Welcome to "Playing with Fire"!

I decided I need a record of my training for accountability and who knows...maybe others can find some inspiration or at least a few good laughs from it!

Fire is now 13 mos. old and training him has been quite the adventure so far. But then his life has been quite the adventure in 13 short months! I'll start this blog at the beginning. For those of you who don't know his story, Fire had a rough start in life. He was the second smallest in his litter and "Not much to look at" when born. I was rather unimpressed with the little scrawny red male and didn't pay him much attention. However a trip to the vets with the little red female for failure to thrive and dehydration on day two also led to the fact that the little red male was suffering the same fate. Subcutaneous fluids began for both as well as supplemental feedings, and I was up round the clock to make sure the three smallest puppies were nursing in addition to the fluids and supplemental feedings. Unfortunately we lost the red female on Day 3. On Day 4 we weren't sure about Fire. I had taken him and his small black sister in to have their tails docked (the rest were done on day 3) and the vet didn't feel Fire was strong enough. On day five he seemed a little better. However, supplemental feedings continued round the clock for the next two weeks and his weight gain was slow. I was still not attached to him. I was pleased however when he was the first to stand and the first to walk. This signaled a turn around in his health to me. Unfortunately I was wrong there! A few days later, a day before their 3 week birthday we heard a loud yelping sound coming from the family room. My son, who was on the computer in that room came running upstairs to report that the little red male was on three legs. We found him unwilling to straighten his front right leg. Upon closer exam I was pretty sure this wasn't something to play around with so off to the emergency clinic! I'm not much of a worrier, but I started to worry about the little red puppy. What was wrong, would he survive? It turns out that his humerous was broken, and although it healed beautifully without surgery ...the wrapping and advice given by the emergency clinic unfortunately set Fire up for months of problems with that leg unrelated to the break. (they wrapped too tight for too long and it caused strictures) The entire tale would fill this blog. But to make a long story short the broken leg resulted in Fire needing to be removed from the litter. I tried to have his dam nurse him seperately but she was uncooperative. Sitting with him in the whelping area while she nursed the entire litter was hard on me and so within a few days I ended up weaning him early @ 3.5 weeks. (some breeders wean at 3-4 weeks...I personally believe in a more natural process which doesn't result in seperation of the dam/puppies till 6-7 weeks)

Fire became my constant companion and went everywhere with me. He slept by my side in a box until he outgrew the box @ 7 weeks of age. I quickly became attached without realizing it. When he wasn't with me, I worried about him constantly. (this was not a healthy attachment!) As puppy homes started to visit, all inquired about the "poor little red male". While initially I wasn't sure I could find him a home (His front leg still not working properly) I soon realized he would be easy to place due to the "pity factor". But each time someone asked who was going to take him I felt my heart collapse. I think I put on a strong front, smiling and confidently saying someone would take him and nothing "bad" would happen to him...but internally I hated the thought of him leaving my home. I had four dogs including our very special Georgia who was only a year old, and my special Border Collie Doodle who desired more of my time than she got. And I had a family who thought four dogs was four too many! The last thing I needed was a fifth dog! But somewhere along the way my husband informed me that he was well aware he couldn't seperate Fire from me (more like seperate me from Fire) and he was ok with my keeping him. Was it a smart move letting my husband name him? At 3.5 weeks of age, as Fire lay in our bed with his leg wrapped my husband tried to think of "fight" names for him. Rocky, Tyson, and finally "Fire Fighter". Ok that was a bit silly, but the Fire part stuck! Later on I paired it with "Money to Burn" for the obvious reason that he was one expensive puppy at that point in time, and so Joyton's Money to Burn Wescot became a permanent fixture here!