The Most Beautiful Thing I've Ever Seen

The two great loves of my life.

Maisy has never been a dog who likes to be touched, although she will tolerate it. She especially hates having her head touched; any time I've reached over to give her a pat, only for her to duck away - or at least flinch. I've gotten used to this, and try to limit my primate-hands-on instincts.

But these rules don't seem to apply to my fiance. She loves him. Indeed, her affection for him was a major driver in our getting together in the first place, but even so, I didn't really understand how much she loves him until Monday night.

Maisy is curled up on a pillow sleeping as Cesar is getting ready to leave for work. He leans over to say goodbye and kisses her on the top of her head; she lifts her head up, looks him in the eye, and then gives one deliberate lick to his face.

I swear to god, she kissed him back, and it was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

Sometimes Bad Timing is the Best Timing of All

Logically, adopting Pyg was one of the dumbest ideas I've ever had. Struggling under the weight of Maisy's medical bills, her slow recovery, and the fear of what the future would mean for her, I knew that adding more to my plate- and hers- was probably ill-advised. But my heart and soul told me that no matter how bad the timing, I needed to have Pyg in my life, and since my intuition is rarely wrong, I took the ultimate leap of faith.

I won't lie: things have been harder with Pyg around. Money is uncomfortably tight. My carpets are smellier. And I've had quite a few things destroyed. At last count, I've lost three containers of fish food, a DVD case, my wallet, a skein of yarn, a spool of thread... the list goes on and on, and with few exceptions, I have no freaking clue how he's gotten a hold of these things.

But things have also been so much better with him, too. People who know me will know that I have a bad worrying habit, and that for many years, Maisy has been the focus of much of it. Pyg has proven to be a wonderful (if naughty) distraction. I still worry about Maisy of course, but it's much harder to do with him around to pick up after.

What's more, during a time that I could be moping around about Maisy's shortened future, I have Pyg to make me laugh. Pyg is such a funny dog, and the infusion of joy he's brought in to my household has been good for both me and Maisy.

Perhaps the most important thing he has brought to my life, though, is the knowledge that love is too big to be contained in just one being. I never thought I could love another dog as much as I love Maisy. I was wrong. Pyg has taught me that opening yourself up to the possibility that you might have more than one heart dog or soul mate doesn't diminish the amount of love you have for the first one. It only allows your heart to be fuller.  

Pyg's Personality

It's been about a month since Pyg came into our life. That really isn't very long, but he's fit into our lives so seamlessly that it feels like he's been here forever. I cannot begin to express how much I love him and how happy I am that fate brought us together.

I knew going into it that foster dogs/newly adopted dogs often take several weeks or months to really settle in and express their true personalities. I definitely saw glimmers of who Pyg is early on, but it's been fun to watch him blossom.

Here's what I know about Pyg so far:

He's playful. Perhaps this is just youthful exuberance, but Pyggy loves playing. Whether it's with another dog or by himself, Pyg has a cheerful attitude. Maisy still adores playing with him. I see her initiating play with him at least once every day, sometimes more. For her part, she's getting less awkward. At first, she was convinced that humping him was the best invitation to play ever, but now she's doing more appropriate play bows.

He can entertain himself. This is awesome, because if Maisy doesn't want to play and he does, he's perfectly content to go off by himself with a toy. His favorites are long floppy toys that he can shake and kill. He's not much into dissecting them, which is fine with me. He also likes to pick up Kongs and throw them in the air, and oddly, empty cat food cans.

He has an off-switch. Pyg is also quite happy to take a nap or chew quietly on something appropriate. He loves his Nylabone (Maisy never touched them as a puppy), and Kongs, too. He's a fan of bully sticks and cow hooves. And when he's tired of chewing, he'll take a nap. I suspect some of this will change as he gets more comfortable. The other day he chewed on a wooden yard stick.

He is less intense than Maisy. Although this will likely change as he continues to settle in, so far he's a bit more subdued. Whereas she will clearly (obnoxiously) make her desires known, he tends to be a bit subtle about it. After two brief scuffles, he's learned not to take food from Maisy, and if anything drops in the kitchen, he'll back away. Poor Pyg; Maisy can be a bit of a bitch. That said, he's not afraid to take advantage of things. The other day he swooped in and stole Maisy's Kong when she left it to tell off the cat.

He's definitely a lap dog. Oh my. Where Maisy really, really doesn't care to be touched (she will cuddle on occasion, but only briefly, and only when it's her idea), Pyg loves nothing more than to be with people. He will curl up on my lap, or worm his way between me and my boyfriend when we're together. He loves to be petted, and we've begun to discover all his favorite rubbing spots. If I stop petting him, he'll rub his face on my hand. It's adorable.

He doesn't like to be left alone. I wouldn't call it separation anxiety, but it's clear that Pyg's had a bit of upheaval in his short life. I've been watching him pretty closely, and he's definitely getting better about it, but if he had a choice, he'd go everywhere with me. On a similar note, he does not like being contained. Four foot x-pens? Yeah, he climbs over them. Baby gates? Knocked over. Wire crates? Escaped from... although I don't know how. It wasn't destroyed. Sigh.

He loves food, and he's an eager learner. I'll post soon about our training, but let's just say that he is quite willing to work for kibble at home, and that I'm having a ton of fun putting some foundations on him. It also inspires me to get back to training with Maisy again. I'd like to get them both into classes sometime soon, but... money. And time.

He's a bit cautious about new dogs. This is perhaps the most interesting thing of all, and I'm curious to see how it'll shake out. He's had a few minor outbursts. Nothing I would call true reactivity, but given his age (10 months) and the fact that reactivity tends to emerge during social maturity (a year and a half or so), I'm being pretty proactive with him. Again, I'll write about this soon, but right now he tends to be a bit wary, though it is lessening as he settles in.

That said, he's a confident little bugger. The other night he was up on a wobble board like he'd done it his whole life. Maisy, who has actually been around wobble boards her whole life, just looked at him like he was crazy. He will jump on counters and climb on uneven surfaces. He is so different from Maisy in this way.

He definitely makes me laugh. Although he's kind of physically ugly (a matter of personal preference, I know), I can't help but call him cute when I watch him running around. He's just... wonderful. I adore this little dog, and I'm so very grateful to everyone who cared for him when he was a pup and made it possible for him to come home.

The Things You Miss

When Maisy was in the ICU, I never once wondered if we'd ever compete in another dog show. I didn't think about the ribbons and the titles. Surprisingly, I only briefly questioned if we'd be able to go hiking again.

Pillow hog.

No, what I missed was her glorious naughtiness.

I missed the way she hogs all the pillows at night. I missed the way she will nose open the sock drawer in order to steal her favorite ones. I missed the way she runs circles around my feet in the morning, nipping at my calves if I don't move fast enough.

I couldn't eat without being overcome by sadness that no one was there to beg for food. My morning routine felt short and weird because I didn't need to spend ten minutes waiting for someone to find just the right spot to pee. When friends came to visit, it felt bizarre that there was no one dancing at my feet, excited to see who was on the other side of the door.

After she got home, I celebrated the smallest things. Stealing an apple out of my hand while I was eating it. Waking up with a tennis ball in my bed. Chasing a squirrel down the block.

The things you miss are now what you expect. Yes, sometimes Maisy annoys me, but lately, these obnoxious acts are nothing short of a miracle. I'm so thankful to have my (rotten) dog home and (mostly) recovered.

Soul Mates

I love my dog. I’m sure this is surprising to exactly no one; I am not shy in sharing just how enamored I am by her. Maisy is also my heart dog, a term that I loosely define as a one-in-a-lifetime dog that worms her way into your heart despite all odds. Again, this probably isn’t a huge surprise. But is she my soul mate?

Photo by Laura.

I had never really given much thought to the concept of soul mates; despite having been married for over ten years, I rather assumed that there are many people in the world that you could meet, love, and live with happily. I still think that’s true, but it’s also true that there are people in the world who you immediately “click” with.

I was forced to confront the concept of soul mates last December when Maisy had her first modeling job. Between sets, the “wrangler” assigned to us told me that she was an animal communicator. Although I’m skeptical of them by nature, I’ve always been intrigued by animal communicators... just not enough to actually pay them money! I didn’t want to ask her to give her services away for free, so instead I asked what kinds of things people ask about. She recounted a recent encounter where the person wanted to know if she and her dog had been together in previous lives. The animal communicator told me that they hadn’t; sometimes relationships are just a one-time deal.

Then, in an off-handed kind of way, she said, “Not like you and Maisy. You guys are soul mates. Your souls aren’t always in the same form- you’re not always a human and a dog- but you always find one another in each life you have.”

Wow.

So there I was, pondering the idea of not only soul mates in general, but also very specifically. Was this true? And what is a soul mate anyway? Most websites have some variation on the same theme; a soul mate is a person with whom you have an immediate connection. Someone you love so deeply that you wonder if you’ve ever truly loved before. Some who brings you peace, calmness, and happiness.

And, yes, I did feel an immediate connection with Maisy. From the moment I met her, I knew she had to be in my life. Even though I didn’t really like dogs before. Even though my ex-husband objected to the idea of a dog. Even though I had to jump through a lot of hoops to bringing her home. I do love her deeply, and she does bring me so much joy. She often helps me feel better when I’m down, and she seems to instinctively know what I need from her at those times. But still, I was skeptical.

Until I read this definition from an article on MindBodyGreen: Soul mates are brought into your life so that you can grow and expand into the best version of yourself.

Well… yes, I believe Maisy has done this for me. In fact, the animal communicator had to interrupt herself at one point to say, “I’m sorry. I don’t usually read dogs without their person’s permission, but Maisy is being very loud and insistent right now. She says that you are her best project.”

This gave me chills. There are so very many reasons for this, many of them too personal for such a public space, but suffice it to say that Maisy is the best thing that has ever happened to me. Her presence in my life has created so many connections. Many of the most important relationships in my life- Sara, Margaret, Laura, Nicky, Megan, Elizabeth, Ryan, Lauren- have been because of Maisy. These are the people who have supported me and loved me through a very difficult year, who have enabled me to confront the demons of the past so that I can grow into the person I am meant to be. I love them all dearly.

So is Maisy my soul mate? Maybe. I still really don’t know what I think about the whole concept, but I do know that I couldn’t have made it through the last year without her and the people she’s brought into my life.  

ARCH Maisy!

We did it! Maisy got her ARCH this weekend! This has been a long-term goal of mine, and one that I had feared would be unattainable. And yet… we did it!

The ARCH is a multi-level APDT/WCRL rally obedience championship title. In order to earn the ARCH, you must first earn the level 1 and level 2 titles. Then you must earn a Q in both level 1 and level 2 at the same trial. Each Q must have a score of 190 or higher. And you need to do this 5 times. While you are doing this, you have to earn points; you get 1 point for a score of 191, 2 points for a score of 192, and so on. You need 100 points, 30 from level 1, 30 from level 2, and the remainder from either class.

And we did it!

For a long time, I didn’t think it would be possible because getting the double-Q means you are at a trial for a long-ish period of time. In 2010, Maisy’s limit was about 2 hours; not enough time to earn the QQs. I finally pulled her from competition because she was getting worse at trials (behavior-wise, I mean; her scores were always decent), not better. We didn’t return to APDT rally until April of this year when we earned 2 QQs towards the ARCH.

I was hoping- but not expecting- to earn the ARCH on Saturday. To do so would require doing six rally runs for 3 QQs, and doing them well. It would require Maisy to do what I told her, and for me to cue her correctly. Oh, and I had to actually, you know, do all the signs (I seem to have a harder time with that than I should!).

But we did it!

It was a long day. We got to the trial site around 7:30am, and didn’t leave until 4:30 or so. After earning her first perfect 210 in the first run of the day (which yay!), her scores steadily went downhill. By the end of the day, she was T-I-R-E-D despite the naps she was able to take in the car between runs (it was mid-60s, a serious stroke of good luck for a July trial!). In fact, she was so tired that as we approached the sixth, and last, run of the day, I was concerned that she wouldn’t be able to score high enough in order to finish her ARCH.

Best. Scoresheet. Ever. 

So I got out a secret weapon: sugar. There have been some recent studies showing that performance improves when a dog gets a glucose boost, so I went for it. I emptied two sugar packets into my hands, and she ate those suckers up. Fifteen minutes later we were back in the ring and…

We did it! A score of 206 (her second best of the day!), and her ARCH.

The final tally was six runs, scores ranging between 194 and 210, four 2^nd places, one 3^rd place, one 4^th place, her ARCH, and she was the high-scoring mixed breed for the day! I am so, so, so, so proud of her.

Also, I'm bringing jelly beans instead of dog treats to trials from now on.  

APDT/WCRL Rally Trial Report!

Last Saturday, Maisy and I went to an APDT/WCRL trial hosted by our breed club, the Minnesota Mixed Breed Club. It was a smashing success in a lot of ways!!

Maisy's Reactivity

It feels weird to write that heading; I don't really think of Maisy as reactive anymore. Still, I know that the neural pathways for reactivity will always be in her brain. They may become dusty or overgrown, but in times of stress, she may head down that path. Because of that, I continue to be cautious about what I expose her to.

This trial was no exception. I pre-entered Trial 1, Levels 1 and 2, figuring I could enter Trials 2 and 3 if she was doing well. I wasn't sure how she'd do because previous to this, the longest she could stay at a trial before getting stressed was about two hours.

Well, by the time Trial 1 was over, we'd blown past the two hour mark. We were closer to four, actually, and Maisy was fine. Well, she'd barked a few times while she was in her crate and I was away (walking the course, chatting, whatever), but I wasn't too worried about that. I decided to enter her in a few more runs. Because Trials 2 and 3 were being run simultaneously, I went ahead and day-of-show entered her in Levels 1 and 2 in both.

Maisy did great up until the six hour mark, when she got a bit edgy. Nothing big, just a small bark and lunge toward a white shepherd. (Of course she did that right after I bragged to the judge about how she used to be reactive!) Although I was bummed by that, she did come right back to me. I moved her to the car crate so she could get some downtime, and she was able to come back in to work with no problem.

All in all, she spent 9.5 hours at the trial! Other than being very tired by the end, she did very, very well. Crating in the car was clearly the right choice because as I was trying to pack up our stuff, she kept going in the crate in the building to eat her chewy... something she won't do if she's stressed. I was really proud of her!

Ring Nerves

Another huge success came with my ring nerves. They've always been bad. Seriously bad. Like can't-eat-and-need-stomach-meds bad. Of course, Maisy would realize that, and between the two of us, we'd end up in an out of control anxiety spiral.

I did get nervous a few times while at the trial, but it was nowhere near as bad as it has been in the past. I've started a meditation practice over recent months, so every time I felt the nerves fluttering up, I would close my eyes and take a few deep breaths the way I do during my formal sitting times. Then I would gaze into Maisy's face, continue breathing, and tell myself that I was calm, I was relaxed, I was at ease, I was having fun.

And I was! Meditation is amazing.

The Results

Okay, okay. Yes, I need to tell you how we did. Maisy and I did a total of six runs:

Trial 1, Level 1: 206, 4^th place, A nice run. Nothing to really say about it.

Trial 1, Level 2: 206, 3^rd place, Another nice run, and probably my favorite. When we got to the moving down sign (not a true moving down, the dog just needs to down instead of sit when you halt), Maisy did a play bow instead of a down. I laughed hysterically because it was so ridiculously funny.

Trial 2, Level 1: NQ, I missed a sign. No, I missed the last sign. Seriously didn't even see it. The judge (Charlene Swainamer, who was awesome and I loved her) was so sad. It would have been a 206 if it hadn't been for that missed sign. I shrugged, told her it happened, and that we still had fun. I meant it, too.

Trial 2, Level 2: NQ, Again, my fault. We got to a sign where you halt and leave the dog and I got confused over what to do, handled Maisy poorly, and she broke the stay. I looked back to the judge, who confirmed it was an NQ, and took advantage of this fact to reinforce the really nice moments of heeling with cookies. Afterward, the judge was practically crying. She was so sweet; she really liked Maisy and was so bummed out for us. I told her was just a dog show and that it really didn't matter. She agreed, but was still sad. I told her that honestly, I didn't care. And you know, I've said that before, but inside I was still totally disappointed and upset. Saturday I wasn't. So we NQ'd. Big deal.

Trial 3, Level 1: 205, 3^rd place, A nice run. Nothing to report... well, except we clearly need to proof against the presences of Auntie Sara. Maisy got distracted when she saw her ringside. It was kind of cute, actually.

Trial 3, Level 2: 197, 4^th place, We lost ten points on the bonus because Maisy did not do the moving down (a true one this time), even though she'd done it flawlessly in Trial 2. I wasn't upset, though. She was just so very tired.

In the end, we picked up two QQs towards our ARCH (out of five needed), and 23 Level 2 points (you need a total of 100, 30 from Level 1, 30 from Level 2, and the remaining from either level. We have plenty of Level 1 points).

The Aftermath

I gave Maisy a preemptive clonidine when we got home so she would be able to sleep. I think that was a good choice, because she didn't sleep in bed with me that night. (A sure sign, if a bit unusual, of stress.) On Sunday, she was tired, tired, tired. My friend Laura came over with her dogs Piper and Allister to go for a walk. Maisy hid. When we left, I asked her if she wanted to go and instead of bouncing around, she lowered her head and avoided contact. Poor baby.

I felt bad for her, but it had been a big week for her; a party the weekend before with 5 or 6 dogs in the house, a modeling job on Wednesday, and then the trial. In July, we'll try another full day, and if it's still hard for her, we'll cut back on the length of time we spend at trials in the future. I don't think we'll need to, though. She's amazing!

With Apologies to Elizabeth Barrett Browning

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love your furry face and mismatched ears,

And the way you bravely face all your fears.

Your enthusiasm and joyful displays

Warm my heart and bring sweetness to my days.

I love the way you fill my life with light,

I love the sheen in your eyes when you’re right,

I love your tail wag when I give you praise;

You make me proud, pup- I’m your biggest fan.

It may sound silly and it may sound trite,

But I love you more since I first began.

Oh, please believe that I’m glad when you’re near,

For I love thee truly, and if I can,

I shall love thee better each passing year.

Happy Gotcha Day, Maisy

Five years ago today, Maisy came home.

“Home” was actually a group home. My job was to supervise the staff and daily operations of the home, and my company thought the best way to do that was to have the supervisor live there. And so my husband and I lived in the walk-out basement of a two story home; upstairs, there were four adults with pretty profound disabilities.

Since I was working with vulnerable adults, I needed the permission of not only my employers, but also each resident’s guardian. It was a pretty nerve-wracking experience. I had fallen head over heals in love with this little puppy, and as I waited for approval from five different people, I was forced to wonder what I’d do if the answer came back as “no.” I probably would have quit (losing my job and my home at the same time), actually, which just proves how completely irrational Maisy made me.

But I got permission, and I brought her home, completely ignorant about pretty much everything about dogs. I vividly remember her first afternoon at home. All the websites I’d read on housetraining lied: she didn’t sniff or have any obvious signs that she was about to pee. She just went. After the third or fourth time in as many hours, I was pretty sure I’d made a huge mistake. I was stubborn, though, and she was cute, so we soldiered on.

Maisy loved going upstairs to visit the guys, and would often climb up the steps and whine at the door separating my “apartment” from the rest of the house. In the early days, she could go up stairs, but not down, and so I’d often have to go rescue her.

But when I let her go visit? Oh, how she loved it! She would visit with the staff and residents alike, begging for food, and later, showing off what she was learning in puppy class. She would proudly sit when resident N asked her to. She learned her first trick (shake paw) when my awake overnight staff called in sick and I had to fill in (those shifts were terribly boring- the staff was around mostly to respond to emergencies). That same night, I learned the value of a good “leave it” when I dropped a seizure medication on the floor. (She left it.)

In retrospect, this was a fabulous socialization opportunity. In addition to frequent shift changes, erratic movement, and odd noises, IV poles, patient lifting devices, and wheelchairs abounded. Later, when she graduated from puppy class, the guys came to watch, and she was the only dog who didn’t freak out about the wheelchairs. Even today, she’s very excited to see a person in a wheelchair.

Things have changed a lot since those early days. Today, we live in our own house, with our own back yard. She’s housetrained (finally!), and doesn’t need to be crated when I’m gone. She has two kitty brothers, and a human mama who actually knows something about dog behavior.

But one thing hasn’t changed, and that is the fact that I love her. I can’t imagine my life without her, can barely remember what it was like before. She has brought so much joy to my life, and I love her more than I’ll ever be able to say.

So, Happy Gotcha Day, Maisy. I am glad you could come home, and I hope we have many, many more years together.

Training Tuesday: Behavior Edition

With the cold weather and short days, I've been making an effort to take Maisy to pet stores to train. This not only gives us much more room for heeling than our small house, but also provides a bonus in the way of distractions. She's doing very well, and I think we've got some of the issues with the fast pace worked out (I hope!), but today's post is much cooler than that.

 A video still from yesterday's training session at PetSmart.

Last week, I took Maisy to PetCo in the late afternoon and was surprised by how busy they were. While we where there, we saw several children in the 5 to 10 age range, quite a few men in hats, some women pushing carts, and most notably, there was a training class with several dogs in it going on. The class was working on loose leash walking in the aisles, and one of the dogs was straddling that fine line between over-exuberance and reactivity. He was straining on his leash and making that awful wheezing noise- a sound Maisy particularly dislikes.

Maisy and I worked through it all. We did fronts and finishes. We practiced heeling with auto-sits. We changed pace, both fast and slow. We worked very, very hard to walk past stray bits of kibble on the floor. We did stays. And we did it all within five feet of people and kids and dogs. I was happy with her performance, and I made some mental notes about things we need to work on, and thought about how I might adjust criteria in the future.

It wasn't until several days later that I realized the sheer awesomeness of Maisy's performance. Her obedience was good, yes, but her behavior was even better. There is absolutely NO WAY that she could have handled that kind of environment a year ago without flipping out. And yet, somehow, there she was, not only ignoring all the craziness around us, but eagerly engaged in work.

Behavior work is so slow and gradual that sometimes it's easy to miss progress as it's happening. It's easy to take improvement for granted since it looks so much like the day before. And sometimes- like today- I step back to see the whole picture and am absolutely awestruck. I am so, so proud of my dog. 

I am not a perfect trainer.

I am not a perfect trainer.

I make a lot of mistakes. My criteria is often inconsistent. Sometimes I push her too hard, and sometimes I don't ask enough. My body language can be confusing; I lean over her, I keep treats in my hands. I really suck at getting things on cue, and I often reward bad responses. Sometimes I even laugh when she's naughty.

And oh, how I laugh.

My skills may be nothing to write home about, but my enthusiasm more than makes up for it. I laugh and smile and cheer my dog on when she gets it right, and I encourage her when she gets it wrong. I enjoy learning. Training brings me joy, and serves to deepen our relationship. I love spending time with my dog.

No, I am not a perfect trainer. But I'm pretty good at the stuff that matters.

Normal, Normal, Normal

On Saturday, Maisy went to the emergency vet because there was blood in her urine. Assuming it was a UTI, but wanting to be sure, the vet and I agreed to do a urinalysis and urine culture. The urine was collected via cystocentesis, which requires using an ultrasound to poke a needle into the bladder in order to obtain a sample.

This would have been fine except that both the emergency vet and the critical care specialist on call thought Maisy's bladder wall had “abnormal thickening,” and there were unexplained white spots in the bladder cavity. The recommendation was to see an internal medicine specialist.

So, we went to that appointment yesterday, where I learned that the culture had come back negative. There were no bacteria, and no white blood cells, and thus, no UTI. She did have an elevated pH, and she had a lot of sediment, including struvite crystals. The specialist recommended we have an ultrasound done to see what had caused the bloody urine, and so we did that today.

The results? Normal, normal, normal. No bladder wall weirdness, no bladder stones, sediment, or crystals, the kidneys looked great, everything was awesome. Our best guess is that the bloody urine was caused by irritation from the crystals- or possibly even some small stones- that were passed when I increased Maisy's fluid intake over the weekend.

I was scared.

Like Maisy, I tend to be a bit reactive, and so I was absolutely freaking out. I tried to hold myself together, and I think I did okay once I quit consulting with Dr. Google (who had me convinced my dog was going to die, indeed, had already died about three days ago). I am grateful for my friends, who offered much support, logic, and rational thought.

Maisy was scared, too.

No, she didn't know that she had already died, but both appointments were very hard on her. The appointment yesterday was the worst. She was fine when we first arrived at the hospital, but was not fond of the physical exam the student gave her (the U is a teaching hospital, so we saw a student first, and then the specialist). In fact, she was so not-fond of it that she buried her head in my armpit and stopped taking treats.

Ya'll, I can count on one hand the number of times she's refused treats. When Maisy gets stressed, she will take treats frantically, have a “shark mouth,” and dive bomb the treat bag. Not eating? That's practically unheard of, and a sign of serious stress. I felt awful, and after the student left to report her findings to the vet, Maisy cowered under my chair. Again, this is not normal behavior for her.

When the vet came in, Maisy stood up, and pressed up against my legs, but stayed under the chair. It was not easy to coax her out, but we managed to do it. Thankfully, the vet did not need to do much in the way of a physical exam, and instead spent most of her time discussing the possible causes and diagnostic steps to take. Even so, Maisy jumped in my lap, and then scrambled up my shoulders and stood behind my head. This was not height seeking. This was fear. Honestly, it felt good that she wanted me to protect her, but I felt awful that I couldn't do what she wanted and stop the exam from happening.

That feeling got worse today.

Upon the suggestion of my trainer, yesterday I called Maisy's veterinary behaviorist to explain what was going on, and how stressed Maisy was. She consulted with the anesthesiologist (in case Maisy needed sedation in order to do a biopsy), and prescribed trazodone. I'm not sure if it helped. If it did, it wasn't enough.

The first thing they did when we arrived was take Maisy and place an IV catheter for possible sedation. Despite my objections, they did not allow me to go back with Maisy, and it broke my heart to see how reluctant she was to leave without me. Normally she loves people, but she remembered these people. Poor little pumpkin, the looks she gave me were just pathetic.

They returned her to me to wait for the procedure, and she pressed up against me, panting like crazy. Her pupils were bigger than I'd ever seen them, and she licked her lips almost constantly. I felt awful.

Then they took her for the ultrasound. She wouldn't even walk with the tech this time, and they had to carry her. Again, the looks Maisy gave me had me on the edge of tears.

During the ultrasound, they gave her a morphine-derivative to help sedate her some more. The procedure took almost an hour. They said she did well, and she seemed reasonably happy to see me, but still and quiet. Even now, three hours later, she's all drugged out, sitting spaced out, swaying side to side.

She appears quite bothered by her shaved belly. She's walking oddly, sitting stiffly, and keeps sneaking peaks at her stomach to figure out what's wrong. I knew she didn't like wearing things, but I find it interesting that she seems to equally dislike not having enough on.

Maisy also seems displeased with me. When we got home, she refused to come in the house, instead sitting at the far end of the yard. I finally coaxed her in with some treats, but she chose to be in a room as far away as possible from me, one which we never use, one which I've only seen her in once or twice before. I coaxed her out with some potato chips (her favorite treat), but she then went right back in there for an hour or two. She's now sitting in the same room, but with her back to me. She only looks at me when I offer her a treat, and even then, she takes them grudgingly.

I would worry that I'm being excessively anthropomorphic, but Patricia McConnell's dog Willie recently did something similar to her following his own surgery. Thankfully, he seems to have gotten over it, and I trust that, in time, Maisy will, too.

In the meantime, I'm simply grateful that, mad at me or not, Maisy is healthy. I love her more than I ever thought it possible to love a dog.

My Favorite Things

Snowflakes on noses and big doggy grins;

Bright shining eyes and excited spins;

All of the balls that she constantly brings;

These are a few of my favorite things.

Two mismatched ears and a small scruffy face;

Kisses and play bows and jumping with grace;

The way that she runs like a puppy with wings;

These are a few of my favorite things.

Making new friends with her cute spazzy charms;

Mornings that find her curled up in my arms;

Fluffy white tails that wag circular rings;

These are a few of my favorite things.

When my dog barks,

When the words sting,

When I'm feeling sad,

I simply remember my favorite things,

And then I don't feel so bad!

Happy Gotcha Day 4, Maisy

Four years ago today, I brought Maisy home. I can't believe how much she's changed my life.

Was Maisy's Puppyhood Wasted? Bad Beginnings and Embarrassing Confessions

I know it was wrong, but who could resist this face?

Coming from the Midwest, I am motivated by nothing if not by guilt, which means that Ian Dunbar’s message on wasted puppyhood hit me hard. I felt pretty crummy listening to him speak- I know that I did almost nothing right when I got Maisy- and I interpreted his remarks as “you screwed up your dog.”

I don’t talk much about Maisy’s origins, mostly because I’m extremely embarrassed about them. You see, Maisy was a pet store impulse buy. I didn’t even like dogs, not really, but I was out shopping with a friend who wanted to look at the puppies. I humored her, but mostly I wanted to get back to shopping. While she fawned over the puppies, I rolled my eyes. Yes, puppies are cute. Whatever. Can we go buy some shoes now?

And then I saw Maisy. You guys, she was ridiculously cute. She had these huge, mismatched ears, and she was just so energetic and outgoing, and somehow, I found myself with a puppy. I know that buying a dog at a pet store is wrong, and I feel awful that I supported the suffering of her mother. I hate that I contributed to the demand for “corgi-poos.” And I carry a lot of guilt over Maisy’s early life, because I know that it contributed to her fear, anxiety, and reactivity.

Maisy was born here, and while the facility looks nicer than your average mass-producing puppy mill, it’s hard to believe that Maisy received anything even approaching half-decent socialization. Her early life, with her “breeder,” was clearly wasted. Strike one.

She was then shipped to a pet store, where she lived for almost two months before worming her way into my heart. If Ian is right, and temperament is forged by 12 weeks, then she was doomed before I even met her. By the time I brought her home, the socialization period had closed. Not that it mattered much. As a reluctant dog owner, I’d never even heard of socialization before, much less understood the importance of it. That first month at home? Wasted. Strike two.

I did take her to puppy class, though. We went to a big box store, where everything was taught on-leash with very little play time at the end. The trainer was inexperienced, but she was supportive, and she coached me through those early days. I do wish we’d had a trainer who was more knowledgeable- looking back, Maisy’s budding issues were quite evident, and I often wonder what could have happened if she’d received early intervention. Still, I did my best, as did the trainer. Our efforts may have been inadequate, but I hesitate to call them wasted.

I also hate to say that Maisy’s puppyhood as a whole was wasted. It just sounds so… harsh. I know that her issues are, at least in part, due to the lack of socialization she received. I know that I did a lot of things wrong. But to say that her puppyhood was wasted makes me feel like her life is somehow worth less as a result. I know that’s not what Ian was trying to say- it’s my irrational Midwestern guilt creeping up again- but I’ve got tears in my eyes as I write this.

I love my dog. I love her with all my heart, and I will never regret my decision to buy her. Simply put, I believe Maisy and I were meant to find each other. I don’t want to sound egotistical, but I honestly believe that her anxiety and reactivity would have been far worse if she’d been purchased by the kind of owner that typically buys dogs at pet stores. Between that and her allergies, it’s unlikely she’d still be alive today without me. Maisy needed me.

But I needed Maisy, too. I’ve written about this before, but my life has been made so much better because of her. I have learned so much from her. About dogs, yes, of course, but also about life and friendship and love. I needed her just as much as she needed me.

So was Maisy’s puppyhood wasted? Probably. Do I wish I could go back and do things differently? Definitely. But this is the way things are. I may have failed her when she was young, and I may make mistakes again, but I think Maisy will forgive me. And in the end, the relationship that we have today is all that really matters.

In Praise of the Abnormal Dog

During the first year after I learned that Maisy was reactive, I wished for a miracle. I wished she could be normal. Having a reactive dog can be exhausting, and I cannot tell you how many times I’ve enviously looked at the calm dog sitting at his owner’s feet, both of them completely relaxed in the face of the scary, scary world.

When no miracle occurred, I spent the second year badgering every trainer I could find, wanting to know if it’s possible for a reactive dog to become normal, and if so, asking them to look at Maisy and then tell me when, exactly, I could expect it to happen, and if not, how close to normal she might get.

Now, two years into dietary supplements and chiropractic care and counter-conditioning and specialized training classes, I’ve accepted that no, this is not a dog who will ever be normal. Don’t get me wrong- she’s come a very long way, and I have no reason to doubt that she won’t continue to improve, but normal? Not likely.

And you know what? I’m okay with that. No, wait, I’m glad for that. That might sound odd, but it seems like what people consider “normal” for dogs falls in two groups: the kind of dog that pretty much everyone has, and the kind that pretty much everyone wants.

The first group of dogs are the average dogs who belong to the average owner. You know, the good but under-trained dogs that pull on the leash, fail to come when called, and that regularly “blow off” their owner’s commands. They might have a bad habit or two- nothing serious or dangerous, but something simply annoying instead, like chewing on shoes or stealing food off the counter. These dogs could be great with a bit of training, but are just fine without.

I could never have one of these dogs. Plain and simple, I’m a training junkie, and I’ll always have a well-trained dog simply because I enjoy the process so much. My dog might make an error or two, but she’s good enough that most people are impressed by her.

Then there’s the other category- the kind of dog everyone wants, the “perfect” dog. These are the dogs that are described as loving everyone- children, dogs, men, cats, whatever- but they aren’t over-the-top about it. They are perfectly content to lie around the house with you, and while they’re willing to go for a walk or fetch a ball, they won’t pester you when you’re not in the mood. They do everything you tell them, and do nothing they shouldn’t.

In theory, I should want that dog, but honestly, it sounds kind of boring. Look, I get that my dog isn’t perfect. I get that she’s kind of quirky, and even sort of a pain in the butt sometimes. But I love her anyway, and not in spite of her faults… because of them.

They might seem awesome, but those “perfect” dogs seem kind of robotic to me. I love that Maisy has a mind of her own, even though she might be smarter than me. She’s definitely the better trainer between the two of us, anyway- she’s a master at getting me to do her bidding. But I love that she knows what she wants, and that she can find ways to communicate that to me. Thinking dogs might get into mischief from time to time, and they might embarrass you at the worst possible moment, but they’re also super-fun to train. I never know what kind of crazy behavior Maisy’s going to offer me next, and I swear, I probably have the only dog in the world that can pivot on a perch while simultaneously play-bowing.

Having a reactive dog isn’t always easy, it’s true. Sometimes her brain falls out of her head and she acts poorly. Sometimes we lose points in competition, sometimes we NQ, and sometimes she’s so stressed at trials that I have to scratch a run entirely. But she tries so hard for me! She gives me everything she’s got, even if it’s not much. When it comes right down to it, if she never wins another ribbon, it won’t matter.

You see, her reactivity has challenged me to become a better dog trainer. It has forced me to learn more, both theoretically and practically. It’s forced me to seek out better trainers to work with, which has, in turn, provided me with opportunities I wouldn’t have had otherwise. I’ve joined clubs and met people and made awesome new friends. It has also challenged me to think more critically about my training methods, and has brought me to a truly dog-friendly way of living. The end result has been a better relationship with my dog, one built upon mutual respect and love.

Her flaws might make me cry, but her strengths make me laugh. She’s a funny little dog, and has brought so much joy into my life. She celebrates with me when I’m happy and she licks my tears away when I’m sad. She’s taught me to slow down and smell… well, we’ve agreed to smell different things, but she’s taught me to enjoy every moment we have together. Simply put, she’s made my life so much better just by being who she is. I’m glad she’s not normal.

She's on the ball!

Long time readers of this blog know that Maisy is generally a fearful dog. She always has been, ever since puppyhood. In fact, if I were to try to make a list of all the things that have scared Maisy at one point or another, I wouldn’t have room in this post to discuss anything else. So, let’s talk about just one of her feared items: exercise balls.

I purchased an exercise ball many years ago, and like most of my exercise equipment, I only use it intermittently. I used it much less after Maisy joined my life, largely because I had been previously unaware that instead of purchasing an exercise ball, I had mistakenly gotten a Large Dog-Eating Sphere of Doom.

I’m only exaggerating slightly.

Maisy did not care for the exercise ball, and would bark and growl at it… from the safe distance of three or four feet away. If it happened to move, she would run, terrified, from the room.

Over the past year, though, Maisy has become much braver. My trainer says this is because she trusts me so much, and it’s true- I’ve worked hard to build that kind of relationship with Maisy. Although I’ve made mistakes, I think that Maisy understands I will never force her to do anything she can’t handle. At least not on purpose.

But I’ve also worked hard to pair scary things with treats. Depending on the level of scariness, I will click and treat Maisy for doing anything from looking at a feared object, to walking near the object, to touching the object, to interacting with it in some way. In fact, it was just this process that helped her get over her fear of the exercise ball to the point that she could push it across the room.

All of which is a rambly preamble to the fact that Maisy STOOD ON A FREAKING BALL in our conditioning class on Monday!!

Here’s what happened: we were talking about using an exercise ball to increase a dog’s fitness level (and yes, I’ll post more about the class soon), and the instructor had each of us put our dogs on the ball just so we could get the feel of it. When it was my turn, I told her that in addition to being nervous about exercise balls, Maisy is pretty fearful of things moving under her feet in general. I said I was willing to try the exercise, but that I wanted to let Maisy interact with the ball first. I also told her that if Maisy didn’t want to stay on the ball, she didn’t have to.

The instructor readily agreed that we didn’t want to push her beyond her ability to cope, so I cued Maisy to go “push it,” and she did, no problem. In fact, she pushed it a good five feet across the room, which amused everyone, and told me that Maisy was just fine with this ball, even if it was larger, shaped oddly and an entirely new color than the one we’ve worked with at home. While the instructor held the ball very steady, I put Maisy on the ball, feeding her treats as fast as I could.

Maisy wasn’t exactly comfortable, but she wasn’t really uncomfortable, either. There were no red flags in her body language, and she took the treats without any “shark teeth”- one of the easiest ways for me to gauge Maisy’s stress level. Better yet, she didn’t struggle, and she didn’t try to get off the ball! She just stood there, eating the treats, not quite sure why I felt she needed to stand on this large ball, but willing to go along with it for tasty, tasty salmon treats.

This was something that I never, ever thought Maisy would be able to do. In fact, when I went home and told my husband about how very brave and awesome our dog is, I had to explain that yes, she actually stood on the ball three different ways for him to understand. He simply couldn’t believe she would voluntarily stand on an exercise ball! In fact, if I hadn't insisted on doing it again so I could obtain photographic evidence, I'm not sure I would have believed it either. And I was there.

Update, 9:30PM
My husband, who took the photos for this post, wanted to know why I was picking Maisy up to put her on the ball instead of asking her to jump. I said I probably could shape her to do that. It took less than 10 clicks and one judicious jackpot, and she was jumping on and off that thing like she'd done it her whole life.

The joy of a well-trained dog

Last weekend, my husband and I took Maisy to a local state park. It was a beautiful day: warm, but not too hot, mostly sunny, and perhaps best of all, while the clouds were ominous, it didn't actually rain. I call this the best part because it meant we were virtually the only people there, and as such, there was very little risk to letting Maisy off leash.

Maisy had a great time sniffing new scents, investigating critter holes and fallen logs and such, and just generally getting a chance to be a dog, but despite the awesomeness of being in a new environment, she was really good about staying close. She never got out of eyesight, and rarely went more than 20 to 30 feet before she would stop and look at us. Most of the time, she'd either wait for us to catch up, or wait for me to acknowledge her before running off again.



I also used the opportunity to practice recalls. I purposely chose times she was focused on something else, and would call her. I was thrilled to see a "whiplash" response where she would turn the second she heard her name. When she arrived, I'd give her a treat, and then send her out again, thus using both positive reinforcement and Premack.



All the recalls paid off, too, when I saw a cluster of people heading toward us on the path. Maisy saw them too, and she did hesitate before responding, but she came. I clipped her leash on, asked her to sit in heel position, and waited for the people to pass. As they did, they commented on what a good dog Maisy is. She is, of course, but I tend to take it for granted these days.

Anyway, it was a really fun afternoon. I bought a year-long pass, so I see many more hikes in our future!

Suzanne Clothier Seminar: Answering the Questions for Maisy

In my last entry, I detailed what the questions are, but I really didn't personalize them. (Seriously, folks, I'm already pretty long-winded for a blog anyway, can you imagine how much worse it would be if I didn't break these things down?) Anyway, today I want to post a bit about how answering these questions have changed my perspective on Maisy.

Question 1: Hello?
Due to our long association with one another, this one is easy. If I say Maisy's name, or any one of her nicknames (and there are many; I have no idea how she understands they all refer to her), she wags her tail. Immediately. Every time. She'll often do this when someone else says her name, too. It is safe to say that Maisy is quite willing to interact with me.

Question 2: Who are you?
and
Question 3: How is this for you?
I've combined these two questions because I think they're pretty bound up in one another, and I think my post would be far more disjointed if I didn't combine them.

For a long time, when I described Maisy, I described her as "fearful" and "reactive." Those are the two adjectives that came out of my mouth most often, though I often followed it up with "extremely soft." The problem with these descriptors are two-fold. First, they're primarily negative, and second, I'm not sure they're really all that accurate.

I've been watching Maisy's responses lately, and she's surprised me. A lot. For example, I've always thought she's fearful because she's a bit jumpy and startles easily. An unusual noise or unexpected event will make her jump backwards and perhaps tuck her tail and slink a little bit. But her resiliency is amazing; she'll often come back to that scary thing quite quickly. I've written before about Maisy's response to a wobble board. It initially startled her, but she came right back to it, and continued to interact with it. Is this what a fearful dog would do?

And in the past week, I've seen countless examples of her jumping in surprise, and then immediately calming down or returning to work. I'm beginning to think that a better descriptor for her is sensitive. The way I react to something will predict the way she reacts. Lately, I've been paying attention to Maisy's triggers, and making a huge effort not to stiffen up (this was the direct result of Suzanne's seminar, and I'll write about it in more detail soon). When I remain loose, Maisy might look at the trigger, and even take a few steps towards it, but when she sees I'm fine, she relaxes. When the trigger also startles me and I gasp or start breathing differently, or if I tighten the leash or tense my body, then she's far more likely to lunge, growl or bark. Interesting.

She is very sensitive to her environment, and to me.

I've also talked about Maisy as "not liking children," but I'm not sure that's true, either. Yesterday, she actually asked to go say hi to a strange child. We were out in the front yard, and I had Maisy off leash to work on heeling (the reward was throwing her ball), when I saw a mother pushing her toddler in a stroller. I called Maisy to me, put her back on leash, and as they came close, the mother asked if her toddler could say hi. I started to say no, reflexively, but then I looked at Maisy: She was loose, wriggling, and had a "helicopter tail." She wanted to say hi.

The important question of asking "How is this for you?" is about asking it every time the situation comes up. Will she always want to greet a child? No, but sometimes she will.

Some other descriptions of Maisy: she's funny, and loves to play. She's incredibly snuggly, and it's a rare morning that I don't wake up with a dog in my arms. She follows me everywhere, but is quite content to stay with other people she knows. In fact, although she can be a bit shy with people she doesn't know, once she meets someone, she's incredibly friendly. She's very visual, and I sometimes wonder if her sight isn't a stronger sense than smell. She's biddable, smart (too smart, sometimes!), and very willing.

And she's mine.

Question 4: May I...?
Generally, yes, I may. Although Maisy is pretty clear that she hates being groomed. Nails, brushing, baths, all of it. I try to make those times worth her while with lots of treats, but even so, she'd rather not, thank you.

Question 5: Can you...?
Most of the time, yes, she can. Intellectually, she's very smart. She learns quickly, which is both a blessing and a curse. If she's not understanding something I'm trying to teach her, it's pretty much always my fault. We used to really struggle with left pivots, until I began to hold my shoulder slightly differently. Then she nailed them every time.

Emotionally, she's getting better. She still does have some of that reactivity, but it's improving all the time. I'll have to do a separate post on this soon, but I'd say we're down from having a reactive outburst every time we're in public to about 20% of the time.

Physically... well, some days are better than others. She does have some back issues, and she sees a chiropractor and canine massage therapist who does massage, acupressure and reiki every month. These things help a lot, but even so, there are days where she's reluctant to jump. I'm learning to assess her before I ask her to jump, because if I ask, she'll do it, even if it hurts.

Question 6: Can we...?
Yes. We can. Maisy will always try for me. I am, however, aware that my reactions will affect her, and so when she fails to do something properly, I try to always look at myself first. I think our biggest obstacle to trials is my nerves, not the environment, and so I'm starting to work through those issues as best I can so that my half of "we" actually can do it.


I've learned a lot by stepping back and asking the questions on a regular basis, especially "How is this for you?" I've made assumptions that weren't true, like with the child yesterday. Have any of you guys tried asking your dog any of the questions? If so, what did you learn? Was it surprising, or just as you expected?

Because it's too funny not to share

Maisy must have been a retriever in her past life, because she is obsessed with tennis balls. I wake up with them in my bed, I get them dropped in my lap constantly, and the first thing Maisy does, well, ever, is run to get her ball.

Recently, she's begun to do something absolutely hilarious with her ball, and though it really has nothing to do with training, I just had to share.

See, usually when we play ball, she'll chase it and bring it back for five to ten minutes, at which point she'll flop down on her belly to chew on the ball a bit before bringing it back to start the game again. For the past week, however, when she goes to flop down on her belly, she does so right in front of the couch. Of course, it often goes under the couch, at which point she goes nuts trying to get it out.

At first, I thought this was an accident. But when it began to happen again... and again... and again, I remarked to my husband that for such a smart dog, she sure was acting stupid.

Tonight, I realized that this is all part of some crazy game. Over and over again, she has flopped down by the couch, very purposely pushed it under, and then gone crazy trying to fish it out again with her too-short legs or by trying to shove her too-big body after it.

And this is one of the reasons I love my crazy dog: she always makes me laugh.