Tag Archives: sheepdogs

Tulley and Life’s Precious Moments – Living with Lymphoma

TULLEY and LIFE’S PRECIOUS MOMENTS

Tulley’s had a busy month. Our goal has always been to make sure that his good quality of life never wavers. We were thrilled when his most recent bloodwork was perfect. He was far from anemic so we decided to administer another round of chemo. As before a few days post chemo he had a couple days of feeling nauseous so we administered antiemetic medication, which helped. The days that he was inappetent I would mix meat flavored baby food with liquid Pediasure and feed him through an oral syringe. He never minded the shake; in fact I think he enjoyed it. We did find a brand of food and treats made by Orijen that he really likes so the cupboard is well stocked.

It was the last weekend in October when Tulley escorted Ed, Mirk, and me to Maryland for a sheepherding competition. We packed up the truck first thing in the morning and got on our way. We anticipated about a 4 hour drive and wanted to be south of the DC area before the evening rush hour. Other than the usual traffic delays the trip was pleasantly uneventful. As we neared our location and drove over the Chesapeake Bay Bridge it was a pleasure watching both dogs window surfing while taking in the ocean air. Tulley8

Our hotel was located in an area known as Kent Narrows. The Narrows channel barely separates Kent Island from the mainland. The region is rich with history, beautiful nature preserves and spectacular restaurants. We arrived late afternoon and checked into our room. Once the dogs were walked and the truck unloaded we headed across the street from our hotel to admire the beautiful water view and have a nice seafood dinner.

Tulley7

The following morning we were up and out early, Mirk and I were entered to compete twice. The weather was fair, there was a little chill in the air in the morning but by the afternoon the sun came out so brilliant and warm. The trial was held at the beautiful Long Shot Farm in Church Hill, hosted by Sherry and Dave Smith. Sherry made a beef stew for lunch which was absolutely delicious, so much so that Tulley decided that was what he wanted to eat. I was so relieved that we finally found something that Tulley really enjoyed and ate readily. Mirk and I finished up our runs, both respectable runs but not good enough to finish in the ribbons. I wasn’t disappointed, Mirk did a great job. Tulley6

Truthfully I felt like we had already won when Tulley ravenously ate so much of Sherry’s stew. As we were packing and getting ready to go, we went to say goodbye to everyone and thank Sherry and Dave for their hospitality. Sherry handed me a large container full of the stew for Tulley.  Her kind gesture meant so much more than she could ever imagine, I couldn’t thank her enough. We headed back to our hotel to get some rest; we’d be heading home in the morning.

Tulley3

I take Tulley to work with me as often as I can; he loves riding in the truck. There are always plenty of people wanting to feed him. Barb always makes sure she has lots of beef treats for him every time she walks into my office. On occasion Dr. Lagana will return from her lunch with a yummy cheeseburger and the bank drive-thru always keeps an adequate supply of biscuits on hand. He really enjoys being outside, getting some fresh air and playing a game of fetch. There are never a shortage of other dogs to play with and a fenced yard at the hospital so we go out as often as my time permits.  The hospital cats are also a form of amusement to Tulley; he’ll chase them whenever the opportunity presents itself. Of course I make every effort to deter that behavior.EchoTulley

Recently a package arrived in the mail for Tulley and he was thrilled—it was like Christmas morning! As I put the box on the floor Tulley hovered over it with anticipation. As I tore back the packaging tape and opened the top he promptly stuck his head into the box and promptly rooted through each item removing the contents one by one.  In the midst of his rummaging he found an awesome squeaky sock monkey, pulled it out of the box and promptly took off running into the living room, squeaking it all the while. We can’t thank Karen, Jim, Morgan and Wyatt enough for making Tulley’s day and ours as well. We cherish every moment.

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Tulley4

The weather this fall has been beautiful. Tulley enjoys spending the nice days outside with Ed while he clears the leaves, stacks wood, and prepares for winter. We delight in watching Tulley so carefree, jumping in a pile of leaves and bouncing around like a rabbit. He’s also always on guard making sure that the local herd deer stay off of his yard. Echo’s always nearby as well; she and Tulley are nearly inseparable. They truly are the, “cutest couple,”Tulley5

So for now we’ll continue to take it day by day and make sure that Tulley is enjoying each and every moment.

Chemotherapy

TULLEY

There are so few words, the diagnosis, Lymphoma. First chemotherapy treatment tomorrow. Please share any personal experiences. Updates to follow.

Here is Tulley’s rescue story.   https://bordercollieinquisitor.com/category/mean-dog/

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The Pack, Part 6

Home At Last

I received an email—Rich and Wendy were interested in adopting Scout. This would be the third Border collie they acquired from Ed and me over the course of 12 years. If anyone could handle her it was Rich and Wendy. They wanted her to come and spend some time with them, their two cats and Border collie, Willow.

That evening I’d have to prepare my husband. Continue reading

Gracie – Our Life’s Journey

Trialing With Grace

By Judy Bonner

Gracie and I recently competed in the first east coast and the second in the country fully sanctioned NACSWTM  K9 Nose Work® Level 1 Element Specialty trials hosted by Sarah Woodruff of Paws N’ Sniff in Stroudsburg PA.

The Level 1 Interior Element Specialty trial was in the morning and the Level 1 Container Element Specialty trial was set to run in the afternoon.  I registered both dogs, Gracie and Banner, in both trials.  Gracie and Banner were both Continue reading

Her Name is What?

The Pack, Part 3

A fellow rescuer emailed me about a nine-month-old female border collie. “She’s too much for the owner to handle,” Linda wrote. “If someone doesn’t take her she’ll be dropped off to a shelter in the morning.” Continue reading

Sweet Dreams, Sweet Ginger Snap, Part 2

Sweet Dreams, Sweet Ginger Snap, Part 2

MACH!

By Katherine Dattoma

We were ready ! Early that agility trial morning, with the car packed full of family and dogs, we headed into sunrise and a day full of promise. After years of strategizing master level gambler and snooker courses with Oreo, I should have no problem navigating a Novice level course. Why then, did my nerves tingle and my stomach clench as I set Ginger up before the first obstacle? Much to my surprise and elation, Ginger qualified in her first few classes – and then disaster struck. A fast moving non rubberized teeter had her sliding to the bottom of the contact, where she froze before getting struck in the bum with the rebound. Ginger never fogot a fear or an injury! Agility trials were immediately transformed into terrifying events, and teeters could no longer be negotiated past the tipping point. In subsequent trials, Ginger exhibited a host of reactions. She barked at the judges and bar setters, leaped off the table when a bar setter got up to fluff the chute, fled from the sun glinting through a panel jump slats, fell off the contact equipment if the judge crowded her, lost concentration in the weaves when a bird flew overhead, refused any obstacle that looked scarily “different”, stopped to eat dirt, lost a face off with a horse and her fright levels rose off the meter when a well shaded canopy chair “turned” into a human. Flapping flags, a truck in the ring being loaded with agility equipment, glimpses of movement in the distance through open doors were all potential Ginger eating monsters. My big red girl was still afraid of the world.Ginger Dogwalk cropped

There is an agility subset of stressed dog/handler teams, struggling to complete each course they run, trial after trial, with little improvement. Either I would become a permanent member of this group, or have to quit, unless I found a way to change Ginger’s attitude about agility trials. Clearly, I needed to come up with a new tactic that went beyond dogged persistence, or else I would have to give up all thoughts of making Ginger into that partner I needed to continue competing in agility. Much as he loved agility, Oreo’s career was winding down and I knew his time in the ring was going to come to an end. Making the decision to continue agility with Ginger, I shifted my goals from earning titles and ribbons to simply getting Ginger to enjoy competition.

My strategy to eliminate all stress for myself, and limit it for Ginger was simple. Avoid qualifying! While others were carefully planning their courses during walk thrus’s, I was planning just as carefully with a different purpose. My routes became simple U shapes, avoiding the judge, bar setters and the dreaded teeter . My goal was to complete a small number of favorite, easy obstacles successfully, without giving Ginger time or the opportunity to lose focus. I was relaxed, and for Ginger, the short time in the ring was amply compensated for by the huge jackpot of treats that awaited her. When possible, I introduced Ginger to the judge, walked her around the ring so she would know where to expect the bar setters to be sitting, asked the photographer to step back for her runs, and developed pre run routines that allowed Ginger to filter out distractions by getting up close “in my face”.

She occasionally began to show eagerness to enter the ring, even barking a bit with excitement. It was time to add a few more obstacles, until we were completing entire jumper courses- and qualifying! However, a full standard course continued to elude us due to the inclusion of the teeter. Ginger’s initial teeter training had been a slow and methodical process, beginning with rewarding her for being in the vicinity of the banging sound while other dogs performed on the equipment. A very gradual increase in height and movement had kept Ginger comfortable and confident on the teeter until that first fateful trial. How could I get Ginger back on the teeter when it had proven, after all that early work, to be an object of fear? It moved, it made noise, was unpredictable and every teeter felt just a little different. I knew that a retraining effort would only succeed if I could change how she felt about the obstacle. Somehow, I would have to make it an object of desire- something Ginger wanted far more than she feared.Ginger tire- kayla

My thoughts turned back to the tumbling tower of tin cans, that clanking representation of psychological persuasion, and Ginger’s strong desire to join in the fun. Oreo would again be my ally. He loved running over the teeter numerous times, and all the extra treats and frisbee play included. Ginger was initially only allowed to watch. Eventually she was offered one try, and if she chose to bail, training stopped for her while Oreo had another turn. Like a kid, she didn’t want to be left out. At some point, Ginger began to bark and beg to get on the teeter- denial increased the desire! We traveled, learning to enjoy teeters of various surfaces, materials, weights and in different settings.

I was afraid. I still feared a refusal in the trial setting. How would it be possible to retrain after retraining? Ginger finally took the matter into her own paws. The now desirable teeter lured her into an “off course” as I tried once again to run her past it. I had been half a year since our first misfortunate trial, and Ginger earned her first qualifying score in a standard class. Ginger repaid my patience by becoming a very reliable agility partner, qualifying at a prodigious rate. She was still cautious in public, but her consistency was amazing. She never missed a contact or took down a bar, and all off courses were a result of my addled middle aged brain misfiring. Refusals resulting from her trademark startled reaction that we called “skitzing” were becoming rare. Finally, I could shift my own focus towards training myself to become a better handler.Ginger

The seasons changed, Ginger’s agility career blossomed, and I faced the painful necessity of retiring Oreo at the youthful age of almost 9. Setting a goal for Ginger no longer seemed impossible and I dared to reach for a big one. Oreo had earned his full share of agility honors, but for many reasons, the AKC Master Agility Championship had eluded us. I had enviously fingered the huge, beautiful MACH ribbons supplied by the Nutmeg Border Collie club at their inaugural trial, and dreamed a dream of possibilities for Ginger. In December, two weeks past Ginger’s fourth birthday, we headed to the last trial we had scheduled trial for the year, prior to an agility time off necessitated by my upcoming knee surgery. In her last run, of the last day of the trial, Ginger soared over the final jump as a champion. We brought home that beautiful big ribbon!

Reflecting back on my travels and travails with Ginger, from a terrified pup to becoming MACH Sweet Ginger Snap, I realize that a relatively small portion of training time was actually devoted to agility. The majority of my focus was on convincing Ginger that the world is a safe, fun place. The bonus was that in some mystical way, I believe that Ginger came to me so that not only could I save a discarded pup’s life, but that she could teach my family and myself lessons about how to find misplaced joy. The many heartaches and tough times my family has experienced these few years past, cannot retain the same power if we avail ourselves of our dog’s special gifts of reveling in the moment. When I picture my Ginger flying like a bird off my brother’s Virginia lake house dock, caught in a snapshot moment of pure pleasure, I know that she has opened a window giving me a little peek into heaven here on earth. Ginger has so much more to teach me, certainly a great deal about patience, but primarily that goals have little value if we can’t make the process of achieving them joyful. Humbled by the love and trust that enabled Ginger to overcome whatever trauma that had trapped her in a debilitating emotional condition, I have been made just a little more human by a mere dog. Striding into the new year on the strength of Ginger’s long legs, I allowed the delight of our agility journey to make my newest dreams sweet.Ginger & Katherine, Mach!

I Like Chase Very Much

By Terri Florentino

Debbie and Chase

Debbie and Chase

The next time we met, Debbie and Chase came to the training center. I scheduled our meeting before the start of classes so I could evaluate Chase with my own dogs.

“Are you sure you want Chase with your dogs?” Debbie asked.

“I trust my dogs,” I said. “They’ll follow my lead. They trust me too and know I’ll keep them safe.” I took the leash from Debbie. “I’m going to keep the leash on Chase, and, since you’re so nervous, I want you to stay inside and watch from the window.” Chase would sense her anxiety and that alone could promote an inappropriate response.

I do the meet-and-greets in a large fenced area. I had let my dogs out to the area first to run around. I had six of them at the time: Tulley, Echo, Scout, Meg, Deja, and Wyn. With Chase on lead, I walked around with him, allowing him to move as freely as the six-foot lead would offer so he could relax. I said little. There was enough conversation in body language among the dogs. As soon as I was confident that Chase was not going to dart after and attack my dogs, I dropped the leash. I stayed by, just in case he lunged or behaved aggressively.

As I suspected, at first my dogs ignored Chase, and he did the same. After a short while Tulley, the social butterfly of the pack, approached Chase. (Ironically enough, when I rescued Tulley it was said that he would never be good with other dogs.) Tulley’s tail was up and wagging, his interaction welcoming. Chase lowered his head, flattened his ears, tucked his tail under, and diverted his gaze, signaling he was not a threat. Tulley read his body language and adjusted his approach accordingly. After the initial greeting went well, one by one my other dogs went up to Chase to say hello. The females were less impressed as he was a bit of a flirt. In fact, when the females corrected his obnoxious behavior he politely deferred to them. Overall, I felt the interaction with Chase and my pack went well.

Once the dogs settled down, I invited Debbie into the yard. As soon as she stepped outside, all of my dogs ran to greet her. Chase immediately ran between my dogs and Debbie and didn’t want any of them near her. As soon as Chase started to growl at my dogs Debbie retreated. I stepped in, took a hold of Chase’s leash and removed him bodily from the group.

Once Debbie, Chase, and I were safely indoors away from my pack, I explained the problem. “Chase was resource-guarding you, Deb. You retreated. You empowered him to continue. Chase needs to know that you’re in control of the situation, not the other way around.”

She nodded soberly. Chase was panting from the excitement. Every time he heard a noise from outside, he pulled for the door, eager to throw himself back into action.

“First you’ll need to earn his trust and respect,” I said. “This of course will come with training. Not to worry. If you’re up to the task, I’ll get the two of you on the same page.”

“I’m up for it. In fact I’m looking forward to it,” she said.

When I asked how the appointment went with the veterinarian, she said, “He put him on Prozac.” She’d already noticed that Chase seemed more relaxed when left alone in the house. “And he’s not nearly as reactive when he sees my neighbors or a squirrel.”

“Great! Now we have a window to redirect his overreactions.”

Chase and his classmates.

Chase and his classmates.

The other students and their dogs were arriving. We had a few minutes before class would start. To prevent Chase from lunging at the incoming students, I had Debbie practice focus and body-blocking exercises. Fortunately, with a really yummy treat, Chase’s food drive was nearly equal to his defense drive. “Nearly,” however, wasn’t good enough. A couple of times he lunged and snarled at other dogs. It was scary not only for Debbie but the other people and their dogs as well.

“Chase isn’t being fair,” I said. “Let’s try a Gentle Leader head halter so you have more control of his head and mouth.” We fitted him for the Gentle Leader, and class began. The halter worked wonders–Chase’s behavior was more manageable for the rest of the class.

Chase wears his Gentle Leader.

Chase wears his Gentle Leader.

When class was over and the others had left, Deb and I had one more follow-up. “I’m relieved that the combination of the Prozac and the Gentle Leader gives you more control, but Chase still needs to listen to you and stop acting on his own.” I urged her to continue with the obedience techniques we’d been working on. “Be consistent. Follow through. As the two of you master each technique, I’ll add more to your repertoire,” I said. “Experienced handlers can never have enough tricks in their bags.”

Chase was panting softly by Debbie’s side. I knelt before him, and he wriggled and wagged for me. I stroked his shoulders. “I like Chase very much,” I said, and stood back up.

Relief and gratitude swept over Deb’s face.

“He’s a very smart dog,” I said, smiling at Chase. When he caught me looking, his tail swished. “He just needs guidance. Be kind. Earn his trust and respect. Make learning fun, and eventually you’ll have a devoted companion.”

Debbie hugged me, and when she let go, I saw that tears rolled down her cheeks. “I will! I promise. I know there’s a good dog in there.”

“Don’t forget—call me immediately if you have any problems or questions.” We hugged again, and I watched as they made their way to Deb’s truck. She spoke to him, her speech calm and happy. I wondered what the week would hold for them. “Don’t forget—same time next week!” I called.

“Can’t wait!” Deb said.

The Pack, Part 1

They Lost Their Pack Leader: Now What?

by Terri Florentino

pack

Terri and her pack.

I never bought into the theory that I had to be the dominant leader of my dog pack. I never saw myself as such, nor did I ever feel the need to attempt to “act” like my dogs in order to communicate with them. Yes, I spend time individually training my dogs, feed them, groom them, socialize, exercise, and love them but I am not their “pack leader.” Yes, humans have domesticated the dog, but to what degree?

I have lived with many dogs, at least five at a time, over the course of fifteen years, and can tell you that there appears to be a pecking order within their own ranks. I’m not sure why we would believe otherwise. We humans fall into similar social hierarchies. For instance in sports, doesn’t every team have a coach? Most social animals do. It seems to be natural for any pack, pod, or flock animal—consider the very phrase “pecking order,” which comes from watching chickens.

Tulley, Echo, Mirk, and Roy, who was just visiting.

l. – r. Tulley, Echo, Mirk, and Roy, who was just visiting.

What actually constitutes the definition of a pack leader, within a group of domestic dogs? We know that for a pack of wolves or coyotes it’s all about survival, so we can appreciate the importance of a strong hunter.

My dogs have never had to fight for food. I know of puppy evaluations where a piece of meat is thrown to a pack of seven-week-old pups. Whichever pup “guards the meat” is one that the breeder might be very interested in keeping for its dominant temperament. So does the display of a survival instinct define a leader? Perhaps a leader is determined by the tendency to discipline other dogs for inappropriate behavior, in effect, to govern them? How about the drive to ward off strangers? Perhaps the ability to charm humans into doing their bidding might be the real and true mark of a canine pack leader. I’m often amused at how often some dogs have their owners so well trained, and the owners don’t even know it.

As of last week, my family and I lived with seven dogs.

Heather and her soul-dog, Epic.

Heather and her soul-dog, Epic.

After careful examination and an abundance of medical testing it was apparent that my old girl Epic had developed a bleed in her brain. There was no turning back. My daughter Heather and I knew that we had to let her go.

Epic had chosen my daughter Heather as “her person” soon after we rescued her from a hoarding situation. Heather trained her, competed with her in obedience, and became her bed bug at night. In the vet’s examination room, Heather cradled Epic in her arms, inconsolably sobbing. I held both Heather and Epic, reassuring Epic that she was a good girl as the doctor gave her the final injection. Epic took her last deep breath and was gone. She lay peacefully in Heather’s arms until Heather was able to let go.

Now the mourning and healing for the human family would begin. But what about the other six dogs?

Sweet Epic has left us.

Sweet Epic has left us.

A bewildered uneasiness had fallen upon our pack. Epic had been the matriarch who commanded respect. She managed all of them with strong-willed peacekeeping diplomacy. She was a guardian, the greeting committee to the countless rescued dogs who entered our home, an “Aunt” to the occasional litter of puppies, teaching them right from wrong. Any dog who had been under Epic’s regime would greet her by laying down, rolling onto their back and licking her mouth, even when she’d reached the fragile old age of fifteen.

Scout

Scout

Now our pack consists of Scout, who, at nearly sixteen, is the oldest of them all. Next is Deja Blue at fourteen, Tulley at a youthful twelve (He was featured in the “Mean Dog” series in BCI), Mirk, age eleven, Echo at seven, and young Wyn of five years. Scout has always been the family pet, too old to care about leading the pack.

Deja, Mirk, and Echo

Deja, Mirk, and Echo

In her day, Deja was a tough lady, a talented sheepdog with too much of an independent streak. In her “hay day,” I suppose I might have thought her the next pack leader, but she now prefers to be left alone to sleep comfortably on her bed, next to mine.

Most of the dogs defer to Tulley, but he has no interest in the pack behavior unless it has to do directly with him.

Mirk at work.

Mirk at work.

Mirk was born here (Deja is his Dam) and lived with us for the first year of his life. Then he went off to pursue a professional sheepherding career. Over the course of the last ten years, he would come home on occasion. Just a few months ago, he retired and is now home for good, and the pack is still adjusting to him. He does have a very strong presence within the group, but strong enough to step up to the role of leader?

I love them all, but my heart and soul is Echo, a younger full sister to Mirk–she finishes my sentences. She’s not one that stands out as a leader, but she is well balanced within the pack and will step up to control any improper conduct with the other dogs. It’s said that the best leaders rule with a velvet glove, so maybe it will be Echo?

Will Wyn be the Winner?

Will Wyn be the Winner?

The truth is, I always thought that Wyn, a daughter of Echo, even though the youngest of the pack, would be the next leader. After Mirk she is my most talented sheepdog, by far the most boisterous and always into every other dog’s business. She may be too much of a busybody to rule the pack.

Either way it will be interesting to see how the dynamics of my pack eventually play out. For now, we’ll let nature take its course.

Thank you, Santa

It’s perfect.

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Dangerous Chase, Part 2

“Who Saved Whom?”

by Terri Florentino

photo 5

Chase was home for the holidays.

We moved into the living room, which was decorated for the holidays with lots of cheerful color. I asked Debbie to describe how she was handling Chase’s separation anxiety. I wanted to understand what might be behind the clawed-up walls and doors. Why was he going berserk, panicking as if his life were at stake when she left him alone?

“I started by sending Chase to ‘his room’ for short periods of time while I was home.” As she spoke, Debbie gazed at Chase, who was lying on the other side of the living room, head on paws, listening. “Then I’d leave the house just briefly. I never made a big deal about coming and going. I made sure that he had a lot of yummy learning game toys placed around the room.”

Those were fantastic strategies, but for some reason, Chase couldn’t get calm enough to let them work. “Chase is obviously a very smart dog,” I said. Chase’s gaze shifted to me, and he raised one eyebrow. I smiled at him. He looked away. “In time, he’ll be able to exercise self-control. Maybe he needs a consistent and stable routine.” I suspect that his anxiety was brought on by the prior instability in his life. I suggested that Debbie talk to her veterinarian about anti-anxiety medication—just while Chase was adjusting to his new lifestyle. In conjunction with the medication positive, motivational training would be very important. Teamwork, exercise, and clear direction would help him feel more secure. “Tell me about the incident that prompted Chase to bite you and your husband. “

Chase and Sam

Chase and Sam

Debbie’s shoulders slumped, and she turned to me sadly. “Which one?”

“Wow. Okay, tell me about the times that he has bitten both of you.”

Chase sighed and closed his eyes as if he were tired of hearing these stories.

“All the time. He bites all the time. It’s nearly impossible to get out the door without him biting the backs of our legs. Just to get out of the house we have to send him to his room.”

“Ah, okay.” I was beginning to see that poor Chase carried a lot of fear in his heart. He lived in panic mode. I was even more certain he could use the help of the veterinarian and a lot of structure and positive reinforcement. “I’ll tell you what, I want you to keep Chase on a leash while in the house. This way you’ll have more control over him when he acts out.”

Chase lunged and barked like mad at any intruder, even squirrels.

Chase lunged and barked like mad at any intruder, even squirrels.

“Great idea, I never thought of that.” Debbie said that Chase would bark and act out whenever sees the neighbors or any other wild vermin, especially squirrels. “As if the barking and lunging wasn’t bad enough, whenever we try to put a stop to his madness, he just redirect his frustration onto us. He grabs our clothes, shakes his head, and growls. I’ve lost count of how many shirts, jackets, and pants he’s torn.” She added,  “No matter how I yell and scream, he doesn’t listen!”

Just hearing the frustration and anxiety in her voice, Chase sat up, his brow puckered in worry.

“I can appreciate your frustration,” I said calmly. “However, no more yelling, okay? I believe the yelling and screaming is making him more nervous.”

Debbie and Chase each sat watching each other across the room with worried eyes. Debbie had already gotten so frightened and fed up that she’d left him at the shelter. But love had brought her here and brought Chase home. I had to find a way to help them.

“I’ve got something for you that really might help,” I said. “One command. With a firm tone of voice, I want you to instruct Chase to ‘Leave it!” We put Chase on a leash, and I taught Debbie and Chase the ‘Leave it’ command and watched them practice. I didn’t want Chase to think that he’d have the option to ‘Take’ the item that she had instructed him to ‘Leave’, not ever. Down the road, on occasion, with other training techniques, there might come an opportunity for Chase to ‘Take it.’ For now, no, and it should never follow the ‘Leave it’ command. “‘Leave it’ means ‘Leave it,’” I said. “Chase needs to understand that you mean what you say. He needs these limits.” His life depended on it.

“The worst is how Chase resource-guards me,” Debbie said. We stood in the middle of the living room. Chase had walked to the end of his leash, ears pricked toward the window, ready to go into red alert should a squirrel appear. “If Sam tries to sit next to me on the couch Chase jumps between us and grabs and bites Sam’s arm. If I try to push him away, he snarls and growls at me. This has got to stop!”

Chase must never even get the opportunity to behave that way. Next, I taught Debbie and Chase the command ‘Off.” Chase would be on a leash indoors, and when Debbie sat on the couch, she would make Chase lie on the floor by her feet in a ‘Down’ and ‘Stay’ command. “Feel free to give him one of his learning game toys filled with goodies to keep him occupied while he’s lying on the floor by your feet,” I said. “This should be pleasant and peaceful. It’s not punishment, it’s redirection and prevention.”

“Also, a tired dog is a good dog.” We discussed the importance of exercise. “Basic obedience is also extremely important. I’ll show you how to make learning fun.”

“I can’t wait,” Debbie said, raising the pitch of her voice and leaning forward. “What do you think, Chase? Can we enjoy each other?”

Chase’s tail swished.

“The holidays are coming.” Debbie stood straight with a look of fright. “What should I do with Chase when we have company?”

Gianna and Chase

Gianna and Chase

“How is he with new people?” I asked.

“He picks and chooses whom he wants to be friendly with, but he loves my niece Gianna.”

“Your guests can help Chase learn appropriate social skills.” I explained she should keep him on a leash and make use of treats and toys to promote suitable interaction. “When you want to relax, put Chase away in his room and reward him with a delectable learning game toy. Don’t set him up to fail, be pro-active rather than re-active.”

“Chase is nothing like my other dog, Toby,” Debbie sighed.

“We’re all guilty of training our last dog.” I said.

“I’ll never get over how Toby died.” Debbie led me back to the couch. She put Chase in a down-stay by her feet.

“What happened to Toby?”

“We had just come home from vacation, and I was getting ready to leave the house when the phone rang. It was the owner of the kennel. Toby had died that morning. He was found in the kennel. No one knew what happened. I remember hanging up the phone, burying my face in my hands, falling to my knees, and weeping uncontrollably. Even though Toby loved going to the kennel I will never forgive myself for not being there for him.” She stroked Chase’s head. He closed his eyes. “I’ll tell you by the time I adopted Chase from the shelter, I needed him as much as he needed me.”

“I’m so sorry for your pain Deb. It wasn’t your fault.” I told her her comment about needing Chase made me think of a commonly used slogan for rescued dogs, ‘Who Saved Whom.’”

“I like it,” she said.

We smiled at each other.

“Isn’t it charming?” I said. “But especially for a dog like Chase—he needs you more than you need him. He needs you to help him with his fears and his shortcomings.”

There was hope for Chase this holiday.

Maybe there was hope for Chase this holiday.

“I understand. I’ll work very hard to become the person that Chase needs me to be.”

“I know you will. We’ll reconvene after the holiday. In the meantime I’m here for you and Chase. Call me anytime.” We embraced, wished one another a Happy Holiday. Before I turned to go, I bent down to Chase. When his eyes met mine, he sat up and gave me his paw. I grinned and gave him a pat. “Be the good pup I know you can be. Santa’s watching.”