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Whatever it takes to move a sleeping dog

Posted 9/23/14

Ollie loves his sleep. We’ve known that since we adopted him more than a year ago.

Most of the dogs that have been a part of the family loved their food. They would anxiously wait to be fed and …

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Whatever it takes to move a sleeping dog

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Ollie loves his sleep. We’ve known that since we adopted him more than a year ago.

Most of the dogs that have been a part of the family loved their food. They would anxiously wait to be fed and rapidly grew accustomed to the routine of their meals and ours. If we missed the appointed mealtime, their willful looks stationed in front of their feeding bowl couldn’t be overlooked.

But Ollie, a spotted coonhound rescued from North Carolina, is another breed. This is not to suggest he doesn’t like eating. He’ll cast an anxious expression that says, “What about dinner? Don’t you think it’s time?” if we fall behind schedule.

But, once he has his dinner, he doesn’t jealously guard it as our other canines did.

He’s nothing like Binky, who we adopted from the Warwick Animal Shelter. For the longest time, Binky would growl furiously when approached while eating.

This was unnerving, although I would remind him, in the fiercest tone I could muster, “No growling … this is the hand that feeds you.”

It was several years before he trusted me to pick up his half-finished meal without fearing attack. He learned his manners and a reward usually accompanied such behavior, like the scraps from dinner being added to his kibble.

But Ollie is different.

When we got him, his bones showed. It was apparent he had been deprived of regular meals. Carol set about correcting this, which Ollie adjusted to quickly. He loves being mothered and what was not to like when chicken and other delights were mixed into your meals?

Yet he was never overly possessive. There have even been occasions where he’ll let his dish sit until he decides it’s time. This is more cat than dog behavior, but then that’s where the feline-canine similarity ends.

Well, maybe not. Cats love sleep and so does Ollie.

There’s little ceremony to his. He’ll circle a couple of times, plop down and then stare at you with heavy eyelids. Try to move him then and he’ll let you know with a growl mean enough to make you think twice.

The folks at Bow Chika Wow Town, where Ollie hangs out when we’re away for the weekend, say that, after romping with the other dogs, he’ll suddenly lie down in the midst of the confusion. Then he doesn’t want to be bothered, and growls at any dog attempting to resume the play.

It’s no different at home.

Whether he’s found a spot at the end of the bed, or the chair where he’s got his blanket, he’ll let you know he’s not to be disturbed.

This can make things testy when it comes to going to bed. As I’m usually the last to turn in, this often means displacing Ollie even if it’s tiptoeing around in a darkened room.

“Ollie, get off the bed,” I’d whisper in the meanest voice possible. From this would come a guttural rumble with the clear message of, “Bugger off.”

How to deal with this? Reaching out and physically pushing him off the bed didn’t seem a wise thing to do. Pulling off the blanket would wake Carol. Or I could sleep in another room. Finally, I grabbed a pillow as a means of defense and advanced. It worked. Ollie doesn’t like the look of pillows. Now all I have to do is pick one up and he’s off the bed.

Once up, he knows the routine. He follows me downstairs to his crate, where he drops with a resigned huff.

On Saturday night, I found him in his chair and announced, “It’s time for bed, Ollie.”

He didn’t budge.

I grew impatient.

“Come on Ollie,” I said, emphatically.

He was just as emphatic with a growl.

I wasn’t going for a standoff. I ignored the growl and pulled him from the chair. He landed on the rug, his curled up position unchanged. His brown eyes followed me.

Now what? How was I going to get him into his crate?

Drag him by the collar and push him in, or concede and let him sleep where he was. I knelt down, figuring we might have a little heart-to-heart about doing the right thing but Ollie surprised me.

He rolled on his back and stretched out. I scratched his belly. He groaned with pleasure and then rolled over, got up and followed me to his crate.

Now what? Will nighttime rubs and scratches become the only way I can secure a bed?

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