There are many firsts when we get a new foster dog. The first time the vet tech brings him out, and I get to see just what we're getting ourselves into for the next few months. Timid? Rambunctious? Skinny? Hairy? Then there's the first night we have him home, and we get to find out what kind of sleep we're going to be getting for the next few months. Will he whine all night in his crate or sleep quietly beside us in the dog bed? And then, there's my very least favorite foster dog first: the first clap of thunder. Lots of our fosters have thunderstorm anxiety, and Brax is unfortunately no exception.
The first clap of thunder was a couple of weeks ago. It was followed immediately by all 86 pounds of Brax jumping into the bed and directly on top of my head. Brax KNOWS he is not allowed in the bed, but the poor guy was panting and shaking uncontrollably. I got out of bed and tried to show him some "safe spots" around the house (we've had fosters that liked to get in the closet, under the bed, or in the shower). He was not interested. It seemed the only way we were going to get any sleep is if Brax was in the bed with us. (A note to moms who let their babies sleep in bed with them because they say it's the only way that they and their baby will get any sleep: I get it now!)
There are, of course, other options, none of which I can bring myself to do: I could put him in a bathroom and close the door. Not a good choice, since he would probably try to claw his way out. I could put him in his crate in another room. We had a beagle who had thunderstorm anxiety, and we tried this with her...until she actually cut her gums trying to chew her way out of the metal crate. We could put him outside...yeah, NOT an option.
So that first night of storms, Brax made himself comfortable, panting uncontrollably in between my pillow and Brian's pillow...head towards Brian, rear end towards me. All was well until Brian sat up and yelled, "Gross! He peed in the bed!" Further inspection proved that Brax had not peed, but had drooled SO much that it resulted in a large puddle by Brian's head (that Brian had rolled onto). I thought it was rather funny; Brian, not so much.
Brax tried out the bathtub as a possible "safe spot." He soon decided the tub wasn't as safe as drooling on our heads, so he went back to doing that. Since that night, it has been a rainy couple of weeks. I swear if one more person tells me how wonderful this rain is and how they just LOVE to sleep in the thunderstorms, they are going to get a swift kick in the pants. But Braxy and I are hanging in there and have a new thunderstorm routine. I give him a doggie sedative to relax him a bit (and fight the urge to take one myself!), then we head out to sleep on the couch together. Either Brian or I has to sleep with him, and I figure it should be me because Brian is both a) the one of us who DOES have a job, and b) the one of us who DOESN'T have grand ideas like, "Let's foster golden retrievers! It will be super fun!".
Possibly the world's cutest case of thunderstorm anxiety is Mr. Bear in the dryer. My dad went looking for him one stormy morning and couldn't find him anywhere...until he walked past the laundry room and found him asleep on top of some clean laundry in the dryer.
I like the country themed titles.
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