Pups in Tea Cups: Tales of Littleness Overcoming BIG Odds

by Carolyn McCray

  Pups in Tea Cups

  by

  Carolyn McCray, DVM

  Praise for Pups in Tea Cups:

  Pups in Tea Cups is an amazing, heartfelt collection of stories sure to pull on the heartstrings of any dog lover. Truly an inspiring, touching, and immensely enjoyable read!”

  Amber Scott

  Author

  Irish Moon

  “Being a veterinarian, Dr. Carolyn McCray has been at the heart of many a true story where “Littleness” in the form of Chihuahuas, Yorkies, Poodles, Pugs, and many more have changed people’s lives—even saving a few. I reread many tales just to be able to laugh and even cry again. I can’t imagine a better book for any dog lover out there!”

  Elena Gray

  Author

  WidowMaker

  “As a veterinarian, I could completely relate to all of Carolyn’s stories. The joy and sometimes heart-wrenching moments. She had me laughing and crying at the same time. I couldn’t recommend this book more to anyone who loves dogs, not just the Tea Cup variety!”

  Ken Herman, DVM

  “This book is...a view of the charms and challenges of living with the tiny tyrants that toy-dog owners adore.”

  Lori Drouin

  Professional Dog Trainer

  “I read Pups in Tea Cups cover to cover in one sitting. How could I not? I loved each and every tale, whether it was silly or touching. All I can say is ... if you love dogs, you MUST buy this book!”

  Kelli McCracken

  Author

  What the Heart Wants

  Start Reading

  About the Author

  Purpose of Pups in Tea Cups

  Section One: An Introduction to “Littleness”

  Section Two: “Littleness” in Action

  Section Three: Survival Instincts? Not So Much!

  Section Four: Little Dogs = Big Miracles

  Section Five: Simply Silly Tales

  Afterword

  Medical Disclaimer

  Copyright Information

  Contact Information

  Acknowledgments

  Table of Contents

  Other Works by Carolyn McCray

  About the Author

  Carolyn, her grandfather, Ladybug, and Blackie

  Taken 1967 (and if you don’t believe it, just check out the cigarette)

  “Neonatal veterinarian” is a term used to describe vet school applicants who apparently decided to become veterinarians while still inside the womb.

  Carolyn McCray is one of those wonders. As proof, after visiting the zoo at the tender age of ten months old, Carolyn’s first word was “rhinoceros.” Not Momma or Daddy, but rhinoceros.

  Yep, that’s when Carolyn’s obsession with animals officially began.

  So while other kids in kindergarten wrote down that they wanted to grow up to be firefighters and nurses, Carolyn carefully printed “veterinarian” (spelled correctly, to the astonishment of her teacher).

  Then came the bunny rescue, the aviary (including peacocks), the pony and sheep, two dogs, two cats, and tending to any animal in the neighborhood she could catch—we mean help.

  And that’s just her preteen years. If “veterinarian” could be encoded into someone’s DNA, it was in Carolyn’s.

  Her quest kicked into high gear at age fourteen, when her family adopted a Border Collie. And not just any Border Collie, but one that had been hit by a car, had a foxtail up its nose, and had somehow eaten rat poison before arriving.

  Yeah, Carolyn’s mom wasn’t too thrilled with a vet bill of over $500 bucks (adjusted for inflation, the charges were more like $2,000 dollars). But that bill tested Carolyn’s dream of becoming a veterinarian against the reality of working within the profession.

  You see, if she wanted to adopt “Sox,” she would have to volunteer at the vet clinic, helping to pay down the bill until she was old enough to get a work permit.

  There wasn’t a second’s delay. Carolyn was at the clinic with bells on, cleaning cages, rinsing syringes, and generally learning everything she could about running a veterinary hospital. The day she turned fourteen and a half and could obtain a work permit, she was hired.

  The rest is history.

  Even once the bill was paid off, you couldn’t pry Carolyn from the clinic. She worked there until the day she left for UC Davis to finish up her undergraduate work.

  The plan was for Carolyn to concentrate on academics and not work while studying to get into vet school, but, once again, fate stepped in.

  Doing a favor for a friend, she went into the school’s employment office—where, of course, there was the wife of a veterinarian who was in desperate need of an assistant.

  That’s another three years of clinical experience. So when Carolyn went to apply for vet school, she had over 10,000 hours of experience. Let’s just say she fulfilled the 600 hours required to apply.

  Never thinking she could get into vet school on her first try, given her 3.75 GPA (at the time, the acceptance rate was 1 for every 12 applicants, and even 4.0 students were being rejected in droves), Carolyn looked at her application as a “trial run” to be fine-tuned for the next year.

  Her application letter (filled with tales of rhinoceros and Border Collies) was strong enough to overcome her not-quite-perfect GPA and get her an interview.

  But within the first few minutes of the interview’s start, Carolyn thought she had completely blown it, so she relaxed and just had fun, answering the stern interviewers’ questions with a lighthearted retelling of her experience and exploits.

  Figuring she had just gone against every rule of vet school interviewing (you just DON’T joke with the head of nephrology), Carolyn went home and immediately got ready for her next application.

  Little did she know that not only had the interviewers scored her session the highest of the class, but they had given her application an immediate acceptance.

  Carolyn was so shocked when she received her letter of acceptance that she ran straight into her front door, forgetting to unlock or even open it, before she dashed for the phone to call her mom and thank her for making her work off “Sox’s” medical bill.

  During her four years of vet school, an internship, and residency, Carolyn used this playful manner to educate clients on how best to keep their pets healthy and happy.

  She was perfectly content with her pack of large-breed dogs—Labs, Aussies, and Vizslas, but fate changed the course of her life once again.

  Actually fate crashed into Carolyn, quite literally. Being rear-ended on the freeway ruptured four discs in her back. After a year of rehabilitation, the most profound loss was that she could no longer lean over to do surgery, nor could she obedience-train dogs.

  While she would miss surgery, Carolyn was distraught that she could no longer adopt big dogs. Growing up in the country, she had a typical prejudice against little dogs. Her mantra was that anything under thirty-five pounds couldn’t be trusted.

  That is, until Princess, a five-pound Chihuahua, came into her life. In this little bundle of joy was all the interaction and attention Carolyn had missed.

  The world of “Littleness” was opened, and it has been the center of Carolyn’s universe ever since.

  The Purpose of

  Pups in Tea Cups

  After years spent in the exam room, hearing tales of amazing courage and absolute cuteness, Dr. Carolyn finally agreed to write a book regarding “Littleness.”

  As more and more urban society trends toward apartment, condo, and townhouse living, our dogs have gotten smaller and smaller.

  And cuter and cuter. And ins
eparable from us. Which means more and more celebrities began traveling with their munchkins, giving tiny breeds more and more press.

  Many people who never considered a small breed (like Carolyn herself), found themselves with a bundle of joyous terror.

  Even more amusing, many people who had never even owned a dog were adopting these little devils without a single clue as to how to overcome their stubbornness.

  So this book is for anyone bewildered, hopeful, and totally in love with small-breed dogs. These pages are chock-full of heartwarming “Tales from the Tea Cup,” real-life stories of how “Littleness” can overcome BIG odds!

  Section One

  An Introduction to “Littleness”

  Why Our Super-small Breeds Truly Are Special

  It seems silly to actually write it down, but their tiny size really does make our pups in tea cups special.

  For so many reasons, we are attracted to the tiny. Where we live, how we live, and how mobile we are makes our tea cup pups so easy to love.

  Imagine trying to carry a German Shepherd in a Gucci “puppy sack.” Most Doberman Pinschers are not going to be welcomed into an apartment complex.

  The AKC has even given our little guys a new category—“Portable Pooches.” Just as their small size has made them so easy to carry and ever so cute, it has also brought along its own unique set of characteristics that I like to call “Littleness.”

  For me, “Littleness” is a distinct departure from “Bigness,” and I hope the following stories illustrate my point!

  Tales from the Tea Cup:

  “Antoinette” – The Ballerina

  Our first tale comes from a very frustrated owner of a tiny tea cup poodle puppy named “Antoinette.”

  Like many people, my client had owned dogs before. She thought that she knew what the family was getting into when they bought that precious puppy in the window.

  I mean, she had owned German Shepherds. How different could a poodle be, anyway? Even a tiny one?

  Well, she found out very quickly!

  My client had created a lovely area off to the side of the lawn for the dogs to “do their business” in order to protect her award-winning landscaped yard.

  This system had worked perfectly for all these years. Yet for some reason, little “Antoinette” just could not “get it.”

  Sure, the pup would go in this little area if placed there, but when left to her own devices, she would go on the lawn that bordered the area.

  Plus, once put into this garden patch, “Antoinette” would refuse to come out. Instead, she would bark and do the cutest, yet most decidedly defiant, little pirouettes.

  It was such odd behavior that my client had become certain the pup had some form of brain damage, and brought “Antoinette” in to me for a very, very thorough exam.

  Luckily, this was not my first walk around this particular block, so I just nodded and asked if this “potty” area had any kind of fence or retaining wall around it.

  “Well, yes, but it’s just a few bricks high.”

  I held up “Antoinette,” who fit in my hand, raised an eyebrow, and smiled.

  An embarrassed laugh followed. It never occurred to her that the pup was just too small to make her way over this low decorative border.

  Poor little “Antoinette” was trying so hard to obey, but what could she do? The wall was taller than she was!

  But since those little pirouettes were so cute, my client decided to tape her antics and put them up on the Internet.

  I told her to check out another video where an adult Shih Tzu (about seven to eight pounds, so not quite as tiny as little “Antoinette”) is put in the center of a square made up of soda cans. Soda cans. Not tall, energy-drink cans, but soda cans.

  The Shih Tzu starts spinning, unable to understand the concept that she could very easily jump over them. To her, she’s trapped in some diabolical scheme created by aluminum to keep her imprisoned.

  So our little ones truly cannot jump over low obstacles, whereas at other times, they simply don’t even think to try!

  That’s “Littleness” for you!

  Now, sometimes our pups’ small size creates a whole other set of problems. They may not be able to get over much, but my goodness, they can squirm their way into just about any nook and cranny.

  Tales from the Tea Cup:

  “Boss” – More Curious Than a Cat

  Please note here that we all need to be very, very, very careful of how we name our pets, because they tend to embody those exact characteristics.

  I distinctly remember that I once warned a new owner of a Fox Terrier puppy, “Boss,” to make sure that all electric cords and stereo wiring were completely hidden by the carpet or to use plastic shielding, so as to leave no cord available—especially since “Boss” had spent the entire exam trying to chew on my stethoscope.

  The owner sagely nodded. “Of course, of course.”

  Well, “of course,” the very next day, the new owner brought the pup in to be treated for an electrical burn across the tongue. Nothing fatal, but pretty scary for a new owner.

  I didn’t get two steps into the room when my client began stammering how he had done as I advised. He swore that he had “hidden” all the cords.

  Unfortunately, his definition of completely “hiding” the cords was the human definition of completely “hiding” from sight. To accomplish this, he had simply run the offending cords behind the couch. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

  With a petite pooch? Not so much.

  “Boss” promptly wiggled his way under the sofa, where he found this wonderful bundle of wires to chew on, away from prying eyes even. How very convenient!

  My client was still flabbergasted. “But why would he even try to go under the couch?”

  For me, with my years of “Littleness” training, it seems so obvious that if a pup can get under a couch, the pup will get under a couch.

  However, you wouldn’t necessarily understand this axiom unless you have had tenacious little ones—and understand that from their perspective, getting under the couch is nothing more than a great adventure.

  OF COURSE they are going to go under the couch. It’s their job to explore under there. They would lose their “Littleness” license if they didn’t.

  Let’s just say, if a pup is small enough that he or she can fit in a tea cup, the pup is going to get under the couch. And the refrigerator. And don’t forget—behind the dryer.

  When we have these little babies in our lives, we need to look at our homes with new eyes, figure out all the possible dangers, and block them off. Trust me. If they can get into trouble, they will!

  Tales from the Tea Cup:

  “Wasabi” – Shower Guard

  Which brings us to “Wasabi,” possibly the cutest Yorkie, Maltese, and Shih Tzu cross that you’ve ever seen. She had very specific ideas about many things, but she really put her paw down about the shower.

  “Wasabi” insisted on going into the shower each and every time her owners did to stand guard. They tried to convince her that she could complete her self-appointed task to protect them from outside the stall, but she would have none of it.

  If blocked from entering the shower, she would bark and whine—and even gear up into a full-throttled, Beagle-style howl. The funniest thing about “Wasabi’s” behavior is that she hated the water! Hated it. She’s the kind of dog who would jump over a tiny puddle rather than get her dainty feet wet!

  Yet, when it came to shower time, “Wasabi” would take a deep breath and jump right in. After all, her owners’ lives were obviously at stake!

  My client came in to make sure that nothing was neurologically wrong with “Wasabi” (I can’t tell you how many little dogs I see every week for “neurological” problems that turn out to be nothing more than “Littleness” at its best and brightest.).

  Luckily, I was able to clear “Wasabi” of any medical condition. My client was greatly relieved. She had been so worried about a brain tum
or, or worse. I explained that “Wasabi” was just trying to protect her (I’m not sure from what, but hey, that’s the beauty of Littleness).

  Well, since “Wasabi” was on such a valiant mission, my client decided to just let “Wasabi” shower with different family members.

  But I had to warn them that it could be a problem. Dogs aren’t evolutionarily used to being bathed daily. Not only would it take them an hour to dry “Wasabi’s” hair every day (something that they had been doing for the past month) it would also wash off any flea preventative and dry out the skin.

  Now, being a good veterinarian and behaviorist, I gave my client several strategies to manage the problem. “Wasabi” was already crate-trained, so they could just put her in there, and if she persisted in fussing, they could cover the crate, use a citronella collar, or a squirt bottle—the usual deterrents.