Helping Rehome

A dear friend of mine from college sent me a message earlier in the week asking if I knew of any places that would be willing to take in one of their two dogs who they are looking home.  Long story short, my friend and his wife have tried several trainers and, even an animal "behaviorist" to help their one dog's dog-dog aggression to no avail and of late, the aggressive outburst have been happening very close in proximity to their 1.5 year old son.  Not knowing who they used or the methods tried (positive and/or negative) and living too far away to personally help them with in-person training, I am doing the only thing I can...trying to help rehome this pup.

It has been an interesting feeling.  I don't feel bad that they are trying to rehome their dog, but I don't feel good either.  I'm quite impartial.  I've met the dog once while I was at their house for a couple of hours and my personal assessment is that this particular pooch has arousal and impulse control issues(something very near and dear to my heart).  It's cocky to say that if I were to work with this dog that I could help it work through the issues it has with the other house dog because, quite frankly, I don't know if I could.  It does bother me that I cannot be there, in the flesh to try and help...not only the dog, but the owners.  I know it is tearing them apart to have to do this, but they are doing the right thing.

I've spread my wings and typed many emails asking for help from other friends in the doggy community and we are all working together to try and find a new home for this dog.  Still it has been a numbing process to be helping a dog that, if not rehomed, will likely be euthanized.  You better believe I am doing everything in my power to make sure that this pup gets a chance to live on this earth for as long as possible.

Positive Encounters of the Same Kind

Over the past week I have had two incidents while out walking with each of my pups, respectively, that have left a HUGE smile on my face. These were moments where I was observant of others around me.  Watching what they were doing (or not doing, in incident #2) with their dog.

Incident #1
Tuesday, early morning.
Laura and Fanny's morning walk.
I was out walking with Ms. Fanny and saw up ahead the "The Doodle Jogger" coming down the street toward us.  (Aaron and I have nicknames for certain dog/human teams in our neighborhood that are memorable...both for good and bad "stuff."  This is one of the "good" people.)  The Doodle Jogger was on her morning jog and has always been respectful of the space around other people...whether they have dogs or not...and often times moves completely off the sidewalk and into the street or even to the other sidewalk.  Tuesday morning was no exception.  Fanny always notices The Doodle Jogger and perks up her head at the 4-legged crew member.  They've never had an exchange of words and, admittedly, the doodle has very lovely, non-confrontational body language.  The one thing I noticed this particular morning as I was watching them, was that right after the Doodle team passed us the human quietly said, "Good dog, (insert name here)" and pulled out a tasty treat from her pocket and  delivered it to her trusty, furry companion.  I smiled...ear-to-ear...at this exchange of simple, concise and beautiful communication.  The Doodle Jogger just moved up a few more notches in my book.

Incident #2
Thursday, after work.
Laura and Oscar's evening walk.
Oscar and I have been having great moments on our walks for the past number of weeks.  This week alone we have walking up and back North Ave. multiple times while people are busy coming in and out of shops, restaurants and gas stations.  We don't stop to chat with anyone but keep going...together (Oscar likes to keep things moving - both himself and other people/dogs around us).  On Thursday evening, I decided to walk us down North Avenue a few blocks, then take a turn and walk through the neighborhood a bit.  We were walking along very well, then all of a sudden a kid (probably about 8-10 y/o) came around the corner of a house riding his bike and just stopped at the corner on the sidewalk.  He was about 15 feet away from Oscar who hadn't noticed him because his was busy sniffing a huge tree trunk.  I kept my cool and just let Oscar continue sniffing.  I had my treats ready at the hip to reward him for good decision making when he would, inevitably, get stared at by the kid.  Well, guess what?  That didn't happen.  The kid looked over at us briefly and smiled at Oscar and me then, turned his head and body away from us and continued to wait at the corner.  I gave Oscar a very nice, calm "good job buddy" as I slipped him a treat, then we walked right past the kid who still continued to wait.  As we crossed the street, I looked around to see who or what he was waiting for and saw his father and their gorgeous St. Bernard (whom I see weekly) coming down the sidewalk about 1/2 block back.  Knowing the father a little bit, I know he has taught his child to respect dogs and greet them properly, if at all.  It was a great feeling I had and as I continued to cross the road, I looked back to the father and their dog and smiled and did a little wave.

These beautiful moments...these positive encounters of the same kind...make me hopeful that the change in tide is happening.  People are becoming more educated and receptive to the power of positive training and aren't afraid to do it in public, no matter what time it is.

Because She's Worth It

That's one happy Fanny!
She's glad to be home!

What a difference one week can make.  As most of you know, it's been just over a week since Aaron and I were able to bring Fanny home from her 48+ hour stint at the emergency vet.  During those hours, there was a no shortage of tears.  Knowing that we only had so much money to spend on Fanny's care in what could have been her last days on this side of the bridge, Aaron and I had the discussion we were not prepared to have.  Sure we had talked about what to do if and when we were the ones that needed to help Fanny cross that dreaded, but inevitable rainbow bridge.  We knew we would not keep her alive just to please ourselves.  We knew that when it was time Fanny would, in fact, tell us.  And when it was time to cross that bridge, we knew we wanted to cremate her to continue our physical lives together.

Monday afternoon visit with Fanny.
She looked horrible.

When we went to see Fanny last week Monday, she looked horrible.  She was in a stainless steel, oxygen-assisted kennel.  All sides were metal with the exception of the front doors.  They were solid plastic with two mini-swing open doors just large enough for us to put our hand through and pet her while she was receiving care.  Seeing her in that kennel...with all the tubes, blinking lights, beeping noises...made me realize just how fragile the lives of our dogs really are.  She was laying down in that kennel, sleeping with her back to us as we entered the room.  When we opened the door to gently pet her, her ears moved in recognition.  It took her a moment to get the energy to pick up her head, but when she did, she turned to look at Aaron and I who were holding each other crying.  She struggled to shift her body around in the kennel, but eventually did.  After a brief discussion with the doctor, we asked if we could spend some time with her outside.  Of course, he complied.  Our time outside was precious, but I had a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach that this was it.  It was Fanny's time.  She could barely hold her eyes open and struggled to walk, but she perked up when the wind blew some of its beautiful aroma in her direction. 

Aaron and I left that evening with the decision to keep her on 24 more hours of supportive care. Tuesday morning's phone call with the doctor was not good.  He said that while she had successfully come out of the oxygen-assisted kennel, her temperature continued to wax and wane and her physical strength had gotten worse since the day before.  We decided to try one more antibiotic to hopefully kill the fever and kept our fingers crossed.  That was the extent of what we could afford and, by the looks of it, it seemed like it was Fanny's time.  

We could not have been more wrong. 

A few hours passed and the phone rang.  I saw it was the doctor and debated on letting the call go to voice mail.  I was in denial and didn't want to hear the dreaded words from the doctor that it would be time to let Fanny go.  With a deep breath, I answered the phone.  As the doctor gave me an update, his voice was chipper and quick to deliver the good news that Fanny was doing much, much better.  She had been up and about and she had regained her strength and her temperature had stabilized some.  As we discussed Fanny's prognosis and potential for leaving the hospital with the doctor, he made it very clear that she wasn't "out of the woods" just yet and we decided to keep her there for a few more hours to see how she was. 

The 3pm visit on Tuesday afternoon.
She flattened her ears when I took
my camera out...I swear!

The 3pm visit on Tuesday afternoon is when we knew she was done with this hospital visit.  She strutted into the room, right over to Aaron and was wagging her tail the whole time.  Her bright eyes were back, her spunk was back...she was giving me handshakes and nose touches...and she ate like a horse.  Another discussion with the doctor later and we decided to keep her for a few more hours and take her off the IV fluids to see how she would do.  If everything went well, she was free to come home.... albeit with some committed at-home care and lots of TLC.  

For the first time in almost 48 hours, Aaron and I were smiling, laughing and relieved.  We knew Fanny was still fragile, but she was clearly telling us it was not her time.  After our visit, we went home to take care of Oscar then waited around for a few hours while it down poured and thunder-stormed like no one's business.   I made the call to the hospital at 9:15pm that night and got the go-ahead to bring our beloved Fanny home.  

Every tear and hug, every sleepless hour, every call, text and email from our friends was heard and Fanny continues to heal each and every day.  We are taking things slow with her physical expenditure and sparing no expense with her recovery (well, within limits, of course).  Aaron and I are enjoying our "shower time" with Fanny and make sure to give her an extra special treat after we do our coupage (percussion therapy).  We take her out for short, sniffy walks and let her dictate the pace.  We even made the decision to have Monica Segal formulate a special diet just for my precious, senior girl (thank you, Monica!).  Sure, all of this "stuff" costs money, but you know what?  She's worth it.

Paying it Forward

God bless people who ask for help.  One of my wonderful co-workers came and talked to me this morning about his frustration with his 1.5 y/o black lab female.  Knowing that I am gonzo about dogs, he came to me in (almost) desperation this morning asking for help.  

While certain words such as "alpha" came out of his mouth, I was very warm and sympathetic in my involvement with the conversation.  I helped him realize that his dog was not being "alpha" by pulling on lead...she just wanted to get from point A to point B asap!  Plain and simple.  With bright, eager eyes and a big smile, he agreed.  

I shared with him a few ideas on how to reframe what a walk meant for both him and his pup and gave him a top-level, step-by-step way to do it.  This is why I love working with people and their dogs.  Paying forward the knowledge and tools that I have learned about to virgin eyes and ears knowing that some simple help can make an enormous difference in something as simple as a walk. 

"I'll make you laugh"

It was a rather warm, humid day in the metro Milwaukee area yesterday and I found myself alone after work having to take care of the dogs because my hubby was staying late at work for an event.  No big deal since I just got home from being away for 3 days/2 nights for a work trip.  I was actually looking forward to b-lining it home from work to see my white fur babies.

Once home, I changed my clothes, rolled up my pants and went out to the backyard to toss the frisbee for Oscar a few times and let Ms. Fanny do her sniffing.  Fanny did her nose scavenging and found perfect pee-pee spot and then went and laid on the driveway...tongue hanging out just from her olfactory exercise.  Oscar quickly did his business knowing that the quicker he does it, the quicker I will go with him to get his beloved flying disc.  I do love that about him.

After about 10 minutes of frisbee tossing I strolled over to Oscar's favorite reward ever - The Hose.  He was extraordinarily happy to see the turn of the spigot last night because it was warm and humid.  His tongue was down to his chest, giving me the most beautiful, happy smiling face as he ran over to the hose with me.  He loves that damn thing.  I don't know what had gotten in to him yesterday, but he was like Tigger...bouncing up off all four feet into the air to gobble down the jet stream of clear, cold water.  Beautiful and fluid in his movement.  Efficient and precise in his water chomping.  Every time I turn on the water flow, I know we are in for a good time together...and boy-oh-boy does he make me laugh.

Bonafide CPDT-KA

That's right, your's truly is now a bonafide, Certified Professional Dog Trainer - Knowledge Assessed.  The "CPDT-KA" suffix can be proudly displayed after my name in the first of what I hope to be a few alphabet soup titles on myself before I die.  I look forward to continuing the pursuit for greater understanding of the canine species and help as many people as I can along the way.

A special shout out to a few very special people who helped me pursue this dream, guided me along the way and supported me when I needed it most:

First and foremost, my loving husband, Aaron.  You have always been there for me.  Physically, mentally, emotionally.  You are my rock.  My foundation.  My everything.  Without you I would be lost and definitely would not be where I am today.  Special gratitude goes to my dear friend Kristin.  She has been the most understanding friend of mine through all of my own dogs' "stuff."  She never hesitated to help; multiple times donning the "Chicken lady" responsibilities and being ridiculously helpful and supportive.  Thank you, Kristin, for being there and cheering me on throughout the past several years.  Kerry and Eric, thank you for allowing me to become part of the BehaviorWorks family.  I look forward to continued growth under Eric's new ownership.  To my satellite buddy Dee, I hope someday soon we'll get to see each other.  Your energy is always present when I'm with the dogs...and I can hear your kind and thoughtful words when I need them.  To Cheri, you rock and you've helped me in more ways than you know.  I love your teaching style and have learned so much while being your student.  Your always quick to help me when I need a positive outlook on things and I thank you for that!

Others who have left an imprint along the way: Jess, Jan, Linda, Lisa, Trish, Suzanne, Grisha, Karen, Leslie, Temple, Kathy, Patricia, Johanna, Kathy, Addie, Dustin, Dr. Rivera, Stacy and many more.  Each of you has been a piece of the pavement along the way to building my road.

Why me?

Warning:  This is going to be one of those posts where I feel sorry for myself...I feel that I can do this from time to time, right?!


UGH.  Today was one of those days with Oscar where I didn't feel any connection what-so-ever.  The dumb ass neighbor with his beagle came out this morning and while Oscar jumped on the fence to peek over, he didn't bark at the guy or his dog (a big YES! in my book).  Aaron then left to take him for a walk and as they were going down our driveway, one of our neighbors was passing by and stopped to chat with Aaron.  Oscar did well, but for whatever reason he barked and lunged in the lady's direction after they were talking (I wasn't there, so I don't know what the hell happened).  Then Oscar had another episode when Aaron was picking up his poop.  Aaron's back was to Oscar while he was picking up the poo and during that time, a lady with her two dogs came out of their house and walked directly at Oscar and Aaron.  Oscar made his presence known.  In my book, this was excusable.  Oscar is bred to alert to S.E.C.'s (sudden environmental changes).   The good news is that Aaron and Oscar saw the same lady and dogs later in the walk and both of them did fine.  

Then there was this evening's extravaganza.  The stupid neighbor takes his dog out again and Oscar, jumped on the fence.  No barking again (AWESOME!).  But then I didn't hold on to him long enough (or simply remove him from the backyard!) and he charged the fence again, jumped on it and barked a few times.  This time the stupid neighbor faces his dog and says, "Boss, say "HI!"  Boss, say "HI!"  Well, then his dog barks and Oscar gets amped up and starts barking at him with a lot more gusto.  Yay for that!  UGH!

It's embarrassing having a dog that is reactive.  Plain and simple.  The majority of people out there don't realize the time, effort, patience and perseverance it takes to work with such a dog.  All they see is the dog who is barking/lunging/growling.  They don't see the dog who is exhibiting self-control in situations that are scary/nerve racking for them.   Today was one of those days when I doubted why I even got a second dog in the first place...and, especially, another shepherd.  I love the breed, but Jesus, they are a lot of work.

Oscar has pure moments of brilliance at times...and lately they have been far outweighing the butthead moments...but still, today I so desired that I could come home to an EASY dog.  A dog that wouldn't have me walking around the backyard or neighborhood with a treat pouch on.  A dog that doesn't need to be on anti-anxiety meds.  A dog that doesn't need a ridiculous amount of home-cooked food each day.  A dog that happily walks over to our fence to greet the neighborhood visitors.

I know I sound incredibly selfish when I type this, but why me?  I give so much effort to both of my dogs and admittedly, the majority of that is to Oscar, and I feel like I get nothing in return.  I would throw myself in front of a bullet for this dog.  Doesn't he know that?  The blank looks I got from him today.  The inability to hear me when I was talking with him.  It's incredibly hurtful to have moments with your dog where there is only one being present.  (Here I go again...almost starting to cry!)

Yet I also know this is part of our journey, our dance together.  Today was not Oscar's day to shine.  I know he was doing the best he could, but what made him feel so unsafe that he had to act that way?  I'll never know...I can only look forward and move that next step toward making our life together better.  Dwelling on this won't help, but it is incredibly therapeutic to (once and a while) sit alone in the dark and just say, "Why me?"