THE OTHER END OF THE LEASH

I promised a post on “how much training/attention” should we be giving our dogs, and it’ll come, I promise. However, I’m a tad under the weather today, and since I wrote this part up yesterday I’ll post it now, and pick up the training topic soon. Fact is, things are pretty crazy here right now. Besides speeches (thanks SAVMA for having me!), finishing grading 150 7-page exams, new lectures, and the usual daily work load, I agreed to be a grant reviewer for NIH (Nat’l Institute of Health). They are due this Friday, then I fly to DC for panel reviews (and an appearance on Diane’s Rehm’s radio show… I just love her, so that’s a great perk.) If I’d known how much work these reviews would be, well… not so sure I’d have said yes. But it’s interesting, very interesting. But more on the training schedule issue soon, because I think it’s something that’s important to many of us.

Meanwhile, back on the farm: Shearing went off without a hitch Saturday morning; what a treat to see the sheep’s bodies without their coats of wool or hair. Turns out they weren’t as chubby as I thought, and given that they are due as early as two weeks from now, they’ll be getting more food for breakfast and dinner. High time, I’m sure they’d say. They are on extremely nutritious hay, glorious stuff rich with lots of alfalfa leaves, but the more the better from their perspective I’m sure. The day of shearing was cloudy, windy and damp, so I kept them inside the barn. Today it’s breezy but sunny and toasty (50’s!), and I’d bet that they are thrilled to be outside, in the sun and gnawing on tiny new shoots of grass. (New shoots! Bulbs poking green leaves above ground! Be still my heart; I’m almost afraid to believe that spring is really coming… of course, there will be lots more cold days, probably lots more snow, but still, the progression is inevitable and oh so welcome.)

I couldn’t resist experimenting with an old farmer’s trick passed on through a comment on the blog (thanks!) about anointing the sheep with Mennen’s After Shave before turning them loose after shearing as way of decreasing aggression. Given that last year Truffles and Dorothy looked like they were auditioning for a segment on “When Animals Attack” (see photos March 16^th, 2009) , I thought I’d try it. I didn’t have any Mennen’s, but hey, I did have Evelyn & Crabtree Body Mist (Nantucket Briar, ummm, just love the smell), and I figured that any strong scent would do. So immediately after they were shorn I backed them into a corner and sprayed them all. At first they scattered from left to right, but after a few sprays they stood still and let me spray them all over their heads and necks. Did they like it? I swear I think they did. Sheep are very quick to run away from anything they don’t like, and either they were going into tonic immobility (which is highly doubtful), or they honestly liked the smell. And, amazingly, I saw almost no aggression between them. There was a brief moment of head-on-head pushing, but that was it.

The shearer wasn’t surprised; he is convinced that it’s not a visual difference that causes the problem, but that the sheep smell different after they are shorn. Once you take off their wool, which is full of lanolin and a unique slurry of individual scents, they smell very different than they did before. (Sort of like cats when they come back from the vet clinic?) Our experiment certainly supported that hypothesis. (And oh wow did the barn smell good.). Thanks for the tip!

Here’s Redford in “ready to shear” position. Sheep in this position look relaxed, but this probably IS case of tonic immobility… their cortisol readings are elevated when they are in this position, but they do get quiet and passive, which makes shearing much more pleasant for everyone. (The legs belong to Jerry Ace, who is the best shearer I’ve ever had; he is calm and gentle, even when the sheep are not, and there wasn’t one nick or scratch on my sheep. So lucky to have him.)

The next photo is of Dorothy, my oldest ewe, with her beautiful fleece almost off. The brown wool in the middle is the top of her fleece (which gets bleached by the sun), the darker wool on the sides is the inside, skin-side, of her fleece. She and Barbie have gorgeous wool, which will go to hand spinners for cleaning, spinning and knitting.

And here’s most of the flock after shearer was completed. That’s Brittany Spears looking at you (the white one with dark legs), who is indeed a bit of a pudge. She’s the one who crawls into the feeder to get more food–a woman after my own heart.

One of the great comments on my post about the new Puppy Book reminded me that training “step by step” is not intuitive. Someone may know that there are multiple steps between a dog sitting on cue when asked in the kitchen at dinner time, versus being asked to sit when barking at the visitors at the front door. But what are those steps? And how do you know when to move on to the next one?

I thought it would be helpful to give a few examples. However, I would love it if some of the experienced readers would add an example of their own. My favorite part of writing this blog is the wealth of knowledge of its readers, and I am sure that many of the readers would benefit greatly from hearing a range of examples.

Here’s an example, using the dog sitting on cue when it’s easy for him to comply and when it’s hard (in kitchen, no distractions versus at door, company ringing door bell): Note that this is only one way to get to Step 25: There are many paths to the top of a mountain…

Step 1: Teach the dog to sit (I use the Lure/Reward method to get it started quickly) when holding a treat as a lure, with as few distractions as possible. Use food as lure, do not say “sit” yet.

Step 2: Once dog will sit as you move your hand through its ears and toward its tail, say “sit” before you move your hand.

Step 3: Modify your hand movement so that it is less of a lure and more of a hand signal, sweeping your hand upward toward your face. (This could be in session 1, 2 or 3, depending on how well things are going)

Step 4: 3 times in a row, use your visual signal (hand movement) and reinforce with the treat. The 4th time, immediately after the first 3 (assuming they were successful), say “sit” and don’t move at all. Wait for the dog to respond just to your voice.

Step 5-8: Practice using either the VISUAL or the VERBAL cue one at a time, being careful to only use one or the other.

Step 9-12: Begin to ask your dog to sit when there are MILD distractions. For example, try it outside in the yard when it’s relatively quiet or in the house when someone else is making some noise. Be sure to practice in many different places, not just the kitchen. Begin to give a food reinforcement when asking during mild distractions, and substitute other reinforcements for times when it is easier. For example, you could clap, say GOOD! (I also teach people to condition an association between a praise word and a food treat) and let your dog chase you as a game. Or throw a toy, or rub a belly….

Step 13: Start asking your dog to sit when you are by the front door, or whatever door company comes in through.

Step 14-18: Have all family members ask the dog to sit when they are greeting the dog. Put treats by the entry door so that all family members can easily reinforce the dog for sitting while greeting. Get in the habit of ringing the bell or knocking before you enter your own house, then ask for the sit. Once you’ve given the treat, squat down to greet your dog so that he or she doesn’t have to jump up to get to your face.

Step 19: Have good friends who are dog lovers AND who will listen to you (the hardest part!) start helping you teach your dog ‘door manners.’ Have only one person come at a time. Ask them to ring the bell or knock, and immediately ask your dog to sit (using BOTH the verbal and visual signals) as soon as you open the door. They ask for the sit, but YOU reinforce the dog (because you are the one with the best timing, right?!). If the dog doesn’t sit, close the door and have the person try again. Repeat 3-5 times in a row if you can.

Step 20: (Can be during the same time period as Step 19) When people come over who aren’t part of training, get the best food treat imaginable, and ask your dog to sit (not sit and stay, too hard for now!) before you open the door. Give copious treats for any positive response. If your dog tends to jump up a lot, even after a first greeting, just lure him away from the door with pieces of chicken and put him in a crate, or give him a stuffed toy once he’s made an initial greeting.

Step 21: Once your dog is sitting well when your friends come over and ask for a sit, try it with two or three people coming together (even more exciting and distracting!).  Have each of them ask for a sit, and be ready to give out lots of food as fast as you can!

Step 22: Assuming again, that all is going well (at least 80% compliance), ask for a sit before you open the door when ‘regular’ visitors come over, but this time don’t have a food treat in your hand. Explain through the door that you’ll be right with them (I always say “Just a minute! I’m training my dog to be polite to visitors!”), ask your dog to sit and if you get compliance, praise liberally and run to the kitchen and give your dog a great treat.

Step 23: As above, with anyone, but this time use your praise word and skip any primary reinforcement.

Step 24: Continue alternating primary reinforcements (especially food or toys if dog is toy motivated) with a praise word that you have conditioned.

All this can easily take nine to ten months! (Hey, it’s hard for a dog to control his or her emotions and excitement when people come over. I can relate.)

Step 25: Dog becomes an adolescent. Go back to Step 9, rinse and repeat.

I know that sitting at the front door isn’t a serious behavioral problem for many people, but trust me, for some it really is. I’ve seen so many families whose dogs were out of control at the door, which has resulted in dogs being yelled at, kicked, or stashed in crates for too long. I’ve also met lots of people who have just simply stopped having visitors because they are embarrassed about their dog’s behavior. It can be very stressful to have a dog misbehaving around company (like you didn’t know that.) Of course, there are many alternatives to problems related to greeting visitors (my favorites are training to run into another room when the bell rings, or going to a designated place, see the Manners Minder that Sophia Yin designed.)

Of course, this is just one tiny example… (and I’ve SURE I’ve actually skipped some steps, I reserve the right to modify later!) I’d love to hear from you if you’d like to tackle a description.

Meanwhile, back on the farm: On Sunday, the University of Wisconsin Vet Students interested in small ruminants came out to do pregnancy checks under the supervision of Dr. Harry Momont (standing in back on the left). That’s my girl Rosebud on her butt, getting an ultrasound through her lower belly. We didn’t get a shot of the screen, but the lambs are far enough along that the students could see beating hearts, backbones and other bones of the lambs, all due within 4 to 6 weeks. The ewes didn’t exactly volunteer, but everyone was very gentle and I doubt that any of the sheep were unduly stressed. Jim took the photographs, (thanks hon!), because I had gone up to the house, a tad under the weather and wanting to get out the raspberry/cherry/strawberry pies I’d made for everyone. Ahhh, a little bit of summer in the middle of a snowy day goes a long way!

Wheeee! I’ve been working on an updated version of the Puppy Primer for six months now, and it feels SO good to finally hold the finished product in my hot little paws. In it, co-author Brenda Scidmore and I emphasize the benefits of positive reinforcement, of letting dogs initiate the correct action themselves when possible, the importance of realistic expectations and of going step-by-step in training. That last issue is such a big one to me: so many of the problems I see people having with their dogs relate to them jumping from Step 1 to Step 25, without knowing that there should be many steps in between. For example,  there’s (Step 1) sitting on cue in the kitchen while holding a dinner bowl and (Step 25) sitting on cue when 5 people come to the door and there are 3 other dogs barking their heads off….  Don’t you think that one of the most important things you’ve learned (or are learning!) is how many steps there are in between?

I’m also happy about how the book is divided into 1) Special Topics, 2) New Exercises and 3) Practice Makes Perfect, because it helps people understand that you’re not ‘done’ with training once your dog will sit in a training class when you’re holding treats in your hand, and gets them started on a building a foundation for years to come.

The special topics include: Socialization, Positive Reinforcement, House Training, Crate Training, Handling/Collar Touch, Stopping Unwanted Behavior (so often not mentioned and such a common problem!), Helping Puppies conquer their Fears, How to Play (and how Not to), and What to Expect in Adolescence.

The exercises taught are: Sit, Down, Stand, Come on Cue, No Jumping Up, Walking Side by Side, lots of games like Fetch, Find the Toy etc, Take It/Drop It, Puppy Pause (as a foundation for Stay).

We worked really hard to keep the book user friendly and easy to read, but thorough enough to cover the most important information needed to get a puppy started out right. But, I would LOVE your feedback. There’s always a second printing . . .

Is it perfect? Oh heaven’s no. I already decided that the title to Chapter 2 is just stupid (this morning I noticed that and said “Who wrote this anyway?), and I’m sure I’ll find more that I want to change, but in general, just between us, I’m pretty excited about it. Truth be told, she says sheepishly, I am in particular a total mush bucket about the cover.

Intro Sale: I like to keep business separate from the blog, but I think some of you might like to know that the book is on sale for a week at a special introductory price. Just check out The Puppy Primer on my website. Thanks for bearing with me on this, the new book might not be of interest to some of you, but it’s really fun for all of us to have the finished product delivered from the printers.

Meanwhile, back on the farm: Still living as if on the top of a wedding cake with white frosting, snow snow snow everywhere. This Sunday a group of Univ of Wisconsin students are coming out to learn how to do pregnancy checks on sheep (not from me, I couldn’t read a sonogram if my life depended on it; I still think they are making it up when they point to something and say “See! See the grey area there.. that’s a …”. ). I’m also getting straw delivered; if I’m lucky it’ll come when the students are there and we can fill up the barn in just a few minutes! Nothing like lots of strong backs on a farm!  This all is reminding me I’d better get my lambing supply orders in. Can barely believe they are due in a month. Shearing happens next week too; it’ll be interesting to see which ewes take each other on afterward (there always seems to be a challenge between two ewes after shearing, I’ll try to get it on tape again as I did last year.)

Willie and I are loving having lots of time together, and working on some new tricks, but oh I miss having another dog around for Willie to play with. Even in the last weeks of Lassie’s life she and Will would play together a little, and I am sure that he misses it. Going to borrow some dogs from friends this weekend!

A short post today, but with a pithy question generated from the last post on play. We all agree that different breeds of dogs tend to have different play styles, with herding dogs, for example, more likely to engage in run/chase games and bully breeds more likely to wrestle and body slam. Wrestling can include many behaviors, but a common goal of wrestling in any species is to pin another individual to the ground.

A lot of the wrestling/body slamming play in canines also includes chin over, leg over, vertical play and other movements that replicate the postures and gestures associated with high dogs seeking high social status.

So here’s the question: Do the dogs (in general of course) who engage in body slam/wrestle play tend to be individuals who care more about social status? I’ll add more to this discussion next week, but tease you with research that shows that you see a lot of role reversals in chase games (one dog in front, then the other) but very few role reversals in other actions more related to mounting and vertical play.

Meanwhile, back at the farm: I admit it, I’m an Olympic junkie. I’m getting sleep deprived staying up at night for heaven’s sake. Luckily, Will has had lots of entertainment during the day–we’ve been working the sheep a lot because all 3 groups are overweight (me, Will and sheep) and slogging up the hill in the deep snow is a great work out plan; we’re working on new tricks, he’s had lots of dog friends come visit and we’re doing lots of cuddling while I obsess in front of the television. We also went into town to do an applied ethoogy demonstration for my UW class, a good experience for Willie and although I’m sure not especially enjoyable for sheep, safe and relatively stress free.

I am also hereby declaring I am sick of winter. Not the snow, not the cold, I’m just starved for color and some change to what’s going on outside. I’d never make it in Antarctica! But there is still beauty: here are some trees covered in frost one morning, not long ago. I love the contrast of the dark trunks and the crystal white ice:

Here’s one small aspect related to the question of how dogs interpret our cues:

I started listing the cues that Will responds to, asking myself if he saw them as verbs or nouns (good point by one of the readers that humans can use one word for both, as in “snow.”) I didn’t get very far before things got interesting. Remember that game that Ian Dunbar used to do in working seminars? Testing out what cues really mean to your dog?

It came to mind when I started working with Will, and I asked him to Sit when he was already sitting. He immediately lay down. Of course, you can teach through this, but I never have because I haven’t needed to. So right there…. Will and I have not defined sit the same way. I think Will defines it as an action similar to:  “Go down toward the ground,” while I’ve defined it as a posture. Right there we have a big difference in perceptions.

Lie down: When I asked him to Lie Down while already doing so, he flipped his hips and began to lay down on his side. Again, it looks like he defines it as an action (”go down farther toward the ground!”), while I tend to think of it as a posture.

Here’s another one to think about: What does “Stay” mean to your dog? My speculation is that dogs are extremely sensitive to ‘place,’ and that stay does not mean “don’t move your body,” it means “remain in the exact point in space.” I’ve come to define it that way too. If I tell my dog to Sit and Stay and he lays down, I’m perfectly happy because his behavior suggests that he has accepted that he’s not going anywhere and is choosing to get comfortable. Of course, if I competed in obedience that would be a problem, but I don’t so it doesn’t bother me. (Although I have to admit that I wish dogs weren’t asked to do long Sit/Stays.. it’s just not a comfortable or natural position for many dogs.)

Right now Will and I are working on using one hand signal for “High Five” and another for “Touch” (with your nose). He is struggling, because he anticipates so much… the second I move my hand he throws out a paw for a High Five, even if it’s his “Touch” signal. I can’t use separate hands because I’ve taught him to High Five with both fore legs, depending on which hand I hold up. Like so many highly visual dogs, he is so reactive to movement that sometimes it makes things harder rather than easier. I’m putting both High Five and Touch on verbal cues and we’ll see if that makes it easier for him. (I’m also going to tape my visual signals and see if something I am doing is making it harder. Moving my hand to the right 1/4 of an inch each time without knowing it? Could be…..)

Meanwhile, back on the farm: another 6 inches of snow or so. Nothing note worthy compared to some of the country, but pretty enough and thick enough to wear out me, Will and the sheep when we did some herding up the hill. Boy that warm bath is going to feel good!

Here’s Dorothy, impatiently waiting for me to put the &*^%$* camera away and get out her hay.

And because I am starved for color, here’s a Little Blue Heron from my trip to Florida in January. (This is one chilly bird, by the way, it was cold and rainy and the bird has one foot up to warm it and his/her feathers fluffed to capture air for more warmth. Seemed appropriate for this snowy day in Wisconsin!)

A recent comment motivated this post. It was from a veterinarian who tries her hardest to alert clients to current and potential behavioral problems, and is a tad frustrated on occasion by how few of them seem to take her cautions seriously. I am sure that other vets, dog trainers and behaviorists are all sighing in sympathy as they read this. I sure am. It is such a common problem that I thought it might be worthwhile for us all to have a brain storming session about how to handle it. All of the pro’s reading this blog know what I mean: a 3 month old puppy in puppy class who plays well with others, but growls at you as you approach. Growling at a person at 12 weeks of age? ALARM BELLS! RED FLAGS! DIVE DIVE (the submarine)!!!

So, here’s the question. If you are a pro, how do you handle it when you see signs of impending (or current) problems? If you are not in the business, how would you want someone to tell you that they saw something that concerned them?

Here are some things I have learned that seem to help, but just like everyone else, the more ideas I have the better, so I’d love to hear yours:

1. Make analogies to human behavior. This is where being anthropomorphic can actually help our dogs. I’ll say something like “Right now your adolescent dog is like a teenage son who has drugs hidden under his bed, and is hanging out with guys named Rat Sniffer and the Dude from Hell. He’s a good kid, your son, but he could go either way. He needs you to benevolently intervene so that he ends up living a wonderful life, instead of making license plates in a federal prison.” I’ll adapt the story, depending on the people… making guesses about what will best resonate with them.

2. Don’t exaggerate, and don’t bring it up until you have established a connection. They must believe that you are on their side and that you want nothing but the best for you and your dog. If something happens the instant they walk in the door, keep your mouth shut until you’ve worked with them for awhile, made gooey over their dog (as best you can) and made it clear that you want to be their helper, not someone who judges them or their dog. If you don’t feel as though you are getting through, it is always a good idea to ‘mirror’ their behavior, which means speaking slowly if they speak slowly, leaning forward if they lean forward, crossing your legs if they cross their legs.. etc. Whenever I do it I am sure that someone will notice and think I’m making fun of them, but so far no one ever has. (Until now….. when I meet one of you and you ask me at a break in a seminar what to do about your 7 fighting dogs and I can tell you don’t like my answer. Sigh. Oh well, if you notice, then you’ll know I’m desperately trying to tell you something!)

3. Talk about it from the dog’s point of view. This is hugely important in most cases. It’s how you let people know that you are on their side, but that part of your job is to try to be an advocate for their dog. Again, make analogies and use the good side of anthropomorphism: (”And how would you respond if a strange man walked up to you on the street, grabbed your head and pressed his lips onto yours?”)

4. At the same time, although this might sound contradictory, we also need to be adept at explaining how dogs are different from people. (”Well, your dog probably greets you at the door with head and tail down, licking her lips and groveling because she is using what’s called ‘appeasement’ behavior (give an example from humans), not because she “feels guilty. If you grab her collar and drag her over to the puddle on the carpet she won’t understand why and respond as if she has to defend herself.”

5. Use visuals: Have posters (like the ones from Dream Dog Productions) on your office walls that show visual signals of stress or social discomfort in dogs. Have “before and after” photos of fearful puppies hiding from visitors at 3 months, and and “after” version showing their teeth at two years.

This is a short list, and if I had more time I’d add more to it, but it’s a conversation starter… I’d love to hear your ideas.

Meanwhile, back at the farm: Finally, as of this morning, all sheep butts are red! Yeah, Redford did his job. Took 2 weeks for all of them to come in. That’s longer than I’d like (it’s nice when lambing comes to have the lambs come closer together when you have a flock as small as mine), but at least I know when everyone if due and when they are bred. (They are all due now in late March and early April. You’ll be the first to see lamb photos.)

Here was Will last week, helping me keep the flock safely away from the road.

Well, I guess I could’ve picked a more subtle title, but it does sum up my topic and attached video pretty nicely. If you are interested in behavior, and doing good ethological style observations, here’s a video for you. I had just introduced Redford the Ram (so called because he is handsome and talented but shorter than expected, like Robert Redford) to the ewe flock.

Before I go any further, don’t worry about his bright red chest, he’s not bleeding. It may look like a slasher movie, but the red stuff on his chest is “breeding paint.” You mix a powder with vegetable oil (I passed on my expensive Olive Oil and used the more moderate Canola oil, but don’t tell him) and smear it on the ram’s chest so that you’ll know who gets bred and when. Any ewe with a red butt has been bred. It’s sort of fun… every morning Willie and I run out to the barn and look for a new red butt…. (5 so far!). In this video, some of the paint has been smeared on the ewes, but he hasn’t bred anyone when it starts. We put them together, herded them into a small pen, smeared his chest and then let him out, so this is his first time back with his ewes since early summer.

The video shows him investigating the ewes to determine who is cycling, including doing “Flehmen,” a behavior in which the male sniffs around a ewe, often smelling her urine, and then raises his head and upper lip. (Lots of male hoofed animals do it, horses included) This posture apparently allows them to more easily pass the large molecules associated with oestrous into their Vomeronasal organ, a sensory device housed in the upper palate.

Redford does find a ewe in heat, and then illustrates his version of courtship behavior, which I’d categorize as something akin to “Nerdy guy performs appallingly lame foreplay.” Most rams do what’s called a “fore leg stab” in which they raise one front leg and push it into the belly of the ewe. If she stands still and doesn’t move forward, she’s ready and it’s worth using the energy to try to mount her. Redford replaces a fore leg stab with a chest pump that seems designed to put off any but the most desperate of females.

But you can see it works. What I find most interesting about the video is the behavior of the ewe in question, Lady Godiva. (She’s all brown, black face, chocolate colored… watch for her early on trying to get his attention). When I watched the video the second time, I paid more attention to her and realized how active she was in the process. She is no shrinking violet. As a matter of fact it looks like she had to work to get Redford’s attention at one point. Notice how she urinates in a place that he can’t miss, and how often she ‘wags’ her tail (and is the only female doing that–the only other time you see sheep ‘wagging’ their tail is when they are nursing, unless they are slapping off flies.)

And yes, that huge white sack hanging at the back of his belly is exactly what you think it is. No wonder Lady Godiva stood still.

!

A recent comment from blog readers brought up a fascinating issue. I’ll just introduce it here, and then continue delving into it as time goes on. Here’s the question: Is it possible that dogs who appear to be super submissive are, uh…, not? I think the answer is yes. I say ‘yes’ because I think there’s a difference between a dog being “submissive,” in the sense of not needing to be high up in the social hierarchy, and dogs who perform “submissive displays” enthusiastically.

I had a female BC once, Bess, who was a classic high status bitch. She never fought, but she did take her toy over to a visiting female once, put it down on the ground between the two of them, and then trounce the visitor for starting to sniff it. (Those of you who have attended my seminars know that this is when I learned why “bitch” is a dirty word. I remember watching, relatively new to dogs at the time, and blurting out “YOU BITCH!” as it happened.) Most visiting dogs took one look at “Queen Bess” I called her, with her high posture and regal bearing and tiara of confidence, made some canine equivalent of a curtsy, and that was that.

But one day a visiting Husky female strode up to Bess like she owned the world, and Bess immediately threw herself on the ground in a classic “passive submission” display (I know they’re lying down, but it still doesn’t seem very ‘passive’ to me when they throw themselves on the ground!). I don’t think I’ve ever seen a display so extreme: Bess flattened herself, plastered her forelegs together and her ears to her skull, and grinned like an idiot. Soon she got up and began “active submission,” licking and groveling with such vigor that we all started laughing. It was the most “submissive” of submissions, but it was so extreme it seemed as assertive as it did submissive.

I once had a university student who did something similar to me, and that’s when I coined the phrase “aggressively obsequious.” He came up after lecture, head bobbing, pushing himself into my face while grinning like a fool, and asked, between excessive words of praise, if I’d repeat my lectures in full for him after class over tea. Well, no, I wouldn’t. But here he was, asking something ridiculous of me (from, I suspect, a sense of entitlement), but using a vigorous display of submission to take the edge off.

Ever sense then I’ve noticed dogs whose “submissive’ behaviors are down right rude… lick-lick-lick in your face-face-face non stop-stop-stop. I’d love to hear more from you about this. Do you know what I mean? Those submissive dogs who are doing all the ‘right’ things, except so excessively that it no longer seems submissive at all. Have you ever had a dog like that?

Meanwhile, back at the farm: The days here are alternating between blue sky-sun-bright colors and grey-rainy-windy. It’s been almost every other day of that lately. The sun feels so sweet, and the mud so thick . . . It’s too wet now to plant the last of the daffodils I bought, here’s hoping it’ll dry off enough to get them in. It’s more of a pain to plant bulbs than you might imagine (if you live on a farm that is mostly red clay and the chipmunks and squirrels try to dig them up faster than you plant them), but the pay off in spring is worth it. It turns out that critters don’t like daffodils, so I plant my favorite flowers, tulips, surrounded by daffs and a few other species that aren’t so tasty.

Lassie and Will are doing well. The focus at the farm right now is on nutrition for the market lambs (we go to market next week, always a sobering day for me) and for the breeding ewes. Redford the studly ram returns next week, I can’t wait to see him again, I’ve missed him. Rams have an entirely different personality than ewes and I especially like Redford’s. He grew up in pens with other young rams, and I fear he’ll miss his buddy at my friends, but for a few weeks I suspect the ewes will keep him busy.

Here’s a lamb gobbling up the grass on the front lawn. It’s the best grass on the farm.

There’s no fence around this grass, but Willie is so reliable that I am 100% comfortable letting the sheep out on the front lawn (the one by the road) as Will and I watch over them. Will loved doing this last year; mostly it consists of flank one way or the other, then lie down and wait. Then flank, lie down and wait. Rinse and repeat. I think he liked it because it involved no pressure–little close contact with the sheep, little pressure. But now he seems bored by it. He truly, be still my heart, seems to be coming into his own as a working dog. He loves driving, loves holding the sheep off feeders for me, staring them down face to face, and seems to love being right on the edge of contact with them. This is a great thing, watching him take charge with confidence and finesse… it’s such a joy to watch him mature.

Don’t get me wrong. Will is still Will. He is still hyper reactive to sound (turn the page of your book? Will leaps up..), herds Sushi relentlessly ( this is not a minor issue!), would never be safe to take to a dog park, etc etc etc…. He is definitely still my ‘problem’ dog; and yet, oh oh, look at that face!

xx

4 pm: Well, the plan was to do some research on muzzle punches (and pokes, and jabs), tooth clacking and air snaps, and then write another post about them . . . but then, the sun came out after days and days of cold, windy rain. Right now it’s gorgeous and breezy and 4 o’clock and if I don’t go out now and work sheep and walk the dogs it’ll be dark before I know it. I just can’t stop myself, it’ll be cold and dark most of the day soon enough.

4:50 pm: I just got back from outside, Will and I had a ball. My ewe flock was a riot to work; one of them was on a tear (Truffles). For reasons unknown to me, she ran around bashing into other ewes as if out of a National Geographic Special on fighting mountain goats in rutting season. That sent the entire flock tearing around the pasture like deer, and Willie and I had a ball trying to keep up with them. (Is this about the ewes going into heat? The ram comes back home on November 3rd, and this time of year the ewes are definitely cycling. I can hardly wait for Redford to return, because I love watching the ewes interact with a new ram (they practically simper). Could Truffles be feeling a bit, uh, tropical and thus combative re who’s who in the ovine hierarchy?

I suspect this question will never be answered, but here’s a question you can a help me with. We’ve been tweaking the website, adding tabs to each product description to clarify things (see Family Friendly Dog Training for example) but we’re also going to change the home page. I’d be truly grateful if any of you could take a minute to look at the home page as it is now and tell us what you like, what you think would be more helpful. Right now, there are things I like about the page, and things I don’t, but I’m not saying til you do!

Just for fun, here are a few photos that I took this morning, trying to get a photo of Will and the Wubba Toy. Not easy to toss a toy in one hand and photograph it and Willie in the other! (Did I mention how fun it is to have the testing of dog toys as part of one’s job?!)

With apologies for the change in topics, I just have to respond to a comment on my last post, and to the hundreds of comments I’ve heard over the last 20 + years, about the guilt associated with putting a dog down. It is always wrenching, heart-breaking to euthanize a beloved dog, but taking a dog’s life away for a behavioral problem can be especially hard. I can’t take away the pain, no matter what the reason for the death, but here are a few things that I have found that have helped me and some of my clients.

First, for anyone who has had to euthanize a dog, I hope it helps to know that devoted owners are often wracked with guilt, no matter why the dog died. For example, I euthanized Cool Hand Luke after a long battle with kidney failure. By the time he died (he was close to death when we helped him along), I had worked extensively with five veterinarians, including specialists at the UW Vet School. He received the best that money can buy of western medicine, homeopathic medicine and chinese medicine. I cooked him a special diet every day and monitored every thing that went into his mouth. I’d go on, but you get the idea: I moved  heaven and earth for Luke, and still. . . I was wracked with guilt for a good year after his death.

Surely I had missed something? Surely there was just one more thing I could have done? One of my vets told me that Luke had an inflammation somewhere, but she couldn’t say where or what it was. I obsessed over trying to find it, and felt a crush of failure when nothing we did turned around his failing kidneys. I was consumed by the idea that IF I JUST WORK HARD ENOUGH, I could “fix” things and save Luke.

After he died, devastated by his untimely death (he was 12,  his daughter is now 15 3/4), I couldn’t get it out of my mind that somehow I should have done a better job of trying to save him.  In the cold light of day, this was, frankly, absurd. Luke had 5 of some of the best vets in the country and if they couldn’t save him, how in heaven’s name was I supposed to?

But as he always had, Luke left me with a gift. It took awhile, but I slowly began to notice how EVERYONE I talked to who loved their dog, like we all love ours, was guilty about something related to the dog’s death. It didn’t matter how or why they died: hundreds of owners, from prof’l trainers and behaviorists to the dog loving public, found something to feel guilty about. “I should have seen the symptoms sooner,” or “How could I have not known that the lock on the door was faulty and allowed my dog to run out the door?” or “Surely I could somehow have prevented the bite if I just hadn’t……”

Here’s what Luke taught me, along with the wise comments of a psychologist friend: It is easier to believe that we are always responsible (”if only I had done/not done this one thing….”) than it is to accept this painful truth: We are not in control of the world. Stuff happens. Bad stuff. As brilliant and responsible and hard working and control-freaky that we are, sometimes, bad stuff just happens. Good people die when they shouldn’t. Gorgeous dogs brimming with health, except for that tumor or those crappy kidneys, die long before their time. Dogs who are otherwise healthy but are a severe health risk to others end up being put down. It’s not fair, it’s not right, and it hurts like hell. But please please, if you’ve moved heaven and earth to save a dog and haven’t been able to… just remember:  Stuff happens. We can’t control everything. (Difficult words to dog trainers I know. . . Aren’t we all control freaks to some extent?) You didn’t fail. You tried as hard as you could. It’s okay.

To all of us: Try folding up that guilt and pain like a pile of dirty, ripped clothing, and throwing it away. Remember: Much of what we love about dogs is that they live in the present and accept what happens. That’s our job, to accept what happens sometimes, even though it’s the hardest job of all.

Secondly, there’s one more thing I want to remind everyone who has lost a beloved dog, no matter what the reason or whether there was guilt attached or not: Neurobiologist Jaak Panskepp tells us that “social distress,” or what we’d call grieving, is registered in a primitive part of the brain that is also associated with the perception of pain. I learned about this while I was writing For the Love of a Dog, and it blew me away when I discovered it. Ah Ha, I thought; no wonder we talk about the “pain of loss” and “healing” after grieving. And don’t we respond to another’s loss as if they’d been physically hurt? We take people flowers and food when they are grieving just as we do after they have a major operation.  I remember feeling physical pain when Luke died, when Tulip died, when Pippy Tay died, just as I did when my mother died. I told someone it felt like I’d had abdominal surgery. Turns out that’s exactly what my brain thought too.

And so, remember that when you lose a dog, or if you are still grieving for one you lost in the past, your body thinks you’ve been injured. It needs you to take care of yourself. It needs rest and comfort and flowers and sweet soup and gentle kisses and hugs.

As I write this, I think of my Lassie girl. Her 16th birthday party is planned for a few months from now. She’s doing amazingly well, but good grief, she’s old. Really old. It hurts to think of the future… I think tonight I’d better make some chicken soup and put it in the freezer.

Meanwhile, back at the farm: Lassie played tug with Willie this morning, oblivious as she is to calendars or human concerns about the future or the past. Willie got lots of sheep work this weekend, is a bit gimpy on his left shoulder but lordy we had fun. It’s fall in full force here: leaves turning cranberry, frost on the grass in the morning, lots of wild apples falling from the trees. Here are 2 photos from this morning, while feeding apples to some of the sheep.

Here’s Barbie impatiently waiting for me to drop apples into the feeder:

This isn’t the greatest photo in the world, but I wanted to show Martha chomping on an apple. Sheep LOVE apples, and right now Martha, Barbie and the lambs are all eating grass (from the front yard, best grass on the farm, courtesy of Will who can reliably keep them herded away from the road), a corn/oat mix, high quality alfalfa hay and lots of apples. Yum.

xx