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stoutfellowOn Friday, I have to take Murphy to the vet. This is a more difficult matter than it might seem.
As I may have mentioned, I do not drive. I do have friends and colleagues who drive, and I have on occasion mooched off them, but I prefer to avoid that if possible.
The veterinary hospital is about two miles from my house. That's not too bad; in the past, I've walked the dogs over. If the weather is agreeable, they enjoy this, and their notion of "agreeable" is somewhat wider than mine. However, Murphy's difficulty with his hindquarters make such a long walk impossible now. (The last time I walked him over, he was exhausted when we got there, and the vet had to wait for him to recover before giving him his shots.)
Last Christmas, my sister O provided me with a solution to this dilemma, in the form of a Radio Flyer wagon - the kind with the wooden side-slats, suitable for keeping a dog on board. (I already had one wagon, sans slats, and hence not usable for this purpose.) Today, I assembled the wagon.
I'm nobody's handyman; my greatest flaw here is occasional inattention. The assembly was punctuated by repeated reminders that composition of actions is not a commutative operation. (E.g.: put the rear axle mechanism together before bolting it to the body; the other way around does not work.)
Assemble front axle. Attach to body. Assemble rear axle. Attach to body. Put wheels on axles. Prepare to attach handle. Discover that front axle has been attached backwards. Remove and reattach, hindered this time by the wheels. Attach slats to sides: left side, back, right side, front. Notice that front and back slats are slightly different, to accommodate the handle, and that front slat is currently attached to the rear of the wagon. Contemplate not caring. Sigh; remove and exchange front and back slats. Put wagon in out-of-the-way spot. Shower.
Murphy came out to watch about halfway through. He looked worried (but then, he usually does) and refused to approach the Disturbing Object. After the Disturbing Object was put away, he came wagging nervously up and I gave him a treat.
(He is in the living room now, woofing at something, most likely the Disturbing Object.)
Next step: the acid test. I'll put one of the bath mats in for him to lie on, boost him into the wagon, and take him for a ride around the neighborhood. (Concerns: does a wagon assembled by me stand a chance of working, and will Murphy tolerate riding in the Disturbing Object?) I fully expect to enhance my local reputation for eccentricity.
As I may have mentioned, I do not drive. I do have friends and colleagues who drive, and I have on occasion mooched off them, but I prefer to avoid that if possible.
The veterinary hospital is about two miles from my house. That's not too bad; in the past, I've walked the dogs over. If the weather is agreeable, they enjoy this, and their notion of "agreeable" is somewhat wider than mine. However, Murphy's difficulty with his hindquarters make such a long walk impossible now. (The last time I walked him over, he was exhausted when we got there, and the vet had to wait for him to recover before giving him his shots.)
Last Christmas, my sister O provided me with a solution to this dilemma, in the form of a Radio Flyer wagon - the kind with the wooden side-slats, suitable for keeping a dog on board. (I already had one wagon, sans slats, and hence not usable for this purpose.) Today, I assembled the wagon.
I'm nobody's handyman; my greatest flaw here is occasional inattention. The assembly was punctuated by repeated reminders that composition of actions is not a commutative operation. (E.g.: put the rear axle mechanism together before bolting it to the body; the other way around does not work.)
Assemble front axle. Attach to body. Assemble rear axle. Attach to body. Put wheels on axles. Prepare to attach handle. Discover that front axle has been attached backwards. Remove and reattach, hindered this time by the wheels. Attach slats to sides: left side, back, right side, front. Notice that front and back slats are slightly different, to accommodate the handle, and that front slat is currently attached to the rear of the wagon. Contemplate not caring. Sigh; remove and exchange front and back slats. Put wagon in out-of-the-way spot. Shower.
Murphy came out to watch about halfway through. He looked worried (but then, he usually does) and refused to approach the Disturbing Object. After the Disturbing Object was put away, he came wagging nervously up and I gave him a treat.
(He is in the living room now, woofing at something, most likely the Disturbing Object.)
Next step: the acid test. I'll put one of the bath mats in for him to lie on, boost him into the wagon, and take him for a ride around the neighborhood. (Concerns: does a wagon assembled by me stand a chance of working, and will Murphy tolerate riding in the Disturbing Object?) I fully expect to enhance my local reputation for eccentricity.
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no subject
Date: 2007-07-04 05:02 pm (UTC)Before you put Murphy in the wagon, put a piece of his absolutely favorite food in there.
When he's eaten it, take him out.
Repeat several times, leaving him in the wagon a bit longer each time. At some point he should start looking forward to being placed in the wagon.
Then expand the trick to provided treats at the start and end of progressively longer rides. Or if you can't get there by Friday, treats at irregular intervals along the ride, which you can slowly make longer and longer.
Eventually you should be able to lengthen the time between rewards until he only gets one at the beginning and end of the ride.
no subject
Date: 2007-07-04 05:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-08 02:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-09 09:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-12 01:49 am (UTC)I've found someone to give us a ride this coming Friday, so he'll be taken care of.