Happy Birthday Hounds!

I just realized that I completely missed the hounds' birthday.  It was Wednesday, I think.  So a belated happy birthday, kids!

(Don't they look enthusiastic?  This is one of the many reasons I don't have human kids.  They care not a jot that I forgot their birthday.)

We've never known for sure the real birth date for any of our pets since we always take in strays with who knows what history.  We adopted the hounds from the local Humane Association when they were supposedly 2 years old.  Their prior owner had surrendered them and had actually completed some paperwork about them.  The spot for birthday on the form read "January 6, 2006".  That makes them 4.  Or 28 in dog years.  They act more like 4.

It's been a rough road with these two.  It's amazing how much damage can be done in early years of mistreatment and/or neglect and an extended stint in a shelter.  But they've come a long way, and most days I find them excellent companions and friends.  Most days.  When I'm not cleaning poo off the carpet or fishing valuables out of Simon's mouth.

There is, by the way, no such thing as a dog-proof house.  A dozen baby gates and everything up high be damned - they always find a way to get into something.

I'll never adopt litter mates again, though, as it made it infinitely harder to bond with them.  For a long time we thought it would be impossible.  I really feel for the parents of twins!  Instead of turning to their humans for guidance, instruction and security, they rely almost exclusively on each other.  They are the most symbiotic and codependent creatures I have ever encountered.  They even typically sleep in identical positions, or at least mirror images of one another.

Training them?  Not easy.  For weeks in obedience school we couldn't convince them to stop paying attention to each other long enough to focus on what we were asking of them, even with bits of hot dog in our hands.  But separating them back then for an hour at a time so they could attend separate classes wasn't possible for me to endure - I could not handle the kind of panic attacks Lucy would exhibit when separated from her brother for that long.  The vet and (bless her heart) very patient trainer agreed that it couldn't be good for them to force the issue.

They have definitely come a long way, as they now have enough confidence that we can even take them to the vet separately if we have to (so long as they're each with a human and not left alone), but it was a heck of a project to get them to that point.  And the pure ecstatic joy they exhibit when they're reunited after even a few minutes apart makes me both shake my head in bewilderment and makes a little teary eyed.

Just because they can endure separation for brief stints when necessary, don't think they aren't still ridiculously symbiotic.  By way of example, Lucy's never gotten the hang of asking to go outside when she needs to go, and now Simon consistently asks to go out when it's really Lucy who has to go.  (Thank you, Simon.  You have no idea how much I appreciate that little trick).

They spend their days locked in the same crate together because if you put them in separate crates Lucy tries to dig her way out obsessively until her paws bleed.  After spending all that time stuck touching each other, they burst out of the crate and rip around the house and yard, playing like maniacs.  If I spent 8 hours a day physically touching somebody I'd want to spend a few hours on my own afterward, that's for sure, no matter how much I liked the person.  They then collapse in a heap to rest.  On top of one another.

They occasionally do get on each other's nerves - usually for short bursts that last less than 15 seconds.  Lucy generally wins the spats, for what it's worth.  I don't think they'd survive long without one another, and I try not to think about how we'll cope when one dies before the other. Hopefully it will be a long time before we have to cross that particular bridge.  After all, they're young 'uns, right?

Well, anyway, despite all the torment you've dished out, my fine canine friends, I'm mighty glad your birthday happened, and that you wormed your wrinkly, droopy, stubborn, codependent ways into my house and heart.