The New Techniques

I'm dead tired at the moment. Partly because I just rolled out of bed, partly because it was late last night and I slept badly and partly because I worked hard and focused today.

I spent a lot of time filing today. Not on actual people, mind you. Not very carefully, either.

You see, there's this large heap of try-out, display nails on sticks which get used to teach techniques and such. None of them are blank anymore, and J.'s not sure where the blank ones are and anyway, she's leaving for holiday today, so she had other things on her mind.

It started when Sis was doing the sponge-dabbing thing to a customer and I wanted to try it. I decided I'd file some of the display nails and do so. How hard could it be?

Well, first of all I needed to beg off a new nail file. My crappy one which Sis had given me ages ago wasn't really making a dent in the color. I tried with the new one, which still took ages, but it got the job done.

Turns out, someone (no one knows who) before me tried things out, then gel-sealed the bejeesus out of them. I'm taking high-degree burns, here. One millimeter or more of the stuff. It takes ages to get it away and the end result kind of shows how frustrated you were at the end.

I got seven of the twenty-two clean and decided that was enough for one day. I'd damaged two of my almost-healed nails a bit further in the process and everything. Then I put on the first two layers of gel on them, which took care of most of the 'mauled by sandpaper bear' look of them.

Then there was the problem with the sponge-technique requiring sponges. Normally, there's tiny round ones provided by J., but they'd disappeared. Not that she didn't know where they were anymore. They're definitely in storage. Somewhere. In a bag with other nail design stuff.

That's a description of 50% of three out of four of the storage rooms.

I looked for them, but couldn't find them. J. told me to try with an eyeshadow applicator. In the meanwhile, I called Boyfriend to bring me a kitchen sponge, planning to cut it to pieces and rain down sponge-y goodness on the world.

I took a while figuring out that, unlike most things, you best don't wipe off the excess gel if you want to sponge-pattern something. The eyeshadow applicators and sponges both work. Sponges just get a prettier look.

Next, I tried a spike pattern. Then, I stamped on them. And then I kept trying stuff with the brush. A lot of things with swirling and drawing. And it went really, really well. I showed a few to J., who said 'good job', and the others agreed that it was well done. Then I tried applying some hard stuff, which didn't go as well as I hoped, but better than it could have been.

By then it was an hour after I said I'd gone home and I could fall asleep on my desk.

On my return, Iggy had escaped his harness for the second time today. So we put on his collar and tied him to my desk chair, letting him get used to being close to people. He fought the power, as he is wont to do, then calmed down. We kept him there for a bit longer, then let him go.

Then we had 'This Has Been In The Freezer For A While' for dinner (fish and veggies and fries and potato croquettes) and I fell asleep.

The Goodie Box

Iggy's goodie box arrived today. It's awesome, but we're very much at the bottom of the learning curve.

First of all, there's the litter box. Iggy has no idea what it's for. I think. Then again, we haven't left him alone with it yet. So who knows.

Then there's the treats. He likes them... But he likes Bifi sausages more.

There's the training spray, but we can't use it outside, since autumn has arrived out of nowhere and it's raining.

And last but not least, there's the harness. It's slightly too big, and he's not used to it. He looks badass in it, as far as a two-pound toy dog can look badass. Boyfriend likes the way it glows in the dark. But it's slightly too big. At first, I didn't adjust it well enough and he wiggled out while I wasn't looking.

Boyfriend got a goodie box, too. He got some games for a good price for his new Nintendo 3DS XL. He's probably going to sell some of them, but I'm pretty sure he's going to be amused for a while with what he's keeping.

And I got the document I was missing for some applications I did. One didn't ask me to send it after I explained I didn't have them with me at the time, the others weren't as understanding. So my dad sent it, one day before the deadline was up.

Now all I have to do is wait. And raise Iggy. And learn in the studio. And do the laundry. And the dishes. And open a German bank account. And... Come to think of it, I've got enough to do.

The Vet

So we finally got up from the sofa and took Iggy to the vet.

First, we had to locate a vet. We stole Sis'.

Next, we had to find his address and phone number. The phone number was easy, the address a bit tricky, but we managed. The answering machine was so kind as to tell us when we could just waltz in and bombard the poor doctor with our troubles.

Lucky for us, the doc is a very level-headed guy.

Yes, Iggy's physically fine. Here, let's vaccinate him. Does he always shiver that much?

Cue our litany on Iggy's phobia. He doesn't want to get picked up. He doesn't like new people. No, he's fine with new places and sounds and smells, it's just people that really, really bother him. Where did we get him?

The doc nodded and concluded we have a puppy that hasn't been socialised well. There's no telling how he'll react to things like vacuum cleaners or showers, but it's pretty certain he wasn't introduced to many strangers or new situations as an eight to twelve week old puppy. It would have been better if he had, but it's not the end of the world. It just means that we have a lot of work to be done.

He'll be fine eventually. He just needs time and, well, stuff. Being taken places. Learning to walk on a leash, which he definitely hasn't been trained to do.

In the mean while, the animal-doctor prescribed treats. Lots and lots of treats. Of many kinds. So far, he likes the ones we gave before. And bifi sausages. And cheese. And whatever the scary dried thing was the vet gave him for not peeing on his table. Turns out, Iggy's a little piggy when he's given the opportunity.

I guess I'll have to start teaching him some commands, so I have an excuse to give him treats. Or go to a doggy school, except there's none in the vicinity. Maybe in a few weeks, when Boyfriend has his license.

And tomorrow, probably, maybe, Iggy's goodie package arrives.

The 'Forgot'

I forgot to do lots of things, lately.

Like read the e-mails I checked. I thought Iggy's goodies were shipped yesterday. Turns out, it was today. Earliest arrival: tomorrow or the day after. BOO.

I didn't ask my mom to scan in my final results from secondary school. Which I sort of need to send in before the end of the month. Oops!

We should have called the vet today. We didn't. I didn't even ask Boyfriend which vet we're supposed to go to until late this evening, when I remembered he'd called his mom this morning about it. And I don't really have time to call tomorrow morning. It's Sis' vet, though, so I can ask her if he has, like, non-appointment hours. That'd be nice.

I didn't take my meds today. Like, at all. My meds are reduced to the anti-vertigo tablets, and I wasn't very dizzy, so now I'm getting dizzy. Karma.

And then there is a big pile of laundry that's crying out to be done already.We can't close the laundry basket any more, even though Boyfriend did one load yesterday. Whoops.

I've also been looking for a cheap clicker to see if Iggy (who spent the entire day not doing his business in the house, good dog!) is scared of the noise. So far, he's not scared of anything noise-like, but you never know. Dog-clickers in the store we ordered his harness at start at 5 euros and seem horrendously complicated. I'm looking for the ones with a button you push and it goes 'click', available in most Belgian pet stores for two euros or less. Not one with at least two different clicking sounds and optional treat dispenser. Amazon has them for under one euro, but then have 5 euro shipping stuck on. Oh dear.

Then I found a toy I'd forgotten about on my desk that pretty much does the trick. On the same subject, I was planning to clean up my desk last week. Which totally did not happen. Because... Well... I don't know. Nothing's in my way, I guess. It's just messy.

 And my drinking bottles are sort of spread around the apartment, too. I keep forgetting that there's two who need to get put in the dishwasher. Now that the insanely hot weather is over, I usually get by on one, since forgetting a refill is no longer an issue of 'water later or unsatisfying soft drink now'.

The Litter Box Idea

We made a few decisions today that may seem a bit... defeatist.

First of all, we admitted that the chances of us getting to the big animal store with Iggy in the next week were slim to none. I can't walk that far one way without pain, let alone back, and J. and W. are preparing for their holiday. We could take our bikes, but then we couldn't take Iggy. And if we can't take Iggy, well...

We ended up ordering online. The prices online seemed very reasonable indeed, and I didn't know if the 45% off thing on the dog harnesses would happen in the store, or if the store had the harnesses at all. The harness was the main thing we wanted, anyway.

We bought treats while we were ordering. We can't keep rewarding Iggy with a treat that purposefully comes in 10-stick packages. So we got smaller ones. That's not defeatist, that's just good sense.

Next, we got puppy potty-training spray and a litter box.

The spray is to be used outside mainly. Iggy doing his business outside will be met with praise and affection and treats, so he learns that outside is a happy, fun place.

But Boyfriend and I are facing the facts. Iggy is too scared 50% of the time to do anything with us close by. He's proven that he can hold his pee and poo for up to eight hours in his tiny puppy body if he's scared, only to let fly as soon as we're, to his perception, gone.

I don't know if I'm imagining things, but Iggy 'hides' in his basket if he sees me cleaning up pee or poo. I don't say anything about it, I don't get mad, but woe on me if I try to come close to him shortly after. He shivers and tries to flee, as if he's scared I'm going to explode with rabid dinosaur levels of rage.

So... Litter box. With newspaper inside.

I looked on the internet, and most of the German dog-keeping community sees this as a bad thing. Dogs should be trained to go outside. If you're too lazy to go outside, don't get a dog. Litter boxes are called 'cat loos' in German, so logically, they can only be used by cats.

The more sensible anglophone community said that it's possible, and can be used either as a slow way of house-training a small dog or a solution for (lazy) people with small dogs.

But we're not too lazy to go outside. We take Iggy outside every three hours at least, if not more often, depending on weather and... Well... Iggy. I've given up sleeping in in glorious 10+ hour sessions just so he gets let out first thing in the morning. The lazy is not the issue here.

We know Iggy's not a cat. Cats don't panic when left alone by the people that feed them, especially not if they're mostly terrified of them. Cats don't wag their tails, which Iggy did two more times since my last report.

The problem is, Iggy's scared to 'go' outside. Iggy's scared if I get out the paper towels when he 'goes' indoors.

The litter box is a kind of attempt at trying to fixing things. The idea is: if he has a place to go indoors, when he feels it's safe to go and where we know he won't pee on anything with a current running through it, he'll feel safer. If he does his thing outside when we take him, he gets happy times. We know he likes treats. If he does it inside in the litter box... Well, easier clean-up for us, peace of mind for all. He's not getting treats for using it.

Underneath the shivering, Iggy's a smart puppy. He knows how far a treat has to lie before he can quickly and safely return to his basket without being seen. He knows Boyfriend is less likely to tell him 'no, bad!' when he does something he's not supposed to (so far his two only faults are getting caught defecating indoors and bolting up the stairs to the neighbours' apartment). He knows that, eventually, I'll get distracted by something and he can liberate the treat by my feet. And he knows very much that he's faster than me.

But more than that, he knows where his business was done last. That's probably a scent thing, but Lady never pooed on the same place twice, no matter how badly or well I cleaned.  Iggy seems to very much want to find a place where his turds don't get kidnapped by disappointed humans.

So I'm confident he'll figure out what the litter box is for (eventually), but that he'll realise in time that outside is better. Outside is treats and people being happy at him and room to sniff around.

The Niceness

Today was nice.

I'm purposefully ignoring the three times Iggy decided indoors was a swell place to do his thing, because other things make it better.

I slept late. I got up at eight, cleaned up the mess Iggy made, let him out, went back to bed and slept until well into the afternoon. The nice part of this is that my dizziness didn't kick in until nine pm. Score! Yes, I'm calling the doctor first thing in the morning and making sure it gets checked out. According to wikipedia, if it's not my meds, it's benign paroxysmal positional vertigo. Which is basically fancyspeak for 'ear rock took a wrong left turn and is now flailing about uselessly in your inner ear'. It's totally treatable.

I eventually got up, as said, and then used Boyfriend for his amazing... personality. Twice. I could, because it's still weekend.

Next, Iggy totally understands the basket commando. He's a smart puppy. Even better, when I gave him a treat for being a good dog, a tiny tail wag escaped. I know it was a tail wag and not a shiver because only his tail was moving. Also, he bent forward to sniff the treat. Baby steps, but still progress.

And to conclude all these nice things happening to me, McDo has Twix McFlurries. Boyfriend and I tried them. Boyfriend still prefers the Magnum Brownie, but I'm thrilled. They're delicious. 

And we looked at the breakfast menu. McDonalds now has toasties. Not just cheese toasties, no. There's cheese and ham toasties and cheese and bacon toasties. This isn't necessarily healthy or financially sound, but it reminded me of something. I have a tiny toastiemaker that I took with me to Germany. To make toasties in and stuff. Hmmm... Toasties. 

Also, there are signs that life is returning to normal. 

We are considering doing some laundry, partly because I want to put on clean jeans at some point, partly because we've definitely run out of towels and partly because that's what we do. It's one of those involuntary hobbies of mine. Sort fabrics, sniff laundry softener, wash, hang up, wait to dry, try and convince Boyfriend he wants to fold the dry stuff. It's the circle of life laundry.

And I'm back to checking the piercing website for easy contests. I like the puzzle ones, but they're not back yet. So I'm down to entering giveaways and like-n-shares. In another twelve hours, there's a miniscule chance of me winning a 100 euro shopping spree. There a familiar flutter of maybeness in my tummy.

The Dizzy II: Return of the Dizzy

I'm still dizzy.

The herbal medicine tablets I have work. For about six hours, then the world starts spinning, I get a weird headache and have to take another one. Both me and Boyfriend are getting kinda worried about this thing, even though the doctor seemed rather unconcerned. The fact that it's a possible side effect of stopping one of my medications too quickly after and I quote "long-term or high-dosage use" (Been taking the stuff daily for two years. Oops!)  could have a lot to do with it, in which case I'll be taking this Vertigoheel stuff for another two weeks or so. And not taking the stairs after eight pm, when the dizzy gets really bad.

In other news, we're also worried about Iggy. Yes, he's doing his business closer to us, but I'm having trouble getting excited about him doing what I think is a pee to convince us of how submissive he is. We still haven't made it to the pet store, so there's no doggy harness either to drag him around the town in in a more acceptable fashion. So we went on the internet and googled 'fearful puppy'. All sources say it's not the end of Iggy's potential as a happy dog, but that it'll take time and today is probably a momentary setback. The setback probably has to do with my angry voice at him for pooing in the kitchen this morning. It didn't stop us from implementing the new plan.

The new plan consists of praising him for everything he does right. Not just doing his business outside. Accepting treats, drinking water, playing with toys and walking into the open apartment door now get met with an enthusiasm just shy of a Mexican wave. Boyfriend has the tone of voice down to a tee. I'm too loud and squeaky most of the time, but I think he might be getting used to that. Iggy I mean. Boyfriend is definitely used to me sounding like I'm guzzling helium every time I get excited over something. We might be overly optimistic, but Iggy seems to be walking around with his tail held high more. 

I'm honestly wondering why he's so scared. He's not scared of being dropped, since he jumps happily from heights where I'm doubtful it's healthy (solution: holding him by the scruff of his scruffy little neck until he's got four paws on the ground) whether he's being held or not. Like I said, noises are things he loves. He actually seemed interested in us earlier when we blew raspberries on each other.

What he doesn't like are hands. Or things being held being brought close to him.

We currently have strong-smelling treats shaped little sticks. He likes them. He knows what they're for and that they're tasty and he wants them. But if someone tries to put them near his face, he flees. He also wouldn't dream of taking food from someone's hand. I never thought I'd wish for my dog to be begging for food, but I am.

I wonder what could have happened to him to make him that shy.

The advice on that was, ignore the dog, get down on his level, let him come to you. Preferably turn your back on him, it's less threatening. Sadly, I've been conditioned by a certain lively cocker spaniel with the ability to come up with James Bond-esque food liberation and housetraining rebellion schemes. If Iggy makes a noise, I'm turning around. If he's been quiet for too long, I'm turning around. I'm turning around a lot to find Iggy staring at me in utter and total confusion, looking about as to why I'm suddenly focused on his direction. Maybe I have trust issues.

That set aside, I've taken an Iggy-related decision without consulting Boyfriend on it. I'm going to teach Iggy a commando. It's called 'Basket'. He doesn't seem to mind the commando, or my methods for teaching it. I basically go 'Basket, Iggy! Go basket!', repeat it once more if and when he doesn't have a clue what I'm on about, then put him in his basket with a treat going 'That's basket! Yay! Basket!'.  If he happens to crawl into his basket by himself (which he does a lot provided he gets out, which he isn't doing much today) and I notice, I'm going 'Good boy! Good basket!'. Yes, I'm quite sure the dog thinks I'm nuts by now.

I'm not petting him much. He obviously doesn't like it (yet), so the rewards we're handing out is based heavily on sound happy with him and leaving him alone with treats. On the treat front, we need to find small, dog-tasty scented treats. As much as he loves Dentastix and the dried meat sticks, we can't keep stuffing him with those, unless we want him to turn into "Dogball! The Amazing Orb-Shaped Canine!" I tried giving him my home-baked treats, but they don't smell strongly and are usually way too big for him. No, Iggy, scared little Iggy, wants something that smells like meat and is not too hard to chew on.

Next week, we're taking him to the vet for some more vaccines, maybe a chip, and some advice on how to deal with him. We might even find him a harness so we can teach him to walk on a leash and take him places that scare him while we act unconcerned at his terror, the theory being that the nochalance at the situation will eventually rub off on him.

Or maybe we're horrible, horrible, undermedicated people with vertigo. You decide.