Got a glimpse of the dog lover side of me this morning when out for a walk. I was looking forward to getting my dog-fix with all the dogs out on the boulevard. We lost Cagney last December and are in the process of selling our home and moving so can’t get another dog for a bit, so I am especially hungry for canine fuzzies. Came upon 2 dogs with their humans, who were standing there talking, so saw my chance to get some loving. One of the dogs was a bit hesitant but obviously friendly. The other came over, more because the other dog showed interest, but was yanked back by his owner. I should have read that cue, i.e. I am a bit concerned about my dog around people. Eventually she loosened her grip ont he leash and he approached me. I scratched his chin, then did what I instruct others not to do (especially with a dog displaying his stand-offish body language): I leaned over and started stroking his head and ears. He backed away but I continued to approach–I just couldn’t help myself. I was driven. I just wanted some doggie lovin’ but it was obvious he didn’t really want any part of me. If he had been a human, I would have taken the cues and walked off, but like many of us, I just let those “I love dogs” feelings take over. Finally, I got control of myself and left him alone before he got defensive. Goes to show you.
Glenn was working with a people-aggressive dog last night. The father-in-law, who was often the victim of her aggression, was able to pet the dog, in the appropriate way (waiting for her to approach then petting from under the chin, not leaning over the dog or making eye contact) many times throughout the session. But then the father-in-law started to feel more confident. You could see he was anxious to have the dog like him so that he could get have the loving kind of relationship he wanted with this dog. Spurred on by his obvious successes, he went toward the dog, even though she was stiff and backed off a bit, leaned over and put his hand over the dog’s head and began stroking her head and ears. Wham! She gave him a good bite on the forearm.
Lesson learned.
Duh! And I’m a trainer??
May 11th, 2010Tails from the Lighter Side
March 20th, 2010Some thoughts for the day.
So often we humans forget that common sense management goes a long way in addressing problems with our dogs.
Anecdote: A young couple called complaining that when they would take the leash off their dog at the end of their walk the dog would run away. “Which side of the door do you unleash him,” asked Glenn. “Just before we enter the house,” the wife replied. “Just unleash him on the other side of the door and your problem will be solved.”
Anecdote: A couple called concerned that their dog was pacing in their bedroom all night. Seems the dog had always slept under their bed, but since they had removed the legs of the bed and the bed was on the floor, the dog was pacing. “Put the legs back on the bed,” suggested Glenn. “Of course,” sighed the sleepless dog owner.
Anecdote: Students in class often complain that their dogs jump on people coming to the house. Simple short-term solution: leash the dog so that he can’t jump on them.
Our beloved akita, Cagney
February 2nd, 2010Our beloved akita, Cagney, is gone. We made the decision to let him cross the rainbow bridge to be with Teddy, Saki, Jade, Nakita, Lady, Chappie, and Ajax just before Christmas.
When trying to decide how to start this, my first blog. I initially thought I should start on an upbeat note, so that seemed to preclude writing about something as sad as Cagney’s passing. I wanted to keep on a positive note, but I was feeling anything but positive since the day we let him go.
Now I realize that my musings about Cagney are probably some of the most positive feelings I have to share at the moment. He was such a joy, our golden-retriever-in-an- akita-coat, as we liked to refer to him. That huge, curled akita tail would spin like a helicopter blade in stark contrast to those of our other akitas, whose dignified tails lightly brushed across their backs in a very controlled, dignified, akita-like manner.
With Glenn’s help, Cagney went from being the typical quiet akita to a very vocal one. He would greet us with various woofs, each with its one meaning. He would try to imitate us as we would question, “Do you want to go ‘owsahhh’ (outside)?” We would carry on whole conversations, he and I, throughout the day. The most wonderful sensation was the force of his breath on my face whenever he spoke.
He was, after all, a powerful dog. He may have been a wimp in so many ways, but he was still a strong force to be reckoned with. Three or four swipes of his paw were all it would take to dig a hole big enough to plant a good sized tree.
I still see that big black bear of a face staring out the window whenever I pull up in the driveway and I hear his footsteps every night on the stairs. I hear him “whisper” in my ear in the early morning, and his rhythmic breathing late at night. He still fills our house with his gentle, loving ways. Of course, I will be finding his shedding in nooks and crannies for a long time to come.
Have to stop now. Can’t see to type.
Cagney’s huge happy face