Lilly was a little excited and nervous. She tends to be less focused when Tom goes with us anywhere. She is so used to training and even being out in the world as a two-girl-only event. She works hard to give both of us her attention (as noted before in the Daddy Factor), and that makes my job as handler MUCH harder.

But, she settled down, and I think she had a good time. She showed off her various tricks, including:

• Roll It
• Shake & Other Hand
• Under-Leg Weaving

She let several people pet her, even though she isn’t one of those pet-me, pet-me kind of dogs. Some of people seemed sad to be at the facility and away from their own dogs, so her visit perked them up. (For privacy reasons, I did NOT take photos that show any of the people in therapy.)

She had no real issues with the walkers, canes, and wheelchairs. There were may be 10-12 people in the room — some coming and going, all moving in some fashion as they did their therapy. A couple times, someone even slammed a metal laundry lid, and Lilly handled it OK. She startled, but she was OK. She truly did remarkably well.

I think it helped that the double, automatic front doors here (compared to those at the facility where my mom lives) open side-to-side, which is something we’ve conditioned much more.

After therapy, Lilly had to navigate the crowded halls. It wasn’t her best WALK STEADY moment, but she didn’t make a scene.

She even got so comfy on Grandma’s bed that she sacked out. Of course, as soon as she heard the camera click on, she woke up, but you can see her little drool spot on the bedspread.

The only thing that made her bark was when one of the nursing assistants came in to check Grandma’s vitals. She was pulling along one of those rolling blood pressure machines, and the wheels sounded a bit like a skateboard.

We later heard that Lilly’s visit was the bit talk among facility residents for the rest of the day.

I’ve never done it before because we had a powerful shower head, but Tom recently replaced it with one that has a broad, gentle … and more importantly, quiet… spray.

I thought Lilly might like it, and (as you’ll see tomorrow) she had an outing planned that required her to be princess girl, rather than dirty mountain girl.

Since my other bath-time ploys have fizzled out, I’m not sure it’ll ever work again, but she took to being in such an enclosed space with water pouring down on her pretty well.

I blocked the spray while shampooing her. I stood her up on her hind legs and spun her around for a rinse.

I toweled her off the best I could, then asked her to just hang out in our shower room, which is a subset of the master bathroom, while I took my shower. She curled up on her towel next to the radiator, and that was that.

I’d NEVER try this with Ginko because he would surely cause bodily harm.

So, you’ve seen those t-shirts and such that say things like “I kiss my dog” or “Sleeps with Dogs.” I guess we’re now part of the crowd that “Showers with Dogs.”

It’s no secret that I’m a fan of well-planned dog training that takes place in a relatively controlled setting so that we afford our dogs every opportunity to succeed. These scenarios form the critical foundation for the behavior modification work Lilly and I undertook all these years ago.

However, I am also pragmatic, and I understand that training in the “real world” remains both important and useful.

Indeed, I often use (or am forced to use) myriad of scary realities, including encounters with other dogs, as training fodder as Lilly makes her way in the world.

For example, when we go for walks and dogs race out to their fence lines or property lines to bark and jump and make scene (which all the dogs up here do, including mine), I work to counter-condition those moments (with food) so that Lilly is less afraid and can cope with the noise and proximity of other dogs.

I typically cross the road (or get as much space as possible between her and the barking dogs). I hustle Lilly along with purpose and a certain speed so that the encounter is as brief as I can make it. I put myself between her and the other dogs, and we work hard to appear as non-threatening as possible.

While I’m tending to my sensitive and fearful girl, I take into account the other dogs’ behavior. I do not talk to them. I do not look at them. I tip my shoulders away from them, and … again … I give them some space (by crossing the road with Lilly). In other words, I do my best not to make things worse for any of the dogs in the encounter.

So, last Friday, when I saw some guy I’ve never seen, with two dogs I’ve never seen, spend a good 10-15 minutes standing on the road right above our fence while Lilly and Ginko flipped out, I was pissed.

While cleaning house, I kept an eye on my two monkeys out various windows. I actually saw this guy and his dogs coming up the road, so I immediately went out to round mine up:

a) because I really don’t want Ginko hurting his knees jumping and running around

b) because I don’t want Lilly getting all stressed out

c) because I do my best to keep the dogs from getting the chance to practice this particular behavior (I want them to see dogs and think, “Where’s Mom with the food or toy?”)

I grabbed a squeaky toy and high-value treats and made my approach. My goal? To get them away from the fence and as close to me and engaged with me as I could before the guy and his dogs got to our house.

No luck.

So, I got closer and closer until Ginko, at least, could hear me and respond.

It’s something Gigi teaches, where you cannot just stand in one spot and holler at your dog to COME despite the distraction.

When I got Ginko to move toward me, and he realized I had the REALLY GOOD treats, getting him back to the house was pretty simple.

At this point, Captain Brilliant is standing right there at our fence, while Lilly barks and leaps and generally freaks out that he AND his two dogs are basically staring at her. Full-on, frontal facing, staring at her while she has a fit.

I’ve already gone out and back and out again on our long-ass driveway, so several minutes have passed, but I literally have to walk all the way up to Lilly at the fence before she calms down enough to “hear” me.

Once she does, she follows me back toward the house without issue.

I say to the guy that I’m sorry my dogs caused a scene, and I kid you NOT, he replied, “That’s OK. I’m using them to train my dogs.”

Really, I do NOT mind people using my dogs in real time to do a little training, but … seriously … standing there and baiting my dogs to misbehave so that you can teach your dogs God knows what? C’mon, man!

What? Did you attend the Jack Ass Academy for Canine Drama?

Clearly, they were barking at YOU, so how about you move you on down, move on down the road?

For comparison, I offer this photographic evidence of the difference between weekly nail trims and the more like quarterly pedicure smackdowns I have with Ginko over his toes.

Ginko                                                                Lilly

Truth in Adversiting: I am not perfect, however, in my execution of these dog mom duties. This shows Lilly’s foot before her latest trim over the weekend.

This is immediately afterwards. I cut one too short, and it bled. She is such a good girl for putting up with my mistakes.

]]> http://championofmyheart.com/2010/03/09/dog-pedicure-smackdown/feed/ 4 http://championofmyheart.com/2010/03/08/dog-agility-mach-umentary/ http://championofmyheart.com/2010/03/08/dog-agility-mach-umentary/#comments Mon, 08 Mar 2010 22:53:59 +0000 Roxanne Hawn http://championofmyheart.com/?p=1209 When I first explained the ideas and emotions behind Champion of My Heart, I waxed a little poetic (I hope) about our new-found interest in dog training beyond the basics.  A condensed version of that post now lives on its own page in the sidebar. It’s called Why Champion of My Heart?

An excerpt:

I’ll admit that I mist up as I watch friends and their dogs earn championship titles. It’s an emotional moment … the crowd goes dead quiet as the handler-dog team step to the start line on what could be their final run to earn the championship title. Everyone holds their breath as the dog speeds over jumps, through tunnels, and across teeter-totters. Waiting. Hoping for perfection (because at that level zero mistakes allowed). The goal? Clean run.

We watch the dog, but we also watch the judge, hoping her hands don’t fly into the air signaling a mistake.

It’s over in less than a minute.

Often the final obstacle is a jump with PVC bars, marking the height. As the dog clears that final bar, without knocking it down, the crowd erupts in cheers. Then, the handler grabs the final bar (often painted gold for the occasion) and turns to run a victory lap around the course with dog flying high.

Typically dogs go straight to their leashes after an agility run, so they get this funny, confused look on their faces when mommy or daddy turns and runs the other way back onto the course. But, they love the sport so much that they happily oblige with an encore …

I’ve wanted to show one such moment for ages now. Today, I can.

Many thanks to our agility friend Betsy and her amazing boy MACH Pitsch for sending us a link to the MACH-umentary video that shows their personal championship moment. (The video was done by our pal Don, who is Indy’s daddy.)

(It’s been a while since Lilly and Pitsch got the chance to train and play together. He is Lulu’s big brother, if you’re keeping track. I got to see both dogs at an agility trial recently, but alas … they are moving from our lovely valley back down in the city, so our opportunities to bond will take more planning. Still … we wish Betsy, Pitsch, and Lulu all good things in their new adventure.)

The Knee-Recovery Variables

Throughout most of January, we tried resting him to give whatever causes the swelling to subside, but we did it off and on with few results because he continued to have what we call “a hitch in his get-along,” where he suddenly startles and leaps/runs as if he just experienced a jolt of pain.

So, from Feb 1-Feb 14, he was on strict rest, where we called upon the patron saint of confined dogs. We only allowed him outside into the dog pen to potty. That was it for 14 straight days.

After that, I took him out on leash a few times each day (for about a week) and just walked him around our property a bit to try and build back up some muscle tone.

These days, I’m pretty much letting him do his normal thing, including playing with and chasing Lilly.

As I mentioned, we also added more Omega3 fatty acids to his diet, so with all those various changes, it’s really hard to say which one improved what, but he does seem a bit better overall:

• No limping
• No carrying the leg
• No swelling
• Fewer startles (like he is in pain)

Therapaws Details

As regular readers may recall, the mat is made from Holofiber, a proprietary blend of minerals added to fabric. The product tag says that these minerals act as reflective mirrors, absorbing visible and non-visible light. When this material comes into contact with the body, it relaxes capillaries, increasing blood flow and oxygenating the blood.

The benefits are said to include:

• Increase oxygen levels
• Accelerate muscle recovery
• Promote circulation
• Decrease arthritis pain
• Increase mobility and energy
• Reduce inflammation

How We Use Therapaws

I tried draping the mat on the sofas and on top of the various dog beds we have. Sometimes Lilly or Ginko hopped on it. Other times not.

It got a little grubby, so I washed it last week. That meant Ginko did without it for a few days.

To continue our experiment, I put it inside his crate (where he sleeps at night) to see if that all-night exposure reveals improvements for him. I wonder, though, since it’s obviously dark at night (no light to reflect)  … if that’s a waste of time.

Well, we’ll see.

Earlier Posts on Therapaws

Product Report (1): Therapaws

Product Intro: Therapaws (including FTC disclosure)

They had been racing around for a while already. This video includes just a few clips from the end of their romp, with a little editorial commenting embedded. What other calming signals or good dog-play manners do you see?

For people like me, our dogs are NOT discretionary.

I have cut back on a few things for them (fewer toys, fewer dog training classes), but their basic needs — food, veterinary care, medicines and such are not optional for me.

It’s funny, though, that blurb I got refers to the recession-resistance of the pet market. Why? Because it’s something talked about all the time in the veterinary marketplace, including when I wrote about the recession’s impact on veterinary medicine last year.

You see, in a market where booms result in 15-20% increases  … a 5% increase feels like a HUGE hit.

I’d simply say that it’s a good thing veterinarians are not in the real estate biz.

I unbuckled the muzzle and began cheering and throwing fistfuls of cheese at Ginko. My mistake was simple and stupid. I did all this while sitting on the floor.

Ginko, already amped up from the toenail trim, got even more frantic from the celebration. Just as I went to stand up, he nailed me full-on in the nose with the pterodactyl point of his head. He hit me hard. He didn’t mean to, of course, but he did.

About 2 seconds later, blood began gushing out like Ginko had turned on a faucet in my face.

It hurt so much that, at first, I didn’t know if he had split my lip or if the blood was coming from my nose.

It took 15 minutes to stem the tide.

I’m fine. The old nose isn’t broken, but he bruised my upper lip and split the area just below my nose a tiny bit.

I’m still a little sore, but I’ll be fine. Next time, I’ll be sure to get my head/face out of harm’s way before I throw a party.