Sadie, Sadie

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.