June 17, 1998
A couple of summers back, I remember doing a series of articles
about learning disabilities including one piece on hyperactivity in children.
It wasn't a bad series shoot, it won an award but it never seemed complete
to me because I really couldn't imagine that it was like to deal with a
hyperactive child. Now I know.
Some advice for those who'd like to develop empathy and understanding
for parents with hyperactive kids: buy a puppy.
Peg and I already had a couple of dogs, but chihuahuas have this
tendency to bond with one person. Having had them for a few years before
we got married, I was "Dad" to Rusty and Smedley, and Peg was just someone
else living in the house. And no one exchanges wet, sloppy kisses with
'em like their Dad.
Peg has two grown daughters, and although they love her to death,
they're pretty much on their own. I therefore took it upon myself to get
her a new "baby."
We found Sugar Baby at Traders Village; from the minute she leaped
out of the pen into Peg's arms, it was instant love. By the time we got
back to the car, Sugar Baby had licked all Peg's makeup off, then slept
all the way home.
At seven weeks old, Sugar Baby fit easily into the palm of your
hand; I carried her to work in my shirt pocket the next day, to show the
co-workers the new addition to the family. Like all new babies, she oozed
cute.
We were initially concerned that Rusty and Smedley might hurt
the little girl. We needn't have worried. Rusty instantly assumed a fatherly
role. Smedley ignored her for the first few days, until he realized she
didn't jealously guard her food bowl the way Rusty does.
Ah, peace and contentment. One big happy family.
That changed the minute Sugar Baby acclimatized, and decided
the whole world was one big happy chew-toy.
She started by chewing her way out of the big cardboard box we
had her sleeping in. She promptly went over to Rusty's bed and forced him
out, starting a fight when Rusty decided he'd move Smedley out. Poor
Smed whined plaintively until things were rearranged at 3 a.m.
Shortly thereafter, Sugar Baby created a new game: Bite the Boys
on the Behind. She'll sneak up behind either of the boys, bite them on
the tail or back of the leg, and scurry. By the time they turn to face
their tormentor, she's biting again.
Since this process usually results in the two males facing one
another and growling, a scrap gets underway. Sugar Baby retreats to a corner
with this impish grin until the battle is ended by Dad getting up out of
bed and separating the combatants.
Sugar Baby also likes chewing on toys (not, of course, the traditional
squeaky dog-toys you get at the pet store). She prefers toys like toes,
fingers, plastic garbage bags and photo albums. When admonished, of course,
she sets new world records in the 20-foot dash to her hiding place underneath
the couch where she awaits the next unsuspecting toe.
She's also taken up another very disconcerting habit: "fetching"
things from others. The neighborhood tomcats like to use our backyard for
breakfast, snagging a bird and hunkering down underneath our big fig tree.
When it's time to go outside, Sugar Baby rockets to that fig tree. You
can hear a hiss a couple of seconds later, followed by the sight of this
one-pound chihuahua dragging a dead bird back to the back door to give
to Mom.
Thus far, Peg has reported being less than impressed with this
new skill of our youngest child. She's suggested we check into finding
a Ritalin prescription for Sugar Baby.
On the other hand, having a hyperactive dog has one advantage.
We never have to wash our faces. Ten seconds with that tongue, and you're
cleaner than a good two-hour scrub.