• Nannybutts
• Nannycakes
• Apoopah
• Tubbos
• Snorty McSnortleton
• Pack
• Pitball (when she curls up into a compact ball)
• Nanny Rockets (when she tears out across the park at breakneck speed for the sheer joy of it)
• Waggy-wags (which is what she does in response to my silliest baby-talk voice, “Wanna go for a walky-walks?!”)
• Spastic dog (when she just can’t contain her excitement and twirls around and around in a manic dervish whirl)
• and most recently, Nanny the Excavator, because spring smells SO GOOD, why should we keep it buried?

And! For your enjoyment, a new pic:

More photos can be found on Nanny’s own Flickr set.

She cries.

She growls.

She plays.

She fetches.

She gives kisses.

She’s the star of the dog park.

She chews bones and rope toys.

She loves tennis balls.

She runs and runs and runs and runs. In fact, it’s her most favorite activity. Ever.

She plays tug.

She loves mud.

She’s still wary of people, but if they have food (especially peanut butter), they’re ok.

She makes us laugh all the time.

She’s a total love-bug who will not turn down a chance to snuggle with her moms.

She’s come a long way.

(Following up on this post from six months ago.)

Hello Everyone-

We have an emergency foster need for these two dogs who need to stay together. They are extremely well behaved and they get along well with other dogs and children:

http://www.petfinder.com/petnote/displaypet.cgi?petid=11642802
http://www.petfinder.com/petnote/displaypet.cgi?petid=11756768

Due to the urgency of the situation, we are also looking into paid boarding possibilities. If you have a pet sitter who does sitting out of their home and may be willing to take care of these guys until we find them a forever home- please pass along their information.

Many thanks- hope everyone had a wonderful holiday!
Kelly

–
Kelly Parker (formerly Salerno)

Cofounder PAWS New England
501c3 All Breed Dog Rescue Group

Our adoptable dogs:
pawsnewengland.petfinder.com

Our website:
http://www.pawsnewengland.com/

She also wants to remind you to support PAWS New England, the amazing organization that brought her to her loving home. You can make a donation or purchase any of these fun holiday gifts (Nanny highly recommends the cards featured at the bottom of the page)!

And if you’re considering the gift of a pet this holiday season, remember: DON’T SHOP! ADOPT! There are many loving animals waiting to find homes. Do what we did and go to Petfinder.com to find your next companion.

Truth is, we don’t know Nanny’s story. Not really. We don’t know her birth date or what name she was given when she was born or if she was even given a name. We don’t know exactly what her life was like before she was rescued but we can make some reasonable guesses. When she was found by the side of road in Tennessee she was underweight and riddled with parasites. At best, she was badly neglected. At worst… I can’t say for certain, but I tend to imagine a pretty bad “worst”. I look at her sometimes and try to imagine what a backyard breeder sees. Not much to look at, not much of a fighter. Scrawny. Submissive. Apparently she failed the test of being able to produce a viable litter of pups. Someone thought there wasn’t much worth in the lot of them of and tossed them out like garbage on the side of the road. Or maybe Nanny wasn’t meant to be thrown out. Maybe she refused to leave her puppies and it was too much bother to drag her away since she would never amount to much anyway.

It’s not that hard to imagine the worst. Almost everything we know about Nanny we’ve pieced together from her behavior, which has been, well, odd. She’s a very unusual dog. She wasn’t much like a dog when we she first came home with us.

I had a hard time figuring Nanny out. I grew up with pets — dogs, cats — and some of them were pretty wacky. But when it comes down to it, a dog is a dog and a cat is a cat. Dogs live for food and need to know their place in the pack. Cats live for themselves. But Nanny, I just couldn’t understand her. She wasn’t motivated by anything. She sure didn’t live for food. We had to cajole her to eat, straining to find the right alignment of planets so she wouldn’t be too scared to approach the food bowl. I could sit near her on the couch and put a plate of human food between me and her and she wouldn’t dare touch it. She’d scarcely dare to show interest, just a nervous restlessness, as if she was battling back nature’s call to do the most natural thing in the world — eat! It was nearly impossible to train her with positive reinforcement because she ignored treats — we offered the tastiest of tidbits as a reward and she turned her head submissively, ignoring the offer. I’d scratch my head in bewilderment, Who is this dog? She must have been the lowest of lows in the pack. (I imagine a large pack of maltreated, aggressive dogs in this backyard breeder’s chain-link-fenced-in dog ghetto, a concentration camp with dogs crawling all over each other snarling for every scrap.) The slightest unexpected sudden move or sound would make Nanny jump out of her skin and cower. She was afraid of her own shadow — quite literally.

It was like she didn’t know what it is to be a dog. She didn’t bark or fetch or wag her tail or chase squirrels or run or play. It was as if she thought any action on her part could have dire consequences. I had never seen such a compliant animal. The only time she asserted herself in the least was when she got frightened — I’m getting out of here NOW and NOTHING will stop me! — as if her life depended on it. She seemed to be constantly on guard for the other shoe to drop — or to be thrown, as the case might have been.

It broke my heart.

And then… Nanny made an astounding breakthrough.

Now, I have a confession to make because there might be continuity flaws in this post. I started this blog post way, way back in late August. For some reason I never finished the story, dragging my heels in spite of Jenny’s gentle (then impatient) nagging. I’ll get around to it. Yeah, right. Eventually Jenny gave up on me. I hope to redeem myself here.

Pause. Rewind. Play.

Jenny started taking Nanny to an off-leash dog park while I was out of town on a family vacation in August. She would report back to me by phone and e-mail about the literal leaps and bounds of progress our dog was making. I didn’t really believe it until I saw it with my own eyes. Nanny, our Nanny — tearing out like a bullet through the field, turning on a dime, hurdling over the tall grass and low brush, happy just to be alive. That’s right, our depressed pooch… HAPPY! She’s the very definition of “unbridled joy”. Seeing her socialize with dogs off leash is remarkable, seeing her fully engaged in the nose-to-tail ritual, seeing her confidence tentatively emerge even while remaining submissive, seeing her PLAY with other dogs (!!!). Until then, she had been so painfully timid on our walks when we’d meet other dogs. She’d stand completely rigid, scarcely moving or breathing while she’d get circled and sniffed. I’d look at her at those moments and it was as if she had no life in her eyes, as if she turned herself off.

Then her personality changed almost overnight. Not completely — she’s still the sweet, sweet Nanny we love. But she’s more now. More Nanny. More DOG. I can see that she gets it now. Her life is worth something.

I take her every day now to the park to run off leash and play with other dogs. Maybe I’m reading too much into this, but it’s like she needed to see other dogs being dogs before she could figure out how to be one herself. And boy, has she figured it out! Not only is she spectacularly athletic — leap! bound! — but she loves to play — toss the ball! toss the ball! — and chase squirrels up a tree — sniff sniff sniff, CHASE! huh? where’d it go? — and everything you’d expect in a dog. She even begs for food under the kitchen table. Her submissive habits have peeled away to reveal an assertive streak. (More on that in another post. I promise.) She is passionately alive and devouring every minute.

I look at her now and it breaks my heart even more to remember how she was. Broken. That’s the best way I can describe it. She was broken.

And now she’s healed. She’s a whole dog.

“Best dog ever!” That’s how I’ve always described Toby, the collie mutt I grew up with. We wouldn’t have Nanny if it weren’t for Toby, but that’s another topic for another time. For now, suffice it to say that Nanny has assumed the mantle of cherished family canine.

Jenny and I went to Connecticut for Thanksgiving to visit my parents. Nanny and the kids came along so it was an adventure in holiday travel. We crammed the minivan full of luggage, snacks, DVDs, and practically every possession we have that’s associated with Nanny, including the pet hair vacuum (that one earned me a very puzzled look from Jenny). The crate folded up nicely but I wouldn’t have guessed that her bagel bed took up so much room. We planned on fitting it in between the 2nd and 3rd row seats for Nanny to snuggle up in for the long drive. Not even close! I ended up stuffing it vertically in the way-back, holding it firmly in place then quick-as-I-can slamming the hatchback shut. Mission accomplished.

Now, all we had to do was survive the trip from the Mass Pike to 84 on the busiest travel day of the year at the busiest travel time. We left Newton at 3:00. It took 90 minutes to get to Framingham.

Nanny was a trooper, tolerating the ride in characteristic silence on the 3rd row seats. It’s a funny sight, seeing her patient but worried expression smack-dab in the rear view mirror. So, what’s this all about? I’m waiting… She really only became restless when we stopped at Rein’s Deli for take-out. It’s a little mean to have a dog in the car while the people snarf down BLTs, Reubens, hot dogs and hamburgers. Her travel bowl of dry food must have seemed punitive!

We pulled up to my parents’ house at about 8:30 — twice the usual time but a full hour less than my most optimistic estimate — and poured out, relieving the minivan of its burdens. Whew! It felt great to stretch our legs, say our greetings and settle in.

Unfortunately for Nanny there was no awesome dog park at the end of this ride. She had no idea what was going on, where she was or why she was there. And who are these people anyway? To her credit she adjusted quickly, especially after we strolled around the fabulously scented yard. I guess squirrels smell the same in Connecticut as they do in Massachusetts. She was even happier the next morning when I took her across the street to the soccer field behind the school and let her off leash. Aha! I knew there was an amazing dog park somewhere in all of this!

Everyone in my family absolutely loved Nanny! — except my brother who barely registers anything on his radar unless it involves sports or my mother’s cooking so let’s not count him. Even my father said we could bring her back any time. I feel like I channel my father’s energy when I’m pack leader with Nanny, when just a stern expression is enough to divert her from some less-than-desirable activity, to focus her on me and my approval. When my mother confirmed that we could bring Nanny along on the visit, I was a little surprised to hear my father’s gruff resistance. I always knew him as a dog whisperer of sorts, who loved Toby and miraculously transformed our Siberian Husky Tasha from a neurotic banshee into the neighborhood mascot. I thought he’d be thrilled to have a dog around again. It didn’t occur to me that he has had dogs around, for years — all of them except Toby have been high energy and high maintenance.

Along comes Nanny. Nanny who doesn’t bark and doesn’t beg (in spite of what Jenny says), who doesn’t jump up or run around the house, who is perfectly content thank-you-very-much to curl up by the fire and stay put. Nanny who is incredibly easy to manage even when she’s at her most neurotic, which typically means she gets spooked and ducks under a table for safety. Nanny who is wary of strangers, which typically means she just doesn’t get close enough to be touched. Nanny who by the end of the visit recognized my father as alpha dog among all alpha dogs and dutifully stood by his side as we all said our good-byes.

Yep, best dog ever.

Toby is smiling. The torch is passed.

Today was Nanny’s first time in the snow!  Or was it…?

Our Nanny is a Southern Belle.  That’s what I call her, tongue-in-cheek, because she was rescued in Tennessee.  With me being a chauvinistic New Englander and all, I’m certain that Tennessee is one of those places where it never, ever snows.  Y’know, every place south of the Mason-Dixon line (wherever and whatever that is!) must look and sound like New Orleans with everyone moving at a snail’s pace, rocking slowly on the wrap-around porch, sipping Mint Juleps and fanning the sweat off their brow as they tsk-tsk-tsk about the dreadful heat in a respectful drawl… and are there anymore stereotypes I can mix with my metaphors?  Yep, I’m a Yankee.

I doubted myself enough to fact-check with a Twitter friend and — lo! — it snows in Tennessee!  OK, maybe not much and maybe just in spots but that’s enough for me to ponder, well, has Nanny ever seen snow before?

Nanny was found abandoned on a roadside so I’ll never know for sure.  She can’t tell me about herself and I can only make educated guesses about her pre-rescue life from the sparse facts I know and what I infer from her behavior.  I’m bound to draw conclusions that are skewed by my frame of reference and I’ve already confessed that I’m an avowed New Englander.  We’re a notoriously tunnel-visioned lot.

Today’s snowfall was just a frosting.  Just enough to wake up to and say, ooh, pretty!  Nanny’s reaction was entirely inconclusive.  She was definitely putting out the vibes, eh, what is this stuff?! which of course could be explained merely by the fact that it’s been a year since the last winter and she hasn’t seen many winters (one, to be exact).  I clearly remember my cats reacting badly each and every single time it snowed and they were outdoor cats in a northern clime.  Did I mention I grew up in New England?

Mostly for Nanny it was a complete non-event.  She was puzzled a bit by the taste and texture of the tennis ball she found at the dog park.  Typically our game of “fetch” is a game of “keep-away”, with her begging to be chased with the ball that she’s caught rather than dutifully returning it to Master.  Not today.  She’d run and bound and catch the ball and… drop it almost immediately.  Eh, what is this stuff?! Eventually she decided it tasted pretty good.  Plop!  She laid down and licked the ball like a kid at a carnival with a sno-cone.  Mmmm, tasty!  See, Mama?  Good!

I’ll be curious to see how Nanny does in a real snowfall, when it amounts to something besides a crisp-crunchy dusting that practically melts with each footstep, when it amounts to inches, then feet (!).  Will she be like my cats, lifting her paw in annoyance at every step to shake off the offending white stuff?  Nah, not my Nanny!  My rough-and-tumble tomboy of a Southern Belle.  Within 5 minutes she won’t care less — 30 seconds if she’s off leash.  As long as she has ground to sniff it doesn’t matter to her what it’s covered in.  So far she’s been equally satisfied whether the earth is a carpet of grass or of leaves or of mud.  A little snow won’t bring her spirits down!

Except when it comes time to “sit!”  The funny thing about my rough-and-tumble pit bull of a tomboy with steel-spring haunches that rival a linebacker’s, who tears through bramble and brush with reckless abandon, who gleefully finds the muckiest part of the river to leap into, who rolls in god-only-knows-what-that-smell-is — the funny thing is that she won’t put her fanny down when the ground is wet.

Now that’s my Southern Belle!

A few weeks ago, I was awakened in the middle of the night not by sound but by a smell. A really strong smell.

I think you know where this is going. No, Nanny did not have an accident. She had terrible gas. And she was pacing around the room, hoping we would wake up and let her out.  So there I was, freezing cold at 1:30am, walking up the desolate carriage road with a distressed Nanny. She found her spot and crouched. What came out — nay, gushed out — was…liquid.

I don’t mean to gross you out, dear reader. But those of you with dogs have lived through this at least once. It isn’t pleasant. But it’s a fact of canine ownership.

It was a long night. Nanny was restless and I couldn’t get back to sleep. Jane took over “Nanny Watch” at about 5:30. I posted on Twitter that having a sick dog is not unlike having a sick kid, except you don’t take your kid outside at the dead of night to poop. And when I say “poop” I mean “barfing out her ass.”

The worse part, for me, was watching Nanny’s quivering little body hovering in a crouch even though it appeared that she had purged everything that was in her. She would look up at me with the saddest yet most urgent look in her eyes as if to say, “Please. Make! This! STOP!”

At first, we attributed the intestinal upset with some new, seafood-based food we had just started transitioning her to. But the “squirts” continued for another day. So maybe it was some kind of bug? Whatever the case, we put her on a 24-hour fast to take the pressure off her system, then slowly introduced some ground lamb and brown rice. The liquid poo abated, Praise Jeebus.

Since then, we’ve been experimenting with homemade meals. Mostly lamb, some beef. Usually with rice or potato and some kind of vegetable like carrots or peas (which Nanny very deftly leaves for last). And new this week: calf’s liver! She’s tolerating this very well, and we are having a good time varying the recipes. Our next step is to find some kind of vitamin/mineral supplement to add to the meals to meet her nutritional needs. Until then, we’re letting her gnaw on some beef rib bones with marrow to get calcium and other minerals. Girl’s got some powerful jaws, so as soon as I hear a loud Crack! the bone goes away.

Making our own dog food is challenging, time-consuming, and expensive. This may not be a permanent solution. But what do you do when your pooch seems to be sensitive to so many foods? We determined she’s allergic to chicken because she had a clear reaction to eating it, though it wasn’t obvious to us until the vet pointed it out during one of several visits to resolve her staph infection. The expensive, vet-prescribed hypoallergenic food? It really sucks. Nanny knew it. We knew it. The knowledgeable sales guy at the pet store rolled his eyes when we mentioned it. So even though it helped her itchiness, that stuff had to go.

Which is why I was willing to try the fancy grain-free yet ultimately problematic “Ocean Formula.” I would have tried anything, really, just to give her something that met her needs without causing her face to go all pinky at night and make her obsessively gnaw at her haunches. The experiment continues with varying degrees of itchiness. But hey! Her poops are fabulous! And while our vet may cluck her tongue, we will continue to make Nanny her own, unique meals.

Suggestions are welcome. Please comment!