So that whole dog-gets-rescued-from-freezing-river-and-proceeds-to-bite-pretty-anchor-in-the-face thing. Scary, right? Kind of puts all those hilarious outtakes of reporters getting spit on by camels or goosed by geese into perspective.
I've been paying pretty close attention to this story through the various dog trainer blogs I follow, and I've noticed a difference in how dog trainers are responding versus how lay dog owners are responding. The trainers, rightly to my mind, are generally focusing on how this dog gave out multiple signals that he was stressed and was about to bite. Every human on that stage failed to notice clear signals that the dog needed space: showing the teeth, trying to look away from the anchor, and even growling. The dog also gave signals that would be less clear to a layperson--the "whale eye" (rolling the eyes and showing the whites), licking his lips, and yawning--and we can hardly expect non-dog people to understand those signals (although any parent who thinks it's okay for his or her kids to pet strange dogs should take time to learn them). But we should all know that a dog who is growling is telling us that he needs space.
The lay dog owners, on the other hand, often want to either "not place blame" or want to lay it at the feet of the anchor who, yes, should've known better than to put her face right into the face of a strange dog. One owner wanted to do both; she insisted that we not place blame at the same time that she blamed the anchor for not knowing better. What she meant was that she didn't want to blame the owner. Another owner listed a litany of dog bites she has been involved in or aware of in an attempt to make the case for the owner's innocence; she only emphasized that she herself is an irresponsible owner.
I understand the owners' impulse to blame the anchor and not the dog owner. We are, of course, owners, too. We've all been in situations where our dogs suddenly did something that we didn't see coming--not that there were no warning signs, but we simply didn't recognize them. That's precisely why those of us who read dog trainer blogs read those very blogs! We've also heard the horror stories in which the owner did everything possible to keep a dog and the people around the dog safe, but was ignored, resulting in a bite. We've seen cases in which a municipality overreacts to a single incident with mitigating factors and orders that a good dog be euthanized, or even ignores the fact that there never was an incident but uses breed-specific legislation to condemn a good dog. That ultimately is our fear: That the owner will be forced to euthanize a pet he presumably loves as much as we love our own dogs.
And, oh boy, do we LOVE our dogs. It breaks our collective heart to share this owner's pain.
That's why this owner in particular, and we as owners in general, have to take responsibility for what happened in that television studio. Yes, the anchor (who reportedly is herself a dog owner) absolutely should not have put her face right into that dog's face. But it was the owner's responsibility to ask the anchor to back off. First and foremost, we as owners are responsible for being able to recognize our
dogs’ signals so that we can warn strangers when it isn’t safe to
approach. When they ignore our warnings or don’t give us a chance to
give a warning at all, as in the case of a child who runs up from nowhere and
hugs a strange dog, they have to accept the consequences. But our
responsibility as owners comes first.
I haven't always lived up to that responsibility. Just ask my poor Dad and his index finger. Just like that anchor, Dad should've known better than to back Brewster into a corner and stick his hand in Brewster's face in a misguided attempt to make friends. But it was my responsibility to keep an eye on both Dad and Brewster, and I didn't do that. I am very lucky that the person Brewster snapped at was my understanding father and that the injury was slight (although I'm sure it pinched like the dickens). I learned the hard way that it really is my responsibility and only my responsibility to keep my dog and the people around my dog safe.
So I do research, I follow several dog trainer blogs, and I take every class I can afford. And, yes, I have become a complete crank on the subject of Dogs in Need of Space. You don't have to be a crank to be a responsible dog owner, though. An hour with our friend, Google, can provide a lot of information about dog behavior and effective training tips. (Just please do me a personal favor and ignore all that Dog Whisperer dominance theory bull. I'll let Dr. Yin tell you why.)
I've commented on several different forums that I hope part of the legal judgment against the owner is that he be required to attend a class on dog training and behavior. But more than that, I hope that all of us, those of us who are familiar with our dogs' warning signals and those of us who've never really thought about it before, will look at our dogs with fresh eyes, that we'll recognize that our dogs are always trying to communicate with us, and that we can understand them if we take a little time. They'll tell us what they need us to know. We just have to learn their language.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Monday, February 6, 2012
Is Your Tail Half Up or Half Down?
All I have to say about tonight's Reactive Dog Class is thank goodness for the Dog People. We tried an interaction between Brewster and the teacher's dog, Gracie. Gracie was very eager to be introduced (it might've been the smell of very special treats coming from my treat pouch), and she came bopping up to us more quickly than Brewster liked, so he snapped at her. I was terrified and mortified. Had that happened out in the world, I undoubtedly would've had to cope with an angry human who would insist that her dog was "Just trying to be friendly!" and "Your dog is mean!" But, being Dog People, our teachers weren't even phased.
Karla, Gracie's human, called Brewster's snap a "smile," which is a rather surprising way to characterize it. She explained that when Brewster snaps he is showing Gracie his limits, which is a communication that should be respected. Karla repeated to me several times until she was sure I heard, "Brewster isn't aggressive. He's afraid." Thinking back, I realize that she's repeated this during every class, but tonight is the first time I've really paid attention. I have always characterized Brewster as "fear-aggressive." I have always known that it's fear that causes him to lash out. But Karla's insistence on categorizing fearful behavior and aggressive behavior as two completely separate things, even though they may look the same, is a new concept for me. I don't really understand what the implications for this are, except that, at its very base, it means that Brewster is not a "bad" dog. Karla is Director of Operations at the Humane Society, and when the Director of Operations tells you that your dog is really just misunderstood, you kind of want to giggle maniacally in relief. I'm considering asking her for a signed and notarized statement that I can show to anyone who so much as shoots me and the Little Dude a dirty look: "Brewster: Certified Good Dog."*
After the snap, the four of us--two humans and two canines--sat down on the floor together and shared some of the very good treats. At one point I had Gracie and Brewster eating from both my hands at the same time, which our teachers were very impressed with. I wasn't that surprised. After all, Brewster and Maddie the Underdog get along. The barrier to Brewster's friendship with Gracie is simply that it's taking place in a big room with a bunch of noisy big dogs who scare his whiskers off.
The other "event" from this evening was Brewster's reaction to simply walking into the classroom. Instead of dropping, his tail stayed at half-mast for quite a while, and he even walked right up to the two assistant trainers who have been working with him during previous classes. When some of the other dogs started barking, it dropped all the way, but even then, as Karla pointed out, it was never "clamped," or tucked all the way under. It's a sign that, although he'll never be an outgoing or gregarious dog, Brewster is capable of existing in the world with strangers.
So, since I always try to make an effort to be an optimist, I'm calling the water glass half full instead of half empty, or, perhaps more appropriately, I'm classifying the tail as half up instead of half down.
*Jess over at the DINOS Facebook page makes the important point that dogs who are dog-dog aggressive but not fearful are not bad dogs. She says, "Some of the best therapy dogs I know are dog-aggressive dogs." My thoughts in this paragraph have more to do with my own mostly suppressed fear that Brewster might be irredeemable and my relief at hearing from an authoritative source that he isn't. It should not be taken as my judgment on dogs with challenges different than Brewster's!
Karla, Gracie's human, called Brewster's snap a "smile," which is a rather surprising way to characterize it. She explained that when Brewster snaps he is showing Gracie his limits, which is a communication that should be respected. Karla repeated to me several times until she was sure I heard, "Brewster isn't aggressive. He's afraid." Thinking back, I realize that she's repeated this during every class, but tonight is the first time I've really paid attention. I have always characterized Brewster as "fear-aggressive." I have always known that it's fear that causes him to lash out. But Karla's insistence on categorizing fearful behavior and aggressive behavior as two completely separate things, even though they may look the same, is a new concept for me. I don't really understand what the implications for this are, except that, at its very base, it means that Brewster is not a "bad" dog. Karla is Director of Operations at the Humane Society, and when the Director of Operations tells you that your dog is really just misunderstood, you kind of want to giggle maniacally in relief. I'm considering asking her for a signed and notarized statement that I can show to anyone who so much as shoots me and the Little Dude a dirty look: "Brewster: Certified Good Dog."*
After the snap, the four of us--two humans and two canines--sat down on the floor together and shared some of the very good treats. At one point I had Gracie and Brewster eating from both my hands at the same time, which our teachers were very impressed with. I wasn't that surprised. After all, Brewster and Maddie the Underdog get along. The barrier to Brewster's friendship with Gracie is simply that it's taking place in a big room with a bunch of noisy big dogs who scare his whiskers off.
The other "event" from this evening was Brewster's reaction to simply walking into the classroom. Instead of dropping, his tail stayed at half-mast for quite a while, and he even walked right up to the two assistant trainers who have been working with him during previous classes. When some of the other dogs started barking, it dropped all the way, but even then, as Karla pointed out, it was never "clamped," or tucked all the way under. It's a sign that, although he'll never be an outgoing or gregarious dog, Brewster is capable of existing in the world with strangers.
So, since I always try to make an effort to be an optimist, I'm calling the water glass half full instead of half empty, or, perhaps more appropriately, I'm classifying the tail as half up instead of half down.
*Jess over at the DINOS Facebook page makes the important point that dogs who are dog-dog aggressive but not fearful are not bad dogs. She says, "Some of the best therapy dogs I know are dog-aggressive dogs." My thoughts in this paragraph have more to do with my own mostly suppressed fear that Brewster might be irredeemable and my relief at hearing from an authoritative source that he isn't. It should not be taken as my judgment on dogs with challenges different than Brewster's!
Monday, January 30, 2012
The Consequences of Fame
First things first: We have to send a big Thank You to Jessica Dolce and Boogie at Notes from a Dog Walker for reposting on the DINOS Facebook page the Dog People post I wrote after last week's class. People from the U.S., the U.K., Canada, Australia, Russia, Germany, Croatia, Ireland, the Netherlands, and the Philippines read about Brewster! It was a very exciting Sunday!
Okay, it was exciting for me. Brewster spent his Sunday mostly sleeping and licking himself.
I was pretty excited about tonight's Reactive Dog Class, too. Brew accepted treats from the trainers right away. Although he's still not into being petted by them, one of our teachers started teaching Brewster to let him touch his collar. Turns out that this is a very important thing for all dogs to learn. When strays are brought into a shelter like the Kansas Humane Society, one of the first things the staff does to assess potential adoptability is touch the collar. A dog who shies away or snaps has an immediate black mark. The collar touch isn't the only deciding factor, of course, but it's important. A dog who accepts a collar touch has a much greater chance of staying alive long enough to be reunited with his or her owner or adopted into a new family. That's very important information to have for a dog like Brewster who has a history of being a stray. Although of course I have every intention of keeping Brewster safe, bad things happen. This is a way that I can help Brew be prepared.
Brewster also had a very good interaction, or rather noninteraction, with Gracie, our "fifth teacher." Gracie is a terrier mix a bit bigger than Brewster. She's very calm and under control so her job is to help fearful dogs accept another dog's presence, and Brewster did great! He completely ignored her and kept his focus on me, which was exactly what he was supposed to do. I mentioned to our teachers that my long-term goal is to find a sister for Brewster, and they both think he'd do just fine. I already knew that, of course. Brewster is good friends with Maddie, my mother's dog. It's just a matter of being able to introduce a new dog carefully and slowly.
We did have a bit of a problem when a big German Shepherd looked into our pod. Brew was sitting in my lap watching dogs pass by a bit of a gap, and I was really proud of him. He was keeping a watchful eye, but wasn't reacting and wasn't having any problem refocusing on me when I asked him to. But when that big Shepherd turned around and locked eyes with Brew, Brew let out a pretty serious challenge growl. I don't speak dog, but I'm guessing it was something along the lines of "Come on over here and let me rip your face off for you," and the Shepherd was none too pleased to hear it. But one of the many great things about a small dog is that it's really easy to intervene and change a situation. In this case, I just put my hand up in front of his face. As soon as the eye contact was broken, Brew relaxed again, and the Shepherd's human walked the Shepherd out of eyesight to prevent further problems. I doubt that Brewster will ever write love poems to big dogs, though.
We also worked a bit on "Leave It" tonight, which any dog owner can tell you is what you say to your dog when you're out on a walk and he finds some delicious poop he'd like to sample. I was a little trepidatious about trying this one indoors because Brewster's usual reaction when I won't let him eat a piece of poop is to turn around and pee on it. What would the teachers think of me if I said "Leave It!" and Brewster's response was to pee on the MilkBone he was supposed to be ignoring? We didn't have to find out since Brewster wasn't interested in any old MilkBone anyway. A nicely aged piece of poop would make a much more effective training tool.
Okay, it was exciting for me. Brewster spent his Sunday mostly sleeping and licking himself.
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| Moments after finding out he was about 7 minutes into his 15. |
Brewster also had a very good interaction, or rather noninteraction, with Gracie, our "fifth teacher." Gracie is a terrier mix a bit bigger than Brewster. She's very calm and under control so her job is to help fearful dogs accept another dog's presence, and Brewster did great! He completely ignored her and kept his focus on me, which was exactly what he was supposed to do. I mentioned to our teachers that my long-term goal is to find a sister for Brewster, and they both think he'd do just fine. I already knew that, of course. Brewster is good friends with Maddie, my mother's dog. It's just a matter of being able to introduce a new dog carefully and slowly.
We did have a bit of a problem when a big German Shepherd looked into our pod. Brew was sitting in my lap watching dogs pass by a bit of a gap, and I was really proud of him. He was keeping a watchful eye, but wasn't reacting and wasn't having any problem refocusing on me when I asked him to. But when that big Shepherd turned around and locked eyes with Brew, Brew let out a pretty serious challenge growl. I don't speak dog, but I'm guessing it was something along the lines of "Come on over here and let me rip your face off for you," and the Shepherd was none too pleased to hear it. But one of the many great things about a small dog is that it's really easy to intervene and change a situation. In this case, I just put my hand up in front of his face. As soon as the eye contact was broken, Brew relaxed again, and the Shepherd's human walked the Shepherd out of eyesight to prevent further problems. I doubt that Brewster will ever write love poems to big dogs, though.
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| So over the paparazzi. |
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
It's Good to Have a Hobby
I've only been knitting seriously for about 2 years, but already my memories of the time before I became A Knitter are vague and hazy. I seem to remember that intractable computer problems eventually resulted in lots of cigarettes, and when that didn't work, it came down to tears.
But now that I am A Knitter, I don't need cigarettes, and I can't remember the last time I cried in frustration. Instead, when I'm waiting for the computer to restart for the umpteenth time and desperately hoping that this time I've eliminated whatever bizarre font is causing Word to have an identity crisis, I knit. I stitch and stitch and stitch. And then I stitch some more. And as I stitch, my mind relaxes and sooner or later the solution appears.
It is very good to have a hobby.
Monday, January 23, 2012
Dog People
When we humans go to school, our teachers set standards and we have to meet them. We have to memorize spelling words, learn algebraic equations, and understand comma splices. When Brewster goes to school all he has to do is eat.
That's not as simple as it sounds. He is not what dog trainers call "food motivated" in the first place. If there's the least bit of stress or distraction, the treats have to be really special to even get his attention. (Think meat like chicken or hot dog. If it would make a vegetarian cringe, it will make a good Brewster treat.) And he has never, ever accepted a treat from a stranger. He had to meet Susan, his groomer, three times before he was willing to take a treat out of her hand. But tonight, a half-hour into class, he ate out of the trainer's hand, and I was so proud I almost cried. Really.
Now of course he didn't just bop up to the trainer, tail in the air, and say, "Hey, dude, how 'bout hooking a puppy up with some of that chicken-flavored nom nom?" Brewster's success was entirely due to the trainers' patience, something the average person usually isn't willing to show with a dog like Brewster. Living with Brew has taught me how to recognize real dog people and how to be a real dog person myself. A real dog person isn't someone who says, "I'm great with dogs!" or "All dogs love me!" A real dog person knows that, just as not all people like all other people, not all dogs will like all people. (And dog people don't hold that against the dog.) A real dog person knows that dogs are not psychic and cannot just "sense" good intentions. And a real dog person knows that dogs cannot speak English and that Dr. Dolittle is a work of fiction.
Tonight, Brewster and I got to hang out with real dog people. Three of the four trainers who teach our class moved in and out of our "pod," talking quietly with me and never making eye contact with Brewster. None of them moved in to try to pet him or call him to them. No one insisted that Brewster interact. Instead they sat down a few feet away, and every once in a while a bit of treat got tossed in Brew's direction. Slowly Brew got closer and closer to the trainer, and in one case Brewster ate treats off the trainer's leg and then out of his hand. How I wish I'd had my camera because no parent watching a human child learning to walk could feel more pride than I did watching my little bitty dog eat a bit of treat.
We also learned a couple of new tricks to work on this week: In "Touch," the object is for the dog to touch his nose to your hand. It's a method of drawing the dog's attention away from something disruptive and back to you. We also learned "Spin," which, as far as I can tell, is just to give the human a good laugh. I may have to borrow a video camera for that one.
I don't know about Brewster, but I can't wait for next week when we get to hang out with the real dog people again.
That's not as simple as it sounds. He is not what dog trainers call "food motivated" in the first place. If there's the least bit of stress or distraction, the treats have to be really special to even get his attention. (Think meat like chicken or hot dog. If it would make a vegetarian cringe, it will make a good Brewster treat.) And he has never, ever accepted a treat from a stranger. He had to meet Susan, his groomer, three times before he was willing to take a treat out of her hand. But tonight, a half-hour into class, he ate out of the trainer's hand, and I was so proud I almost cried. Really.
Now of course he didn't just bop up to the trainer, tail in the air, and say, "Hey, dude, how 'bout hooking a puppy up with some of that chicken-flavored nom nom?" Brewster's success was entirely due to the trainers' patience, something the average person usually isn't willing to show with a dog like Brewster. Living with Brew has taught me how to recognize real dog people and how to be a real dog person myself. A real dog person isn't someone who says, "I'm great with dogs!" or "All dogs love me!" A real dog person knows that, just as not all people like all other people, not all dogs will like all people. (And dog people don't hold that against the dog.) A real dog person knows that dogs are not psychic and cannot just "sense" good intentions. And a real dog person knows that dogs cannot speak English and that Dr. Dolittle is a work of fiction.
Tonight, Brewster and I got to hang out with real dog people. Three of the four trainers who teach our class moved in and out of our "pod," talking quietly with me and never making eye contact with Brewster. None of them moved in to try to pet him or call him to them. No one insisted that Brewster interact. Instead they sat down a few feet away, and every once in a while a bit of treat got tossed in Brew's direction. Slowly Brew got closer and closer to the trainer, and in one case Brewster ate treats off the trainer's leg and then out of his hand. How I wish I'd had my camera because no parent watching a human child learning to walk could feel more pride than I did watching my little bitty dog eat a bit of treat.
We also learned a couple of new tricks to work on this week: In "Touch," the object is for the dog to touch his nose to your hand. It's a method of drawing the dog's attention away from something disruptive and back to you. We also learned "Spin," which, as far as I can tell, is just to give the human a good laugh. I may have to borrow a video camera for that one.
I don't know about Brewster, but I can't wait for next week when we get to hang out with the real dog people again.
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| Yes, this is the same picture from last week. The cute-factor far outweighs the repetitiveness. |
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Brew's New Friend (in which Brewster keeps his tail up)
Brewster has been going to Rags to Ribbons in Valley Center for several months, and I thought that was about as good a grooming experience as we were likely to get for him. At least I knew that the groomers were kind, even though the environment was loud and there were other dogs around that stressed him out. But after I posted about my terrible experience at Pet Haven and happened to mention that Brewster gets his grooming at Rags to Ribbons, Susan contacted me to let me know that she might have a better situation.
And oh boy is it better!
I should stop right here and say that I have no complaints about Rags to Ribbons. As I said, the groomers are kind and they've always treated Brewster very well. But for a puppybutt like Brewster, walking into that frenetic environment of barking dogs, loud blow dryers, and ringing phones couldn't help but be terrifying. The last time we went, he refused to walk in by himself. I had to pick him up and carry him in, and he's not that frightened even at the vet.
Susan runs her shop out of the back of her home in the Riverside neighborhood. She schedules specific appointments so there's never more than one dog in the shop at a time, and she does everything she can to make the environment soothing, even down to lavender aromatherapy and quiet music that drowns out outside noises. And for all the extra care she puts into creating a quiet environment that focuses on one dog at a time, her prices are the same or lower than most other shops in the neighborhood, including Rags to Ribbons. How could I not give her shop a try?
So for the last month, Brewster has been participating in Susan's puppy training program. The program is designed to get puppies used to being groomed in the least traumatic way possible, but it's done wonders for 6-year-old Brewster, too. We started with a 15-minute appointment, followed by a second 15-minute appointment the next week. During those appointments, Susan got Brewster used to being in the shop without actually doing any grooming. He got to sniff around, check out the clippers without actually having them used on him, and even examine the bathtub with no water in it. Since the appointments were very short, he learned that even when I left, I would be right back. Today we went back for the final "training" appointment, a 30-minute appointment that included a real bath.
And, people, when Brewster walked into the shop this afternoon, his tail stayed up. He was nervous--he'll always be nervous--but he wasn't frightened. He sniffed around and happily accepted a treat from Susan as if she were an old friend. Which I guess is exactly what she is now.
So I want to publicly thank Susan, and let her know how much I appreciate the time she has spent learning how to work with nervous dogs like Brew. Now, instead of having to go to a stress-inducing grooming appointment, Brewster gets to hang out with his friend, Susan.
Thank you, Susan!
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| Looking fluffy after his bath. |
"Hello. My Name is Brewster, and I'm Reactive."
First thing's first: I love my dog and if you talk shit on him I will send you a special care package straight from my backyard, 'kay?
But there might be a slim chance that he is maybe not the friendliest, nicest, sweetest dog to ever walk the earth. This is hard--really, really hard--for me to admit because to me he is the friendliest, nicest, sweetest, most loyal, funniest, looniest, smartest, most loving dog that I have ever met or hope to meet. But he does have this issue with strangers: No matter how kind and well-intentioned the person, Brewster is convinced that all strangers are evil, that his very life is in danger, and he responds accordingly. I don't know exactly why he thinks this, but it probably has something to do with his very earliest experiences as a puppy. (Pro Tip #1: The first three months of a puppy's life are crucial.) It probably also relates to his fearfulness resulting from having lived in a home where he was hit. (Pro Tip #2: Hitting with a rolled up newspaper or magazine is still hitting. It still hurts, and, worse, it causes absolute terror. If you doubt me, come over and watch Brewster's reaction when I wave a piece of paper anywhere in his vicinity. And if you can't be bothered to find a better way to train your dog [or your cat or your llama or your child] than to hit it, you might reconsider whether a pet is really for you.)
Whatever the reason for Brewster's overreaction to strangers, it means that although he is the friendliest, nicest, sweetest, most loyal, funniest, looniest, smartest, and most loving dog I've ever met, he is not the happiest. He does not feel the safest. Since Brewster is my dog and I am Brewster's human, it's my responsibility to change that if I can. So tonight Brewster and I went to our first Reactive Dog Class at the Humane Society.
Can I tell you how much I love that it's called "Reactive Dog Class" instead of "Aggressive Dog Class"? A "reactive" dog is not a bad dog. He's just a dog who's reacting! Brewster isn't trying to be mean; as far as he can tell, his reactions are a perfectly reasonable response to those evil, malicious strangers who might try to hurt him. It's such a relief to be around people who understand that the best way to greet a frightened dog is to not greet him at all, that the greatest kindness they can show my dog is to ignore him.
The class is carefully controlled from the moment the students pull into the parking lot. The two instructors and two assistants are watching for us and as students arrive, we are escorted from our cars one by one so that the dogs can't interact with each other in the parking lot. In the room we are installed into our own "pods" created by makeshift walls of upended tables and towels. No dog can see any other dog. Of course they can smell and hear each other, but not being able to make eye contact helps keep aggression--sorry, reactivity--in check. Brewster spent about the first 10 minutes shaking so hard he looked like a drunk about five hours late for his next bottle, but he did settle eventually. I forgot to bring his favorite towel, so I spread my coat on the floor and targeted him to that. Having a specific place to sit always helps Brew feel better, and it's not like my coat didn't already smell like dog.
One of the instructors brought her dog, Gracie, a terrier mix who is a bit fearful herself. Gracie showed us humans a thing or two about how to work with a reactive dog. First we learned "Turn! Turn! Turn!" to--you may have already figured this out--turn away from a stimulus that is frightening or aggravating. We also learned about how to encourage eye contact, and about "Good Look!" in which the human acknowledges that the dog has seen something that might be disturbing but has turned his attention back to the human. We also learned to play "Find It!" which even Brewster thought was pretty awesome. We'll be playing that one some more tomorrow.
All in all, it was a pretty successful class. It was well-organized and well-executed, and my fears that my dog might have a bad interaction with another dog are pretty much assuaged for the moment. I do wish they'd had a handout of all the skills we learned tonight. I could hardly take notes while managing Brewster, and I have the sneaking feeling that I've forgotten something important.
This post was supposed to end here, but unfortunately, now that we're home, our evening has not ended on a good note. While I was writing this, Brewster got sick, almost certainly the result of lots of excitement, too many treats, and too much water at once when he got home. That's fine. His tummy probably feels better now, and I am nothing if not expert at cleaning up various kinds of pet icks. (Pro Tip #3: Nature's Miracle really is a miracle.) The problem was Brewster's reaction. He tried to hide from me. When I came back into the office with the roll of paper towels in my hand, he dropped his tail and ran under the desk to get away from me, and I couldn't call him to me until I had cleaned up the mess and put the paper towels aside. That's because at one time he lived in a house where he got hit FOR GETTING SICK. He thinks that when he throws up he is going to be in trouble; that he's going to be hurt; that I, who have never shown the Little Dude anything but love and care, am going to hurt him. There's nothing I can do to make him forget that fear except get the sick cleaned up as fast as possible and put the paper towels aside and wait for him to come out from under the desk so I can love all over him and try to help him understand that I am not that kind of monster. But I don't know if he can understand that.
I am a worrier, and one of the things I worry about is that Brewster's original family will find us, that they'll see us out walking or stumble onto this blog. I worry that they'll see him and demand to have him back. But as I continue to live with Brewster, the less I worry and the more I hope that I will someday have a chance to confront the people who turned a very sweet little dog into a neurotic, fearful, reactive mess. I am glad for the chance to clean up their mess because the rewards are so great. I'd just love the chance to say a couple of things to their face.
But there might be a slim chance that he is maybe not the friendliest, nicest, sweetest dog to ever walk the earth. This is hard--really, really hard--for me to admit because to me he is the friendliest, nicest, sweetest, most loyal, funniest, looniest, smartest, most loving dog that I have ever met or hope to meet. But he does have this issue with strangers: No matter how kind and well-intentioned the person, Brewster is convinced that all strangers are evil, that his very life is in danger, and he responds accordingly. I don't know exactly why he thinks this, but it probably has something to do with his very earliest experiences as a puppy. (Pro Tip #1: The first three months of a puppy's life are crucial.) It probably also relates to his fearfulness resulting from having lived in a home where he was hit. (Pro Tip #2: Hitting with a rolled up newspaper or magazine is still hitting. It still hurts, and, worse, it causes absolute terror. If you doubt me, come over and watch Brewster's reaction when I wave a piece of paper anywhere in his vicinity. And if you can't be bothered to find a better way to train your dog [or your cat or your llama or your child] than to hit it, you might reconsider whether a pet is really for you.)
Whatever the reason for Brewster's overreaction to strangers, it means that although he is the friendliest, nicest, sweetest, most loyal, funniest, looniest, smartest, and most loving dog I've ever met, he is not the happiest. He does not feel the safest. Since Brewster is my dog and I am Brewster's human, it's my responsibility to change that if I can. So tonight Brewster and I went to our first Reactive Dog Class at the Humane Society.
Can I tell you how much I love that it's called "Reactive Dog Class" instead of "Aggressive Dog Class"? A "reactive" dog is not a bad dog. He's just a dog who's reacting! Brewster isn't trying to be mean; as far as he can tell, his reactions are a perfectly reasonable response to those evil, malicious strangers who might try to hurt him. It's such a relief to be around people who understand that the best way to greet a frightened dog is to not greet him at all, that the greatest kindness they can show my dog is to ignore him.
The class is carefully controlled from the moment the students pull into the parking lot. The two instructors and two assistants are watching for us and as students arrive, we are escorted from our cars one by one so that the dogs can't interact with each other in the parking lot. In the room we are installed into our own "pods" created by makeshift walls of upended tables and towels. No dog can see any other dog. Of course they can smell and hear each other, but not being able to make eye contact helps keep aggression--sorry, reactivity--in check. Brewster spent about the first 10 minutes shaking so hard he looked like a drunk about five hours late for his next bottle, but he did settle eventually. I forgot to bring his favorite towel, so I spread my coat on the floor and targeted him to that. Having a specific place to sit always helps Brew feel better, and it's not like my coat didn't already smell like dog.
One of the instructors brought her dog, Gracie, a terrier mix who is a bit fearful herself. Gracie showed us humans a thing or two about how to work with a reactive dog. First we learned "Turn! Turn! Turn!" to--you may have already figured this out--turn away from a stimulus that is frightening or aggravating. We also learned about how to encourage eye contact, and about "Good Look!" in which the human acknowledges that the dog has seen something that might be disturbing but has turned his attention back to the human. We also learned to play "Find It!" which even Brewster thought was pretty awesome. We'll be playing that one some more tomorrow.
All in all, it was a pretty successful class. It was well-organized and well-executed, and my fears that my dog might have a bad interaction with another dog are pretty much assuaged for the moment. I do wish they'd had a handout of all the skills we learned tonight. I could hardly take notes while managing Brewster, and I have the sneaking feeling that I've forgotten something important.
This post was supposed to end here, but unfortunately, now that we're home, our evening has not ended on a good note. While I was writing this, Brewster got sick, almost certainly the result of lots of excitement, too many treats, and too much water at once when he got home. That's fine. His tummy probably feels better now, and I am nothing if not expert at cleaning up various kinds of pet icks. (Pro Tip #3: Nature's Miracle really is a miracle.) The problem was Brewster's reaction. He tried to hide from me. When I came back into the office with the roll of paper towels in my hand, he dropped his tail and ran under the desk to get away from me, and I couldn't call him to me until I had cleaned up the mess and put the paper towels aside. That's because at one time he lived in a house where he got hit FOR GETTING SICK. He thinks that when he throws up he is going to be in trouble; that he's going to be hurt; that I, who have never shown the Little Dude anything but love and care, am going to hurt him. There's nothing I can do to make him forget that fear except get the sick cleaned up as fast as possible and put the paper towels aside and wait for him to come out from under the desk so I can love all over him and try to help him understand that I am not that kind of monster. But I don't know if he can understand that.
I am a worrier, and one of the things I worry about is that Brewster's original family will find us, that they'll see us out walking or stumble onto this blog. I worry that they'll see him and demand to have him back. But as I continue to live with Brewster, the less I worry and the more I hope that I will someday have a chance to confront the people who turned a very sweet little dog into a neurotic, fearful, reactive mess. I am glad for the chance to clean up their mess because the rewards are so great. I'd just love the chance to say a couple of things to their face.
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