Tildie, the Whippet, babysits
Thinking my Mother was in need of a dog for company, I researched breeds and decided a Whippet filled the bill. Medium size, short hair, gentle, affectionate and an easy keeper. I purchased Tildie from a breeder where I had viewed both sire and dam. Her registered name was Darby's Image Matilda--a large mouthful for the small brindle female 12 week old pup! Thus she became Tildie. I kept her until she was housebroken and knew basic obedience. She walked quietly on a leash -which was important as my Mother was an older lady. Then we went to visit Mother, my big surprise and me. Mother was surprised all right. First of all she did not want a dog and secondly she most assuredly did not want that "emaciated looking" one. I explained that Whippets are naturally shaped like that. Tildie was actually a beautiful little specimen of her breed.
I returned home with Tildie. She was a great little dog. Her only bad habit was that she loved to chew. She could be surrounded with chew toys of her own, but she still managed to find a shoe. At this time I was caring for a little girl, Peanut, 3 years old, while her Mother worked.
Peanut loved Tildie and the feeling was mutual. They played together by the hour. Tildie was an excellent babysitter.
Peanut's Mother was concerned because she could not break her daughter of the habit of needing a bottle in order to go to sleep. She just had to take that bottle to bed with her both night and nap time.
AND it had to be a certain bottle--plastic with a blue cap where the nipple was attached. I tried all kinds of ploys--reading to her, letting her drink before she lay down, playing music. Even encouraging Tildie to jump up on the bed and take a nap with Peanut.
Nothing worked. Without that bottle we endured crying, no make that screaming, sessions, until I would give in and hand over that bottle.
One afternoon I put Peanut on my big bed , covered her with her favorite blankie and reluctantly presented the bottle. Tildie jumped up beside Peanut and snuggled next to her. I left them to nap.
Half an hour later I peeped in and to my horror I witnessed Tildie
happily chewing the nipple off the bottle. Peanut had finished the milk before falling asleep, b ut the bottle obviously still smelled of
milk. I quickly removed the bottle from Tildie's grip thinking I could
simply replace the nipple. Alas--Tildie had also chewed through the top of the bottle rendering it completely useless.
When Peanut awoke, we went to the local grocery store where I purchased another bottle which looked just like the destroyed one.
Later that day when Peanut's Mother came to take her child home, I
explained what had happened and offered the bag with the new bottle.
Peanut was listening to our conversation as children often do.
"No", she pronounced "don't want that". I thought I was in trouble now. She only wanted that one certain bottle. Then she grinned,
saying "Don't need bottle anymore. Give it to Tildie"
Peanut never asked for a bottle again.
I returned home with Tildie. She was a great little dog. Her only bad habit was that she loved to chew. She could be surrounded with chew toys of her own, but she still managed to find a shoe. At this time I was caring for a little girl, Peanut, 3 years old, while her Mother worked.
Peanut loved Tildie and the feeling was mutual. They played together by the hour. Tildie was an excellent babysitter.
Peanut's Mother was concerned because she could not break her daughter of the habit of needing a bottle in order to go to sleep. She just had to take that bottle to bed with her both night and nap time.
AND it had to be a certain bottle--plastic with a blue cap where the nipple was attached. I tried all kinds of ploys--reading to her, letting her drink before she lay down, playing music. Even encouraging Tildie to jump up on the bed and take a nap with Peanut.
Nothing worked. Without that bottle we endured crying, no make that screaming, sessions, until I would give in and hand over that bottle.
One afternoon I put Peanut on my big bed , covered her with her favorite blankie and reluctantly presented the bottle. Tildie jumped up beside Peanut and snuggled next to her. I left them to nap.
Half an hour later I peeped in and to my horror I witnessed Tildie
happily chewing the nipple off the bottle. Peanut had finished the milk before falling asleep, b ut the bottle obviously still smelled of
milk. I quickly removed the bottle from Tildie's grip thinking I could
simply replace the nipple. Alas--Tildie had also chewed through the top of the bottle rendering it completely useless.
When Peanut awoke, we went to the local grocery store where I purchased another bottle which looked just like the destroyed one.
Later that day when Peanut's Mother came to take her child home, I
explained what had happened and offered the bag with the new bottle.
Peanut was listening to our conversation as children often do.
"No", she pronounced "don't want that". I thought I was in trouble now. She only wanted that one certain bottle. Then she grinned,
saying "Don't need bottle anymore. Give it to Tildie"
Peanut never asked for a bottle again.
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