Energy

Every dog trainer is different, and every is dog also different.  Whether you like or dislike the methods of Cesar Millan, there is one central philosophy that can be taken from him and his TV show that is highly valuable.  He teaches people that their own perceptions, feelings, and experiences directly impact the way we relate to our dogs, and that balanced, calm, assertive energy is what dogs follow.  And what people follow, too.

For example, I have experienced Nyxie to be reactive to other dogs, and I carry that fear of what's happened in the past with us on each walk.  Therefore, that anticipation and anxiety creates instability that Nyxie reacts to.  She's tense, anxious and reactive.  Well isn't that baggage unfair to her!

While I walked the girls today, I decided to concentrate on calm, assertive energy as Millan encourages on his show.  I employed a finger snap and that "ch!" sound when I saw Nyxie starting to escalate.  I physically stood between her and the glass slider, correcting her when she started barking crazily at my neighbor walking her dog.  

Guess what happened?

Nothing.  No crazy dog flying off the handle.  No lunging at the glass door.  No pulling on the leash.  No reacting to another dog barking at her in close proximity.  My calm, assertive energy won the day.  Even Arwen responded well on our walk - no leash pulling.  It was invigorating, this new strong energy!      

So we're starting over.  No more nervous energy.  That's something I struggle with at times in all aspects of my life and it's quite limiting.  No more.  Wish me luck, folks.  But I won't need it - just my own inner strength.

Guardian

This morning's walk was uneventful until I fell flat onto my knees on the median strip of a busy road.  I had Nyxie in tow and she was doing beautifully.  I saw a man walking towards us on the sidewalk so I decided to hop over to the median strip to avoid direct confrontation and work on her calm reaction to strangers.  No sooner had I made it onto the grassy median strip, but I lost my footing in the uneven grass and landed on all fours.  I don't know why the grass in Texas is like this, but it's not the first time I've face-planted here.  From above, you see a lovely expanse of grass that has been evenly mowed and groomed.  Below the surface, however, lie crags and holes large enough to lose a Honda in.  There's nothing more graceful than walking along what appears to be even footing and suddenly collapse.

Nyxie was unfazed.  She's seen me do it before.  I was dreading that the man might run over to help me and get barked at by Nyxie and all out training would be set back.  I had no need to worry.  The man walked past, never even looking my way.  He couldn't have missed my fall, I was in his line of sight and there were no cars zooming past us at the time.  Alas, chivalry is dying.

After regaining my composure and walking on, I felt a sharp pain in my left, lower back.  It was a shooting pain - harsh enough to slow me down and think about stopping altogether.  This was a dangerous idea, though.  What if after I rested it, I couldn't get back up to walk home?  I had to get home as fast as possible.  Without much instruction, Nyxie stayed at my side.  She slowed her pace to match mine and seemed somehow to know that something was wrong.

How do dogs know this?  Aside from a few pathetic whines, she could not have understood that I was hurt.  Whatever it was, she changed her pace to match mine and seemed to shield me bodily from the cars zooming past us and later from another walker on the opposite side of the street.  Twice she pulled me into the grass to sniff something fascinating, but with less enthusiasm, cautious.

We made it home after what seemed like an eternity of steps.  I stretched my back out and I'm feeling better, but Nyxie still keeps checking in on me.  Attentive, watchful.  It's what she does best.

 

Double Agent

Friday morning brings another long walk with the girls - first Arwen and then Nyxie.  Arwen goes out first as she's the oldest - all that fur and a little arthritis can cause a girl to suffer in the Texas heat.  She's so excited to set out, tail held high, flag flying proudly.  She's the all-sniffer and I let her get away with murder.  I act tough, but in reality, I pretty much let her sniff any old thing she wants.  She knows I'm weak when it comes to her royal fuzziness.  I feel I should keep her on the straight and narrow.

"We are on a walk!" and keep everything military style.  Nose forward, pace steady, no pulling.
The reality of it all is a bit different.

 Picture a woman walking behind her husky, being tugged, really.  We stop at about 8 feet intervals, or wherever there is a break in concrete, a patch of grass.  It's a bit like walking seizures.  Each inch is examined thoroughly.  There are little piles of poo, bugs, a bottle cap, flowers, anything and everything must be sniffed.  I am like an anchor to her drive.  Small corrections work, but I am secretly wishing for a smaller, more user-friendly Pug.  Huskies are the hippie free spirits of the dog world.  They live in the ethereal moment.  Arwen's never seen a flower she didn't have to smell.  She looks up at the clouds moving and considers chasing them.  She's the primitive warrior, the most irreverent jester.  She needs this freedom.  And I am a sap.  So what's the harm in a little hiccup-walking?

Nyxie on the other hand is the soldier.  She blazes out the door with a sense of authority, excitement, tingling anticipation.  Ears are pricked, nose is on hyper-drive.  I don't let her have an inch.  She's too strong and powerful to go unchecked.  We walk as a unit, she's attentive to my movements, eyes on me.  When she tries to tug ahead, I stop dead.  Her stop is rewarded with my forward motion.  She's a quick study.  We walk fiercely, she knows to stay close.  Eyes scanning, ears forward.  She's coming into her own.  Her fearful hesitation is gone and she's learned to trust my leadership.  She's still young and when there's something she doesn't understand, she looks to me for guidance.  Each confident attempt is rewarded.  She's still sniffing of course, (when is she not...?!) but her size allows her to sniff and walk, never breaking stride.

Today we had no yummy treats (a travesty, I know) and the poor deprived darling had to walk with substandard treats.  Now, these will do in a pinch - when we're home and I break out the box, there's no reluctance at all.  But the walks require something marvelous, something still at the store.  Luckily we had no close encounters at all today.  There was a small situation in which a lady with 2 small dogs was walking ahead of us, something which would have created a reaction previously, but only a small tail raise and a steady stare resulted.  Distraction was easily made.  Progress!

When Nyxie was good and tired, I pulled out my long 30 ft lead and we did a bit of "stay, approach, come" work just for a bit of mental stimulation.  She did a strange thing then.  This was the leash we used with protection training.  During this, her goal when allowed, was to bite the handler's sleeve and hang on.  To get to that point, she had to run at the handler not around him.  Today, when I allowed her to "come" to me from a lying down "stay", she ran at me and didn't swerve.  Of course there was no bite, but she's never bodily tackled me before. Her usual run at me is a game where she swerves out of the way at the last moment, like playing "chicken".  I think she remembered the leash and her previous training.  She also had the presence of mind to understand that biting would have ended badly for both of us.  After a few goes at me (which are quite humbling, really as you recognize that 75 lbs of pure muscle have just hurled themselves at you and you're bracing to stay upright!), entirely controlled by command to "come!", she understood that this was not the same game as before.  I can only imagine what my neighbors must've thought...both the human and the wild ones.

I like to imagine that there are coyotes, raccoons, hawks, all around us, watching us as we play in their world.  They must wonder at us - we're a spectacle.  What an eyeful today!  Maybe they think I'm a spy.  I'm seen with the strangest characters.  First, the hippie wild child, then the soldier girl.
I'm a double agent.
Truth is stranger than fiction...

Pride

I am so very proud of my Nyxie -  I have to share with you.  As some of you may know, Nyxie is a shy baby.  She has a "wide defense perimeter" as her Schutzhund handler told me when we had decided to work with her.  As she's a pet and not a border patrol dog or a K9 military service dog, I need to make the world she knows a less threatening place.  She will alert and bark at anyone who gets too close or is perceived as a threat.  If the person persists in befriending her, the warning barks will turn into play barks and soon she's bringing her tennis ball for the person to throw.  I believe we need to boost her confidence and her sharp Czech lines will be more, well...in check.

The girls each get a long walk when mornings allow and today I took Nyxie out last, just as the lawn crew was finishing around the complex.  After a nice, long trek, both she and I were limber enough to run and we jogged a bit.  Suddenly, we were trapped at a crossroads.

In order to get back home, we had to pass a man measuring, cutting and carrying large rolls of carpet into a new unit.  She watched him with erect ears, body on high alert.  Being the prepared dog-mom that I am, I immediately popped open the treat pouch at my waist (Yes, it's like a fanny pack, and yes, I feel like a dork.).  Through a practiced "Look" command by which she's been trained to focus on my eyes - to attend to me and me only - she gets treats and I pop 'em at her like the "Giver of All Good Things" Pez dispenser that I am.  She practices the "look" command each time she's served meals, regardless of who's feeding her, so it's become automatic.  There are awkward moments when I'll be yelling "look!" at Matt or T to point something out and she will come running or pop up from a nap, just to look at me.

That little dog actually got so relaxed with the carpet guy (who was doing all kinds of "odd" movements and gestures - not what she would ever encounter on a daily basis) not 50 ft from her, that she laid down and turned her back to him for my treats!  After he went inside, we passed by his area to be trapped by 3 lawn guys blowing around all the freshly cut grass trimmings.  I worried for a split second that all that good work would be lost through panic.  I moved her about 15 ft from them, and we settled on the grass.  Again, she laid down and took my treats with gusto.  Sometimes her eyes would focus on them, but not terribly intently.  One man even came to within 10 ft of us with the loud leaf blower and still, no negative reaction.  What an accomplishment!

I have no doubt that if anyone were to threaten me, Nyxie would step between us, but I think my many months of training are starting to pay off.  I'm proud of her progress.  I'm proud that I trusted my instincts and followed a positive training methodology.  I'm proud that I didn't panic in anticipation of her reaction.  Finally, I'm proud that our bond's positive energy is allowing her to trust.

Now I'm off to the store to get more treats!!!   Happy Friday!

Opportunity

Yesterday morning I woke early to feed and walk both dogs before work.  Although Matt and T were still home and sleeping in, I didn't want the poor girls to go hungry and wait to have to pee until everyone was awake (most probably many hours later).  So they enjoyed First Breakfast and a little stroll for business around 6:30 am.  Yes, I did say "First Breakfast"

I went off to work, comforted in the knowledge that all the fuzzy creatures were cared for and content, surely back to bed with Dad.  Work was uneventful, and I was on my way to an early afternoon appointment at which point I called to check in with home.  Matt asked me if I had fed the dogs and when I said that I had done so before I left, he laughed.  Why?  Because he and T had just fed them Second Breakfast.
 
"Did you walk the dogs before you left, too?"
"I sure did!"
He tells me that they seemed desperate to go out and pee, so they had also taken a second tour of the outside.

Apparently they saw the opportunity and took it!  We had to laugh.  For the girls, this was a sure sign of an upward trend.

"Maybe every time we wake up, they'll feed us!"

Now I know why they were so eager to nap with me later that afternoon.  In their wildest dreams, they could only imagine that following the nap, they'd be served First Supper...  

Incidents

Nyxie has a fascination with sprinklers.  Obsession, really.  We have the kind that magically and unexpectedly pop out of the ground.  The kind that get sucked down into the earth with a foot tap.  Each night they come on and she seems restless to seek them out, hearing them with her satellite ears from inside.  If we're outside and they're on, her ears rotate  forward, her shoulders stiffen, and she pulls toward them like they're a slab of bacon.  She'll play bark and dance about, desperate to get to them.  She wants to bite them.  There's something about the water splashing in her mouth that gets her wonky.

The first time she showed interest in them, we laughed and let her investigate the sprinkler heads.  Then the attraction intensified.  Now, a walk is further complicated by errant sprinkler heads that haven't automatically been pulled to their earthly depths.  I can reset her with a yummy freeze-dried chicken treat (of course my girls aren't spoiled).

I was talking to a client at the vet hospital just the other day, who was explaining to me how she walked and jogged with her 2 Australian shepherds, one of whom is newly adopted.

"Well, it's not without incident", she revealed.  I couldn't help but laugh like a mad woman at this understatement.

This morning, my daughter slept in, tired from a late night and still enjoying the last few weeks of her summer vacation.  I quietly fed the girls, which was a challenge with Arwen's "WOO, WOO"-ing at the edge of the kitchen.  I slipped on my workout clothes, grabbed my phone, poopy bags and treats, and out into the great unknown we went.

When I take the girls out, this is our time.  My mind is focused on the terrain, the breathing of 2 creatures bonded and in sync.  We take one step at a time, eager to explore "our" domain, as the girls most certainly believe it is.  We are doing the most primitive of acts.  This is what people have done for a trillion, billion, gazillion years.  I'm quite sure poopy bags and clothing were not involved, the idea of a leash absurd in any truly pack-oriented, symbiotic relationship.

No two walks are ever the same.  They are never "without incident", good or bad.  Something new is always experienced, whether it's watching Arwen do her balancing tightrope walk on every short wall, or Nyxie's careful, gradual approach to giant construction equipment.  Something new happens, hurdles are surmounted, new poo is sniffed.  All urine-sprayed signposts are read.  And all this has a sense of urgency - we race the rising temperature of the Texas heat scorch.  (It went up to 105 today)

And for just a brief exhale in my busy life, I am one with my two wild things.  It's all simple for a moment.  They are working with me on the common purpose of movement, exploration, protection.  We return spent - the girls in full panting mode, me dripping in sweat.  They lay about exhausted and calm, content.  

My day is just beginning.  I need to check my email, get some coffee, "oh, honey, you're awake!..."  And a new day unfolds, surely "not without incident".  I suppose that's what it's all about.