mythical, the name also fits the unreality of his amazing temperament and fantastic breed. I have to keep reminding myself that Muffin is a dog, and not someone’s ideal but impossible perception of a dog. My husband is Irish by birth and speaks Gaelic. He thought of the name, which so neatly encompasses the name Muffin as well. The Gaelic spelling is with an ‘I’, and I have always liked the spelling with a “y”, so I just sort of picked “y”. He also gets called Fluffety Muffety Puffetty Muppety Puffin Mup, so he may be a little bit confused about his identity.
I have had pets most of my life. I have kept all of the usual pets, and some of the unusual ones. I have noticed that I am happier with pets than without. I have been with my husband now for three years. Some years ago he lived with a family of cats that peed, scratched, ran up the curtains, and gave him severe allergic reactions. This was his only experience with having pets. Luckily he loves me.
So my job was to find a pet that would charm him, be hypoallergenic, and have the long hair that I like on pets. The Maltese seemed the best choice, though I had never seen one. I had seen the stuffed animals, but I didn’t know they were actually modeled after a real dog until I saw the breed on the internet. I started to realize that some of the short haired, white poodles in the city streets had a different, sort of Terrier nose, and were in fact Maltese with crew cuts. Combing, brushing, washing and fixing up pets is the kind of thing you either love or hate. I love it. I think there is nothing cuter than a long haired pet with a bow. I think the process of grooming is relaxing. I have a very high stress job, and a small, fluffy, pet sounded like just the thing to keep me calm. I didn’t expect a live stuffed animal. Is he real?
Muffin arrived with his previous owner’s son from Maryland. The son’s mother had a wasting disease, and could no longer keep Buddy. Buddy was spending more and more of his time locked in his tiny little crate sleeping. He looked a little sad, maybe. He was so friendly, and interested in meeting us. His tail did not wag. He bounced some when he walked. He was very cheerful when he greeted us. His owner’s son said that it was hard to find the energy to deal with a little pet at such a hard time. I could understand that. Buddy was used to being sent out to be groomed monthly. His fur was about three inches long and completely matted. His face was clipped so short that he had a poodle look to his eyes. His little face was the cutest I had ever seen on any animal. His friendly, open expression was so fetching that my husband Tom actually said, “Aww…” I took it as a good sign. His little tail flipped over at such a cute angle. His fur was like silk floss that was used for padding special quilts. His little black eyes were like tunnels to a tiny little relaxing place.
After greeting us and sniffing around for a little while, I brought out various little toys and chews I had accumulated hoping to get a moppet dog. He would very carefully, gently, and politely take one from my hand, and slowly carry it under the coffee table. The location had many advantages. He could see out the glass top, we could see him, he couldn’t get stepped on, and no doubt sound is a little muffled from there. He took each of his little bones and toys one by one, and put them under the coffee table as we watched in amazement. That was it. He was in with Tom. Tom had been worried about helter skelter pet toys all over the rug. But really, we thought it was just what pets did. Buddy sat under the coffee table and played with his new toys for a long time. Every now and then he would come out and play with us. We thought maybe we were supposed to watch him chew his bone. Later we learned that Buddy thought that all of us should just be in the living room, chewing, watching TV, or sleeping all day. That was his idea of heaven. He gets that sometimes on a weekend.
We said our goodbyes to the former owner, and tried not to spoil Muffin too badly. I was determined to maintain discipline even though we were looking at a live stuffed animal with a baby face. It wasn’t easy. I put on my no nonsense face, and made sure he stayed in the same room with me, and followed me around for three days. I took him outside every three hours to let him know he wasn’t far from being out any time he wanted to go. I encouraged him to drink water, and chew toys. I brought out all of the little sugarless dog treats that I thought he should try. He didn’t think any of them were very good. I took them all back to the store, where he came along thrilled. He greeted every one, dogs and human. If they looked fierce, no matter what their size, he would growl at them. He has the fearlessness of total innocence.
I got used to seeing a tiny little teddy bear following me around the house, ever present, ever hopeful. He would look at me all the time except when I looked at him. He would hang his head and demure. I patted him and played with him every few minutes, and did some work in between, but not much. He had no trouble with house training. He had no trouble doing exactly what I wanted him to do once he understood what that was. He was really interested. He wanted to go, come, stay, find his toy over there, get up, get down, speak, stand up, or anything else. He watches me with his head turned to the side until he can figure out what it is I’m trying to tell him. After three days I realized he was tired. So I let him sleep wherever he wanted to, hoping that he would come to me if he wanted to go out. He took up residence on the couch and fell asleep. He started sleeping sixteen hours a day. I was worried, but George assured me this was normal. Once he woke up he would be all play and fun. This was convenient for me, because I started to actually get my work done again. He wanted to go out with me every time I walked out the door. He soon realized that my long car rides could be exhausting. When he saw me rushing around, picking up sunglasses or jingling keys, he would ask me if he could go too. I would either tell him “yes, Muffin out!” Or “Muffin good dog stay”. If I told him “yes Muffin out” he would dance down to the door, sometimes jumping off the stair landing with his feet straight out skipping four stairs. He would dance there poised at the door until I got my stuff together and put him in his harness. If I said “Muffin good dog stay”, he would run over to the couch and take up position on the arm where he could watch the street outside. I was out at night once with Tom at home, and Tom said he whimpered and fretted the whole time I was out. I certainly hope he doesn’t do this whenever I am out, but I think he may. When he is in the car he would try to balance himself, leaning against the gravity of the car turning. He looked like a little fur surfer. Cowabunga. It was cute, but tiring for him. I thought he must be doing the surfing because he was afraid the motion of the car would throw him against something. He surfed even in his little tiny crate. I tried various harnesses, dog seat belts and pet carriers, but the best and most secure arrangement turned out to be the people seat belt put through the top back end of his harness. The seat belt allowed him to sit down, or lie down and relax. It kept him from being thrown when the car made sudden moves. We went back and forth to the pet store buying and taking back everything in the store, which he loved.
I tried to ignore him while he acted heart wrenchingly cute when I was cooking chicken. Then I realized, that was the treat! I discovered he would do anything for cooked chicken, and he had a roster of tricks. He must have received some good training. He would speak, or jump up in the air. “Sit” and “lie down” took a little work, but he had clearly heard this all before. “Speak” was his favorite. So I taught him to howl along with me. I would put him in my lap and start to do an imitation dog howl. After a while, he would join in. It makes people laugh so hard they turn red, which is also funny. He has the cutest little quiet, low voice. He is tries to raise the pitch by raising his nose. As long as he is very relaxed and doesn’t feel like barking, he can do this. If he feels like barking, he can’t get from “bark” to “sing”. It is better to wait until he is calm. I also noticed that if I dropped the leash when we came in the house he would stop dead and could not be persuaded to move. He would not move until I let him off the leash, then it was as if I had flicked a switch. That was some good training. I don’t try to get him to move now. I have been trained.
I took him to the flea market with me to see the guy who had the dog toys that fell off the truck. I picked Muffin up, and I held up toys and bones for him. I held up some toys, and he would turn his face away. He would turn back and wait for the next one each time. He would wiggle toward some toys, and try to grab them. I held up a bone and he turned away. I held up another flavor and style and he tried to grab it. And so on, until we found three new chew bone flavors, and three new toys. There was a pattern to what he liked. If it was very soft and light he was happy whether it was big or small. He liked animal shapes, and basic ball and bone shapes. Some toys he just did not take a liking to, and I couldn’t figure out what struck him about those toys.
We had agreed that Muffin would not sleep on the bed before we wet him. We didn’t want fleas, a licking dog in our face in the mornings, dirty little doggy feet in the bed, we had all kinds of reasons. But Muffin would cry piteously from the kitchen when we put him in there with the fence up. So I put him in his little crate and brought him back up the stairs. He did pretty well in there all night, but I didn’t. I couldn’t stand to see him locked up like that. But when I took him out of the crate he would pace around the bed making polite little whimpering noises that were impossible to sleep through. He was an expert. He made just enough noise so that we couldn’t sleep, but not so much that we would get annoyed too badly at him. But we stuck to out guns, and locked him in the kitchen with a bark collar on his neck. In the morning there would be this dejected, rejected, piteous, little teddy bear with a hang dog expression: Now we really knew what that phrase meant. I explained to Tom that dogs expected to sleep with their packs. And this dog probably spent lots of time on the bed with the sick owner. So on the bed came the dog. Suddenly Muffin got wiggley and smiley, with a wagging tail and a snuffley, play attitude. Over he went, on his back, wag goes the tail, big smile on the puppy face. Toss, toss, wiggle wiggle, fluff fluff snuffle, nuzzle nuzzle. Muffin won. It took a while to get used to having him there. I would wake up with a start, thinking there was an animal in the bed. There was! But it was more like a stuffed animal. He was very clever at finding spots on the bed where he could be patted if he wanted to be, or left alone if he was sleepy.
If you touch Muffin while he is sleeping, you fall asleep almost instantly. You can feel yourself fading down. You have to let go of the animal to fight sleep if you want to stay awake. To the tune of “watch the tramcar, please” or “Step away from the vehicle” we would say “Please remove your hands from the animal. Remove your hands from the animal” in order to stay awake. We went through a couple of evenings with the little fur beast nestled between us sleeping as we tried to watch TV. We could not stay awake. We kept falling asleep until we realized the little sleeping pet dog had to be detached if we were actually trying to watch something. I to pick him up gently when after he falls asleep and move him a foot away on the couch.
He knows the word “out” and he knows if he wants to go there. If I ask him if he wants to go out, I would get a definite yes or no. He would either turn his face away, or head brightly bouncing towards the door as though he won the lottery right after he heard the word, “out.” After I got used to having him around, he would have to remind me that he had to go out sometimes. He would stand between me and the door, wherever I was in the house and head away from me looking back over his shoulder. If this didn’t get through, he would lunge forward, saying, “ruff” very quietly and politely. If that didn’t get through, he would bark and run for the door, standing in front of it barking at full volume. Depending on what I was doing at the time, sometimes it took all of those steps for him to get through to me. But he would do them, making me marvel at his sophistication. After I finally figured out what was going on, I would praise him for doing all of that work. It is amazing to think back and realize he raised the volume slowly. If I am on my way out and I have forgotten to take him out first, he barks a different bark right at the back door until I remember and take him out.
He is still fascinated by the puzzle that is the toilet. But where exactly does it go? Is it going on the floor behind the toilet? That is still the question. He knows that people are allowed to go in the bathroom. Once I got home quite late. He peed in the middle of the green grassy looking bathroom mat. I thought it was a very clever choice of where to go. I held him over the toilet once when he looked very curiously at it, but he looked a little frightened, so I put him down. I hear there are dogs that have mastered the toilet. He is a candidate. We may work on this. It might take a special doggy stand over the bowl.
Now he is a pleasant little trooper. He looks up at me, right in the eye. He will lovingly gaze at me with his trusting little marble eyed face for long periods of time. His tail actually wags sometimes. His tail wags the most when he is barking at playing children, or on the bed being teased by Tom, who blows gusts of wind into his ears to make him refluff himself. Muffin will brush his hair over his eyes with his paw and flatten his ears to keep the wind out. He knows Tom is playing, because after a few gusts he will jump up and put his front end on the ground, then make a lunge for Tom. He almost always puppies it up when I put him on the bed. He rolls over on his back, and twists his body around to feel the nice blanket. He bends his neck all the way back against his body while he is on his back. When I notice him, he twists it all the way over to the other side with a big puppy grin. Then he tosses and snuffles until he is sure we get the play toy puppy message. Then he gets a nice long scratch. He isn’t as worried about where I am in the house any more. He sleeps, and when he wakes up he comes and looks for me. He likes to dig before he settles in, even if he is on the couch. I have blankets on the couch right now. He knows he isn’t supposed to dig, and will stop when I say, “eh eh eh!” But he will dig behind my back. We will see how that gets worked out. I’m sure it will.
Tom is very happy about how Muffin smells. Part of getting Tom used to Muffin was keeping Muffin very clean. Every now and then Tom says, “Muffin is starting to smell like a real dog. Maybe he needs a bath.” He also looks at Muffin and says, “If you were any cuter, you’d be stuffed.” I now have a bath matt for the sink, a pot sprayer, mixing bottles, a hair dryer clamp, a pillow to turn him as I dry him, lots of combs and brushes, etc. It took us a while to come to a mutual understanding about bathing. Muffin does not like water spraying on his face at all. I finally took to dipping a sponge in his shampoo mix and licking his face with the sponge. He puts up with that. The rest of bathing seems to be getting the water warm enough and dousing him with it often enough to keep him from shivering while I shampoo him. He does let me know if it is too hot or too cold. We started out trying this with me leaning over the tub. That wasn’t as comfortable as standing at the sink, and he was frightened by the bathtub. He started out pretty frightened by the whole bathing idea. He would shiver and shake even when he wasn’t cold. He would try to jump out of the tub, and when he was finally allowed to get out, he would run for a while dissipating nervous energy, relieved to be free of the torture chamber. I decided his was the air fluff cycle, and let him run. Now he just goes to sleep on the pillow while I am drying him, and wakes up calmly. I had to really pay attention to his cues. He had to decide I really was to be trusted. That took a few tries and lots of cuddles, but now he is fine. The funniest part of bathing him is when I tell him he can jump out of the sink. He jumps up on the counter, and pushes his head into the towel. He loves a good Turkish towel rub. He leans into it and pushes against my hands to get more pressure. He bends his head all the way to the left, all the way to the right, and curls his neck in the most twisted, diagonal, unselfconscious ways to ring the most enjoyment out of the towel.
We went through lots of detangling and combing while I figured out how to take care of his coat. He was very patient with me through this process. He was polite but firm in what he would put up with and what he was tired of. He was clear about what was too much pull and what was all right. He made it clear that he did not like one of the brushes I gave him. I know how fussy I am about brushes, and I found one that works in my hair without pain. So I brushed him with that one. He had the same reaction to it that I did. This is not rocket science. So we went to the people store to get him his own. We walked into a very patient beauty supply store. I accomplished this by dressing up, grooming muffin until he did look like a stuffed animal, and then flouncing into the shop like a stereotype. No one said anything. I actually said, “You know, you could really do well if you had doggy cosmetics.” I was seriously considered. I was told that yes, they had doggy nail polish. I picked Muffin up and actually tried various other hair brushes on his fur to experiment. The same one I tried at home didn’t make his skin shrink away, and his little muscles freeze up. He has a classic little pin brush with round ends that he will tolerate, but he really relaxes if I brush him with the gentle people brush for long hair. He can tolerate an amazing amount of brushing with this brush. I finally gave up on his old coat and clipped him pretty short. He is growing back in with lots of crème rinse and conditioners applied. This helps. He smells like good perfume. I doubt he is happy about this, but Tom and I are. I’m sure he would rather smell like au de dead fish. But you never know with this incredible little dog. His hair doesn’t tangle much at all any more. It just waves in the breeze like an afghan hound. We haven’t got the bow in his hair yet. He likes to pull his hair down over his eyes, and it isn’t long enough to tie up yet. I actually moussed it up a couple of times. It was cute, but he carefully and methodically pulled it down when I finally let him alone and stopped telling him how beautiful he looked.
When Tom comes home from work, Muffin jumps up on him and starts talking to him. Tom really likes that. When Muffin jumps up he is very delicate about it. He alternates paws like he is patting, and he is very gentle. It is a very cute little beg. If Tom and I are cuddling, Muffin gets very determined to be in the middle. He is like a tiny fur child in some aspects of his behavior. He goes hiking with us on the weekends, but he gets a bath that very night. I think he actually appreciates this because if I don’t bathe him right away, he will stay up all night licking his fur to clean it. I’ve heard him do this. What dog actually cleans up messes on the floor? He will clean up all of the crumbs of dog food on the floor before he has finished the bowl. What dog actually waits for you to wake up before he gets taken out in the morning? This one does. He waits for a me to stretch, then there is suddenly a small dog standing on me licking the air in front of him where there was no dog before. He licks the air in front of him when I look at him, talk to him, or pat him. He spends lots of time licking the air. He also licks me, but it is the funniest when he just sits and makes licking noises, as if he is saying “kissy, kissy, kissy, kissy, right back atcha”. He is a sweet little pupplet. When he is learning something, he also licks the air. When he is being patted, he often gets massaged right around his shoulders. When he does, he lifts up his head, closes his eyes halfway, and looks off to the right imperiously for a while, then off to the left, changing his direction every ten seconds or so. He looks like he is saying, “Ah. A little to the left. A little to the right. Right there.”
Because of how entertaining it has been to keep Muffin, it has revived a life long dream of mine to go out to the country and keep larger animals too. I am in the process of doing that now, partly thanks to Muffin, who got me actually working on a plan. I would like to keep cows, sheep, maybe a little horse or two. Definitely some chickens, a goose, and some turkeys. It will be a hobby farm with many more flowers than I have space for now. Muffin will be the only animal allowed in the house. I took him out to the farm I am trying to buy. He was a little surprised by all of the space and strange animal smells. He does have some preservative sense of caution. At home he won’t go out into the yard until I come out with him, especially not at night. There are raccoons, possum and feral cats in our neighborhood. He does love to chase the squirrels though. They are small enough to give good sport. So out in the country he stuck close by me, which was good to see. I think he will have to have a run that is enclosed at the top as well as the sides when we move out there. That is a rougher jungle than he can handle. The house will be plenty big enough for a small Maltese to run in. He just likes to go out and look every once in a while.
