How Do You Brush a Stubborn Male Basenji's Teeth

Fig.1 C.E.T.

Note: We invited a guest blogger to provide his unique experience with brushing Basenji teeth!

By Gary Boutin

Tools and Supplies
C.E.T. Tooth paste kit 
A brave owner

One of the interesting adventures for a pet owner is to brush their teeth. After all good hygiene prevents tooth decay and bad breath. 

This post shows the seven steps on how to brush a stubborn Basenji canine teeth without getting bit.

Step 1: Fig.2 shows the logo for Direct to you PetSupply at DTYPetSupply.com, where I purchased the Oral hygiene product.

Fig.2

Step 2: Fig.3 shows C.E.T. Home Dental Care is distributed from Canada. Fig.4 shows the Canadian address.

Fig.3

Fig.4

Step 3:  Fig.5 shows the product comes with a brush, toothpaste and a finger brush. 

Fig.5 Oral Hygiene Kit

Step 4: The first step is to show that the toothpaste tastes good. Fig.6 shows the chicken toothpaste that will be introduced to our dog, Kindu. Fig.7 shows the chicken toothpaste is being smelled by Kindu.

Fig.6 Chicken Toothpaste

Fig.7 Chicken Toothpaste Introduction

Step 5: The next step is to place the chicken toothpaste on the outside of the dog's gums. Fig.8 to Fig.10 shows Linda applying the chicken toothpaste in Kindu's mouth. Notice how he is cooperating with the application. (Not really!)

Fig.8

Fig.9

Fig.10

Step 6:  Linda tried using the finger brush and Kindu would not cooperate. Fig.11 to Fig.13 shows more pictures that Linda used in brushing Kindu's canine teeth. He likes the toothpaste but the overall hygiene was not accomplished for this boy.

Fig.11 Brushing front teeth

Fig.12 Brushing Canine Teeth

Fig.13 Holding mouth open

Step 7: At the end all Kindu would agree to was to eat the toothpaste. Linda tried her best and she could not get this job done. Whose fault is it, it's Mine. If I had done this to Kindu when he was a puppy and brushed his teeth then, this process would have been easier and maybe a little fun for him. 

P.S. At 10 years old, all Star wants to do is eat the toothpaste--an extra meal with no brushing!

Fig.14

 This post was written in memory of Kindu my friendly boy Basenji!

Kindu 2015

 

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The "Forever" Teenager

By Linda Grupp Boutin

Ecclesiastes 3:4 A time to weep and a time to laugh; A time to mourn and a time to dance.

Kindu turns 7 years old this December. Funny how it seems like just yesterday when we drove up to Wrightwood to pick our new puppy from a litter available up there. Both Gary and I were downtrodden, depressed and defeated. We had endured 2 full years of assaults on my health, problems with jobs, losing 2 pets in less than 5 years. We had become sedentary since the death of Noelle a year earlier. We just needed some joy in our lives.

So when we went to church on Sunday and Pastor Brian read to us about the seasons of life, I became infected with the thought that we needed a season of joy in our lives. We had fallen into the doldrums with seemingly no way out of them. On the way home from church, I dared to open the subject with Gary. It was the right time of year, early February, just when basenji pups grew old enough to be adopted by families.

Snow lightly fell around us as we looked over the pups in the back of a small pick up truck. While I struggled with such an odd situation to choose a new pet from, Gary asked which was the pup we could afford from the owner. She selected a lively pup from the exuberant litter. Without a second glance, Gary tucked the little guy inside the pocket of his jacket. 

Kindu's first day with us

I objected that I wanted to see this 8-week old pup, but Gary pointed out that the short-haired basenjis were all shivering in the cold. Absolutely true! So I passed the cash to the much relieved owner along with our contact information for her to send his papers to us when they arrived. And before I knew it, we were headed down the 15 freeway south, our new basenji boy proudly standing in my lap, his forepaws on the dash, watching 18-wheelers driving past with no distress whatsoever. I contemplated how the owner had shared with me that this guy's litter name was "Truck." Hmmpphh, he certainly seemed to like big trucks and big noise.

He loved the new-found speed a car ride provided him. He had no intention of laying down and taking a nap, not this boy. He was totally into this new experience and lapping it all up, thirsty to embark on life away from his mom and litter mates. I chuckled as I kept his wobbly legs steady and sat amazed that he was so animated for a young pup. 

We didn't want to go home, so we drove over to my brother's house to introduce him to the family. Everybody welcomed our little ball of energy, especially our nephew, Alex. Kindu didn't know how to navigate the ceramic tile floors at first. But Alex got down on the floor with him and soon was laughing as Kindu grabbed various parts of this new, fun litter mate dragging him around the kitchen. Then he went to grab Alex by the hair. That's when we decided it was probably time to take this rambunctious basenji boy home for a nap.

Checking out the new scents at home

Kindu has enlivened our lives for the last many years. He makes us laugh almost every day. He also drives us to distraction with his demands daily as well. Last Saturday he gave me a particular scare when he bolted out the back gate when I opened it to bring the trash cans back inside. He disappeared in an instant and the temperature outdoors topped over 100 degrees. Star escaped as well, but after a short foray into a neighbor's open garage door, she returned to me when I called her. I secured her safely behind the gate, much to her dismay, ran inside, grabbed my purse and keys and headed straight for the car. I know my boy all too well.

The appeal of a car ride never left this boy, so I began driving slowly through the neighborhood looking for our wanderer. I had caught a glimpse of him tearing down the middle of Flora Lane. I prayed that he avoided the hazard of being hit by a car as he made his madcap run through our streets. The further I circled away from the house, the more worried I became that our boy was in trouble. Rounding a nearby corner, I spotted him greeting a passerby who seemed most amused with his antics.

I gave a shout of his name and opened the car door and before I knew it he jumped onto my lap and into the back seat. He took up his usual navigator spot, front paws resting on the armrest between the two front seats. I kept him carefully confined in the car until I had the garage door secured behind us. Amazingly he agreed to enter the kitchen door instead of giving me a merry chase around the garage. His first stop was the water bowl beside the back door. While I let Star in to join us, he drank the dish down to the bottom. Oh yeah, it had been very hot out there for running like a wild man through our area.

I noticed a bad limp on his left foreleg as he walked into the great room and plopped on the floor. Though he had seemed just fine when I picked him up, closer examination showed all four paws burned badly by the hot asphalt and an extremely sore shoulder. I doctored up his feet, trimmed off the torn skin, massaged his shoulder to ascertain nothing was broken. He was slower than normal for a few days. The pads on his feet healed quickly with a little antibiotic cream. But the whole experience shook me up quite a bit.

The hardest thing about loving dogs is their shorter lifespan than us. We are our dogs forever homes, but they are granted only 10-15 years with us (if a car doesn't get them). Kindu has always had lots of health challenges because of his headstrong nature and a weak digestive system. His madcap run reminded me that I am granted only so many days with this little friend of mine. And it reminded me to thank the Lord for my many blessings and the very special blessing of our Kindu boy who will always be our "Forever" Teenager.

About how tired he looked after his run in the sun!

What We Need

     The Dog Whisperer, Cesar Milan, repeats over and over that dog owners receive the dog they need, not the dog they want. It seems a bit backwards, a shy person owns a boisterous dog, an outgoing person lives with an animal who is timid to a fault, and a low energy couple pick out the highest energy pup from the litter and learn just how hard it can be to train a dog. I ponder this idea: that we get in life not what we want, but what we need. Sounds suspiciously like the way God sometimes works in our lives.

Kindu relaxing on my feet

     I have a self-concept that includes a good knowledge of how to get my dog to do what I want them to do. Some might call this training. When I first received a full-blood, AKC, registered basenji from Gary as an engagement gift, I anticipated no problems whatsoever training her. Petite Seraph (French for Little Angel) arrived in my home at 4 months old. I had trained Ginger, my first dog, by instinct alone. Ginger still lived with me, but neither of us could fathom how to get Seraph to do anything we wanted her to do. What I didn’t realize was that as a pup, Ginger spent most of her day with my mom while I was away at school. That well-honed instinct that I thought I had, had all along enjoyed the helping hand of Mom who had a lifetime of experience with dogs.

     Suffice it to say that the “little angel” basenji girl nearly drove Gary and me to divorce in the first year of our marriage. That is until I met Sam Kahua and enrolled Seraph in his obedience class. He laughed out loud when he saw a basenji standing in line that first class. And although she was a stubborn dog, I have won awards for my perseverance too. Every class and every training session became a battle of strong-willed females. Me, determined to train this dog to behave, Seraph, determined to remain the “wild thing” that I’ve heard basenji means in Swahili. Sam stood amazed when we both graduated his advanced class with my “little angel” heeling off leash and following my every command.

     Today, 35 years later, I’ve learned quite a bit about convincing basenjis to listen. However, Kindu recently realized that Star has come to stay. And he’s not too happy about her stealing the limelight from his life on occasion. Most importantly to him however, is sharing his man, Gary, with a girl. Simply put, he doesn’t like it and is at a total loss about what to do about it. Most of the problems arise in the evening when the pack comes together in the living room to watch TV. Kindu always took up his position between Gary and me and all was right in his world. Nowadays there is quite a bit of shuffling going around.

     Star’s arrival calmed Kindu considerably. Although just as enthusiastic about walks and visitors, his demeanor is more adult now. He is approaching 5 years old and I expected to see him mature, but the lack of some of his mischief creates a sense of loss for me. The loss of puppyhood I guess, although I find it hard to define. Funny how life is, when he was so full of himself I kept asking when he would grow up. Now that he no longer grabs a cell phone or opens drawers to remove sweaters, I miss the little guy who could always make me laugh out loud…not necessarily the dog we want, but somehow the dog we need.

My Earliest Memory—Puppies Under the Porch

Mom on porch in Bellevue, Washington

     I looked out my bedroom window hiding behind the curtain trying to keep from being seen myself. My mother had laid me down for a nap and I was supposed to be napping. However, I knew Mom’s routine and suspected that she was just outside the front door chatting with Pete Jacobson. The skies outside my Bellevue, Washington window looked clear and free from rain this afternoon. As I peeked, I saw her with our landlord. This was my cue that I could play in my room without being discovered. They would be busy talking for a good long while past experience informed me.

      I found one of the colorful picture books sitting on the shelf and opened it to the first page. I smiled at the picture of the dog bounding across the page, but squinted as I puzzled over the black squiggles that marked the bottom. With all of my nine other brothers and sisters at school or work, I had no one to decipher the strange markings in the book. I understood what the pictures meant, but what were all these little marks supposed to mean. I couldn’t wait until my big sis, Pam, got home from school and could read me this book once more. Meantime I walked over to the toy box and found my little stuffed dog. I made him jump the way I saw the puppy jumping on the page opened on my bed.

Linda at 2 with big brother Steve

     Returning to the box I found my little girl doll and placed her beside the dog and book. I guided the doll’s hands to caress the puppy and pretended I was outside playing with the puppies just outside under the back porch of our house. How I wished it wasn’t naptime so that I could run outside and play with the dogs while I had them all to myself. But I knew that if I ventured out, Mom would simply usher me back upstairs and into bed for the dreaded nap time that I hated.

      I lay down on top of the covers, leafing through the pages enjoying the pictures and scowling at the letters that made no sense to my 3-year-old eyes. My mind drifted as my eyelids became heavier and heavier. I roused momentarily listening to the birds singing outside and glanced out the window for the source of the sound. Mother knew her babies better than they did themselves. She knew I needed a nap and that fighting me on it would just bring out my stubborn streak. If I’d still been awake, I might have seen her glancing up at my window looking to see if her youngest daughter (at least until Deb was born) could be seen or not.

Linda peeking out from under her bonnet

      Soon enough sleep overtook me. Mom poked her head into my bedroom and saw the scene I’d scattered around myself. She shook her head when she saw the open picture book about dogs, the stuffed animal and the doll still clutched in her sleeping daughter’s small hand. She could have guessed this would be what she would find. Mothers know best!

When Your Basenji-Boy Grows Up

Kindu in a serious mood

     One of the most bittersweet moments with a dog comes when you realize that your pup has grown up to be an adult. Sleeping all day becomes the norm and playing takes a backseat to a good meal. I believe part of the appeal of basenjis for me is their prolonged puppyhood and how even a dog aged 10 can suddenly revert into a puppy again and run throughout the house like a whirling dervish. However with our current pet basenji, Kindu, his puppyhood has persisted into his 4^th year losing much of that appeal along the way.

     For Kindu, the two tough parts of training have involved walking on the leash and not using his teeth while playing. During his first year, many times I lost all patience with his constant biting, jumping up and scratching my arms. All of my pups knew how to control their mouths by the time they were a few months old, but not this strong-willed boy! As Gary would say upon returning from a walk with “the boy,” walking him was a nightmare. More than once he pulled the leash out of our hands, yanked us nearly off our feet or tripped us by constantly weaving back and forth like a snake in front of us. Which is a whole extra problem, there was just no way he would agree to walk behind us or even at our side. This is called heeling and our boy was having none of it.

     This month though, Kindu has surprised both of us with his growing maturity. For years we didn’t allow him to approach children on walks because he would rambunctiously knock them down. Recently on a walk in the park he minded his manners while meeting a group of small children. This is so surprising because Kindu never used to be able to control his impulses. If he wanted something, nothing stopped him. This time he sat quietly allowing himself to be petted.

Kindu heeling for our friends

     Although the signs have been clear, the real test came when our friends arrived from Vancouver for a week of visiting. The first couple of nights we had to use our strongest corrections to convince Kindu that kisses were better than grabbing our friends’ arms or clothes with his mouth. Although he did no damage, he needed to learn that this is not how we treat our guests. It took 2 nights, but by the time their daughter arrived on Monday from Disneyland Kindu had finally learned this hard-won lesson. Martina enjoyed playing with Kindu the way she had always played with our previous basenji, Noelle, when she was a little girl. I breathed a sigh of relief that Kindu could behave himself if I enforced the rules.

     Now my big boy is snoozing quietly beside me on the couch. I push the memories of him stealing the antibiotic ointment from the bathroom drawer tonight. Yes, he’s finally acting like a grown-up dog, except when he gets that wild basenji craziness going and steals something, anything, just to get a bit of that “puppy” attention.

Rosie Toes

Mama Bette and her 5 hungry pups

     I picked up the limp, wet body and tenderly cradled it in my hands. With no time to spare, all eyes in the room focused on what I would do next. Bette stared up at me pleading wordlessly for me to accomplish what she could not. I rubbed the newborn puppy with a rough towel hoping it would take its first breath. No luck. As the seconds ticked by I kept working on the pup trying to stimulate that first sign of life. I did not hear the other four pups squealing noisily while I struggled to save their sibling.

Bettenon Gala's Rosebud at 2 weeks

     Rosie, always a bit of a drama queen, made quite an entrance that night. Suddenly she inhaled the life-giving oxygen her body craved the second she separated from her mother, Bette. Now I sighed with relief and began to take stock of the pup’s overall health. A girl, good, that makes three girls and two boys. She was small, probably the runt of the litter, but now trying to wiggle out of my hands. As soon as I made certain the pup breathed freely, I handed her back down beside her mama and let nature take over. Soon she took her first drink of milk.

     Born 1 hour after the rest of the pups, she must have been stuck a while in the birth canal. Gary and our family friend, Phil, had gone out to an overnight grocery for vanilla ice cream to start Bette’s milk flowing. She gobbled it up and we took this as a sign that she had finished birthing puppies. Wrong! As the clock hit 3 a.m. Bette went back into labor and quickly produced this last pup. We all marveled as the runt began pushing the bigger pups out of her way to the milk.

Bette and Rosebud (ages 7 & 5)

     The process started at around midnight and four pups came along in 15 minute intervals. We just about called it a night when suddenly Bette began straining again. We watched for another hour to see if more pups arrived. Rosie turned out to be the last of the litter. Finally sure that Bette and the pups were settled and resting, Phil headed home and Gary and I collapsed into bed. That’s when we noticed just how noisy and squeaky the puppies were. Exhaustion helped us fall asleep as the sun rose overhead. When we woke a few hours later, the first order of the day turned out to be moving the puppy playpen from our bedroom to the kitchen. Now we all could sleep more easily.

     The first day of Rosie’s life we nearly lost her, however as time passed she spent 14 years sharing our home with us. There’s something very special about having a pet be born under your roof and live their entire life with you. “Rosie Toes” earned her nickname because of the wonderful habit she had of dancing around us and greeting us with a basenji baarroooo when we returned home. There are many more stories about these two characters and I hope you’ll stop by my blog again soon to enjoy them.

A Gift of Life, an Acceptance of Loss

     One of the toughest parts of pet ownership arrives on the day you must give your beloved friend up. Sometimes this comes as a surprise; sometimes it’s preceded by months of illness. It might happen because you must move or because you can no longer afford your friend. The time frame makes no difference because anytime I’ve had to give up any of my pets, my heart swells and nearly breaks. Thankfully these hard days stand out as punctuation marks between endless days of enjoying my pet’s companionship.

     Noelle arrived on a warm October afternoon, a 5-year-old basenji girl who had spent many days in the show ring. Placing a lead on Noelle’s neck was pure pleasure. She stepped out beside me and loved to strut her stuff just as if she was in the ring at the Westminster Kennel Club show with the whole world watching. We rescued her when her breeder needed to adopt out some of his older dogs, in effect she moved into retirement.

     At first, we both felt lost in our new relationship. I missed Rosie, who had died about a month before we adopted Noelle. Our new dog hadn’t ever lived in a house, splitting her time between the backyard and her crate in the garage. I taught her about the trials of stairs, the pleasures of pillows, and the joys of being the sole dog living on the premises. I lavished her with time and when she seemed anxious, I slipped on her leash and we went walking. In those early days, we went directly to the back of the small, quiet park in our neighborhood. We ran together around the cement circle at the back of the park until she felt safe and secure again. Then we returned home and to whatever we’d been doing. In those first few weeks home we did this half a dozen times a day, helping us both take on a healthy glow.

     Comfort slowly replaced Noelle’s fear. Soon she enjoyed my company, although she ran away from Gary and all visitors to our home. I tackled her "standoffishness" by letting her come downstairs and join the party when she was ready. An edible chew toy went a long way to reinforce this behavior in a positive way. The ache in my heart from Rosie’s loss was slowly replaced by the joy of watching Noelle settle in and begin to enjoy her new life. The more comfortable she became, the more successful I felt in welcoming her into our lives.

     Soon I discovered that Noelle had the sweetest temperament of any of the basenjis I’d ever owned. And although I’d missed her puppy days, I also missed housebreaking problems and destructive chewing while she teethed. She became the special gift of life in our home and helped us heal the holes left behind by Rosie’s loss.