Champion of My HeartA real-time memoir about life with a fearful border collie, by Roxanne Hawn

Ridgeback Video

I knew Lilly and I were making progress, though, when she began using a front foot to hold the toy down inside the basket once she placed it in there.

However, my fear is that she will learn / believe that the foot action is the thing I’m clicking. It’s so similar to the cardboard box game, where sometimes she gets rewarded for sitting in the box. Other times, it’s putting just her rear feet in the box, etc.

I’m sorry there isn’t video of our tribulations, but by the time I eek out some clicker time, trust me, I’m not camera ready.

BUT, if we get the trick solid, I’ll be sure to get a clip of that so that we can brag.

We had fans and heaters going to dry the floor. We had a gaping hole in the bottom cabinets, where the old dishwasher once sat. We had tools and towels, wrenches and water, and a couple of grumpy people clomping around for a little over a week.

You see, she gets very worried, slinks away, and worms like she is the most fearful dog on the planet when I try to wash her face. (Tom lets her lick the bottom of his yogurt cups, and her nose gets crusty from the yogurt, if I don’t wash it off.)

So, any time she saw me near the sink with a wet rag, she thought she was in for. After a few days of no face washing, she got less worried. It helped that I kissed her and gave her treats for approaching me and even hanging out while I did the dishes.

I’m happy to report that Tom installed our new Bosch dishwasher this morning. This beauty is heavily encased in a rubber-ish shell that provides serious sound dampening. The only thing you can hear when it is running is a little swish-swish of the water. It’ll be interesting to see how Lilly copes with that.

Lilly sniffs less during the out part of our out-and-back route. The distance gone before turning around does not matter. If we go all the way to the ridge, where we can see the Continental Divide, or if we merely go to the top of the first hill, she sniffs more along the edge of the road on the way back. So, it isn’t time or distance. It’s retracing our steps that causes her to sniff more.

That seems counter-intuitive to me. Any ideas on why that might be?

I also work hard NOT to tug, cajole, or otherwise convince her to move on. Whereas Tom regularly hurries her along, I consciously let her sniff because I learned during research for a magazine article I wrote recently on keeping a dog’s mind busy that dogs truly live their daily lives awash in smells of all kinds. Where we typically live in a visual reality, dogs live in a scented one.

Think if it like a constant news ticker running up their noses and into their brains. It’s like a CNN news crawl inside their snouts. Or like learning a foreign language in your sleep, or listening to books on tape while you drive.

At the same time, though, she knows (I hope) that I understand that the mental work of sniffing is as much fun and as important as the walk itself and time together.

It’s an action now known as “to Blagojevich” because for some people something is NEVER enough. As I noted in the comments, I’ve had people get mad at me for handing over treats without asking the dog to “do something.” And, honestly, if Lilly is being a mooch, I’d prefer she do something for the food (thank goodness for her strong default SIT), but it made me wish we had some secret handshake or mysterious code phrase with which to discern our kind of dog people from the rest.

What are we Free Treaters? Bait Baggers? Praise-o-holics?

Maybe we need a secret agent code question along the lines of this welcome mat to ID each other … because so much of our hard work proceeds in microscopic increments that are likely invisible to outsiders.

Or I ask, “What’s inside a Kong?”

And, you reply, “The gift of time.”

Or I ask, “Who whispers in the night?”

And, you say, “Only that idiot on TV.”

Maybe we should all wear discreet lapel pins shaped like +R (for positive reinforcement).

Be it from an abundance of networking (social and otherwise) or from the waves of scary-life things, I’m more attuned to the power of and my need for a certain brand of togetherness.

I recently learned, for example, that if one Mini Cooper driver flashes her lights at another Mini Cooper driver it’s called “winking.” So far, most that I see on the road wink back. Silly, I know, but it’s a happy little exchange in a world that can be otherwise much of the time.

Until then, I just cannot get enough of escape fantasies involving dogs. You know that running joke disguised as self-help wisdom — Go to your happy place? Well, if I could just curl up with these pups for a while, I just might muster up my better self.

Shocked, I am. I figured all the change would unhinge her.

We even moved the dog crates into the garage (temporarily) because the concrete sealer we’re using in the unfinished basement reeks. The baby gate upstairs remains vigilant, but the few times Lilly followed me upstairs she managed NOT to hurt and scare herself on the exposed tack strips. (New carpet went in upstairs yesterday.)

Lilly does seem confused, though, especially since her crate is ALWAYS on the right and Tom put her on the left in the garage. When we let them out in the morning, they both run inside the house … rather than to the dog pen door. Just my luck, she’ll adjust in time to move back down into the basement.

It’s been noisy, smelly, and pretty stressful as we race the seasons to finish a few home improvement projects.

In the same vein as my need for a smaller car, I’m also purging “stuff” like mad. Clutter stresses me out. There is something empowering about getting rid of things you don’t need, even if at some point you thought you did. We’re not quite done (still have about 1/3 of the basement to go), so I cannot celebrate yet, but it does feel amazing and lighter around here.

More than likely we’ll just finish our basement tasks as planned, but it is tempting to turn what used to be my yoga room into a dog-proof, industry-grade dog suite.

For a decade now, I’ve written feature articles and facility profiles for the Pet Care Services Association (formerly the American Boarding Kennel Association). Many times each year, I pour through pages and pages of information and do phone interviews with petcare centers around the world about how they designed their spaces and their services to serve pets in their communities with training, boarding, daycare, and other spa services. (Grooming is such an “old” word … as is “kennel” for that matter.)

That said, I could probably design quite the “dog room” in the basement, which could serve as a safe, impervious spot for elderly and/or young pets in our future.

The study explains that dogs make various sounds howls to trigger canine gathering, whimpers to request care-taking from adults, and several noises during play (bark, growl, whine, and this sound believed to be dog laughter). The authors explain, “Although, most dogs will utter these four patterns of vocalization during play, only the laugh appears to be exclusively produced during play and friendly greetings, and not during other encounters.”

I began a discussion on Twitter recently by posting a note about how calling someone a “Dog Whisperer” is considered an insult in some circles, including mine, because of the total-crap training that’s become associated with the term. It’s a shame that canine intimidation has come to mean “whisper” since the truth is that actual whispers may just be a good thing.

The study’s authors go on to say, “Humans can initiate play with dogs by using whispers. Rooney et al. (2001) recently reported that whispering as a play signal by humans to dogs elicited a 56% success rate when used alone. When used in combination with other more overt play signals, such as a play-bow, the success of a human-canine invitation to play was augmented significantly. Perhaps, the whisper is a close approximation to the dog-laugh. When humans whisper they produce a pronounced forced breathy exhalation through the mouth.”

After testing the playback of dog laughter sounds in the shelter, researchers concluded the following:

“The young puppies (approximately 4-12 months of age) offered play-bows and dog-laugh vocalizations during the playback. Adult dogs offered responses of orienting and vocalizations of barks and dog-laughs during the playback. Dogs between 1 & 2 years of age oriented toward the sound in silence, usually wagging the tail in a medium pace back and forth at mid height. Dogs over 2 years of age oriented to the sound or the experimenter and assumed the down or sit position.”

And …

“This study suggests that the dog-laugh vocalization diffuses stress related behavior and initiates pro-social behavior in shelter dogs, thus potentially reducing residencies at the shelter before adoption.”

I may just have to add this sound to my repertoire of social encounter chatter. Instead of telling Lilly to “say Hello” or “be gentle,” I may try ah-ah-ah when she shows interest in engaging another dog socially. I’ll try it at home and with dogs we know first. I’d love to be able to condition “pro-social” behavior in my socially challenged, fearful girl.

If it works, I may have to invest in the dog laughter CD for use at home — both for general calming and for training purposes.

Compare this from a couple weeks ago …

To this timid body language on Sunday

Notice the ear and tail position

Look at this squinted, worried face

All in all, she coped well with the unpredictable dogs (4 out of 6 in this photo), as long as she had enough distance.

We went through an entire chicken breast, two buffalo hot dogs, and about 10 ounces of cheddar in this one-hour class. Lilly did everything I asked really well, including:

A reactive Lilly means she is nervous, but confident enough to say something about it. Now, we just have to build her confidence to where she isn’t nervous AND she doesn’t feel the need to say much about what she sees as an affront to her world — like a kid rolling by or a young dog being a young dog.

I didn’t fully recognize how worried she was until we stepped into the sunlight as we walked out of the heavily treed park. I swear it’s as if stepping into the light released her from fear. It reminded me of that scene from The Blues Brothers, where Jake says “I have seen the light,” then proceeds to do a bunch of dancing and gymnastics (or so it seems).

As soon as we got away from our classmates and into the sun, she began leaping as high as my head — which is what she does after “surviving” something scary. We call it “jumping her jitters out.” Then, she made a b-line … I mean dragged my sorry behind to the car. That, friends, is a b-i-g sign.

So, there is your tip for the day. See how your dog responds after the situation has ended for a good indicator on how big a issue it was (despite what you saw in the moment in the dog’s behavior).

For a good example of this, check out Laurie Luck’s Smart Dog University‘s video and blog post called Talos + the Freight Elevator. Talos is a service puppy in training. He will provide physical stability, kind of like a canine cane. He took a ride in a noisy freight elevator as part of his ongoing socialization work. He is nervous to be sure, but watch his exit at the end of the 3-minute video. He is not hot-footing it, which means he was coping pretty well.

I could post the video here, but I find Laurie’s blog so helpful as she chronicles the socialization work I sorely wish Lilly had had as a youngster. Plus, Talos … a great dane … is a total hoot to watch.

***

Now, you know why I decided Lilly could have her big bison bone on the way home from class. She deserved it. Later, we went for a walk in town before heading back up the mountain, and Lilly walked within mere inches of a college-aged guy on a skateboard without flinching. Honestly, I didn’t see him. He was at the back of a pack of what appeared to be frat guys doing some trash cleanup along the creek. He was rolling very slowly, which helped a lot.

He often says his pillow smells like Lilly and that it makes his eyes water. Or, when I rave about how fresh she is after a bath, he says he only smells soap PLUS Lilly. He uses more colorful language than that, just so you know.

I can only assume that we each perceive smells, like colors, in different ways.

During our trip to PC’s Pantry, I grabbed some rosemary-scented “deodorizing” shampoo from Earthbath. I figure with cold weather coming … perhaps I can appease Tom’s nose somewhat. And, who doesn’t love the smell of rosemary?

So, the weekend’s happy, happy carnivores got baths.

We refer to this as the canine version of Bed Head. It’s known as Bath Butt at our house.

Once the dogs dry, I give them a vigorous furmination, and all is well. Even Tom said Lilly looked SUPER SHINY that evening. You can kind of see that below. I like to think it’s a sign of good health.

I’ll have to dig around. I made a big batch of dog soap years ago that had MANY kinds of oils and skin conditioners in it. I might have a few bars tucked away somewhere, but in the meantime, I really like this new dog shampoo. It’s called Mediterranean Magic. Ooooh La La!

Now, I’m going to tell you one of the big, fat secrets of my life. I am allergic to dogs (and cats). THERE, I said it.

However, I’m willing to keep eye drops, antihistamines, and inhalers in the house so that I can live with dogs because I literally cannot imagine life without them. Like air, like food, like the blood pumping through my veins, these canine souls buoy me.

It’s worse in the summer/late fall, but more because they bring pollen in the house on their fur. Usually, though, in the winter, I don’t have to take any medications. I just accept that I’m a little stuffed up most of the time. I accept that sometimes when we cuddle, my eyes water.

I feel sad when I hear about allergic people going without dogs. There was data presented back when I sat on the board of the National Council on Pet Population Study and Policy that showed allergy doctors often recommended people get rid of dogs (or cats), even before they knew if there was indeed an allergy to the animals themselves.

When I was a kid, I had those awful tests … where they poke allergens into your skin and measure the results. Two separate times, they poked me 100 times in my back and 22 times in each arm. It turned out I was allergic to pretty much everything they tested, including something called “smut,” which cracked me up. I had years of allergy shots, and things are much better now than when I was a kid. Before they figured it out (at age 13), everyone just thought I was sick all the time.

So, I’m allergic, but I share my days, my nights, my heart with dogs … who I think smell pretty darn good.

P.S. Personally, I think the “hypoallergenic” dog thing is a crock, but if anyone else would like to weigh in, please do.

Honestly, I’m somewhat careful when it comes to bones. I allow bones every few months. The reason? I recently interviewed Dr. Kate Knutson from Pet Crossing Animal Hospital and Dental Clinic in Bloomington, Minnesota, for an article in the summer 2009 issue of HealthyPet magazine.When I asked her about it, she basically said that dogs can chew onbones as long as you are willing to get any dental damage fixed, if ithappens. She understands that many of us consider chewing on bones aquality-of-life issue, so we balance the risk against the reward.

She did warn me about some dog chews you’ll find on the market: “Thereare a couple things I say no to,” she told me. “No hooves, no ears, norocks, and no pizzle (bully) sticks. Those are the fourthings that cause the most root canals in our practice.”

So, with those warnings and caveats in mind, I went ahead and got some big, meaty, raw bones for my pups.

Lilly enjoyed hers on the way home.

I even managed to give Ginko a bath. He never once stopped playing with the bone. Sorry there isn’t video of that, but I was home alone at the time.

A debate in the following days cropped up about bones coming in the house. The people here at Chez Champion of My Heart vetoed the idea. But, the canine members of the family are ever hopeful.

Again, I wish I had video of it, but Ginko stood outside my office Monday looking forlorn. So, I went to let him in. He got the biggest smile on his face when he saw me. But, before he came inside, he raced around back to get his bone and came running up to the door. When I told him to leave it outside, Ginko gave me the most hurt look.

So, we’ve been working a lot on DROP IT and LEAVE IT as they come inside.

Lilly remains optimistic that her powers of persuasion will prevail. “Pleease, Mom? Please?”

DANGER
One of the dogs at issue eventually bit off part of his owner’s thumb. Seriously. Chomp. We know this because an EMT friend went on the 911 call. So, I count us lucky to have gotten past this big dog who kept squaring off without injury.

There’s a whole comedy of errors that goes along with the severed thumb, but I’ll spare any of you who may be squeamish.

IMPROVEMENTS
Of the four houses with dogs of concern, only one remains an issue. The others have either moved away or are finally restrained away from the road. Once in a while those two spaniels come after us, but lately, they keep their distance. Oh, they still race toward us, barking and growling … but they stop about 20 feet from us. Their owner now calls them as soon as he sees us coming, or he recalls them even after the chase is on. It took Lilly a while to adjust to the guy’s hollering required, but she no longer thinks she is the one in trouble.

I learned recently at an engagement party in the valley that this is NOT the case for others who walk their dogs the same direction. They still refuse to walk that direction after numerous, ugly encounters with these dogs. I’m not sure if the spaniel’s owner takes pity on us or what. He is known around here as “Mean Mr. XXX” or “The Dog Kicker,” so I’m pretty sure we’re not his kind of peeps, but whatever it is that has spurred the improvement … I’ll take it.

The set-up remains a training challenge, though. The spaniel house is across the street from another house with two dogs who like to bark at us too. They are well fenced, so it’s not a danger, but it freaks Lilly out.

This gauntlet, unfortunately, sits where three rural roads intersect … at the bottom of a hill, on a bit of a blind curve.

Each time, Lilly and I end up playing poor-folks’ game of Frogger, as we move one way or another so that she has enough distance from either set of dogs to keep her from freaking out with fear.

I succeed many times of late at finding just the right balance of space to keep Lilly walking, looking at me, and taking treats. We don’t look at either set of dogs. We don’t talk to them. We focus on each other and keep moving.

Once in a while, my timing is off, and Lilly shoots to the end of her leash to bark, growl, and lunge back at them, but I just keep walking until she relents and refocuses.

We could speculate that this non-confrontational strategy works better. You know the mantra as well as I do: Ignore the behaviors you do not want.

Granted, I’m sure these other dogs were trained using something other than the clicker and positive reinforcement (and the withdrawal of attention that comes with it), but I figure if I ignore them, if I tip my head and shoulders away, while keeping Lilly focused on me the best that I can, then I may just succeed at making a safety bubble for both of us to pass.

Since it’s an out-and-back route we take, that means we face this situation twice on every walk, but once we get up over the hill, we have miles of road clear from fear triggers. We walk. We relax. We smile a lot.

Last week, we met some neighbors with their leashed dog on the road near the point where we turn around. So, we walked together back to their house before heading home. Their dog, also a spaniel of some sort, isn’t great with other dogs, so we put ourselves between them and walked with the dogs to the outside. Lilly did amazingly well — relaxed, loose body, focused on me. The only time she spun and snarked at him was when he shot behind his dad and got right behind Lilly. And, let’s face it … he deserved it.

As we chatted, the dog’s mom told me that it makes her smile whenever she sees me and Lilly on the road because “You both always look so happy.”

Now that, kids, is a compliment.

Anytime you’re sitting anywhere at my house, you have to be on guard for Lilly flying into your lap unexpectedly. She can go from ground to lap without preamble, without taking any steps, without warning. She just shoots up, and suddenly you have 35-pounds of wild Lilly beast right in your face. She can make the leap from a good three or four-foot radius at any angle (darn all that agility training!).

Her usual goal is to deliver a crazy-mad kissing fit all over your face, which for me includes her somehow getting her tongue up my nose or in my mouth. It’s a strategy known as “Blooping.” Lilly can just as easily Bloop your nose, mouth, or ears.

Tom fends off these attacks of affection better than I do.

Lilly finds the whole thing hilarious, especially when one of us cries out, “Help me, help me. Lilly is getting me!”

So, in case you ever wondered if Lilly is more of a momma’s girl or a daddy’s girl. Other than the fact that I’m the one who takes her places, teaches her things, gives her loads of treats, I’d say it’s a 50-50 proposition. I’m not sure how that is fair, but I do know the healing, stress reducing power of an adoring dog, so I’ll let it slide.

Our behaviorist increased Lilly’s twice daily dose of alprazolam from .5 mg to .75 mg when she learned at our last meeting that Lilly continued to have several noise-related fear issues. Of Lilly’s two behavior medications, this one specifically targets noise reactivity and sudden fear episodes.

Rather than return to the Relaxation Protocol set-up, however, I simply started opening the window over the sink while Lilly was eating her dinner in the kitchen. It seemed to me that using the window as a trigger had somehow poisoned the more formal training situation, which I began to believe meant we’d never overcome the window that way.

Remember, for Lilly, evening is often much scarier than daytime. I wish we knew why, but we don’t. So, after early success opening the window during meals in the morning, I switched to dinnertime with some success.

We’re not quite ready to declare victory, but the worst fear behavior I’m seeing is this: Lilly stops eating. She looks at me and the window, then resumes eating.

I’ve tried opening the window during non-meal times, and in those cases, the worst that happens is that Lilly retreats a few steps before responding to my offer of a snack with caution. Typically, I ask her to take at least a few steps toward me and the open window to earn her food.

***

Summer Winds
The benefits of having access to this window include a nice evening breeze. I doubt I’ll do justice to my nature descriptions the way KB does, but here is my best attempt at explaining the winds around here.

Most of the time during the day, during the summer, any winds we get come from the West (downslope). BUT, in the evening, when the hot air down in the city gets enough height and oomph, it spills over the mountains from East to West (upslope). The result? We have nice breezes coming from the East at night.

The fastest way to cool off our house in the summer is to open a couple windows on the East side of the house as well as a couple others elsewhere, and voila! we have a comfy house with a pleasant breeze.

Weather geeks can read more here from a local meteorologist about what different winds mean around here for moisture, etc. Since we’re on the East side of the Continental Divide, what he says about Denver-area weather applies somewhat to our situation.

These breezy summer days are quickly coming to an end, though. And, come winter, the winds most often howl from the North and West. When we get big storms, they do indeed come from the East (as an upslope storm).

Again, I muted the sound on everything except the real time clip of the correction because the constant praise of both dogs gets annoying. BUT, I wanted you to be able to hear that specific encounter. Then, you can watch it again in super-slow-motion and see just what Lilly did in response.

Ultimately, there was no harm, no foul. Just an adult dog teaching a pup a thing or two. At least, that’s how it seemed to me and Betsy (the two dog moms present).

(Side Note: I spent a lot of time as a kid with my mom’s mom who watched a lot of The Lawrence Welk Show, hence the ah one, ah two.)

Without further ado, I present Anatomy of a Puppy Correction: