Worried that we were in over our heads, we called in Marin’s
dog whisperer, Trish King, for a consultation about Sadie, our new beautiful
American Eskimo/Pomeranian/Poodle/Corgi /Chihuahua rescue. After 11 years of “parenting” as Trish said,
“…not a real dog,” – our beloved King Charles Cavalier Spaniel, Picasso – we
needed help to better handle the new member of our family.
Under a year old, she came from the streets of Oakland with
the name, Sandy, but after the first day, our daughter modified her name,
since, as she explained, “Everyone needs to have a dog at some point named
Sadie.”
Sadie, during Sophie’s gap year, will be Sophie’s primary
responsibility and companion. When
Sophie heads off to college, we’ll be the foster parents.
We had several concerns, all of which, Trish, a soft and
clear spoken woman who looks like she just stepped off a Marin hiking trail with
a dozen docile perfectly behaved pit bulls in tow, expertly advised us about at
a 90-minute meeting, or let’s call it a canine therapy session.
When she was done, she enthusiastically reassured us that we
had a fabulous, very smart and sweet dog, one that she wouldn’t mind adopting
herself. She proceeded to demonstrate techniques and generously share her training
secrets.
We immediately started using them, and lo and behold, in the
first week, they seemed to work, or worked about 75% of the time, which is a
pretty damn quick fix (unlike my own “human” therapy). I am
bullish (or doggish) on a behaviorist theory of change. What a little chicken/liver treat, a turn of
the body, or tone of voice can achieve.
I am bringing a little baggie of bite size morsels to my next session
and our therapist can use them with me!
Sadie has a lot of energy and when she plays and greets you,
she nips and jumps. She got even more aggressive when we told her “No,” or “Stop
it,” and pushed her away. It scared us.
She has sharp pointy teeth and they can hurt.
Our response actually egged her on, and increased her
intensity. Turns out that we needed to “shun”
her – this involves silently turning away, picking up your cell phone, looking
out the window, or walking away. When
her energy is not being matched, and she no longer has your attention and she
stops the behavior. “Dogs want an audience,” Trish explained.
“The important thing
here is not to get angry, as it will
just kick her into high gear. Instead,
be quietly powerful, and make your boundaries very clear,” Trish
instructed. We should calmly, softly,
say the word “Enough.”
Be “quietly powerful.”
This is a radical concept for me to chew on. I am a big talker, and when I’m angry, let’s
face it, I have a persistent bark. I get loud and raise my voice. Boundaries for me are also not so clear. I am
guilty of co-dependent behavior, and often extend myself beyond what is good
for me and for others in the service of “fixing” things. Suddenly, Trish’s
lesson seems applicable to me as well as to Sadie. “Enough.”
The walking path, the place where I go for 5 to 6 miles each
morning, meditating and peacefully musing about the world, had suddenly turned
into a minefield. Around each bend,
Sadie exploded with what we thought was aggression towards many dogs (all sizes
and colors), barking, growling, baring her teeth, and lunging at them. People who knew me and the zen Picasso, cast
concerned looks and stopped saying “Good morning.”
Trish got a big stuffed dog manikin out of her car trunk and had us walk Sadie up the street towards
it, in order to evaluate her behavior.
Sadie did the rude barking, growling, pulling thing, and Trish determined
that it was “dog reactivity” or “frustrated greeting.”
Sadie is not afraid of other dogs, she’s actually very
friendly and she can’t wait to meet them.
Trish prescribed the “Find it,” game as a way to manage
Sadie in the face of oncoming canines.
You throw a treat on the ground, and instruct the dog to “find it.” This distracts her, and also engages her.
“Whenever possible, the dog should ‘find’ the treat, then
look up to you….so that she is always searching for something,” Trish said.
After a week of practice, Sadie mastered “Find it.” She was
sufficiently distracted and shifted her attention to running down the treat,
ignoring the oncoming dogs. Once the dogs got up close, Sadie just said “hello”
like a normal person….I mean dog.
Trish also suggested teaching Sadie to catch the treats in
her mouth, as this places her full attention on you, and makes her focus. Sophie has already successfully taught Sadie
to sit, lie down, crawl, stand up on her hind legs, dance, and shake paws. She’s not at the treat catching stage yet, but
she is one smart cookie.
Despite all the good progress, a week after our initial Trish
consultation, Sadie started up with a new set of difficult behaviors. On the
walking path she constantly bit at her leash and at my legs and hands, and I
could not get her to stop.
At home, Sadie would get in a frenzy and she‘d jump on Picasso,
unfazed by his growling. Picasso, instead of backing away, escalates the
growling and walks right into Sadie, holding his ground. It gets ugly and we worried that someone would
get hurt.
After resting throughout the day, Sadie becomes possessed
with energy. We call it the “witching
hour,” when she will not listen or settle down. Shunning does not always work. We put her outside, but when she comes back
in, she resumes the bad behavior.
We called Trish back for a second session and we sat together
with the two dogs sleeping peacefully at her feet, the ENTIRE time, and
discussed these new Sadie issues for an hour.
For the leash biting, Trish suggested stepping on the leash,
and then showed us a move where you insert your fingers underneath Sadie’s
collar and pull up at a 45-degree angle.
You don’t let up until she does.
You tell her “enough.”
Sadie clearly doesn’t like this. It establishes you as the alpha, the boss. It
also works when she does the “playful” nipping and biting. It even works with
Picasso to get him to stop his attention seeking barking. Who says you can’t
teach an old dog new tricks?
The next morning on the walking path I did what Trish
suggested. I stepped on the leash and
inserted my fingers underneath her collar.
I repeated this about 3 times in a row, and she stopped. For the rest of the walk she was fine, no
leash biting. Each day if she tried to
bite her leash I did the collar manipulation and calmly said, “Enough.”
The leash biting stopped (though occasionally she puts
Picasso’s leash in her mouth – I’m not sure if she’s just trying to walk him…)
and we’re having a great time on the path. People now ask me about Sadie, and remark how
friendly and pretty she is. I tell them
that she is a rescue, doing my little part to evangelize the need for people to
take in animals.
An estimated 70 million animals live as strays in the United
States. According to the Humane society, only about 6 to 8 million cats and
dogs wind up in shelters. Owners reclaim
less than 30% shelter dogs and 4% of
cats, and only about 3 to 4 million cats and dogs are adopted from shelters each
year.
So, that’s a whole hell of a lot of dead animals we’re
talking about. I think about this when I
look at sweet Sadie from Oakland. I am so happy she didn’t become one of the
bad statistics.
When we discussed Sadie’s harassment of Picasso, Trish
suggested we put something between them (a blanket or piece of cardboard). Also we can put her on her leash and do the
step on it technique to get her to take Picasso’s not so subtle hint to be left
alone.
Trish thinks we can leave the dogs together in the house
when we go out and that they will be fine together. Sadie likes to get into Picasso’s bed with
him. He is warming up to her. He’s still
jealous, and will growl if she is getting attention when he is not, or if she
appropriates one of his toys. But it’s
improving.
Sadie is a spirited puppy who loves to play. Picasso never
did much playing with his own species; he is very tranquil, and a great walker
and fetcher, but not the rough housing type.
Sadie on the other hand, moves super fast, darts in and out, and runs
circles around dogs of all sizes.
I’ve found a dog park to take her to across from the
Larkspur Ferry and she’s made a bunch of new frolicking four legged
friends. Lucia, Lucifer, Russia, Todd,
Diego, and Frieda just to name a few. Diego and Frieda slay me. Diego is a
tannish brown bulldog who looks just like his namesake; Frieda is a dark feisty
shih tzu with an artist's temperament, who for no apparent reason, goes off in fits of yapping.
I am getting a kick out of meeting new dogs and watching
their interactions. I completely get why people write novels, memoirs, and books of
poetry about their dogs. I have been in love with Picasso for 11 years; and now
there’s Sadie, who’s winning over my heart.
Two is a handful,
literally. My hands full of dogs, I
start each day with a jaunt to my step, as we head out for our walk.
