came the puppy problems. Elliot chewed the corner of the living room
carpet. Luckily, he pulled the corner over and chewed underneath. I covered it with 100 % cayenne pepper. He has not gone near it again.

Elliot is still the sweet loving dog I adopted, but with a few glitches. I had forgotten how much energy it takes to train a puppy, a 70 pound one at that. Dog training classes are definitely on the agenda.

Where's Elliot

2010-08-07T13:22:00.000-07:00

After a series of cool days, the temperature rose. Once I walked Elliot, I decided to work in my front garden and surrounding property. I left the dog in the house with Bill, grabbed the rake, and began tackling, the fallen leaves, twigs and branches.

When I returned to the house, I could not find Elliot. I searched each room and checked the backyard. ( The door was open.) I could not find him.

I began to panic. Had I unknowingly left the front door ajar? Did he get out?’

“It’s impossible,” Bill said. “The door was closed.”

“Maybe I left it open when I went out. I don’t think so, but maybe I did.”

“It’s impossible,” Bill kept saying.

“I’m going to look for him.”

I left the house, jumped in the car, and checked the neighborhood, calling, in case Elliot had left the roads. Unsuccessful, I returned the car and walked up other streets where we had walked together. No one had seen him.

I was frantic. He was only a puppy. He had health problems. He needed me.

Maybe he was in the house. I would check again. I hadn’t looked in the closets.

“I looked in the closets,” said Bill. “I checked the whole house and the backyard.

I looked in the closets anyway. Elliot wasn’t there. I went out back, but couldn’t see him. Then, for some reason, my attention was drawn to the far corner of the yard.

There, hardly visible behind a small lemon tree, Elliot was lying in the sun.

“Elliot,” I called. He came running. He licked me. I hugged him. He chewed my hand. I rubbed his belly. Elliot was home, and life was beautiful.

And, Darker Clouds

2010-07-31T19:22:00.000-07:00

Following the vet’s recommendation, I dropped Elliot off for x-rays the day
after his diagnosis. Although I know x-rays can’t hurt, I am always worried about sedation. I returned home and sat near the phone waiting for the call to tell me I could pick him up. By 3:00 I called them. Relief! I could pick him up at 5:00.

When I arrived, the Vet went over the x-rays with me, showed me what was wrong, explained how the joints and bones should look, using models to demonstrate.
Then he explained what was required.

I told him I was willing to do everything necessary to save this dog and offer him a good life. In other words, I would pay for all expenses.

“I adopted him,” I said “And, I owe him.

What was necessary was surgery. The first step was the elbows, and he
proposed a doctor in Marin County for that surgery.

“I can do the hips,” he said.

Before leaving, I made an appointment for Friday to take out the eye stitches and told the Vet that Elliot’s eyes continuously seeped gook. He examined Elliot’s eyes, told me both eyes had conjunctivitis, and gave me some ointment. Ellliot’s problems seemed to be compounding.

Then he handed me the x-rays and told me to make an appointment with the
Marin vet and bring them with me.

The next morning I called Marin. It would be two weeks before I could get
an appointment. That allowed for a long time of worry and stress.

Dark Clouds

2010-07-30T13:29:00.000-07:00

The more time I spent with Elliot the more impressed I became. Following my nighttime fears, I discovered he was housebroken, and was quick to learn.

Since the dog shelter knew nothing about him, I wondered why his previous family had let him go.

When Monday rolled around, we had a breakthrough. Elliot ate his breakfast.

Unable to get an appointment with the vet until Tuesday, we spent the day shopping for dog paraphernalia, dog food, behavioral reward goodies, a leash (he came with a collar) a stuffed animal, which he dropped on the floor and hasn’t looked at since, a rawhide bone, he chewed a bit and discarded, greenies he gobbled down, and an identification tag.

On Tuesday it was time to see the vet. We stepped through the door and Elliot turned on his charm. Office personnel and technicians crowded around and plied him with love, and a very young pit bull pup was anxious to play. Elliot was in heaven.

Then, to use a cliché, the shit hit the fan. When we finally got to see the doctor, he began checking Elliot’s legs, not one, but all four, bending them, stretching them, moving them from side to side.

“You’ve got a problem,” he said. “This dog has hip dysplasia as well as elbow dysplasia. For a dog this young it’s not good. He will need surgery, and it’s going to be very expensive.”

It sounded ominous and I was frightened, but he was now my dog.

“When I adopted him, I made a commitment,” I said. “Somehow I will take care of it.”

Settling In

2010-07-26T17:45:00.000-07:00

Elliot scoped out his new home and checked out my husband, Bill, who was immediately drawn to the gentle giant.

Once their relationship was established, I took Elliot out to familiarize him with the neighborhood, first giving him his initial lesson in allowing me to enter and leave the house before him. He understood the commands “sit” and “come” and was a quick learner. He was anxious to please.

It was Bill who noticed the dog was favoring his right rear leg.

“They didn’t mention any leg problem at the shelter,” I said. “Everything seemed fine. He’s had all his shots, no heartworm, and the eye stitches are due out in a week.”

“His eye is red,” said Bill

“I asked whether it needed any medication and they said ‘no.’ If he continues limping, I will take him to the vet.”

That night Elliot did not eat dinner. And, although I imagined it was because everything was so new, I was a bit worried. His ribs stuck out. He was too thin.

However, he settled on the living room floor, where he remained, after managing to snag one of my bedroom slippers to chew. I did my best to remove any chewable items I could find, including pillows on the sofa.

I took him out again before going to bed, then spent the night wondering whether he had found anything else to chew and whether I would wake up to find he had done his business on the rug. It had been a long time since I had to deal with puppy problems. Now it looked like there might be health problems too. I would find out soon enough.

Finding Elliot

2010-07-24T17:01:00.000-07:00

He wasn’t my first choice.

When I walked through the rows of caged dogs at the Mendocino Animal Shelter, all looking for someone to take them home, it was six months after my dog, Sarah, a Husky mix rescue dog, had been put down. She was fourteen-and-one-half years old. I was finally ready for another dog.

I was looking for an adult dog. A large one, maybe four or five years old. Most of the shelter dogs were younger. I geared into three dogs that turned out to be unavailable at the time. It was my daughter who attached herself to Elliot, a reddish brown Rhodesian Ridgeback mix with stitches in one eye, lying on a bed in his kennel. He was estimated to be one or two years old.

“I don’t think so,” I said. This dog was not what I had in mind.

“Why don’t you at least walk him?” She pushed the issue while the Adoption Coordinator took him from his kennel and put him on a leash.

Why not? I thought. Walking him wouldn’t change anything. I knew what I wanted.

I couldn’t believe how huge he was. And, the size of his paws indicated he was going to get bigger.

Elliot placed himself at my side, his massive Rottweiller head pressed against my thigh and automatically heeled, occasionally looking up at me for approval. He was one sweet dog. His rear end wiggled in ecstasy, his whip-like tail ending in a black hairy tuft wagged, and he loped along in a gangly puppy gait. Closer to one year than two, I thought.

I was hooked. Before long the two of us were on our way home.