Reality Check

For many professionals, e.g. teachers, lawyers, medical professionals; individuals must have a degree and pass a certification test in order to practice in their chosen field. Dog training is, by comparison, the wild, wild, west. No test (not yet anyway) is required, and of course dog owners are left having to do the vetting. I'm not editorializing, that's the way it is and while there are a number of certification programs available for dog trainers to distinguish themselves by, the CPDT-KA ("Certified Professional Dog Trainer, Knowledge Accessed", say that ten times fast.) program is amongst the most well known. Trainers who want to take the test have to qualify, meeting certain minimum requirements including hours spent as a head trainer and endorsements from a veterinarian, colleague and client. It's an unusual system that takes into account the nature of this professional beast. I've wanted to take the test for years but never had the time to focus on preparing for it. 2009 was a terrific year despite all my fears that the economy would ring the death knell, with dog owners tightening their belts like everyone else. This year has been a different story. With recovery seeming much farther out than most probably anticipated, the belt tightening began in earnest. Asking friends in the business it was clear that things hadn't slowed down only for me. So there were no more excuses. The only question was whether to take the test in a couple of weeks or a couple of months. Things can change a great deal in a couple of months and while it would've given me more time to study, I threw caution to the wind and scheduled to take the test sooner rather than later a few short weeks ago on September 17th.

I felt good coming out of the test. I'd finished it with an hour to spare. My strategy was to answer all of the 250 questions I had quick answers to first and return to the remaining questions in order once that was done. I returned home confident that I'd passed it but learned Saturday afternoon that I'd failed by two questions. The test is skewed heavily for group trainers though the questions only require a healthy amount of common sense to answer correctly. There were questions with answers I didn't prepare adequately for, Kinesthetic learning for example, one of those things I'm aware of but knew no formal name for. Parsimony is a different story however, an idea I know as Occam's Razor, parsimony poses that the simplest answer is most likely the correct one. As the saying goes, "I got robbed on that one". I've got my gripes about the test, some erroneous information I received from the testing agency prior to taking it; it's sour grapes as I'm all too aware that other trainers who work the way I do have cleared the same hurtles I have and passed the test. Instead, after imbibing a couple of potent cocktails and some wound licking, I assert myself with renewed humility and a sense of earnestness. The people in this business I respect most share some compelling similarities. They are first and foremost, thoughtful and intelligent. They are both passionate and humble, understanding that like all science, there is much yet to learn.

So there it is. I'm outing myself. I've been measured and been found wanting. There is a loud, annoying, voice in the dog training world that would suggest the CCPDT is no way to judge whether someone is a good trainer or not. On it's own, and certainly given the qualifying aspect of the test itself, it would appear that is self evident. In what other profession does an individual actually work hundreds of document-able hours before they can qualify to be certified? As an old friend once responded to the question, "Who are you to judge?" he said, "Someone's got to judge, it might as well be me." The CCPDT does not appear to my amassing an army of trainer automatons so I'm comfortable with being judged by this particular group of peers. In the meantime, it's time to hit the books. The next time someone asks me to define "Parsimony", I'll know the goddamn answer.

You've Got A Friend

Fifteen years ago, Sue and I made the decision to move into our first apartment together. It was the second floor of a home in Taunton owned by the Dunn family who lived on the first floor. Rich and Linda were the best; accommodating, friendly and as it turned out, breeders of Miniature Pinschers. We'd talked about getting a dog but when we saw Mia, some six weeks into her gestation period (full term for dogs is 8-9 weeks) it seemed like fate. Linda liked the idea of one of her puppies living just upstairs, we liked the idea of a small breed dog. This is where some of you might be saying, "Isn't Jim big on adopting dogs from shelters and isn't he wary of so called back yard breeders?" This is true and this was fifteen years ago; I've learned quite a lot since then. Due diligence was not on the menu, this was impulsive. I'd once heard that most people can summarize their lives down to eight critical decisions. In hindsight, this was one of them.

If you've gotten this far and thought, "Fifteen? This must be an eulogy." I'm very glad to say it is not. Louie remains lively and happy. This entry is a tribute to my most unappreciated dog and oldest canine friend, as we call him "Lou Lou". Sue and I had both had dogs growing up but we were the farthest thing from experts. Nevertheless, we did one thing right and that was to bring Louie up for some face time starting at about 3 weeks old right up until 8 weeks when he came upstairs to stay. He'd come up for 20 - 30 minutes at a time. Developmentally, 3-16 weeks of age is referred to as the Critical Period. It's marked by development of the dog's nervous system and, as it's suggested by it's name, a critical time in a dog's life when their brains are "programming" for the world around them. We were bonding and easing the transition from his life with mother Mia and his litter mates to life with Sue and me.

Louie (aka "Big Lou") was a tiny little potato with fur as a puppy. He loved walks at nearby Massasoit State Park but was a bit of a grouch, snarling and grumbling to express his disgust at wearing a winter coat, brushing his teeth or clipping his nails. Tempering our image of him as a malcontent were those times when he'd cuddle up with Sue and fall into a deep sleep on her chest. It was very sweet.

About a year later Linda was breeding Mia again with the same sire. We took a little longer to consider our second dog (5 minutes vs. 3 minutes) but the Dunn's were again receptive to the idea. We chose the runt with a bald spot on his head. Keeping with the prohibition era influence, we named Louie's brother "Floyd". They were thick as thieves from the start apparently aware that they were kin. Louie's temperament mellowed considerably with Floyd's arrival. Having a canine foil to play, cuddle and walk with was just the ticket. They were inseparable, sleeping with each other, scrapping, eating together, walks in the park. The brotherly love between them was endearing and deep. Sadly, regrettably, this would be short lived.

Early the following summer Linda and Rich let us know they wanted to take back the second floor of the house. Their kids were growing up and it had become cramped quarters for them with just the first floor alone. We'd planned to begin looking for a home the following year once we'd saved for a down payment. Suddenly we were scrambling to find one right there and then. In hindsight we'd been pushed into what will likely be the best buyer's market in my lifetime. This was was prior to the bubble so prices were low and interest rates were very aggressive. We settled in the same home we live in now; nestled in a working class neighborhood near what is now my son's school and Warwick City Park where we walked Louie and Floyd so they'd have a chance to check out where they'd soon be living. A few weeks before the closing I was letting Floyd out to pee in the pen Rich had put up for all of our dogs on the side of the house. Once he'd finished I opened the pen to pick him up and bring him back in the house. What I would do to have that moment back again. This would become the reason I push the dog owners I work with to leash their dogs whenever they're outside with them. Behind me in the bushes was a feral cat. I hadn't seen him but Floyd did. He squirmed out of my hands and chased the cat into the street. Sue was around the corner and screamed, "Noooooo!!!" Screeching tires, "Oh no!, Oh my god, Jim!" The cat had made it safely across the street into a nearby cemetery. Floyd had been hit by a passing pick up truck. This happened 13 years ago, it remains painful to think about. It was preventable. This was my fault. Floyd was not killed by the impact but was severely injured. We rushed him to Dr. Mike Bruzzi at Dighton Rehoboth Animal Hospital. Mike's a terrific old school vet and we'd still be going to him now if he weren't so far away. He stabilized Floyd so we could catch our breath and discuss our options. Mike felt Floyd could recover but that he needed to see the specialists at Tufts. What followed were two weeks of visits back and forth to spend time with Floyd while the team there, led by Dr. Dorothy Michaels, worked with Floyd to keep him stable and sedated while he healed from the trauma. Floyd had suffered a spinal injury and the prognosis was for a long rehab with limited activity that we would have to closely monitor. Late into Floyd's second week at Tufts we received a call from Dr. Michaels. During the night, Floyd experienced an intestinal obstruction, something they hadn't seen. He'd passed away and I knew it hadn't happened peacefully. There are a handful of moments in my life when I've been reduced to inconsolable wailing. This was one of them, and it was for Sue as well. Dr. Michaels asked that we come up one last time both for some closure and to make final plans. Sue couldn't bear to see him now that he'd passed, I had to. Again, upon seeing him, I was struck with waves of sadness, regret and guilt. I wanted Louie's brother Floyd back but he was gone. When you work for someplace like Tufts, it's incumbent to develop a thick emotional skin. Things like this happen frequently, it's going to take it's toll if you don't. Nevertheless Dr. Michaels was right there with us, sharing in our grief. I don't know how she does it frankly but I'm grateful she was there for us. After a long gray ride back home, Louie jumped up on the couch clearly aware on some level that something was terribly wrong and doing his best to console us. I'd loved Louie from the moment I'd seen him born to today, October 1st, 2010 his fifteenth birthday but at that moment I had a new appreciation for him, for dogs in a broader sense.

There was no time to languish in this tragedy, we had to keep things in motion for the move that was just two weeks out. In the midst of all of this Sue and I worried that Louie, who had mellowed so dramatically with Floyd around, would revert back to Louie the Grouch. We began to look for a small breed dog, not wanting to pair him with a larger dog for fear of a physical mismatch. Again, my relative ignorance coming into play, preoccupied with size like two boxers at the scales before a fight. Temperament would and remains a wiser preoccupation. Our search brought us to a breeder in Exeter, RI who had a litter of Jack Russell Terriers. Another one of those "eight decisions", hooo boy! There was one puppy left, a fat little white puffball that had been overlooked for some reason. Sue and I were quickly vetted. Young couple, no children, fenced in yard, check, check, check. We'd brought Louie with us to get his impression of this puppy. I'd describe him as indifferent and their first meeting passed without incident. The calm before the storm. We brain stormed for a name, I can't recall all of ones that we passed on but when I said, "How about Archie?" well, sometimes you just know. That was his name, it couldn't be anything else. Understandably, the bond between these two was not immediate and has never been as obvious or deeply felt as the one Lou had with his brother but as the idea for this post struck me, Louie has always made the first effort to ease into friendships with the other dogs we've brought into our home. With Archie I was relieved they were getting along but I didn't

really appreciate it yet. In the years that followed, I would have my first introduction to training with my friend Ron. My son Keir was born in January 2002. While there was nothing about either of our dogs that raised any flags with respect to our new arrival, we went through the motions bringing home linens from the hospital to ease them into it. A far more thoughtful approach has been designed since then by Katenna Jones and Jane Demming, "Baby Ready Pets". Nevertheless Keir's arrival was a bright ray of warm sunshine and once again, Louie was the quintessential canine friend. Of course this relationship has proven tenuous over the years. These guys can rub each other the wrong way from time to time, of course Lou's not one to hold a grudge. If Keir's got some string cheese, Lou's doing whatever he asks him to. As a client once told me, "every dog has it's price"...indeed. When Keir was 8 months old Reno came home to live with us after I'd worked with him at the shelter for several months. Again, Louie was the first one to extend a paw of friendship. Reno's reputation at the shelter was both dog and on occasion human aggressive. Shelter environments, even the best ones, are stressful for dogs. They're immersed in an ever changing landscape of scary sounds, new dogs and people. It's hard on them and it can manifest in their behavior. Reno had introductions to Archie, Lou, Keir and Sue on neutral ground. That was a must; I had to see how everyone responded to each other. That went nicely. The real test was when he was in his new back yard. Would this hooligan make short work of Lou and Archie? That was his modus vivendi at the shelter. Ann didn't think so, neither did I or this would not have happened. As it turns out neither did Louie. Was it because he was small? Because he was neutered? I would've loved to ask Reno, as it is, I can only speculate. Reno seemed very happy to be there beneath the trees, lying on grass instead of a concrete kennel floor. Louie was quick to begin chumming around with him and in that first afternoon I snapped this picture. I couldn't wait to bring it to the shelter. It confirmed what Reno's friends at the shelter suspected was true. There was a good dog in there, a great dog as it turned out. I think on some level it gave everyone an opportunity to evaluate the dogs at the shelter with a little more perspective. I certainly did and of course this was yet another moment for Louie to show his flexibility with another new arrival. Louie and Reno remained friends until we lost Reno this past April to cancer. We were fostering Miles at the time though the dogs were not completely aware of it. To minimize stress on Reno and Archie, both very ill at the time, we played a shell game, putting our dogs behind closed doors while Miles would come up from his kennel to go outside and "commune with nature",...ahem,.. of course get some exercise and hang out. It wasn't until we'd lost Reno when we decided Miles was going to stick around. It'd been seven years since we'd brought Reno home. Louie was an old man, maybe he was too old for this shit? Archie's been rebounding the last several weeks but at the time I didn't want to subject him to a new dog. Miles had a reputation as well; for going after dogs, particularly small ones! Hoogah! What had I gotten us into? The protocol was to use baby gates during the day, kennel at night and lots and lots of leashed walks with Louie, while Archie continued to get healthier, responding to a waning dose of drugs to address what we think is Evan's Syndrome. It was habituation by osmosis and we had to be patient. The first time I let them see each other off leash, I'd invested in a muzzle for Miles. I needed to see how he'd adjust knowing he couldn't use his teeth. After going stiff, flagging and moving away, he offered a play bow. That was an eye opener. You can see the video on YouTube by clicking here. His name was still "Smiley" at the time of the post. If you watch the whole thing you'll have to forgive Archie for taking a dump a few minutes into it; no class. A few months have passed since then and it should come as no surprise that Louie took the lead to help ease Miles' transition into our family. The age difference makes for some expected friction; at fifteen, Lou's not keeping pace with a one year old JRT. Nevertheless, the muzzle's off and the baby gate's are gone. Even Archie is showing some tolerance for the new guy. Notice who's between them, keeping the peace.

When I say that Louie's the best, I say it with unapologetic bias. He's been with Sue and I through thick and thin. He jumps up on the back of the arm chair in the living room every night I come home, moaning and whining with happiness. He's still anxious to learn, still accommodating, still lively and joyful. I often say it to him when I'm scratching his chest, "You've got the heart of a lion Lou." and he does.

Talk to the Hand

Anyone who’s worked with me will tell you that I emphasize a “less is more” approach to teaching their dogs what it is they want from them. That includes certain rules like not repeating instructions; no need to say, “Sit,…sit,…sit…” unless your instruction for ‘sit’ happens to be, “Sit,…sit,…sit…” I also like to incorporate hand signals with verbal cues. There are a number of reasons for this. First, since an underlying theme of training is to cultivate more focus from your dog, hand signals give dogs a compelling reason to look at us. I imagine my dogs having an inner dialogue of sorts, “Hmmm,…pretty sure when he throws that hand up he wants me to lie down. Pretty sure if I do that some string cheese will happen.” Then “Woomp!” down they go. I’ve also found that when I’m talking on the phone and one or more of my dogs become vocal, I can give them a ‘down’ hand signal without a break in the conversation and get quiet, focused dog in a ‘down’. The least important reason (but still fun, if not indulgent) is the vanity component. Dogs that respond to both verbal and vocal cues aren’t something you see everyday at the park. It seems like something special. Recently however, I’ve become aware of another important reason for teaching both hand and vocal cues. It has to do with having a 2/3rds geriatric brood of family dogs. More on that in a minute.

Last night I was working with Mary and Eric, proud owners of Toby, a beautiful Bassett Hound they’d adopted from a Bassett Rescue organization. Toby’s issues circled around a fear aggressive response to people coming into his home. Our goal was to incorporate counter conditioning and desensitization into a regimen of basic training. It’s one thing to habituate a dog to an individual. Dogs with fear aggressive behaviors can make that adjustment fairly quickly in some cases. The real goal is to expand on that idea so that dogs with these types of issues are responding in general to anyone coming through the door in a fundamentally different way. Toby’s lesson saw a important change in the way he responded to the door with Mary and Eric taking turns responding to a knock at the door by giving Toby the opportunity to capitalize on a reward by going to a spot they’d designated for ‘down’ and ‘stay’ while they answered the door. Hand signals played a roll in this exercise since we’re emphasizing quiet vs. the loud din of a howling Bassett Hound. Mary and Eric confessed their doubts about Toby’s ability to make the right decision. He seemed happy to surprise them choosing the conditioned response they’d been teaching him over his usual unconditioned response of howling and charging the door. In the midst of this important break through Eric asked if my dogs were trained to behave this way when someone was at the door. Louie and Archie have been but Eric’s question reminded me they’d do well to have a refresher course. For Miles, new to our brood, I’d be proofing his ‘stay’ just as they’d been doing with Toby.

Bright and early this morning I commenced door training exercises, alternating Louie and Miles with Archie going solo. I wanted to take advantage of Louie’s knowledge of this behavior to yield some learned behavior for Miles who quickly began to pattern what Louie was being rewarded for. In the interest of full disclosure, Louie and Miles are acclimated to each other while Archie and Miles continue to experience each other on leashed walks and through a baby gate.

Archie, who’s health issues have been chronicled in earlier posts, has limited vision but very good hearing turned 13 years old on July 9th. Louie will be 15 years old in October and while otherwise healthy and lively has suffered some hearing loss in his later years. Herein lies my epiphany with respect to hand signals and vocal cues. Early in their lives with both good hearing and eyesight, hand signals helped keep them focused and quiet while my son Keir, then an infant, slept. Now 8 years old, I’m confident Keir could sleep through an invasion (but not a dinner bell) Louie and Archie on the other hand are adjusting to old age; their ability to respond to both vocal and visual cues has come full circle with Louie responding best to hand signals and Archie to verbal cues.

While learning to adjust to the changing needs of an aging dog(s) is often the last thing on the minds of dog owners with dogs in their prime this will be part of that dialogue thanks to a timely question. Thanks Eric.

To Err is Canine

Ten years ago I was hearing about positive reinforcement training for the first time and I have to admit that it struck me as well intentioned hubris. Correcting at the end of a leash connected to a choke chain was standard operating procedure for me and many other trainers. When I first saw my friend and fellow trainer Ron sporting a bait bag, he might just as well walked into the room dressed in bunny pajamas made by his auntie. It seemed very silly. I've learned quite a bit since then, perhaps most important of all is that there's so much still left to learn. New and intriguing ideas are emerging all the time; that keeps me on my toes and forever humble. Yesterday I worked with a young bright, Mini Aussie, "Hef". It was his 'Down/Stay' lesson, the goal for the lesson was for Hef to go to 'place', a designated spot away from the door when he heard the door bell and sit/stay. Next, he was to respond to a hand signal for 'down' from the door, stay in down while his owners took turns opening the door. The idea of establishing goals is very important. Goals give relevance to the training effort. I'm training for down/stay because I don't want my dog at the door when someone rings the bell. Goals can open a broader dialogue with dog owners about the science of training, training theory, subjectivity, etc. In this case, Hef progressed so quickly, we were able to push our established goal to emphasize going to place without excessive barking, something Hef was prone to. There are a lot of reasons why dogs bark. Experienced handlers can differentiate between a bark that's intended to communicate "go away" from one that says "Come in! Come in! Come in!". Hef's was the prior. While not unfriendly, the doorbell and what it was predictive of, was a source of stress for him. In other words the doorbell made him upset. In these cases, a quiet go to place and stay is as much about bring an end to the commotion as it is about teaching your dog to reevaluate an scenario so that it's predictive of something positive. Doorbells no longer make me upset, they make rewards happen but only when I go to place, stay, respond to a 'down' instruction and let my humans open the door. The question now was whether Hef could do the problem solving necessary to realize it was his barking that was getting in the way of getting a reward for doing the aforementioned. It's in this paradigm that positive reinforcement is so intriguing. If the reward is compelling enough, taking it out of the equation gives pause to reevaluate. Hef was asking himself "What did I do to screw that up?". If he's going to change the paradigm to one that makes the reward come back into the picture, he's got to figure out the answer to that question. It didn't take long, and while it remains a work in progress, watching Hef problem solve and be rewarded for arriving at the right conclusion is simply put, the reason I like doing this so much. Life is in part about learning from our mistakes and it seems that idea is not limited to we humans. to err is canine as well.

Miles of Smiles

For more than a year my family has grown accustomed to frequent, often weekly trips to our local vet as well as the emergency veterinary hospital and the veterinary oncology center in Massachusetts; the reasons for which have been chronicled in my last last two posts. It's been a painful process, affecting all of us in various ways. It's also been an education; throughout the process Sue diligently researched the symptoms and changing diagnosis of both Reno and Archie as well as the treatments they'd been prescribed. Several times throughout this time period we would talk to our now eight year old son Keir about what it meant to struggle with life threatening illness, about death. We worked in tandem and in earnest not to dumb it down or make light of it. That what lied after death was a mystery. These conversations, sometimes initiated by Keir, sometimes by us, were very emotional, often ending in tears and lots of hugs. During difficult times in my life I've turned to a personal journal, like many people, getting things on paper was cathartic, healing. It turns out that Keir found comfort in writing and drawing much the same way I did; writing a poem, a short story as well as drawing captioned pictures of Reno. This past week he's talked about Reno less. There are no hard fast time lines for grieving that I'm aware of but I was growing anxious that he had not found closure the way we'd hoped he would more than two weeks following Reno's passing. Some of you know that in the midst of this ordeal, Sue and I had agreed to foster "Smiley", a wired haired refugee from the flooded Warwick Shelter, for two weeks. "Our cups Run'th Over". I still haven't digested the irony of having Smiley under our roof at the same time we would lose Reno to cancer. We'd never fostered before. With a small home and three dogs we weren't the ideal candidates, but with the shelter decimated by the flood, the need was there. As it turned out, Smiley's presence had little to no impact on us or the dogs. A high strung terrier (is there any other kind) we were concerned there would be additional stress on our dogs. By cordoning them off to different parts of the house, scheduling time out to play, go for walks, etc. it all worked out.

It wasn't long after Reno slipped away that the thought occurred to me that we should consider adopting Smiley. Things had changed so dramatically at home with the loss of Reno, I worried that while Sue and I had made it clear to Keir that Smiley was only with us for two weeks; Keir had grown attached to him, that he had made it somewhat easier for Keir to cope with Reno's loss. Would handing him off re-open some wounds?
I was working with Smiley to curb his aggression issues which include resource guarding and dog/dog aggression. He'd responded in dramatic fashion to a counter conditioning approach developed by Karen Pryor and Dr. Jesus Ruiz which involves (I'll summarize this to the best of my ability) the provocation of calming signals over aggressive overtures. Still, I knew that with me typically in lessons, Sue would bare the lion's share of the additional work, shuffling the dogs back and forth, walking, feeding etc. If this was to be a viable choice, Sue would have to make the suggestion not me. It wouldn't take long. Sue, never one to shy away from hard work paired with the kindest of hearts made the suggestion that same day. We agreed to pose the idea to Keir since we felt he should begin to shoulder some of the work that would be involved in making this work for the long term. To Keir's credit he gave it careful thought before agreeing we should bring Smiley into the fold.

First order of business,...change the name. Deb Niose, who works for the Warwick Shelter and is one of the kindest people I know, had given this poor creature the handle "Smiley" for the odd "smile" he made baring his teeth when he felt threatened. Cute, but not for us. There was a problem however, he'd heard that name for several weeks and had begun to respond to it. We brainstormed for something similar that we thought would suit his diminutive British frame. He seemed like a "Buster" to me, I also liked "Hagar" remembering the old comic strip "Hagar the Horrible", the titular character sharing a beard very similar in appearance to our little guy. Finally, and I honestly can't recall who came up with it first, we arrived at "Miles". A name only one dog owner I'd worked with, Kirsten, Nick and their Standard Poodle of the same name. had ever used. It had an aristocratic flavor to it that was appropriately tongue in cheek for this little guy (not your "Miles" Kirsten, he is an aristocrat!) It sounded enough like "Smiley" that we thought it would be easier for him to adapt to so, "Miles" as he's now known, is officially a member of our family. There's a lot of work to be done; the food guarding appears so far to have dissipated, though we remain watchful and cautious. Acclimating him to the other dogs is a slow deliberate process of controlled exposure. The opposite of "Familiarity breeds Contempt" thought process. He goes on daily walks with Louie. Archie, who's activity level is pragmatic at best having lost so much of his eyesight as well as having restricted exposure to sunlight (a side effect of the drug treatment) has become aware of Miles' presence through a baby gate as well as from the other side of a crate. The process will expand to other avenues as seems appropriate, patience and diligence being the main ingredients as well as fodder for future posts. For now, we once again grateful to the Warwick Shelter for the gift of another great dog.

RENO

Today I held my dear friend Reno, with my head to his chest, and listened as he drew his last breath, as his mighty heart thumped it's last beat. It is powerful, to be with someone you love with all your heart and feel them slip away. Within two weeks of learning what had happened to Archie, a mass on Reno's foot that started looking like a harmless bug bite had grew exponentially. Tests revealed that mast cells, normally a component of a healthy immune system, had become cancerous. Sue and I were referred to the New England Veterinary Oncology Group in nearby Massachusetts. Chemotherapy began in earnest a month ago. Two weeks later we learned it was ineffective and the treatment was altered. His appetite slipped almost immediately, then, this past Saturday morning at about 2:30AM, we heard him wandering restlessly around the bedroom. I turned the light on to find that his tumor had begun to hemorrhage terribly. Sue and I worked together to change the dressing, control the bleeding and clean things up. The next morning we got him to his vet, Dr. Patricia Ader. She and her staff worked throughout the weekend to stabilize him. It was possible the chemotherapy was doing what it was supposed to, killing the tumor, we became hopeful, optimistic; it’s always darkest before the dawn.

Emotions are hard to keep in check when your dog is facing a life threatening illness. Our dogs are members of our family, but while euthanasia remains at best controversial with respect to humans, it is all too often the last act of kindness available to pet owners. Quality of life, cost of care, prognosis, all factor in when making decisions on behalf of our dogs. We had our eight year old son Keir to think about as well. How would he deal with the loss should it come?

Sunday afternoon I called my good friend Ann Corvin for some perspective. She’s been there from the start with sage advise and great perspective, I feel very fortunate to count her amongst my friends.

It was nearly eight years ago that I walked into the Warwick Animal Shelter for the first time as a volunteer. Ann was the shelter keeper, now the director. I was going to hone my skills as a trainer working with shelter dogs. Who was going to be my first dog? Reno was amongst the first dogs I considered; peering into his kennel he stared back at me with a look that said, “You might want to skip me buddy” I chose a fairly harmless looking beagle mix named “Snoopy”,…Snoopy promptly bit be on my forearm. I had a lot to learn. When I mustered the fortitude to work with Reno, I was immediately impressed with his intelligence. How did this dog end up at the pound? I knew nothing. Dogs like Reno are so often misunderstood. He was a stray, most likely allowed to simply walk away. Maybe he’d growled at another dog, perhaps the other family dog. We’ll never know. No one had ever come in to claim him. His first experience with humans was to be let down. For the first few months I worked with Reno frequently, teaching him some basic commands, modifying his aggression towards other dogs. I thought, this is a beautiful dog. If the right person sees me working with him he’ll get snapped up in no time. The months passed; he’d been there for nearly a year. Reno was so strong but life at the shelter was taking it’s toll on him and no one was showing interest.

I talked to Sue about him. Keir was only eight months old, Louie and Archie were two small to be a match should he turn his aggression on them. It wasn’t the smart thing to do, but Sue knew it was only a matter of time before I brought home a dog from the shelter. After an introduction on neutral ground went without incident or concern, we brought Reno home. There’s so much I could say about him, he found his way into our family so quickly, there was no looking back. It’s been an inspiring adventure ever since.

Reno has been a prince. Good to his core and intelligent beyond measure. I feel remarkably fortunate to have known him. Like Archie, he’s taught me so much. He’s been mischievous, funny, courageous and a great, great friend. Some of you will remember him as the dog I’d bring to lessons to gauge your efforts at modifying issues of aggression. In that light he was a teacher. At once an example of what is possible and an inspiration to dog owners to do the hard work necessary to curb aggressive behavior.

At 1PM this afternoon, on the advice of Dr. Ader, he was transferred to Ocean State Veterinary for a transfusion. He’d lost so much blood to hemorrhaging, however, the vets there felt the tissue damage to his forepaw was too great. The likelihood that there was enough healthy tissue their to make it through the gauntlet of chemotherapy, surgery and radiation was poor and so to was any hope for quality of life.

A strange thing happened as Dr. McAllister came into the exam room to discuss Reno’s prognosis. Time slowed; amidst the various and likely scenarios that included words like “sepsis” and “necrotic” and “amputation” I heard what Ann had said to me the day before. That there were no right answers. I’d been relying on the expertise of a team of vets in two states, and despite their efforts, my friend was suffering,…needlessly. I also recalled a conversation I’d had with my friend Ron who only months ago had been faced with the same decision for his wonderful dog Kaiser. That the decision is ultimately easy when you know your friend’s suffering has gone on too long. I was ready to let Reno go. It was up to me and to Sue to decide that he’d had enough. So I said it, I interrupted Dr. McAllister to tell her I thought it was time to let him go.

Sue was waiting outside with Keir. She walked towards me, she knew. We agreed she'd go inside to say goodbye while I talked to Keir about what was going to happen. It was hard for him, he was angry and terribly sad. Sue returned 10 minutes later, we hugged and I went in to be with my friend one last time. The staff there gave me time to be alone with him. I don't know how aware he was of what was to come. I told him that I loved him, I'd remember him forever, that I was honored to have him as a friend. He rested his head against me giving me one last lick. The vet came in, and, assured we'd had enough time, began the injection. Reno slipped away while I held him. I'll never forget him. Keir's still angry and confused. I wish I could make it easier for him.

Life sometimes manifests itself in unique and wonderful ways. Carl Sagan remarked once that life was the Universe's way of knowing itself. I like that idea. It rings true. The next several days are going to be hard. I want the Universe to give Reno back to us as he was nearly eight years ago. Beyond that, grief will give way to gratitude for the great time we had together. I don't know what happens after this, our life here on earth. Wherever Reno is, his family loved him enough to let him go.

I want to thank all my friends and family who called to check in on Archie and Reno. In particular I'm grateful to Ann and Ron for their insight.

Archie

It’s 1:30PM on Monday March 1^st and I feel helpless.

This morning I woke up to take the dogs out for their usual morning bathroom run. Typically all three are eager to get outside and relieve themselves but this morning, Archie, my twelve year old Jack Russell Terrier lagged behind. He’s “slept in” a few times in the past so I wasn’t concerned. When I came back in however, Sue was holding him. Something was terribly wrong. His mouth was agape, tongue hanging out and his eyes were droopy. It looked as if he’d had a stroke. I began getting ready to take him to the emergency vet, Sue called ahead to let them know I was coming and began hitting veterinary websites for some insight. Idiopathic Trigeminal Nerve Paralysis seemed the most likely candidate. An hour later the vet suggested it may be what we were seeing as well. A low blood platelet count seemed to suggest Evan’s Syndrome was also a possibility. Idiopathic disorders are dealt with in a diagnosis by exception approach; essentially trial and error. It gets expensive and emotionally frustrating very quickly.

We’ve known for some time that Archie’s health has been deteriorating when we saw signs of lameness two years ago. The process of elimination began then with Immune Mediated Hemolytic Anemia being the most recent suspect. Evan’s Syndrome was suggested as well. ES is a terrible combination of IMHA and Thrombocytopenia; both autoimmune diseases which attack otherwise healthy red blood cells and blood platelets. The treatment includes steroidal and antibiotic drugs. For Archie the treatment is complicated by a heart murmur. One that’s grown worse since we first learned of it; possibly aggravated by his current prednisone regimen. In other words, a veterinary Catch 22. An ultrasound of Archie’s heart is being done as I write this entry. The result will determine whether a higher dose will be counter-productive or not.

These are very difficult, anxious hours. It’s ironic that writing about this is the only thing that’s helping me cope with what I fear is the inevitable.

Sue and I experienced this almost thirteen years ago when we lost our dog Floyd. I’ve forgotten, gratefully I suppose, how painful it is. I knew going in that I would likely outlive each of my dogs. Knowing that doesn’t help when the end seems near. Neither does knowing that he’s enjoyed a life of adventure, good food, love, learning and friendship. In the end I still feel cheated, like he deserves more quality time than he’s had. A measly twelve years.

If you’ve seen Archie in action you know what he could do. There were few things he seemed to enjoy more (eating was two of them) than helping out in a lesson, most recently when I was training a group of dog owners to take the Canine Good Citizen’s test. He’d get very excited when I asked him if “Do you want to help me today?”. In doggy parlance his response was “Oh Boy! Oh Boy! Oh Boy!”. That was Archie at his best. If you’ve worked with me you’ve heard me talk about Archie in relation to resource aggression, jumping and barking. There were plenty of times when the other two dogs would appear noticeably happier when he wasn’t around. But that's also the good stuff. Archie’s given me empathy for other dog owners working through these problems. He’s given them reason to be optimistic that they can get past these issues and enjoy their dogs. Archie’s made me a better trainer. He’ll never fully know how grateful I am to him for that, how much I love him for that.

As I drove him to the Animal Hospital this morning he seemed grateful to be in the car resting on a fleece blanket with me stroking his head and ears; he loves both of those things. Even in those moments he reminded me that it’s the simple things that matter most. A quaint, sentimental thought for me since I’m known for neither.

We should be hearing soon what the results of the ultrasound are. We’re prepared for the worse, as best we can be. Sue and I have talked to our eight year old son Keir about this. He understands, as best he can, that Archie may not be coming home. This is a hard time. I’ve been through them before. It doesn’t numb the feelings I’m having for my friend Archie. I’ll tell you more about him in future posts. For now I’ll end by saying that while I do helpless, beneath that I also feel a deep abiding sense of gratitude for the dog Sue and I lovingly refer to as “Scrappy” a nickname that always made his ears perk in anticipation. This one’s for you Scrappy. Your family loves you very much.

Finding Your Inner Ahab

I was in High School the last time I read Herman Melville's "Moby Dick" but it's Machiavellian central character Captain Ahab still finds his way into the conversations I have with many dog owners. This usually happens when the dog owner finds themselves crossing the the intersection from the learning part of a lesson to the obedience part. e.g. A dog has demonstrated an understanding of a particular command, "Tess Down, Tess Stay" but when Tess is confronted with a compelling distraction, say a doorbell or sitting down to dinner, Tess no longer stays. Since these are worthwhile goals they require time and patience, sometimes more than the dog owner counted on going in. That's when I'll say, "You've got to find your inner Ahab". Admittedly, Captain Ahab is a flawed literary reference since his relentless pursuit of the white whale ends with only Ishmael to tell the tale; most everyone gets the point I'm trying to make though, so flawed or not, Ahab stays.

I've been kicking this post around in my head for a few weeks following a lesson with two litter mates that I'm working with (2009 Has been the year of the litter mates, I've worked with three so far.) These two are female Golden Retriever puppies that live with two couples who are close friends. They get together to socialize, the puppies get together to play and slobber on one another for as long as they can. I'm told by their owners this can go on...indefinitely. An untapped form of renewable energy? Perhaps,...I digress. We had scheduled a door training lesson where the puppies would be taught to respond to a doorbell by going to a designated place in the home where they lie down and stay until they're released. It's fun and it frequently redefines the dog owner's sense of what their dogs are capable of. That didn't happen. Instead, we began where we'd left off the prior lesson with both dogs facing each other from across an expanse of yard. Their owners instruct them to "down" then "stay". They then leave their dogs to greet each other, return to their dogs and release them to play with each other. The point is simple; while many dogs are motivated by food rewards, anything a dog finds rewarding can be mitigated to advance a certain behavior. It'd had been a tough nut the first time around but before the lesson ended they'd done it twice. This time around it should have been easier but both couples admitted they hadn't practiced with the week prior being the most hot/humid one of the summer (the weather that night was no different) I didn't want to move onto the next rung in our hierarchical ladder until the puppies had nailed this one. Frustration ensued. I cycled the husbands and wives in and out like players in a soccer game to try and keep them "fresh" but the puppies had dug in, appearing to have "forgotten" everything their owners had taught them. Of course they hadn't, they simply had plans of their own.

Anyone who's participated in competition obedience will tell you that dogs have good days and bad days. During my brief dalliance with competition I was taken by how far dog owners were willing to travel in pursuit of a companion dog certificate. There are different levels of competition ranging from novice through utility (I'm referring to AKC or ASCA sponsored events) The dog owners that compete in these venues pour a remarkable amount of time, money and other resources into training for them and still, sometimes,..."This is the heel off leash test are you ready?", the handler responds, "Ready!", the judge instructs, "Forward!" At this point the handler walks forward in a straight line with their dog at their heel,...in theory anyway. I recall a dog owner competing in the middle of the pack, an open competition. She and her dog would've successfully competed in several other legs, (A leg is one of three competitions required to receive a CD) to test at the "Open" level, yet as the handler walked forward, her English Bulldog hung back to check out the cute Brittney Spaniel walking by just outside the ring. Understandable, have you seen these dogs? They're quite captivating, the sirens of the dog world. So why all this exposition? Why burden you with this tedious anecdote? Because it illustrates a critical point. One that I try to emphasize to dog owners before they ever sign on; sometimes there's some heavy lifting involved and you when it is, you have to be prepared to do it if you're going to be successful in the long run.

Back to the puppies. Whenever it's possible to coach from the sidelines I want the dog owners in the thick of it. I want those successful advances to have happened between the dogs and their owners. Those moments foster confidence and make the lessons more rewarding. Sometimes though, and this was one of those times, I have to step in and litigate my argument. When Daniel says to Mister Miyage, "What does all this wax on wax off crap have to do with Karate?" Mister Miyage starts throwing punches and kicks to make his point. (From Melville to Pat Morita, are you still with me?) So, for the next 15 minutes, I took over for one of the two couples. Each time the puppy broke stay, I recalled Ahab, "From hell's heart I stab at thee; for hate's sake I spit my last breath at thee. Ye damned whale!"
Alright, so that's entirely too melodramatic. Just the same I'd resolved to be more stubborn than this Golden puppy. I was determined to illustrate to her owners that this was not a cognitive issue but an obedience issue and that she'd eventually comply without resorting to aversive techniques. It was muggy, I needed a squeegee to keep the sweat off my forehead and this puppy wasn't cutting me any slack. Nevertheless, this was a behavioral "tunnel". Which is to say that it had an entrance and an exit and while the proverbial "light at the end" was not yet in sight, I knew it was ahead if I remained patient. Finally, the puppy capitulated. Giving me both a "down" and a "stay" without repeated requests for her to do so. I walked to mid field, greeted the other dog owner and returned to release her to play with her sister. Joy and rapture! It's all that either dog wanted and we'd held it in front of them until they gave us what we wanted. There's nothing arbitrary about "stay". A solid "stay" behavior can mean the difference between being safe and being dead. Any animal control officer will tell you how frequently they've had to recover the remains of a dog that had run out the front door of their home or an open gate to the back yard etc. only to be struck by a car.

It's perfectly reasonable to wonder whether there are better, more expeditious ways to achieve certain training goals. To that end, every field of endeavor either evolves or falls prey to attrition. Advances in medicine, engineering, etc. are made all the time and yet most of us still buy cars, fly in airplanes, and see our doctors. Training dog owners is no different. With each epiphany, either realized or learned, I'll inevitably think of a dog owner I'd worked with and want to do it all over again equipped with this new knowledge. And then there are times that aren't all that complicated. These are the scenarios that don't call for pragmatism or the next big advance in dog training; they call for patience and resolve. If you want a perfect dog that doesn't bark, try to eat your lunch, poop or pee where they're not supposed to, always stays and never ever bites or growls. Try a Gund, I understand they're quite life-like. If you've got a real dog however, you've got put your time in and sometimes that means finding your inner Ahab.

Who's The Boss?

Three years ago I was offered the chance to do a presentation at a symposium called "Dog Sense". My friend Ann Corvin was organizing it as well as being a presenter. She'd invited Dr. Ruth Colwill, Associate Professor of Psychology at Brown University and Dr. Dan Simpson, from West Bay Animal Hospital and host of "Pet Care with Dr. Dan Simpson" on WPRO to present as well. "Me? Really? I'm not worthy! I'm not worthy!" I wasn't sure I could use the word "symposium" correctly in a sentence much less be a presenter at one.

I spent the next few days kicking around a lot of topics before settling on the role training plays in defining the human/canine social hierarchy. I've always thought it was an interesting and evolving idea in the training world and hey, what a snappy title for my power point presentation, "The Role of Training in Defining the Human/Canine Social Hierarchy" (The alternate title was "Snooze-Yawn-Zzzzzzzzz....")

The Dog Sense symposium came and went; I managed not to embarrass myself too badly in front Ann, Ruth and Dan (At least they didn't let on that I had.)it even seemed fun in hindsight. Since then though I've come across a number of articles that raise interesting questions concerning parallels in wild canine behavior and domestic dogs. Chief among them is the idea of a pack leader. Friend and fellow trainer Sue Parker sent one such article titled "The Myth of the Pack Leader" by Lee Charles Kelly (www.leecharleskelley.com) It points to recent work by wildlife research biologists L. David Mech(www.davemech.org) who has stopped using the word "alpha" (I'd assume by extension that means no beta or omega either) because, "It falsely implies a hierarchical system in which a wolf assumes a place in a linear pecking order." That's just a brief passage from a much larger body of work but it encapsulates a significant shift in the way we look at canine behavior. If research is revealing new information about the social dynamics of wild canids then it's reasonable to say that any previously accepted parallels with domestic dogs should be reevaluated as well. That means some editing the next time I have a chance to make my presentation but it also means some major tuning in the way I'm presenting ideas about how dogs think and process information to my clients.

Dominant behavior remains a relevant talking point for me when I'm working with dog owners. Anyone who's experienced the rare pleasure of having their leg humped will appreciate that dogs make use of dominant overtures to define the dynamic. In Bruce Fogle's excellent book "The Dog's Mind", canine body language, dominant, submissive, etc. is illustrated and outlined. Humping is the one everyone's familiar with but there are a number of others that dogs turn to articulate their sense of where they slot in a particular situation. Years ago I brought one of my dogs, Reno, to a park in Hingham, MA where dog owners frequently let their dogs run unleashed. With the book's illustrations fresh in my mind I watched Reno assess various situations as they unfolded, exercising a different dominance option nearly every time. Most dominant overtures involve position; think, Greco-Roman wrestling. With the two Malinois he chose posturing (tail up, pilo-erection, "I look bigger than you.") followed by climbing over their withers. Before the humans became too rattled, I said "Reno out." He called off the encounter and came to me. What happened next has left me puzzled ever since. Every subsequent encounter would quickly begin with a dominant display, but never the same one twice. T-blocking (Walking across the tangent path of a dog perceived to be subordinate.) Head over the withers, and humping. Reno was clearly preoccupied with articulating his sense of dominance in these scenarios but it also appeared he was choosing one means of communicating dominance over another. Why was it important for him to establish his dominance in those situations and why too was he picking one approach over another? Finally, why would he respond subordinately to me each time while in the throws of establishing some measure of dominance? Pack dynamics don't appear to be a good fit for these encounters. In truth I don't know why Reno behaved the way he did that day. Often in lessons I'll say "It'd be great if I could ask him." Of course we cannot. Instead we turn to research; which seems to suggest (my interpretation only) that dominant behavior is intended to be ephemeral not a means to establish a permanent position of status (e.g. The Pope or The Supreme Court) For me that puts a lot of things in perspective. If nothing else I am a diligent observer of canine behavior. I believe I am both objective and subjective in that respect. I have observed my dogs interactions among themselves, with me, my wife Sue and my 7 year old son Keir. The issue of status in these various and sometimes nuanced situations is as common as salt and pepper at the dinner table. Jockeying for attention, getting the best view of the neighbor walking their dog etc. In that respect I'm inclined to wax dog-like (At least my best interpretation of that idea)and assert dominance; correcting behaviors from barking to climbing on people and furniture. I've got an old brood of dogs ranging in ages from eight to thirteen. If I've spent all the years we've lived with each other establishing myself as "pack leader", then why would I have to keep reminding them of my status within our "pack"? It explains why so many dog owners have become frustrated with training their dogs. At what point does the training "stick"?

In an article titled "Dominance, The Dirty Word" from the May 2005 issue of the APDT newsletter, Lore I. Haug, DVM writes:

"Dominance describes a relationship between two individuals based on the outcome of an agnostic encounter (Lindsay, 2001; Shepherd, 2002). Dominant-subordinate relationships permitted the evolution of social hierarchies to allow for more harmonious group living."

The operative word is "relationship". In this context the suggestion is long term. Canine relationships are not monolithic, they are complex, they are the culmination of many things including harmony and conflict, dominance and subordination. When dog owners become preoccupied with concepts like "Alpha" and "Pack Leader" we are trying too hard to simplify. We are looking through the same lens that gives us the Iron Rule of Oligarchy. Yet there is no evidence that I'm aware of which suggests that dogs, wild or otherwise, are interested in bureaucracy. So is it time to retire these terms? I have. In training there are "terms of art". Phrases that may not hold up to scientific scrutiny but may make it easier to understand what's going on. Consider Caesar Milan's frequent references to what type of "energy you're projecting". Everyone understands this isn't intended to be taken literally but figuratively; it's intended to put the dog owner in the right frame of mind. Just the same, trainers are often the first and sometimes the only means of education a dog owner may get about their dogs. The expression "Pack Leader" becomes problematic in that respect because it suggests a relationship on auto-pilot instead of a fluid changing one. Fluid relationships require effort, consideration and a sense of pragmatism.

UPDATE (10/10/12): Dominance is rarely brought up in addressing behavioral problems. I think it's reasonable to assume the possibility that dominance in specific contexts may be relevant but as a go to subtext to every behavioral problem under the sun, including humping, it applies with decreasing frequency.  

The Zen of Butt Scratching

In my other life I'm a senior project manager at Mandeville Sign. It's a third generation family owned company that's been around for ninety-two years, a long time by any measure. I've been there for fourteen of them but last night I left in the wake of a sweeping lay-off. "Heavy is the head that wears the crown." a well known line uttered by the great Jack Nicholson in the 2006's "The Departed" came to mind, the gravity of the decision clearly taking it's toll on the company's president. In recent months, he'd taken to bringing his miniature poodle "Tito" to work with him. Two of his kids were off to college; he said he didn't want to leave Tito at home in an empty house. Since Tito spent most of the workday lounging quietly on his dog bed in the President's office he was never an annoyance and in fact, was a pleasant reminder that I was working for a family business.

Sleeping last night was difficult. While I was not included in yesterday's lay-offs, there are most certainly more to come as the relentlessly grim financial forecast shows no signs of clearing anytime soon. Early this morning I was greeted at the side of my bed by Archie. If I've worked with you, you've heard me mention him and if you've worked with me, you've probably heard me say that I allow my dogs on the bed "by invitation only" never of their own accord. He sat patiently at bedside hoping for an invite and I obliged. As he curled up with me I scratched his tush, a favored activity for most dogs, Archie being no exception. He began letting out quiet, barely audible grunts and wheezes that I only hear when he's in the "zone", supremely content and happy. Thoughts of my future lifted, if only temporarily and instead I wondered if my boss and co-workers weren't at home getting a break from the gloominess with Tito, Chico, Ruby, Rocky, Shadow and Oola (to name a few). I hope they are. Our dogs do pick up on our tension, reading even subtle changes in body language, tone of voice and general behavior. They are often remarkably gifted at relieving tension as well.

There's a rolling e-mail, I get it once every 18 months or so, about the simple pleasures our dogs value so greatly. My wife Sue will tell you with an all too knowing grin that I am not sentimental at heart. So it is with an unsentimental yet genuine zeal that I encourage dog owners, particularly those feeling the stress of the recession, to consider and engage in the profoundly simple pleasure of butt scratching. By all means include your own tush in the bargain though in my experience I have never been able to appreciate it with the same depth that my three dogs do.

Of course the Zen of butt scratching extends in trademark existential fashion to other simple pleasures as well. Walks, fetch or some time with a tug toy. These are healthy and effective ways to blow off steam and they don't cost anything.

The recession, depression, call it what you like; will end. For myself, I hope Ben Bernanke's predictions of 2010 are pragmatic. In the meantime I'll endeavor to emerge from it more grounded. Scratching dog butts will play a role. My dogs, your dogs, and the dogs at the Warwick Shelter.

The Duke of Norfolk

In October 2004 the staff and volunteers of the Warwick Animal Shelter were settling into the new shelter building on Service Road. A welcomed change of scenery from the dilapidated structure immediately next door. Amongst the first group of potential new dogs was a lively eight month old lab terrier mix we’d named “Griffin”. He had a wiry black coat with brown highlights and lots of playful energy. I liked him a great deal and didn’t expect him to be at the shelter very long before some lucky soul adopted him. I knew of a family who had recently moved into a beautiful new home in a quiet Lincoln neighborhood and wanted a family dog. My focus at the shelter was training and later temperament testing; adoptions seemed best left to the staff and volunteers who knew the right questions to ask in the screening process. At the time this seemed different, it struck me as an easy call putting this family and Griff together; I’d established a good rapport with the staff so when I recommended the adoption it was with the best of intentions that the application was approved.

“My first interaction with Griffin as an adolescent dog was brief as he wasn’t at the shelter for very long before he was adopted.” – Ann Corvin | Director of the Warwick Animal Shelter

I’d offered to tutor the family with some basic leash work and recalls. The training session we scheduled revealed to me that Griff was being relegated to a wire crate in the family’s unheated garage and an outdoor pen. He was not allowed in the house at any time because of his shedding. No allergies to speak of, just the mess he was sure to leave in their new home. I tried in vain to convince them they were making a mistake, I assumed he’d be part of their family, be allowed to play, be in the holiday pictures; all of things you want for them when they leave the shelter to live in someone’s home. “Home” being the operative word. There was no convincing them. The revelation that my naïve enthusiasm to put him in this home would mean he’d live out the rest of his life in isolation was doing a number on me. I had dreams of sneaking onto the property under cover of darkness to liberate him. I wanted to travel back in time two weeks and just keep my mouth shut, let Ann, the shelter keeper, find him a nice home as she so skillfully did day in and day out. Of course I had to tell Ann what had become of this adoption. That it was personally humiliating was a minor detail. I would learn from this blunder but it was Griff who was paying the price for my hubris.

At the shelter, long time volunteers John Boiardi, Paul Napolitano and Jan Tucker walked the dogs diligently every week. They embraced the Postman’s Creed, “Neither rain nor snow…” Because getting the dogs out to stretch their legs and get some fresh air was critical to their ability to endure the shelter experience. Life at the shelter is difficult for the animals that find themselves there but Ann and then Director of Volunteers Barbara Emmons had nurtured an environment that drew compassionate, bright volunteers to help ease the tension. At the shelter Griff was surrounded by people who cared about him. I’d just taken that away.

In the years that passed I’d hear through the grapevine how he was doing. The first winter following the adoption had it’s share of freezing cold days and nights. The brother of one of the adopters had constructed a heated dog house for Griff when he learned Griff’s existing dog house had no heat. It was a kind thing for him to do but also fueled both my disgust and sense of guilt.

The following summer I’d find myself working with a family who lived within a few streets of Griff. That family’s kids knew the adoptive family’s kids. They related what I interpreted to be anti-social behavior when Griff was out for a walk. This was second hand information but consistent with what happens to some dogs when they’re not an intimate part of a social group; not part of a pack, not part of a family. What they described sounded like aloof behavior, disconnected. He was shutting down. I used the encounter with their neighbor to again offer some training assistance. If I could get their ear again perhaps they’d soften to the idea of finally bringing Griff into their home. The response was something of the order of “That’s very nice, we’ll let you know.” I’d grown cynical enough by then to know what that really meant.

In December of 2007 I learned the family that adopted Griff was moving out of state where the father was taking a new job. With guarded optimism I also learned they did not intend to bring Griff with them. No reason of any value was offered. They had never bonded with him so while I’d wished for years they’d give him back to the shelter it now seemed likely it would actually come to pass. The only wrinkle was that he’d been living in Lincoln so ending up at the Warwick Shelter was not in the cards barring an exchange of dogs with the Lincoln Shelter. Perhaps it was providence when another family member who happened to live in Warwick agreed to take in Griff. I reached out once again to the father who’d told me there was a teenage son and another dog living there and that Griff would be allowed to live in the house. I explained that Griff would need help adjusting to this new dynamic and offered to make myself available to his sister and her family to assist them with the transition. “That’s very nice, we’ll let you know.” Days and weeks passed and I kept my fingers crossed that the sister was more sensible than the brother. Then I got the call from Ann. Griff was back at the shelter. He had bitten the son on the ear. It was a superficial bite but a bite nevertheless.

“Unfortunately for Griff, he ended up back at the shelter years later after he had been given away when the adopting party moved out of state.” – Ann Corvin | Director of the Warwick Animal Shelter

Any dog owner I’ve worked with whose dog had demonstrated dominant behavior will attest, I instruct them, ad-nauseam, dogs should not be allowed to share a place with them on the furniture, beds, etc. It renders fuzzy any other efforts to establish a social hierarchy and can lead to abhorrent behavior. The story related when Griff was turned into the shelter had him lying down on the couch with the teenage son. When the son put his arm around Griff, Griff responded with a single bite to the ear, defined as a level three bite by Dunbar’s Bite Hierarchy (more on that later). Our body language can sometimes send unintended messages to our canine counterparts. In this case Griff was afforded an elevated place in the home (couch), when the teenaged son put his arm around Griff, he interpreted this as a dominant challenge. It’s difficult to quantify these things when I don’t witness them first hand, so this is strictly speculation on my part based on the account told. The family had done nothing wrong, they’re willingness to take Griff into their home was noble in and of itself however, given the opportunity I would’ve educated them about such things and perhaps this would not have happened but it had. The damage was done and so was this chapter in Griff’s life.

Through a strange set of circumstances, Griff found himself back at the Warwick Shelter, however his future was uncertain. He’d bitten someone and that put him in a precarious place I’d never imagined he’d be three years earlier. Statistically, the great majority, perhaps 80% or better of adoptive homes haven’t had a lot of experience with dogs, certainly not aggressive ones. That brought up some tough questions. Fundamentally, is there a home out there now for Griff? Is there someone who’s prepared to expend the resources of time, patience and money? Aggressive dogs represent a potential liability. Is there someone out there who will exercise good judgment consistently to avoid putting others as well as themselves in danger? Someone who won’t set Griff up for failure but for success? Difficult and important questions. Other factors included how Griff would adjust to being back at the shelter. Volunteers had to be aware of his history. For my part I would begin taking him to the sally port for some counter conditioning and desensitizing sessions. Surprisingly, Griff appeared to remember me, affording me a certain measure of trust. My first goal was two pronged. I wanted to draw him out of his shell and I wanted to desensitize him to having someone lean over him to put a collar, then a leash on him. He liked junky treats, not the good stuff I typically turn to like string cheese and turkey-bacon. To Griff, Puppy-Ronis® had no equal. He began to respond quickly. There would be a lot of work ahead but this was a promising start and I was very happy to have the chance to work with him again. He was alternately enthusiastic and stubborn as we moved onto sit, down and stay. It appeared that when the novelty had worn off he just wanted to go back to his kennel. He hadn’t been part of any sort of pack dynamic, there was no reason to expect he’d care what I wanted him to do but he’d have to learn if he was going to have a chance of being adopted successfully.

The volunteers that had been around when Griff first left knew what he’d been through. Together they’d rally to make sure he got plenty of exercise and praise in equal measure. It was a regular reminder that I was a volunteer as much for the insight shelter dogs provide as to temper my cynicism. One of my favorite “dog books” was “Culture Clash” by Jeanne Donaldson. It was required reading at Mt. Ida when I’d gone back to school to get an academic grounding in training. Her frank reflections included (my interpretation) a good deal of what we humans had done to screw dogs up. The Warwick Shelter is like the parabola of a magnifying lens when it comes to this subject. Neglect, abuse, over-breeding, etc. are present in concentrated form. Only the staff and volunteers prevent a full blown conflagration. The city was restructuring the shelter’s staff with respect to its relationship with the Warwick Police Dept. Animal Control would remain within the WPD and the shelter would have an appointed director. I’m deeply grateful to Mayor Avedisian’s office and the wisdom they exercised in appointing Ann Corvin the shelter’s director. In the wake of that appointment the shelter has become a warmer, more compassionate place for the unfortunate creatures that find themselves there, including Griff. Ann, a one time shelter volunteer herself, had always welcomed earnest, thoughtful individuals to do the same. Dawn and Mike Kalinowski were amongst the most recent and were anxious to help. Sue Parker, a long time volunteer and fellow dog trainer was offering, free of charge, a “Train the Trainer” program. Group classes for shelter volunteers and shelter dog owners interested in training shelter dogs. Dawn and Mike signed up. Ironically (in hindsight) Griff was not their first choice. Mike was drawn to Spooky, a Rotti and Dawn to Bogey a Rotti mix. It was Ann who suggested Dawn and Mike work with Griff in Sue’s classes. Dawn reflected back on it saying, “We fell in love with the knucklehead, he was a challenge but he needed us.” Dawn asked me for some advice about working with him in a group environment. “Be firm but fair” I remember saying. Griff’s very bright but he’ll shut down when he’s not in the mood.”

“Early this summer 2008, Griffin began coming to my group shelter dog classes with two volunteers that had joined our "Train the trainer program". My first impression of Griffin was that of an empty shell. He was just there, no expression. He seemed to act like a lost soul. Griffin was a smart cookie and knew a lot of commands already. However, he only wanted to do the commands on his terms, he seemed like he liked to be in charge of situations. Well, teaching Dawn and Mike a bit about leadership skills, this wasn't too difficult to fix, but the challenging part for me as an instructor was to find a motivational way to get him to loosen up and have fun with us, becoming part of the gang. We needed to let him know he was accepted and he didn't need to be in charge any longer.”

– Sue Parker | Dynamic Dog Training

The weeks of the spring and early summer of 2008 saw progress. Whenever I’d bump into Dawn and Mike I’d get a quick report card. Griff wasn’t the adolescent pup I’d known three years earlier but was responding and seemed to be having fun. Something else was happening as well, Dawn and Mike were bonding with Griff. Mike, a Navy guy who was in Newport teaching fire fighting to sailors and officers, was due to be stationed back in Norfolk. They were considering adopting Griff and taking him back to Virginia with them. Meanwhile, Dawn, a paralegal had been working for a real estate developer in Warwick but found dog training so compelling she was kicking around the idea of getting into the field herself. The same thing had happened to me many years ago working with my friend and dog trainer Ron Aviles. Dawn had gotten the “bug”. I’ve known a number of trainers over the years. Many chose their own dogs very carefully, purchasing dogs who’d been bred as much for temperament as for conformation. Not a bad thing to do necessarily but I’d been inspired by people like Sue Sternberg, www.suesternberg.com , to own a shelter dog and to work with shelter dogs as much as I could. They’d sharpen my instincts; make me a more intuitive trainer. Dawn appeared poised to make that same decision. Only a very small percentage of shelter dogs are ever adopted by dog trainers. A fledgling dog trainer with a big heart would be every bit as good. I was very excited for Griff; his future was looking great. The guilt I continued to harbor began to lift as well.

On June 29th, Griffin and I began attending Sue Parker’s CGC class. We attended eight training sessions, including a one mile trail walk fund-raiser. I incorporated the training into our walks, and I worked with Griffin in the carport at the shelter. Griffin was stubborn and distant. He generally sniffed the ground, attempted to relieve himself, or ignored commands by turning away. He would pay attention and perform commands for approximately the first 20 minutes of class then he would “check out“. He would refuse to perform commands that I was certain he knew; he would lose focus and become distracted. Even when performing commands at the shelter, Griffin was not consistent. Griffin always seemed aloof and disconnected. He did however enjoy getting attention in the form of petting from me and other volunteers, and never showed any aggression towards people or dogs in class. – Dawn Kalinowski

There were a few weeks between first hearing this and when Mike and Dawn were scheduled to return to their home in Virginia. Summer is the busiest time for me. I was working with as many as twenty private clients in addition to a full time job and was content to count the days until Griff moved to his new home. He’d finally have what I’d hoped for him more than three years earlier, he’d have a family.

Most days start for me with a scan of incoming e-mails. That morning there was an e-mail from Ann lamenting Dawn and Mike’s sad decision not to adopt Griff after all. A volunteer who had only been there for a short time was returning Griff from a walk. She leaned over him to remove his leash when he lunged growling at her. I’ve learned to strike the phrase “tried to bite” from my lexicon. When the circumstances are such that a dog intends to bite, they do. Unimpeded by a leash, muzzle or enclosure they will bite as often (Six times per second is not unusual for even a geriatric dog.) and with whatever level of severity they prefer at the time. Griffin had delivered a single glancing bite. Earlier I described a level 3 bite. This refers to “Ian Dunbar’s Bite Hierarchy”. I keep a copy describing levels 1 through 6 in my planner for reference. Dr. Dunbar is amongst the most widely known and most respected individuals in the world of canine behavior. The bite hierarchy is a tool for determining both what a dog did and more often what they did not do. Griffin had given the volunteer a level 2 bite. No punctures and in this case, no repetition. In dog parlance he was saying “take a hike” with prejudice. Again he’d misinterpreted the body language, however his response was tempered. We can speculate that he did not know the volunteer well enough to trust her leaning over him. In both the second and third pictures I’ve included in this story you will see both John Boiardi and Dawn Kalinowski leaning provocatively over a composed Griff. Both had established trust with him and so there is no response. Nevertheless, Mike and Dawn were rattled by the incident and were concerned that taking him now might be more hubris than anything else.

In August 2002, I adopted a dog, Reno, from the Warwick Shelter. He had a reputation for dominant aggressive behavior with dogs but on occasion with people as well. I’d reasoned that the best way to have empathy for the dog owners I was working with was to bring a dog into my home with some, if not all of the problems my clients were dealing with. That’s proved to be a sound idea and has paid dividends on a number of fronts. I also love Reno a great deal. Outweighing my concern for the grim future Griff was facing was the deep sense that Dawn was making a mistake that would affect her as well. The very problem that had lead Dawn to leave Griff behind would in fact make him the perfect choice for adoption. His aggression was not severe but tempered. In the right hands he could be rehabilitated. Taking charge of his training would provide Dawn with some invaluable experience. This was a mutually beneficial and rare match and I was compelled to make that case to Dawn. I started with an e-mail, an “opening argument” of sorts. Dawn responded almost immediately. She’d been broken up by the decision and was receptive to the idea that this could work after all. She and Mike still had concerns but at this point they had to do more with the logistics of adapting to his new home. The love was there already, a dash of logic was needed to seal the deal and sealed it finally was. Griff’s life to this point had played out like an odyssey. There was promise, suffering, endurance, and hope; closely followed by despair. Finally, when all appeared to be lost, a glorious rescue.

We adopted Griffin on October 16th and it took him about 2 weeks to adjust. During this time, he acted out by growling and backing up when we attempted to crate him (we used chicken to lure him into the crate to get him past this); he jumped on the furniture after being moved off of it several times (we no longer give him access to rooms with furniture when left alone); and he whined and barked while in his crate (we rewarded him with chicken and praise for periods of quiet). He also had a period of growling/snarling at us when we placed him in his crate with his morning kibble (we eventually changed his meal time and the growling stopped). Additionally, Griffin did not seem to understand the concept of playing once we got him home. We gradually incorporated different toys until he caught on and he now plays regularly – Dawn Kalinowski

Life at the shelter is rife with pathos. For many dogs and cats the drama extends beyond the shelter experience. I’ve seen it first hand, but Griff’s story was special. Dawn promised to keep me posted on Griff’s progress. We’ve had an ongoing dialogue ever since. Dawn and Mike’s efforts to continue his counter conditioning and desensitizing have been creative and very smart, including group obedience classes (In the photo below Griff is taking a bow on graduation day) lots of exercise and play. Dawn fashioned a custom squirrel toy variation on the “tethered mouse” cats love so much. Griff bounds around the yard jumping and crawling like the puppy I remembered when we’d first met. He’s been enrolled in a doggy day care. The owner is experienced and was briefed on Griff’s behavioral issues. The staff keeps a close eye on him and report he is starting to play with other dogs. Wonderful things were happening and Dawn agreed the experience was teaching her a great deal. Far from having any misgivings about adopting him, Mike and Dawn clearly love Griff and he was bonding with them as well. In light of Griffin’s re-emergence as the real Griff, replete with the best dog bed, best dog food and his occasional aloof behavior, Dawn’s begun referring to him as “His Highness” Griff may never be fully aware of how extraordinary his life’s been or the role the staff and volunteers played in it. In a strange way I suppose this adds to the regal mystique you’d expect from The Duke of Norfolk.