Umbilical training for rescue dogs in a nutshell (video)

Well, folks, we've finally done it! our friend Jill stopped by to film a umbilical leash training for rescue dogs demo, and this video was the result.

Enjoy!

Spring has sprung, and with it, gastrointestinal distress . . .

Each spring, I feed my dogs a tasty mixture on top of their meals based on foods that my vet recommends to keep parasites at bay. While it won't work for ticks (to the best of my knowledge--although doTerra does offer some great oils on that front), it does seem to keep my dogs' stomachs relatively calm:

1 quart yogurt (Dannon) or kefir
1/2 lemon squeezed
1/2 c. carrot juice or 2 grated carrots
1/4 c. sunflower or pumpkin seeds, roughly chopped (try a mortar and pestle)
1/2 c. C & H Brown or organic cane sugar

Optional:
1/2 c. blueberries/blueberry juice

Now, I've had complaints that this is a lot. True! But with the number of dogs I have coming and going, it is the perfect quantity for my house.  I simply scoop a tablespoon or two on top of their dog food and watch them enjoy. By the way, I eat it, too, but I do so sans dog food.

And, a confession, I don't measure, so all quantities are estimates!

A Miracle Lands in My Lap

On December 3^rd, Charles, a 7-pound, 8-month-old, Chihuahua-Pomeranian cross awaiting adoption through Second Chance Animal Rescue escaped from a fenced yard in Hugo, Minnesota. To make matters worse, he was wearing a leash, which would certainly complicate his journey and could cause him to ensnare or strangle himself. During the next 10 days, with temperatures dipping near zero at times and wind chills much lower, nearly a foot of snow fell and created deep drifts in the rural community where he had escaped; his survival was by no means certain.

With the dedicated work of volunteers who trudged through the snow and posted flyers and community members who watched for him or placed food and live traps on their property, especially Applecrest Orchards, we were certain that Charles was still alive, at least through Monday, December 10^th, the last time he was spotted by a community member--running in an open field near Hwy 14 and 35E, still dragging the leash. With an already low body weight, predators, snow, temperatures, traffic, and a leash, the deck was stacked against this young dog. Every day was critical, but weather didn't cooperate.

I tried meditating on it; usually, my dog Sarah helps with that, but I couldn’t connect to her. Instead, I felt the presence of two of my dogs who had died, Kunda and Muffin. In my meditation, I asked them to find Charles, wherever he was, to comfort him and guide him toward shelter. The second time I meditated, I saw Charles seeking shelter in an outbuilding, perhaps a barn, with hay scattered on the floor. I doubted myself. Maybe I was seeing what I wanted instead of what was real.

So, yesterday, with no sightings of Charles in several days, I drove to the location where he was last seen with my friend Carol to meet fellow volunteers, Mary and Carl, so we could continue to search. Despite our assignment, it wasn’t an entirely bleak prospect. After all, I was able to spend time with Carol, a lovely person, the kind you want to spend time with; everybody does. On the way, we spoke of miracles and asked one difficult question: At what point should we give up the search?

Ultimately we decided that, as long as Charles was still being spotted, we should continue to look.

When Carol and I met Mary and Carl at the site, we checked the live trap and spoke with the owner of the orchard, who directed us to a nearby abandoned farmhouse. Together we trudged through knee-high snow, and despite our heavy charge, I found myself grateful to be outside on such a beautiful day getting exercise, spending time with warm people, slowing down a bit, seeing nature. In the pristine snow, we noticed mouse tracks first, followed by rabbit tracks, and then a strange disturbance in the snow that Carl suggested had been caused by a raptor; there were no tracks leading to or away from it.

As we made our way across the field, Carol suggested I scout the abandoned farm off to our left. I veered away from the group and cut a second trail through the knee-deep snow. As soon as I entered the yard, I knew Charles had been there--although the tracks clustered around a tree were no longer fresh. The snow had been walked on multiple times by an animal about the size of a small dog, and there was urine in the snow. I was certain that this had been home base.

To my right, a small outbuilding with a couple of walls missing seemed a logical hiding spot as the tracks were clustered very near there. I rounded the corner and looked inside.

And there, staring back at me, was Charles, his leash wrapped around a board and very much alive!

I called out to the others in the group once, twice, three times, “He’s here!” I knew he couldn’t bolt, but he looked so scared. I thought he might die any second, of fear, of cold, I don’t know. He was just so close and still not safe. I needed backup and couldn’t move until it arrived.

After what seemed an eternity, Carol and Mary reached me. They held up a blanket to give Charles the illusion that the building wasn’t wide open, in case he broke free before we reached him. Then Carl rounded the other side of the building, and I was ready to go in. My heart was pounding, as a wrong move on my part could be fatal for Charles. I tried to clear my head, inhaling deeply, and stepped over the boards with nails covering the floor of the shed. He stood near the middle of the building, where he might have found protection in the dusting of hay under the boards if he hadn't been tethered to a board. I called for the others to throw me treats, which I tossed into Charles. He didn’t seem to notice.

He looked weak.

A few moments later, he cautiously stepped toward me, and Carol handed me some pepperoni that she had the forethought to bring along. It worked. In moments, he ate 5-6 slices of it. Someone handed me my mittens, and I grabbed Charles, tucking him close to my body and wrapping his leash around my arm and securing it to my wrist. From there, we began the trek back across the fields to the car.  Carol ran ahead to drive it closer, and Carl and Mary flanked me as I cradled Charles in my arms, his frail body collapsed against me as I tried to provide some small protection from the December air.

Immediately after returning to the car, we rushed Charles to the Life Care Animal Hospital to make sure he didn't have any other major problems. Turns out, although Charles had lost more than 20% of his body weight, some 1 3/4 pounds, he was able to eat and hold down food and water; he had no cuts or frostbite. Painfully thin, his ribs and hips protruding, he was still okay.

In the waiting room we took more pictures, and then Mary, while snapping one of Charles in my lap curled around a Snuggle Puppie that provided him heat, commented that somehow a blur had appeared across the screen although the rest of the pictures were perfectly clear.

Was it a strand of hair, perhaps?

I don't know, but I'd like to think it was some being that had been sent to protect him. One of my dogs, perhaps, providing comfort while Charles warmed himself on my lap? Perhaps it acted as a guardian until he was safe.  

Who knows, but I definitely think it was a day filled with miracles.

Thanks to everyone who helped bring Charles home.

 

At long last . . . a goal sheet!

I've been wanting to get to this for awhile now, and with the help of my student, Angie, I'm finally able to provide a first draft of a goal sheet. Consistently when I teach New Beginnings courses or coach families, I remind them of the importance of goals.

Of course we all want perfectly-behaved dogs that meld seamlessly with the family, but that takes time and effort. Notice, however, I didn't say "work." That's because I don't view it as work. When I want to build a more mutually satisfying relationship with one of my dogs, I start by looking at the behaviors--the dog's and mine. What is the dog doing that frustrates me? What's getting reinforced?

Let's think of Lucy. She barks (or should I say screeches) at the cat. I don't particularly enjoy that behavior.

So, I might scream, but that won't work, right?

Frankly, when I observe Lucy barking at the cat, I notice her whole body is tense. Step one, I need to help descrease her tension when she sees the cat, redirect her, perhaps, reward her when she doesn't react, possibly prevent Lucy from getting so close to the cat until she becomes more calm (with gates, for example). Little-by-little, I should be able to help Lucy approach cats more calmly, but I can't just make that happen without thinking it through and implementing a plan. To help you with that, I've added a new tab, "Set Goals!"

Let me know what you think won't you?

Sneak Peak: Cool short topics sessions at Giffy in December

Now that we're entering the final month of the year, and my team and I have begun to brainstorm the direction for the upcoming year, I thought I'd share with you some of the topics we'll be exploring in workshops throughout December. Here's the list:

"Out and About" -- This 2-hour workshop is intended for dogs that are easily distracted by other dogs and people when they're on walks. Designed with the "bad mannered" dog in mind, we'll be working on confidently handling your dog when s/he encounters distractions. The focus here will be helping your dog relax so you can enjoy your walks a bit more! (Sunday, 12/9, 3:30-5:30)

"Triggers" -- Does your dog "go off" sometimes when you're not expecting it? Perhaps s/he harbors an intense dislike of the vacuum cleaner, storms, high-pitched noises? Does your otherwise calm canine suddently become unable to focus on you when s/he sees another dog with a rawhide or toy?  Or a cat? Or a squirrel? If so, you may want to check out this 2-hour workshop because, as we like to sing at Giffy dog, "The wonderful thing about triggers . . . " (Saturday, 12/15, 6:00-8:00)

"How to Talk Dog" (ages 5-13) -- This workshop is only for young folks (although well-behaved adults are welcome if accompanied by kids). It's intended to help the children in your life learn more about how to understand and respond to different dog behaviors. So, if your children have a little too much down time on their break from school, why not bring them by Doggie Prodigy on Sunday, 12/30, 10:00-2:00 to learn how to communicate more effectively to the dog(s) in their lives? (Limited to 20 students)

And, on 12/8, I'll try running another "EFT for dogs" class at the Doggie Prodigy space, 9:00-11:00. If you'd like to know more about EFT, you might want to check out this site. Of course, if you'd like to know more, and I bet you do, you can always attend this workshop. Check it out!

I'm really excited to try out some of these topics, and I'd love to see some of you there. To reserve your space, please drop me a line at giffydog@gmail.com.

Tough month at the Giffy dog household

To say I'm writing today with a heavy heart would be an understatement. Not only did my mom and her sister both die of Alzheimer's within one day of one another during the first week of September, but last week, I had to let go of not one, but two, of my beloved pack members, Gizmo and Kunda. 



Gizmo in 2010

The good news is that they both lived long and, I believe, happy lives. Although Gizmo had a rough patch for his first five years living with a hoarder who had 150 animals, he found his way to me and decided to stay. He was the first dog I adopted after I began rescue work in 2000, and he entered my house over my objections. I wanted to wait through Spring before adopting, but he made it very clear that he expected to stay. Gizmo won.

Over the past eight years, he's dealt with a degenerative spinal condition, but somehow managed to walk right up until the end, and although he's become increasingly foggy over the last few years, I believe he was peaceful, sleeping much of the time and fading ever so slowly. At the end, he was losing his ability to stand, and food was becoming too much of a challenge.

Kunda was an 11-year-old mastiff that I adopted as a puppy. Although she suffered from severe allergies during the first four years of her life, we managed to clear them up, and she had seven wonderfully healthy years after that. I credit her with keeping the pack stable and peaceful. She was a firm, but fair, leader, and the dogs respected her.


Kunda in September 2012
courtesy of Barbara O'Brien Photography

In August, I learned that she had degenerative mylopathy. She walked well right up until the end, when her legs started to fail rapidly. It was a painful for me, until I realized how blessed I had been with her longevity and health. I managed to bring her to Barbara O'Brien's farm on September 1st before her condition worsened, and she snapped some lovely pictures of Kunda for me. For that, I will be forever grateful.

And the final journey for Giz, Kunda, me, and the rest of the pack was made so much more comfortable by the sensitive and gentle work of Karen Randall of Solace Veterinary Hospice. She stayed with me for over two hours, explained every step to me so there were no surprises, allowed me to go at my pace, and lovingly wrapped Giz in Kunda in fleece blankets before carrying them to her car.

It was a beautifully peaceful end of our journey together, and I was so grateful to have the option to release them in the comfort of my home surrounded by their pack.

Gizmo and Kunda: Safe journey . . .

Euthanasia

I'm finding it hard to write these days when so much of my energy is directed at other things, like my mom, who has late stage Alzheimer's. But then I think that the mortality that I face daily when I look at her is also a part of my daily life with dogs.

Gizmo is sixteen and can barely walk. He's been that way for years. And when I look at him, I realize that his progression very nearly mirrors my mom's. Each day he recognizes me a little less, I think. And yet he's--dare I say it?--happy. I don't think he's suffering.

And that has long struck me as a key difference between our 4-legged and 2-legged families. We are expected to euthanize the former when their quality of life declines. And while we may disagree on when it's responsible to euthanize, most of us seem to agree that it's the right thing to do.

Within the last two weeks, two of my friends have had to make that decision. And I know I'll have to make it myself in the not-too-distant future. But I have the luxury of waiting to make that decision until it's one of compassion. What about the people who euthanize when their dogs are still healthy?

Just last week I stumbled across the story that actor Nick Santino killed himself after euthanizing his healthy dog because neighbors complained. I've read the comments, too--that he could have/should have found a reputable rescue to take the dog, that he could have/should have moved.

The truth is, I grieve for that man. And every day, people across the United States are making similar decisions. Some can no longer afford food; others are losing their homes; still others are divorcing. Does this make them bad people? I don't think so. The fact is, they are agonizing over the decision, and in all too many cases, precious few resources exist to help them keep their pets while they go through periods of transition or challenges themselves.

Not long ago, I did learn of an organization, Foster My Pet, that took in a friend-of-a-friend's cat when she was going through such a transition herself. But she was one of the lucky few who found a solution that allowed her to keep her cat after her life stabilized. But that's not the norm--although I applaud the efforts of Foster My Pet. The truth is, people in rescues across the United States have to turn desperate people away daily, not because they lack compassion, but because they lack the resources and foster homes to take in all of the animals needing homes. Like every person I know in rescue, I've fielded too many desperate phone calls to count, and while I've worked diligently to rescue or rehabilitate as many as possible, I empathize with Nick Santino because I know how difficult it would have been for him to place his dog with a group either temporarily or permanently. He killed himself because he felt he betrayed his dog. And that is tragic.

I do hope that, perhaps his death will illustrate the need to continue to raise awarness about the plight of domesticated animals in the United States. Like the country, they're in crisis. And all too often, it's not because they're sick.