The advantage of Brown Dogs

You can't see the mud spattered on them!!!

All this rain produces lots and lots of mud. And dogs need their exercise. How can one stop the joy of splashing through the puddles, kicking up huge splotches of mud? We humans slog along in our sensible rain boots, trying to keep them on our feet. While our dogs just do what dogs do - run and play and wallow and savor the moment.

As always, we could learn a little something.

The Unexpected

I've been going about my business, shuttling kids to and from sports events, walking the dogs, accommodating the holidays. I paused for a moment during Thanksgiving to remember that Floyd, our 14 year old Malamute had died at this time just last year. I buried my face in the closest thing I could get to his fur, a dog at the shelter. But it wasn't the same.

So I walked Charlie today, my usual route, a little later than normal. I saw an old friend walking her dog toward me. She has an easy black lab and has always been supportive about Charlie's leash reactivity. But as she got closer, and I said hi, I noticed that it wasn't Luke she was walking. And Lynn was crying.

We rushed our dogs into the dog park and shared a long hug. Luke had died over the weekend. He was 9, not old for a lab, but had had a seizure, then complications, then an inoperable tumor was discovered.

As Lynn told me about the details and processed it all over again, I thought about Floyd and Kiko and all the dogs who have shared my life. It's never easy to say good-bye.

We talked about other things and caught up on life. Then we leashed our dogs and walked.

Finally, it was time to get on with life and start our separate days. Before we could even hug and I could repeat my condolences, we were both in tears again. Lynn said that one day, she'll be ready for another dog. She hasn't been without a dog in 22 years. She said, "I'll do it all over again, because I'm crazy." But really, she'll do it again, like we all will because it's necessary and right. For us animal lovers, a walk downtown just isn't right without a dog at our side. An empty lap is just empty without a cat to curl up in it.

The unexpected, gone-too-soon, furry friends who have left us before we're ready, know that they make room, not for their replacement, but rather for the next one to complete us.

No more puppies

And now all of the puppies are gone. I'd like to report that they'd all been adopted. But no. They all died.

It was horrible. It was heart breaking. All of us learned a few things about life and death.

A few days after the first puppy died, the others stopped nursing. So I fed them by hand and Milly cleaned up after them. I brought them to the vet and everyone seemed hopeful. 24 hours later, I had one of them euthanized. It followed the same pattern: crying, wandering around, then listless and not swallowing anything. The other 2 followed quickly after.

In each case, I had so much hope that the remaining puppies would make it. I'd look at how well they were eating, or how much they were moving around and will them to be ok.

Gordon was affected the most. The boys hadn't been that involved with the puppy care. The puppies weren't really playing or interacting with people that much, so there wasn't much for the boys to do. But when I told Gordon that the first puppy died, he hung his head, long hair shielding his eyes, and sobbed for 2 hours. No matter what I said, or did, he cried. So we sat together feeling how unfair life can be sometimes. And with each subsequent death, he cried just as hard.

After it was over and a few days had passed, he was able to talk about how this affected him. He just said that it was so unfair. These puppies didn't get a chance to experience life. What was the point.

I think that this was Gordon's introduction to how little control we really have over the universe. He lives a pretty good life. And he's optimistic. If something doesn't go the way he planned it, he spins it, so that it appears to be an advantage for him. I like this about him. He makes things happen and he makes the things that happen to him work his way.

But there was no way to spin dead puppies. There was no way to explain why this happened.

Dylan was more philosophical about it. He talked to me about the polar opposites of doing everything possible to keep an animal alive and not even trying. He experienced first-hand what the animal rescue/shelter world has grappled with forever. After processing the possibilities, he said that we have a responsibility to the animals in our care to do everything we can for them until it just doesn't make sense anymore. I asked how he'd know when the animal had reached the end. He said that if the animal were in pain and we couldn't help it, or if the animal wasn't able to eat or drink on its own, those would be the signs.

I'd like to say that I'll never put us through the possibility of this happening again - there are very few things more terrible than dead puppies. But I know that's not true. I'll grab the next litter that comes along and give those puppies a chance. I'll prove that life can be fair and that we don't have to make hard choices.

Because I think that what I learned from this is that when faced with really terrible odds, I can still hope.

This week in review

My son has to do a book report - on a biography. As we browsed that section at the library, my eye caught all kinds of animal lovers' books. I thought Gary Paulsen's account of life with sled dogs would be fun for Gordon to read. But he chose Zebulon Pike. Who the heck???? I read about how a man's relationship with his dog changed from one of work to one of companionship; Gordon learned about some dude 'discovering' and mapping and blahhhhh.

Of course, I knew from the very first page that the man would outlive the dog. I knew that not all of the dog's puppies would live. I knew that there would be some terrible event in which the dog saved the man's life. I knew that the dog would have human qualities and a connection to this man like no other. I knew all of these things would make me cry. But I read it anyway. Maybe that's WHY I read it.

And then one of our puppies died and I had to cry all over again. Only this time, I was actively involved, instead of just reading about what had happened to someone else.

The male puppy, Brown Necklace Boy, started to dwindle. I woke up in the middle of the night because something just wasn't right. He was crying, wailing, like he was hungry and in pain. He wouldn't nurse. Milly tried to stimulate him, but he wouldn't. He quieted when I held him in the crook of my arm. Or when he could wedge himself between his sisters. When I took him (and the rest of them) to the vet, they couldn't really find anything wrong. He wasn't the runt, he wasn't dehydrated, they were really encouraged when he pooped all over my hand. So I left with instructions to feed him milk replacer, alternating with diluted Karo syrup. That seemed to work. I thought if I could get him to eat something, he might want to nurse again. When I filled his mouth, he'd get his tongue working. I was hopeful.

I went to bed early that night to try to catch up on sleep, but woke at 1:30 to find my little pup in some distress. He wouldn't swallow anything; he just wailed with his mouth open. Milly and I tried everything. Toward the end, she pulled him out of my arms and nestled him between her paws. She put her head on his back, to protect him? to tell me it was over? I'm not sure. Finally, his little mouth opened and no sound came out. Milly and I waited for the light, hoping and hoping.

I made some chicken for her and some coffee for me. While she ate, I took all the pups out of the box, changed the bedding and only returned 3 of them. She searched for a bit, but I think she knew.

I wrapped Little Necklace Boy in a towel and cried some more.

Puppy Fading Syndrome? I know that every living creature has its path in this world. And I know that I can't interfere with it.

From Gary Paulsen's "Puppies, Dogs, and Blue Northers: Reflections on being raised by a pack of sled dogs": ...and I hoped wherever dogs go she would find a lot of good meat and fat and now and then a run.

Adopt a shelter dog!

The Petaluma Animal Shelter had an offsite adoption event yesterday. They loaded up the Cuddle Shuttle, parked in the lot near PetCo and got lots of attention. It's a great way to bring the animals to the community. We did a bunch of adoptions.

But it's hard to bring the big dogs. They really need one volunteer to hang out with that one dog all day long. I was determined to give at least one dog this opportunity.

Who to choose? There are so many good dogs at the shelter right now. So I decided to give Hunter a chance. He's a shepherd mix. He can be a little shy with men. We're a perfect match! I'm a little shy with people...

As I was gearing up for the adoption event, I had to talk myself into being outgoing and upbeat and in a marketing mode. That's not easy for me. I'm not a small-talk kind of person. I don't know what the weather is going to do and I don't really care. I can't talk about light issues. But this day, I could hide behind the glorious Hunter! I could just be there, trying to find him his forever home.

And that's how he must feel every time someone walks toward his kennel at the shelter. He has to psych himself up to be jovial and cute and cuddly looking. Because he knows that's how he's going to get adopted. But when you've been in the shelter for more than a month, it's hard to keep your public face on all the time. So sometimes, he doesn't come to the front of the kennel. And sometimes, he just retreats and waits for a familiar face. Because that's easier.

But Hunter was in his element! He pranced around, walking up to perfect strangers with strange dogs, accepting treats and doing his tricks. Every one of us was a little shocked and very impressed.

I'd thought Hunter would last an hour or so, but he spent the whole day with the adoption group! Go Hunter!!!

But while many people greeted Hunter and commented about him, no one filled out an application form. Hunter returned to his kennel at the shelter and settled in.

Tomorrow, I'll take him for a walk and bring him into the Training Center for a little quiet time. I'll remind him about all of the people he met the other day and how his forever home is out there, waiting. We just have to find it.

End of the Week

I'm tired and it's Friday. The beginning of the weekend. The end of the work week. Unfortunately, for me, my work week is 7 days long. I'm not complaining, just commenting.

Actually, I complained aloud a few minutes ago, "I just don't have time to do everything I want to!"

Knitting. I have 6 or 7 projects going at the moment. One is portable and current. 2 are difficult lace patterns that require reading the pattern, counting and keeping close track of what I'm doing. Another is a baby blanket for perhaps a baby that I know will be born in November. But more likely for his child to be born many years from now. The others are stored in bags, shoved on a shelf here or there, long given up on.

And all I want to do is start a new project! There's this really cool autumn leaf wreath that my mother-in-law would love. Dare I start it? Dare I not?

What about Christmas presents that I should be working on right this very minute?

Reading. 3 or 4 books have places marked where I left off. They're strategically scattered around the house so that I'm never more than a few steps away from a written word. But do I have time to read? Not really.

Humans. I have phone messages from friends to return. The boys have sports stuff all weekend. I should really insist that we clean up the backyard, as a family, all together in misery, doing chores.

Dogs. Chief had a playdate today. That was great. He was gone all afternoon. I got to walk Charlie alone, then Charlie got to bask in the wonderfulness of being an only dog.

My foster dog mom is doing very well. She's a good mom, taking care of everything those puppies need. They're a week old now, moving around a little more, but still eyes closed and ears closed and just concerned about where their mom is. So I feed Milly and I let her outside and I change her bedding. Then we sit together and just relax in some quiet time.

I transported a 10 week old Pit Bull puppy today to her new foster home. She has injuries from a fight she was in. Of course she was not the instigator. I don't have many details, but the cruelty of some humans is beyond belief. There's a special place in hell for those who did this to her. She's resilient and wagging her tail and just happy to be out of that situation. Lucky. So many others are suffering tonight.

And that's why I'm tired. There's just so much to be done. But I guess we all have to do our small part and each of those small pieces adds up to a greater good. And we each have our limits.

I hope tomorrow is a cool autumn day so that we can all take some time to breath in the fresh air and let our faces soak up some warmth from the sun.

Park Days

We were all playing nicely, when suddenly a new kid entered the park. Right away, 2 little kids jumped on his back. He turned and yelled at them. None of the moms did anything. He kept yelling, this time for help; the other kids kept jumping on him. Finally, they sort of went their own ways. But the jumpee kept to himself and his mom wondered why he was out of sorts today.

Another newcomer entered the park. My kid walked up and asked if wanted to play tag. He pulled a knife and told my kid to never talk to him again. As I removed my kid, this newcomer's mom said that this was just his way of saying hi. I decided it was time to leave this particular park. This newcomer continued to greet all of the other kids with his knife at the ready. None of the moms seemed to care. They all just encouraged their kids to run around and play.

I think you've figured out that I'm describing a typical morning at any dog park. The dogs are doing a great job at communicating, but the humans are not listening. That first dog was asking for help, 'could someone please remove these unruly puppies so that I can do my business?'. The 2nd dog had no business being at a dog park. Dogs would approach him very appropriately, tail tucked, head lowered, body curved in a C. He would give no warning, but take the down by the throat, growl and snarl.

We need to improve our dog skills. We need to see what's really happening and then intervene on behalf of our dogs. If we humans had stepped in to show the dogs that we control the behavior at the park, they could have played. But instead, they all had to be on guard because no one was in charge.

We also need to improve our people skills. If this had actually happened with children, every mom in the park would have been talking to each other and to the moms of these dogs. So many times, we don't feel that it's our place to intervene when it's about dogs. 'They'll work it out.' Guess what? They work it out by fighting. Do we really want our dogs to fight at the park?

I can't tell you how many times people will tell me what to do with my dogs. They do not know me, they do not know my dogs and they do not know my training methods. Yet, they feel that watching a few episodes of the Dog Whisperer makes them an expert. (I do not like his methods, nor condone anything he does. He runs a 50-dog pack. How many of us have that problem?)

So people of Petaluma (and everywhere), get your dogs under control. It's not hard. But if we do not, we will lose access to these off-leash opportunities. Already, they are mostly inhabited by dogs who are bullying everyone else.

I feel very sad that I can no longer take my dogs to my local park during off-leash hours. My dogs love to run, they love to chase a ball. But our yard is not big enough.

And our local dog park is not friendly enough.

Hide and seek and new fosters!

We played hide and seek tonight with the dogs. What a riot! I hid in an obvious spot and called the dogs. When they found me, I gave them a treat. Meanwhile, one of my kids found a hiding spot. He called the dogs. When they found him, he gave them a treat. I changed my spot, called the dogs and they ran right past me to my previous hiding spot. Then they ran back to my son. Then they ran right past me. So I gave them a little vocal clue. Finally, they found me.

This was so much fun and a great exercise to work on recall. My kids loved it too.


Oh, and the big news is that we have a new foster family of dogs. Milly joined us a few days ago with 4 one-day old pups. She's a fox terrier, just 9 pounds. All of the cats I've owned have been bigger than that. Her puppies are between 6 ounces and 11 ounces! My last puppy litter were 3 weeks old when we got them and weighed between 3 and 5 pounds. What a difference.

Milly is awesome. She gave birth on the transport from her previous shelter. Who knows what she'd been through before that. But she's very loving and social with us. She lets us pet her and touch her pups. She does all of her business outside. She's taking great care of her babies. Like my friend says, they always tell their story eventually. I think hers included a loving home and family with kids and probably a few litters before this one.


The babies look like guinea pigs. Or aliens. Their eyes and ears are not open yet. Their feet are pink and opaque. Their bellies are huge. I've never seen anything so recently born. Except for my kids of course, and they were much more formed.

This is fun.

Everything is right in the world

Today, my foster pup found his forever home. He was surrendered 2 and a half weeks ago and I've lost a lot of sleep during that time. Is it just because I knew him with all of his siblings during his first weeks? Is it because I have his brother at home? Is it because he looked at me with those sad puppy eyes? I don't know. I guess sometimes, a person or a dog just strikes you and you feel drawn to them for some unexplainable reason. That's what happened with Zorr.

His story amazes me...

He started life with his 11 siblings on a concrete patio in Salinas. One didn’t make it through the night. A shelter took them all in, but had to find a foster situation after a few weeks. Through the incredible dog rescue network, they made their way to my laundry room. The next 8 weeks was a blur of food, poop, puppy kisses and exhaustion! Zorr went to a home, just like all the others. But then, 7 months later, his owner couldn’t deal with him any longer. She made the right decision and returned him before she neglected him. So he came to the shelter undamaged, trained, wanting and needing a family.

Since the puppies left, I’ve concentrated on training my puppy and retraining my older dog. I’m so glad to have hooked up with some great trainers who have become good friends... These months later, my boys started school and I had time on my hands. I decided to answer a volunteer call to help at the shelter with reactive dogs. Well, that’s required me to be there almost every day. And I’ve been LOVING it. I love working with dogs and making a difference in their lives. And to work with people so committed to the welfare of needy animals is just a dream.

So I was there at the shelter when a woman decided to drop off a 9 month old brown puppy from my foster litter. From that moment, this boy was under my wing, in my house, by my side, under my skin.

My wonderful trainer friends let me take him to class for free. I went this morning. I almost didn’t go – it had been a long week, I’d already walked both of my dogs and just couldn’t imagine giving more to another canine. But I slogged through. Halfway through class, Zorr got restless; we went outside for a pee break. He didn’t need to pee. He layed down on the cool sidewalk in the shade just happy to be alive and out of the barking chaos that is the shelter. He and I were just basking in the glory of the moment together. A woman in a pickup commented on how beautiful he was. I agreed and said he was available for adoption. She laughed and drove on. But she circled the block, stopped and fell in love.

She met us back at the shelter, with her husband and her son and her business partner from the ranch they all live on. They immediately took to this dog.

Anywhere along the timeline of Zorr's life, someone could have said ‘no’. No – the shelter would not find a foster home. No – I couldn’t possibly give up 8 weeks of my life for these needy creatures. No – we wouldn’t take him back. No – he can’t go to a training class. No – she wouldn’t circle the block and at least think about it. No – this family couldn’t possibly change their lives to accommodate some unknown situation.

But we all said yes, to the unknown, to the possibilities, to life. And our lives are changed forever because of it. Sleep well tonight. I know I will.

I love to walk my dogs

Really, I love it. It used to be a chore. And it still is sometimes. But if I can make time for an hour a day with each dog, then I love it.

It's a bit like going to the gym for most people - once they're there, on the machine, or whatever, they're enjoying it. I'm not a gym person. I do not like to exercise with other people. I do not like to exercise period! So why would I want to share that with others? Why would I want someone to see me all red-faced and sweaty? So I have to trick myself into exercising. Dog walking fits the bill.

And it satisfies my need to multi-task. Ever since I worked in the help desk world, I have been unable to do only one thing at a time. It's just not possible to accomplish anything if you're not multi-tasking, in my book. So when I walk my dogs, I'm getting exercise, they're getting exercise, I'm training them, they get out in the world. It's a beautiful thing.

And they're better for it. Charlie was all out of sorts yesterday because my busy schedule required that I walk the dogs at the same time. This is not ideal. It means that they both have to heel at my side until we get to a park so that they get a sniff break. I can't really do any training exercises because if I mark good behavior from one, the other will think that their current behavior is marked as well. Once I'm a better trainer, I know I will be able to do that, but right now, not possible. Anyway, it's a little tense to walk both dogs, so while they get exercise, they don't get much else.

And they deserve so much more!!! They need one-on-one attention from a human being. They may be dogs, but they're bonded and loving and good.

I did my volunteering at the shelter today. Walked/trained an awesome pit bull (one month ago, I would never have even tried). Then walked and put Zorr on the treadmill. He loves to run. He loves to do anything I ask him to. He loves.

Then I talked with a few potential adopters, trying to give them a sense of who the dogs were. Sometimes, I mentally put myself in the dogs' place, in the kennel, looking out at the folks walking by. I wonder what they're thinking. What assumptions they're making.

Then I rushed off to watch my son quarterback a middle school football game. I'm so proud. Not that he's the QB, but that he's in it. He's a good student and an athlete and just a good kid. What more could I ask.

Tomorrow's another day, sure to bring surprises and joy and sadness. Let's hope some dogs find homes.

Shelter dogs

I've been volunteering at the Petaluma Animal Shelter. I answered a request from the Volunteer Coordinator to help with reactive dogs. Little did I know what door that would open...

First of all, I've been working with Valerie, who has been in Pit Bull rescue for many years. She has so much experience and knowledge, I learn something from her every day. Yet, she's humble and approachable and really really funny. No wonder I love going to work every day (even if I don't get paid).

I've been at the shelter every day for 3 hours for the past 3 or 4 weeks. I didn't plan this, but when I saw the need and realized that my house could remain dirty forever, I just had to do it. Staff has been cut at the shelter; volunteer time has diminished. It's not a pretty sight.

So Valerie and I focus on keeping the dogs sane so that they are adoptable. For some, this means basic obedience. For others, it means reducing their reactivity to other dogs. But the bottom line is that dogs need consistency and that's in short supply at any shelter.

Second, I have been instrumental in a number of adoptions. Because I spend so much time with the dogs, I know them. So when a potential adopter comes in for a look, I can tell them about each dog and what life might be like for them with that dog. Shasta, a beautiful, but shy Malinois might never have found her forever home if I hadn't walked her a few times to know that she was shy in the kennel, but fun and full of energy on a leash. Freeway, the frustrated Border Collie found his match because I warned his new owner that his pacing in the kennel was his way of coping and that he's a dream on a leash.

And third, I was in the right place at the right time. One of my foster puppies was returned last week. His owner realized that after 7 months she wasn't bonding with him and he was more demanding than she could handle. Fortunately for everyone, she made this decision before she'd lost interest and neglected him. She taught him basic obedience and exercised him daily. That's huge for a German Short Hair Pointer.

Zorr is doing as well as he can. He's 9 months old and living in a kennel. I exercise him daily and take him on an adventure every other day (car wash, run in the park, coffee downtown). I even got my good friends at UnLeashed dog training to give him free classes.

But he really really needs an owner. He wants to curl up next to some person and fall asleep. He wants to learn agility. He wants for so much.

And he is not alone. The shelters and rescues are full. That means that the next animal that is surrendered because of foreclosure or neglect or whatever will be doubled up in a kennel or worse.

Give your dogs an extra hug tonight for all those dogs who didn't get theirs today.

Today, while driving my kids to school, the fuel light went on. Now, really, I'm the kind of person who fills the tank when it's 1/8 full. I like to know that I can make it to my favorite gas station; I even have a favorite pump. Is that so weird? Maybe.

Having to stop at a new, unknown gas station not only cost me time, but it took some mental energy that I did not have.

What's the big deal? My kids are in school, my work is under control, the refrigerator is full. What could I possibly have to not only worry about, but think about even.

Well, it was hot. And it was going to get hotter. That means, I had to walk both of my big brown dogs together, at the same time, in tandem, side-by-side. No matter how you describe it, I could only imagine mayhem. Think whirling dervish on the end of a leash. Now, multiply that by 2.

I have been walking them separately for many reasons:

1) they deserve some time apart (that puppy energy will get on anyone's nerves).

2) they're both more than 80 pounds - I really see no reason to get pulled down the sidewalk by 160 pounds of dog muscle.

3) they want their quality time with mom. Yeah, right. When my boys were young, I tried to find snippets of time to spend with each of them separately. Naps helped. But it was really impossible. Same with dogs. And they're dogs. Hello - not humans, not such needy beings. Well actually, they do have much better days when I can spend some time training and walking and paying attention separately. Can you say 'spoiled'? Can you say 'less destruction to my couch'?

So I leashed them both up. Chief spent a little time on a tie down because of his over excitement at the prospect of actually walking out the front door (it happens every day, twice a day. Should he really be that surprised?). Charlie followed me around as I prepared. He kept his eyes on me, but made sure not to get in my way. At every appropriate moment, his butt hit the floor in anticipation of a treat.

They waited nicely at the front door. They whimpered. I opened the door, just a crack to survey the sidewalk. Chief barked. Back on the tie-down. Charlie gave him such a dirty look - what I'd expect from a school kid whose friend blurted out the answer without being called on. Ok, calm, quiet, unhooked from the tie-down. I opened the door again, all was quiet on both sides. We proceeded off of the porch, onto the sidewalk.

This sounds like a military operation. And I feel like it is. I want my dogs to have only success, I want to set it up so that I'm there to intervene and make it all better.

Digression: I got a call from the principal at the boys' school today. She's pretty on top of things at school. This year, they're doing something different at lunchtime. Gordon hates it. I emailed his teacher about it. She encouraged me to have him talk to her, but she passed this all on to the principal. Totally appropriate. We all agreed that this is the perfect situation to let the kids advocate for themselves. No one is getting bullied or hurt. The kids just want something different. They can take their concerns to their teacher and principal. The sticky situation is that the teacher is new to them, so they don't feel so comfortable approaching her. But this is what growing up is all about - taking a chance, speaking up, being different and getting heard.

Back to the dogs: How could I set it up so that they both got a good walk but that they both had success? Success for Charlie would be to walk for an hour without barking/growling/snarling at another dog. Success for Chief would be to walk for an hour without pulling my shoulder out of its socket. Both of these successes requires that I walk them separately.

What a challenge! So I decided that they'd both walk on either side of me. Which meant that I would hold one leash in each hand. And last time I looked, I only had 2 hands which meant that there would be no opportunity for me to reward them with treats.

Was I crazy?

Much like I sent my son off to school this morning, trusting that he'd talk with his teacher, maybe even the principal about his concerns and end up with a successful beginning of a dialogue, I walked confidently down the street with my 2 big brown dogs by my side.

Charlie stayed in a heel with no prompting from me. Chief took a few blocks to get with the program, but he finally realized that he didn't have a choice. The 3 of us walked for 20 minutes like this, then found a park and took a sniff break (the dogs, not me...). Then we repeated the exercise until we found another park. It was awesome! A little nerve-wracking for me since I was on the look-out for other dogs or potential triggers for Charlie. But I was amazed at how well it went.

We made it home in one piece, my shoulder was not pulled out of whack, both dogs were exhausted. Isn't that the point?

And when I picked Gordon up from school, he reported that he'd talked with his teacher and they were already working on a solution. But he said I didn't need the details since he had it all under control.

Trust - it's more powerful than you think.

Dog days

Who am I kidding - most of my days are dog days. Not in the dictionary sense of the term: hot weather, lazy days. But really, my days are filled with dog stuff. Chief is 8-ish months old; Charlie is almost 4 years old. One would think that things were settled at my house. Not so much.

I'm walking them separately now since they're both so big and they really deserve time apart. But that means 2 hours a day of dog-walking. That's a bunch of time, especially since school has started for my kids and my schedule essentially revolves around their school and sports schedule. My work, fortunately, fits in around all of this.

And now that I've started giving them each their own walk, I can't imagine going back to walking them together. Someday. Maybe.

Chief is still a puppy. It takes him about the first 15 minutes of a walk to get his crazies out. He sniffs everything, zig-zagging along the sidewalk, usually behind me. Then he settles in to walk beside me (in order to get those treats) or calms down enough for me to enjoy the scenery. I'm trying to focus on doing a 'heel' with him for several blocks during our one hour walk. That seems to be fine with him.

Charlie has been a challenge. We adopted him at 5 months old to keep our Malamute company. We'd just lost our older dog and the whole family was out of sorts. Charlie did well, as long as Floyd was around. But once Floyd was too old for long walks, Charlie started to react to every dog he saw. I didn't have a clue about what was happening. In hindsight, I believe that Charlie didn't trust me to take care of him the way Floyd had. He was right. I wanted Charlie to meet other dogs, to have some doggie social life.

After 6 months of tips and training at UnLeashed, I now have a better understanding of dog behavior, especially with my own dog. Charlie would be happy to never meet another dog again, as long as he lived. (And here I was trying to get him to 'like' every dog he met.) So we have definite routines for Charlie. He only goes to the dog park when there are very few dogs there. And he has to have a job to do - chase his ball! And he will be removed if he gets tense and stiff and territorial about the place. When we walk, we will always cross the street when we see another dog. We will do some 'sit' 'wait' 'down' when a person is walking by. I have also promised that he will never meet another dog on leash, ever again, never ever ever.

At first these things seemed like a lot of work. I wished that I owned an easy dog. But now that I have the hang of it, I realize that I've learned so much. And my relationship with Charlie has deepened. He and I have connected in a way that's different from other dogs I've known. We're a team.

When we adopted him, I had no idea how this would all play out. I had no idea that I would be immersed in dog stuff to the extent that I am. I'm no expert, but I'm more aware of dog behavior so that I can give my adopted dog the kind of life he deserves.

Nose work

Dogs' noses are so much more sensitive and capable than ours. I'm sure we can all recount a story to illustrate our pooch's incredible (to us) ability to smell a steak on the grill from miles away. I'll confess, there are times when I'd just like a little spoonful of peanut butter to get me through the morning. I creep into the kitchen, quietly open the frig, remove that precious jar. No matter how quiet I am about opening the lid, I know I'll have 2 begging dogs by my side in no time. They do not respond the same way to lettuce. Not that I test them with lettuce too often...

Nose Work is a relatively new sport for dogs and handlers, based on the law enforcement world's dogs sniffing out drugs and other contraband. At their best, these companion dogs sniff out tins of scent like birch in a room or field.

I participated in a Nose Work workshop with Charlie a few weeks ago. It was perfect for him. Even tho he's fine in a training class and he'll tolerate leashed dogs on the other side of the street, he's much happier without lots of other dogs around. With Nose Work, each dog does his run alone! In the beginning, we used lots of different cardboard boxes. The dog's handler holds the dog on one end of the row. The 'hider' shows the dog a closed pouch full of really smelly treats, leaving one treat on the outside. The hider then pretends to place the pouch in some of the boxes finally hiding it in one. Depending on the dog's experience with the exercise, the hider even tries to trick the dog. Then the handler lets the dog go and the dog much sniff out the treats.

It might sound simple. But the way scent travels on air currents, actually makes it a challenge for the dogs. First time out, the dog will usually investigate the last box that the hider touched. Then the dog might make a big circuit around the room. But eventually, the dog will get to work and look in each box for the treats. When they finally find it, they're self-rewarded with the treat on top of the pouch. Then the handler opens the pouch and feeds more treats from the pouch.

This is a very good exercise for dogs. It really works their brains and their natural instincts to search, based on scent. It's also pretty cool to watch different dogs go to work. And sometimes the air currents mess with the scent and send the dogs searching high when the treat is low.

Charlie and I have had a good time with this at home. It's cheap and easy (think rainy days) and make the dog work a little.

So I wondered what it would be like to give some Animal Shelter dogs a chance to try. Charlie at UnLeashed helped me work 3 dogs at the Petaluma Animal Shelter.

Scout, a terrier mix was all over us at first, pushing at our hands, jumping, trying every way to get some human attention. But once he picked up the scent and got his first reward, there was nothing we could do to trick him. On his 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th runs, he was all business, waiting patiently for us to say 'go'. Then he followed his nose straight to the treat pouch! It was so fun to watch his brain engage.

Nikita, a deaf Akita was our next participant. Have you ever worked with a deaf dog? She knows some hand commands, but she's had a rough time. Charlie and I continued to speak to her because we knew that our body language and face would convey a message. Nikita caught on quickly. She tended to circle the room a few times, catching the scent high and then following it back low to the box. She was also determined to stay in that room! She loved this game and it was hard to make her stop playing.

With Ziva, a 14 week old pitt/rottie mix, I learned the most. At first, she had no interest in the boxes. She just wanted to stay near the people and lap up attention. We ignored her (almost impossible with this adorable pup!). Then she'd pick up a scent, follow it for awhile, get distracted, walk right by the treat. But when she picked up the scent and was close, she'd whip her head around and follow it right to the box and the reward. I could almost see the path that the scent was taking, just by watching her progress.

We have a pretty awesome animal shelter in Petaluma. Not only do they care deeply for every animal they help, but they welcome us all to be a part of it. I can only hope that the lives of 3 dogs were enriched by our little games. I'll go back again next week to play!

What the heck?

Charlie had an interesting day. I took him and Chief to the dog park this morning. I usually don't go in the morning. I'm not really a morning person and without a few cups of coffee, I can't make polite conversation. But I was tired this morning, so I didn't want to walk.

Charlie and Chief chased the ball. Chief played with another dog. All seemed fine. Until Charlie spotted a Boxer on leash, outside of the park with his owner riding a bike. I really pay attention to Charlie - he's sensitive and reactive. But he presents these attributes by making the first strike: lunging (on leash) and barking. When Charlie perks up his enormous ears, I make him focus on me. He can hear a dog coming a mile away. But there are just some dogs that he cannot trust me to protect him from. Boxers are one of those breeds.

He's been attacked a few times by Boxers and bully breeds. I think he remembers this.

So he saw that dog, who he's seen before. We've met the dog/owner-on-bike pair on the sidewalk before. They ride by fast, but it's still a surprise when they vacate the sidewalk to let us walk by.

Charlie ran out of the park, chasing the pair. I called his name. He looked at me. He kept running with hackles raised. Chief followed him. My heart was pounding (does that count for a cardio workout?), but there was no way I could catch them. In 2 seconds, they were both back in the park. There had been no growling, snarling confrontation. Charlie came right over to me. I made him do some sits, downs and finally a down stay. He focused his eyes on mine for 2 minutes. That's a long time.

While he was staring at me, dog and biking owner rode by the other side of the park. Charlie stayed right in front of me, staring, focusing on me. Incident over?

I threw the ball a bit more for Charlie, but then a different Boxer came into the park. What the heck? I grabbed Charlie's collar loosely, but kept him by my side. This Boxer was young, played with Chief for a bit and the other dogs. When he got near Charlie, Charlie would growl. I decided that we needed to leave the park. But as I was getting the leash on Charlie, the Boxer's owner struck up a conversation with me. I tried to explain that Charlie had been attacked by other Boxers. He was incensed that 'his breed' could be aggressive. He kept telling his dog to stay away from my 'mean dog'. But really, he didn't have control over his dog who was interested in Charlie and kept approaching him.

I don't blame the owner or the dog. Dog parks are off-leash heaven. His dog was running and playing. My dog just didn't particularly like that behavior from that particular dog. And I was doing the responsible thing by leaving the park.

But why do I feel like the pariah? Every other dog owner who I'd been chatting with, moved away from me as soon as this interaction took place. They all started making comments about my dog. I knew my dog well enough to avoid any kind of incident. I was removing my dog from the situation.

Should I never take Charlie to the dog park again?

Tonight, I walked both of my dogs, separately. (That's 2 hours of walking!) Charlie was awesome. He stayed by my side when I asked him to. He calmly walked by other dogs on leash. He looked to me for all of his cues.

Everyone has their own perspective on dog behavior and what it means. We humans tend to anthropomorphise. What's really going on? Maybe my dog just doesn't like that other dog. And maybe he doesn't feel the need to hide his feelings.

I just have to stop caring about what other people think about me, my dogs, and my perspective on dogs in general.

And I thought if I owned dogs I wouldn't need a therapist.

Foster Kittens!

I picked up 3 foster kittens from the animal shelter yesterday. They're black and white females, soft and a little shy. They got settled in to their giant crate last night, complete with hammock, litter box, food and toys. Today, Gordon and I let them roam around the laundry room and play.

I love to watch kittens playing! They are so intent on the string or ball or whatever. They jump sideways and forget that anything else exists in the world.

And I love to hear my son cackle with joy as he reports the antics of these little creatures.

Gordon and I are having an interesting summer. He's 10, but thinks he's 15. He craves independence, but forgets to brush his teeth. His favorite expressions seem to be centered around challenging me, "But mom..." "Don't say no until you hear the whole thing" "Why" "Why" "Why".

I'm letting go as much as I can, but I resist. How do I stay connected with my boys as they become young men? Do I learn about their passions (sports and video games), or do I force them to embrace mine (animals and knitting)?

As with so many things, I guess it's somewhere in the middle. These foster kittens help.

What is play?

I spent my weekend at a dog seminar, surrounded by humans who love, live, breathe dogs. It was awesome!

Sue Sternberg talked to us for 2 days about dog to dog aggression and dog park behavior. Not a coincidence. Sue is very entertaining, relying on video clips to support her theories. But the piece that I liked the most is that she continues to ask questions. She's been involved in the dog world for 25 - 30 years and is still asking questions. That makes sense to me. It doesn't matter how much or how little experience you have, you should always be asking questions.

Sue's latest question is: What is play?

Does that not seem obvious? Haven't we all figured that one out by now? Well, actually, I don't think we have. Sure, there are plenty of definitions:

engage in activity for enjoyment and recreation rather than a serious or practical purpose
amuse oneself by engaging in imaginative pretense
play, by definition, is fun. When play stops being fun it stops being play.

We could list definitions forever. But could we recognize play when we see it?

I remember as a kid, my uncle was the 'funnest' guy in the world. He played with all of us and everyone had fun. Except for me. He scared me. He played hard. He played on the edge. And I didn't like it. I was not having fun. So was it still play?

We take our dogs to the dog park so that they can play with other dogs. Are they all having fun? Is the dog who is being chased by 3 other dogs, really enjoying it? We need to read the body language.

And over time, do our dogs learn to tolerate 'play' and maybe even change who they are because we demand that they 'play'?

So many questions.

We adopted Charlie when he was 5 months old. One of our dogs had died a few weeks before and Floyd, our malamute really needed to live with another dog. (Red flag: should you really get a dog to keep your other dog company????) Things were great until Floyd was too old to go on walks. Looking back, this was a turning point; but at the time, I did not have a clue. Charlie and I would walk every day and he got worse and worse on the leash.

What does that mean? He lunged and barked at other dogs that we'd see along the way. It started with just one dog, then grew to most dogs. He was ok at the dog park as long as he chased his ball. Looking back, I think he missed Floyd's protection; his cues about how Charlie was supposed to act on leash. And I think Charlie didn't trust me to take care of him without Floyd.

So I got help. UnLeashed - an incredible training group, diagnosed what I thought of as aggression and helped me get Charlie back on track.

Basically, Charlie is a wimp and would be happy to never meet another dog ever again as long as he lives. But he has to walk and he does go to the dog park (maybe not for long...), so he needs some options. I've built a relationship with him so that he can focus on me rather than other dogs on the street. It's going very well.

But what is this all about? Why do we ask our dogs to meet strange dogs in the dog park and "play" with them? Would we ask that of our children? Of ourselves?

Why do we have dogs?

It would be good to be a dog

My dad used to say that if reincarnation actually existed, he'd want to come back as my grandma's cat. That cat had the life - fresh fish and liver poached to perfection twice a day, a velvet cushion to sleep on, my grandma doting on her.

But sometimes, I think it would be good to be a dog.

In the years since my boys have needed less attention from me, I've transferred that attention to the dogs. My dogs haven't reached the cushy status of my grandma's cat, but they do have a pretty good life.

Someone feeds them twice a day. Just think about that! They never need to plan a menu or think about balanced meals or nutrition. The food just appears for them. I could live with that.

They get out of the house every day for a new adventure. Sometimes, they go to the beach, sometimes to the park, sometimes for a walk (with varied routes), sometimes to training class. Someone else is thinking about their exercise needs and making exercise fun and exciting. I could live with that.



They have plenty of toys. Oh, the toys they have. They can choose any toy from the basket. Chief even steals toys from the neighbor dog. At first I thought my husband was buying the dogs toys - so thoughtful. But then when the neighbor kid noticed that we had all of their toys, I figured it out and spied on the dogs. The neighbor dog brings a toy to the wire fence. Chief smiles, grabs and runs. I'm pretty sure he doesn't even say thank you. I could live with this - my neighbors have better stuff than I do!

I dredged up something from my parenting past the other day. Chief was chewing on his favorite squeaky toy at 6am. This is no ordinary squeaky toy; it's indestructible, which means he can't tear it apart to get the squeaker. So it squeaks and squeaks and squeaks. Before 2 cups of coffee, it is unbearable. Well, I took it away. It now lives on top of the piano and he only gets it after performing some phenomenal trick and only after 10am. And then for a limited time.... (not sure I could live with someone controlling my toys).

The dogs are expected to sleep a lot during the day. Really, after a walk and some food, my dogs need to lie around and relax. I might throw some training sessions into their day or give them a bone to chew. But I do expect a good amount of napping. I could definitely live with this requirement.

Today, I witnessed some moments of pure dog pleasure. I was trying to balance taking the dogs to a training class with their need to go for a walk. I thought that I'd take them for a short walk so that they wouldn't be too tired for training. But if we walked through the park, they could get a good off-leash run and do their business. As we approached the park, I noticed a baseball game convening. But they weren't even ready to warm up and there were some dogs off-leash on the opposite end. I let my dogs go. They ran and played a little. I leashed Charlie, ready to resume our walk through the neighborhood. As I turned to grab Chief (he's only 7 months old...), a swallow caught his eye.

Chief is part German short-haired pointer and part lab or hound. He loves birds. Not to watch or identify or add to his life list. But to chase. The swallows at the park are very nice. They tag team so that he's chasing one, then another, then the first. They never leave the fenced area. Chief gets a great work out.

But there were baseball players ready to start. Chief didn't seem to notice. Or hear me calling him. He may be young, but he has a pretty good recall, especially because he knows that whenever he shows up in front of me with his butt planted on the ground, he will definitely get a treat. But that swallow was just too enticing. So I called him and chased him (stupid human). I threw a handful treats in his face. Nothing deterred him. Finally, after I entertained the baseball team and fans, Chief flopped to the ground, exhausted. But the smile on his face told me that he'd had the time of his life. He was as happy as a kid in a candy store.

I could live with that.

Not my dogs

They're really not my dogs. I mean, they're mine in the sense that I walk them and feed them and train them and think up interesting things for them to do. But I didn't choose them.

Charlie came to us after my forever-dog died and our malamute was lonely without her. About the same time, my son really needed something furry and cuddly to whisper his secrets to. Chocolate Charlie didn't 'speak to me'. I would have adopted the deaf Australian Shepherd, or the unruly German Shepherd. But Charlie and Dylan hit it off, so we brought him home.

I tried not to make him my dog. I tried to get everyone else involved with his care. I was still mourning the loss of Kiko and didn't want a replacement for her. But in the end, Charlie looked to me for guidance because I was there? Because he thought I needed him? Because he needed me? Not sure.

Chief was part of the litter we fostered for the Animal Shelter. My husband picked him out on the first day when he was just 3 weeks old and really wanted to keep him. I put my foot down, wanting an older dog, a female, a dog that would really be mine. Chief was the biggest, the first to get tired of his litter mates, the first to escape the enclosure, the first to get adopted. But a few days before they all were supposed to go to their new homes, his new family decided they just couldn't do a puppy. So I made a snap decision and we kept him.

Now these 2 brown dogs, that I did not choose, who are not the kind of dogs I'd ever adopt, are mine. Every day we have a new adventure together.