I don't need a dog whisperer . . .

I don’t need a dog whisperer; I need a dog yeller!

Okay, I know he’s from Texas, but that alone should not be reason enough for the bizarre behavior our wonderful pet displays.

We bought our tricolor collie off the Internet, which is maybe a bit risky given we couldn’t really see how he interacted with his siblings and parental units.  However, he has been a lover—an ideal pet and so perfectly spoiled!  That is until we changed the flooring.

When we took out the carpeting and put hard floors in, all of a sudden he became afraid of his dog bowl.  We really didn’t realize he wasn’t eating till a friend commented on how skinny he had become.  With his big fur coat, the gradual reduction in weight had not really sunk in.  Hubby thought I was filling his bowl; I thought he was.

Panic mode.  Rescue mode.

He went from only pure (expensive) dog food—no scraps—to food laced with eggs, feta cheese, and beef gravy!  (Okay, don’t tell my husband, but I did accidently regularly drop food he might like just a bit as I prepared meals.  But that is a secret!)  We coaxed and cajoled (Yeah, they are synonyms.  It’s for emphasis!) and got him to eat out of our hands, and eventually the bowl.  Problem solved.

At least you would think.

He got some kind of intestinal bug.  We think it’s from his disgusting habit of licking other dogs’ urine.  His tongue lolls out of his mouth, his eyes glaze over, and he drools as if in some kind of drug-induced stupor.  I’d say it is a doggie sexual thing except he does it with bird poop, too.  Like I said, he’s from Texas!  (Kidding.  Don’t throw things.)  The gas he got from his addiction made him think that he was being chased by demons.  Or else he’d look at me as if I’d poked him or something and take off out the door!

Expensive vet type pills took care of those demons, but amazingly the demons were cast out of his butt and into his water bowl!

Current dilemma:  He will lick water from the sprinklers and off the concrete, and occasionally even drink from his bowl as if nothing is wrong.  But more often than not, he will lie in front of his water and whine.  Or bark.  And look ever so pathetic.

Solution:  By going over and standing by the water, he will drink.  But apparently some doggie demons only come out with exotic rituals, which in this case means you lean over (must hurt lower back or it doesn’t work), put a finger actually touching the side of the bowl, and then he will drink.  Or at least till the bowl gets about halfway down.  Then somehow the waves . . . or his reflection . . . or the dip in publicly traded stocks stirs the water and he jumps back!

So since Caesar the Dog Whisperer is not available, and I’m not so sure a whisper is what we need anyway, we are thinking of lacing his bowl with antidepressants for dogs (which come in little cat-shaped pills).  And if that doesn’t work, we’re back to yelling . . . at each other!

P.S.  Don’t tell us to get a stand for his food and water.  Done that.  Returned item.

Don’t tell us to buy a fountain that circulates refreshing water into the bowl, simulating a Canadian mountain stream.  Well . . . you know.

Don’t tell us he will drink when he’s thirsty.  Held out as long as possible, but the SPCA was doing drive bys.

Don’t tell us to change the bowl or get a rug or put the bowl outside.  Tried and failed.

And remember:  This is the dog that was attacked a few days ago by a pit bull boxer type big muscular meanie, driving me into hysterics trying to club the dog with my bicycle and a pine tree!  Okay, I was trying to hide behind the pine tree.  When we get ready for our rides now, me armed with an 18” steel pipe that gives me hand cramps, he looks at me with the same jubilant eyes that he always has had.  Me, I’m still in shock and fighting nausea.   But give him a bowl of water to drink . . . and my neurotic goes into hysterics! 

Help me!