With rambunctious new pets, safety is key

Mr. Malcolm Rockwell rested and ready!

On 22  September, I went to Fredericton and returned to Chez Rockwell with a housemate; an 8-week old male Havanese puppy. His name is Mr. Malcolm. Miss Lexie and I have been in a bit of a funk since Mr. Digby left us in June. A puppy would liven up the place. 

Several nights ago, I couldn't find Mr. Malcolm. I called and called. Nothing! I was freaking out. Panicked. I called my dinner and a movie pal (shouldn't have done that!) Called my next door neighbour (they were already in bed! oops). Didn't have my village friend's cell number so couldn't get in touch to cancel her visit. Mr. Malcolm made an appearance. No clue where he was. The next day, I discovered his hiding place. He had crawled under my lounge chair from the back and had brought a chew toy in with him.

I told my sister-in-law about his exploits and she shared about an accident with a puppy, one of a pair of 8 week old little rascals belonging to a friend; one of them had his neck crushed in a chair such as mine. What a horrific accident and how very sad for everyone who loved that little puppy. 

Wasting no time upon learning of that tragic event, I acted immediately. I folded up an old Quickie wheelchair cushion and positioned it in the space under the bottom of the chair. It fills almost the entire space so there’s no way Mr. Malcolm can pull it out or get around it.  Since blocking off access, he’s shown no interest in poking around. Win for me!

Then I began thinking about what other things he’d find to entertain himself. Shoes!! So far, though, he's not gone after the row of footwear lined up under my bed. 

Mr. M. has enough toys to keep him entertained for years; the kitchen has a step down into the laundry area, adjacent to the TV room/office, separated by a wrought iron gate purchased in the early 80s when I got my first puppy.  It has been well used through the live of many terriers and several cats.   Confined on the laundry room side, the little explorer pinched his snout on the lower portion of that gate where part of the ornate design is just wide enough for a furry face. Squeal! I picked him up and looked him right in the eyes and said “NO”, as I pointed to the gate. He tried to bite my nose but he got the message. No face planting on the gate since.

As a person with gait/movement disorder, I wanted a dog no taller than a coffee table, full grown. All of my canine companions have met that criterion. It’s important if you have a puppy (of small breed, particularly) or or planning to get one, police all trouble spots thoroughly. And a big FYI - crate training is CRITICAL. Just DO it!

I haven’t had a puppy for decades and as Mr. Malcolm started exploring a world away from his mother and littermates, I questioned whether I had lost what’s left of my mind. Nah! I’m up for this. 

Still uprightly mobile at 66, I recently received a great compliment from a visiting physiotherapist who said I was one of the most flexible people she’s met who is aging with cerebral palsy. All the hands and knees floor scrubbing, incorporating exaggerated stretching motions, has paid off. 

I’ve decided that I need a push broom to clear Mr. Malcolm’s toys out of my way as I negotiate the TV room/office; there are squeaky toys and plushies everywhere. No point in putting them back in the toy basket each evening; he’ll just drag them out again and start flinging. Once he’s over the teething phase, we will be having proper play time; he’s already learning to sit/stay. I toss a toy and he’ll bring it back, but not consistently. He’d rather lie on it.

The other day, through the gate, he saw me scrubbing the kitchen floor and his head was going back and forth like one of those bobbleheads toys folks have mounted on their car’s dashboard. So funny. Then, he started barking that high-pitched baby dog bark. There’s no way I’m allowing him to be anywhere near me when I’m scrubbing; he’d totally destroy my multi-tasking routine of floor cleaning and spine stretching. Visions of  finger nips, pulled hair and upset pails of water danced in my head. Nope, not gonna happen! Maybe by his first birthday! There’ll be no official greeter role at Halloween for him either; thankfully, I don’t get trick or treaters. I’d be exhausted having to  go to the door multiple times. 

Though no tree for Christmas 2020 at Chez Rockwell, there’ll be lots of seasonal music. Maybe Mr. Malcolm will learn to sing!  

Carla Rockwell is a freelance writer and disability rights advocate living outside Fredericton, NB with Miss Lexie, a rambunctious Maltese and Mr. Malcolm, the boisterous Havanese. She can be reached via email at Carla MacInnis Rockwell

When we volunteer, we build our community

Attending members left to right:  Heather Sampson, Tanya Merrett, Al Robertson, Gordon O'Leary, and Sarah English (not pictured).

Several days ago, I laid a fire, the first of the season, though the compressed wood bricks I use seemed a bit dampish. I left the door of the air tight stove open to get a good, hot fire. It started to smoke; was getting bad! The den filled with smoke and I had to get upstairs quickly. Miss Lexie was at the gate barking like mad as the smoke alarms were going off. I got her outside to her pen, out of harms way and called a friend who was on the Stanley Volunteer Fire Department. His wife and I chatted for a bit and it was decided I should call the fire department. They were on scene quickly; first to arrive was neighbour, Sarah English, just a few houses away, whose training as a volunteer had been COVID curtailed for a time but has since resumed. Chatting about her experience, she shared that training never ends.

“Every Tuesday evening we gather to train to maintain our skills and certifications and to learn and stay up to date with new techniques. We are always looking for new members to join and the Tuesday evening sessions are a perfect time to come. Sarah, goes on to say, “we’ve resumed training. One of our members closely monitors the COVID regulations issued by the Department of Health so that we remain compliant with their stipulations.” 

It wasn’t long until the fire truck rolled into my driveway and 4 members went about assessing the scene; I was very impressed with their efficiency. It was determined that I needed to get the flue cleaned at once. I called Brown’s Chimney Sweeps in Fredericton and they’ll be coming out within the next few weeks to ensure everything is safe going into cold winter weather.

Stanley Volunteer Fire Department was established in 1951 as the Stanley Fireman's Association; over the years groups of men, then women, stepped up to take their place of service  in their community. I am so thankful for their presence in our communities. When my husband and I first moved into our home in 1991, we experienced our first wood stove fire, having been told that the flue was cleaned. NOT!  A flue fire wasn’t long rocking our world. I was very concerned about our geriatric Westhighland White Terrier who was struggling to breathe; my anxiety was immediately allayed when a  fireman put an oxygen mask on her. Friends for life! The fireman who attended my dog became my computer repair guru and kept my systems tickin’ along for years. Thanks, Stewart.

At that time, I didn’t have an enclosed porch and  run like I do now. Now, all  these years later, I was glad of that as my mobility isn’t what it used to be as I age with cerebral palsy. My first concern was getting elderly Miss Lexie to safety. She stayed in the  pen until we got the all clear to go back in the house. Gosh, it was smokey. Having a  volunteer fire department in rural settings is truly a lifesaver; sadly, we can get complacent and may take them for granted. In many communities across the province and across the country, volunteers are ‘aging out’ and fire departments and other such  volunteer services need new blood. COVID has altered how training programs are now conducted but new members are needed. 

Sadly, we tend not to think about how much time and energy is required to maintain efficient volunteer services such as a fire department. Their members take the job seriously and are frequently upgrading skills so that they can serve the community to the best of their ability. Alas, they can’t do it forever and they no doubt would like reassurance that there will be others coming up behind them to take over when they are no longer able to meet the demands of the job. What’s often missing in this age of ‘gotta have it right this minute’ is that WE people need to free themselves of the ‘stuff’ of the world and get acquainted with the substance. Contribution to community is a legacy they leave to  generations of their families that grows with them. Look to those communities where 2, 3, even 4 generations of families work  at their local fire department, soup kitchen, homeless shelters, animal shelter; all doing their part.

COVID may have changed how we interact but it hasn’t changed the reality that the needs still exist. One thing that has changed is that older volunteers are worrying about their health and safety in the midst of COVID; that is reason enough for community members from early 20s and onward to step up to take their place in support of life and limb in the place they call home.

Carla Rockwell is a freelance writer and disability rights advocate living outside Fredericton, NB with Miss Lexie, a rambunctious Maltese. She can be reached via email at Carla MacInnis Rockwell