Could Isis have been a flying disc contender?

In the prologue for my book, Bark and Lunge, I describe Isis spinning and flipping while catching a soccer ball. She was partial to soccer balls, but reading Wallace: The Underdog Who Conquered a Sport, Saved a Marriage, and Championed Pit Bulls — One Flying Disc at a Time made me wonder if I could have transferred that drive to a Frisbee.

While I think Wallace might have the best subtitle of all time, the title doesn’t address the aspect of Wallace’s story that I most relate to. Wallace started out dog aggressive. Maybe he was just experiencing barrier frustration when he lashed out at other dogs while in the shelter, but he was in danger of being euthanized. Lucky for Wallace, Roo and Clara Yori stood up for him. Lucky for us, author Jim Gorant (who wrote about the Vick fighting dogs in The Lost Dogs) wrote their story.

By channeling Wallace’s drive into flying disc, Roo Yori effectively gave his dog a “job,” something trainers will tell you dogs need to keep them from developing bad habits and behavior problems. From that point on, Wallace seems never to have another aggressive episode.

At one point, Yori worries about throwing the disc in the direction of the grandstands. What if Wallace runs too far and wins up confused in the middle of the bleachers? As an ambassador for pit bulls, if Wallace got into any scuffles at all, it would be bad news for the breed.

From the description of the disc arenas, it sounds like other dogs were shielded from Wallace’s view while he was competing. Even so, I wouldn’t have been able to take Isis to such a public place. She would have barked and lunged at everything. Even if she never could have competed, I wish I’d figured out a way to make catching soccer balls her “job.”

Another aspect of Wallace’s story that resonated with me is that even when it seemed like the sport was rough on Wallace’s body, Yori kept playing disc with him. Yori recognized that Wallace’s love of/drive for the disc was so strong, that Wallace would play long after the lights at the park went out.

Isis was like that. Here she is with Rob, practicing weaving, hurdles, and what I call the “high jump.” You can see after she finishes, she runs right back to her ball.

And here’s a highlight reel of Isis catching the ball. Doing what came naturally to her. Just think what she could have accomplished if we’d actually trained her for this sport.

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Dining in style

They’re here! Our Nutrish-sponsored hand-painted dog bowls from BarkWorld!

We feed our dogs a combo of raw beef, deer bones and the Pacific Stream flavor of Taste of the Wild grain-free kibble (on the advice of a holistic vet). I had no plans to change up their diet, but oh my, did they go crazy for the free sample of Nutrish Zero Grain Turkey and Potato. Leo even dug the empty package out of the trash, ran into the backyard with it, and licked it clean (then tore it up). He doesn’t do that with Taste of the Wild, and we frequently leave the empty bag lying around before we throw it away.




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NaNoWriDa: Join the fun

Want to participate in National Novel Writing Month for exactly one day? Look no further and sign up for the Red Wheelbarrow Writers round robin. We have two novels going: one horror and one literary fiction.

My current fiction project began as a NaNoWriMo effort in 2009. Sometime in 2011 or 2012, I did hit 50,000 words, but I don’t think that counts. Instead of starting something new this month, I celebrated NaNoWriDa yesterday by writing chapter three of RWB’s horror version of The Arboretum.

I’ve never written horror, and I don’t actually read very much genre fiction, but my movie and television diets are chock full of zombies and vampires. Of course, zombies and vampires are kind of played out, so I hope for The Arboretum to tread some new ground. Author Laura Kalpakian penned the opening chapter, introducing a character with mysterious star-shaped birthmarks on her face, and her mother, a decrepit old woman who doesn’t want to die. I had an image of the decaying woman sticking her fingers into those birthmarks while her daughter screamed, but I had to see where the author of chapter two left me.

Since chapter two ended with the old woman looking out the window at the son-in-law, and the birthmarked daughter sitting inside a car, it didn’t make sense to get the daughter all the way back upstairs inside the house. Fortunately, my predecessor also gave me a mysterious, possibly supernatural greenhouse to work with, so I substituted a scary potted plant for the mother’s demon claws.

Also in chapter one, Laura wrote of a cluster of dogs, described as “a rare breed of canine, vicious, toothy, unstable and nervous; they had slender bodies, exquisite thin legs, poufed tails and huge black eyes.”

I felt like I would be letting my readership down if I didn’t do something with those dogs. It’s almost expected of me at this point.

horror dogs
These guys don’t match the description of the hounds from hell in The Arboretum, but they can make pretty scary faces.

Maybe it was the two Moscow Mules I drank at Anthony’s while writing this chapter, but writing those 1,689 words got me so pumped! With about 200 words to go, I decided to have one of the dogs waiting outside the wine cellar where two of the other dogs had been fighting. I was excited to see her again. This is a fictional dog character whom I had named just an hour or two earlier, and I was attached to her!

Later, after I hit send on my chapter, while Rob and I were watching The Walking Dead, I couldn’t stop thinking about those five dogs. I named them Thunder, Ibis, Orchid, Basilisk, and Rhone.

Gosh, I really hope the next 27 writers treat them well.

Read the horror story here. (My entry is chapter three)

Read the literary version here.

Most importantly, join the fun. Sign up on the Red Wheelbarrow Writers site.

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Follow my lead

Q. How do I stop my dog from barking and lunging on our walks?

A. Don’t take him on walks.

Ha. That’s only partially a joke. Contrary to what the Dog Whisperer tells you, it does not help a reactive dog to keep parading her past the things that make her react. Remember, doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result is the definition of insanity. I tried that for months with Isis and wondered what I was doing wrong. It wasn’t until my trainer told me I had to stop before I could go that we started making any progress.

Technically, since I’m not a dog trainer myself, I’m not qualified to give advice on this topic. I can only tell you what my experience has been. Curing leash reactivity is a longer process than I can fit into a blog post, anyway. You’ll have to read my book when it comes out. In the meantime, get yourself a clicker and reward your dog for calm behavior at a distance far far away from the thing that makes him react. If the barking and lunging is so severe you cannot safely take your dog in public, hire a trainer who uses force-free methods.

Force-free, also known as positive only, is the key here. When I used a pinch collar, Isis’s behavior got worse. The technique I was advised to use exacerbated the very problem I was trying to cure. Ironic, huh?

Really, the best way to stop a dog from barking and lunging is to prevent him from barking and lunging in the first place.

But what do I know? Leo’s been trained with positive reinforcement only, and we socialized him in puppy preschool, so what’s his excuse? Perhaps he suffers post-traumatic stress from living with a reactive dog for seven formative months. Perhaps German shepherds are particularly sensitive to bicycles and other fast-moving stimuli. Perhaps I should have clicked and treated him and squealed “bicycle” every time he saw one from the time he was a little puppy. (I was too busy trying to keep him from jumping up and biting my arm during our walks to think of that, but I’m totally doing that with my next dog.)

Perhaps I’m the problem, and I should adopt older dogs from now on. Because in the two-plus years I’ve known her, Mia’s never barked and lunged at a single bicycle.

This advice column is part of the Weekly Writing Challenge from Daily Post.

How do I know if it’s working?

Name a technique or device intended to reduce dog anxiety or aggression and I’ve tried it. Acupuncture, Dog Appeasing Pheromones, Prozac, Thundershirt, Tellington Touch, Calming Cap…

Have to say, the Calming Cap was my favorite. The stretchy blue fabric over Isis’s head made her look like a superhero. We put it on her, sat her on her bed and Rob fed her treats while I paraded Leo past her. Her vision was sufficiently filtered that she did not stand and bark and lunge at Leo. Unfortunately, Leo, while still a puppy, had by then discovered his “big boy voice,” so those sessions usually ended with him barking at Isis.

At the time, Isis was also on Prozac and wearing a Thundershirt, but I think it was the Calming Cap that made the biggest difference. How can we know for sure? Maybe the Prozac was finally kicking in. As far as I can remember, though, she never lashed out while wearing the Calming Cap.

The Calming Cap was on loan, so we don’t have it anymore. Maybe I should get one for Leo. If he can’t see the bicycle, he can’t bark at it. We do have a Thundershirt, two actually, but I can’t tell if it works! He still is capable of having an explosive reaction while wearing the shirt; if he weren’t wearing it, would the reaction have been worse? What about the times he doesn’t have reactions while wearing the shirt? Would he necessarily have had one if he hadn’t been wearing it?

On Leo’s last birthday, his teacher asked if we’d ever tried a Thundershirt. I felt silly saying we had one but weren’t using it. Actually, I’d forgotten about it entirely, and then summer came, and it seemed cruel to make him wear another layer, but now that it’s fall, we’re using it again. He doesn’t mind it, so what can it hurt?

Same with Tellington Touch. When I told a trainer that I wasn’t sure whether it worked, she said, “Oh, you’ll know if it’s working.” But I really can’t tell. I enjoy petting my dogs in prescribed patterns. Sometimes it seems to relax them, but sometimes it gets on their nerves and they get up and move.

What do you think, fellow parents of reactive or anxious dogs? I’d love to know your experiences with Thundershirts, Tellington Touch, Calming Caps, and the like.

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Separate Walks

Remember how eight months ago I vowed that I was going to conquer Leo’s bicycle reactivity? Well, I’ve finally started cracking down on that.

All spring and summer, it felt like enough to let the dogs run around the backyard and take them for the occasional romp at the off-leash park. But as the weather turns, I feel guilty about how much time they spend cooped up. It’s too dark to walk them around the neighborhood after work, and even if it weren’t, we’d get derailed by a bicycle.

I took a page from the Isis playbook and started taking Leo to parking lots where we are likely to see bicycles. We can practice walking near stimuli, but at a far enough distance to keep him under threshold. I’m employing some functional rewards techniques from BAT. We’re having success, and I’ve lowered my expectations. My goal is not for Leo to be a bomb-proof dog, simply for him to stretch his legs and get a change of scenery, and if his reactivity improves, allowing us to take him to a wider variety of places, so much the better.

Mia’s recent escape attempt alerted me that my focus on Leo’s problem behavior caused me to neglect my perfect dog. Mia just wanted to get out and see the world. She’s been watching forlornly from the window as I take Leo on training excursions. Even though we’re not gone very long, she sees Leo going on an adventure while she has to stay home. Sure she’s a senior dog, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t need exercise.

Quite a dilemma. I can’t walk both dogs at the same time and still focus on Leo’s training. What to do?

I’m embarrassed to admit that I chewed on this for a couple of days before I remembered that I can walk Mia around our neighborhood.

See, the old pattern was, I’d take Mia to work, so she’d get a midday walk or off-leash romp on a ball field. Leo would go to daycare or I’d walk him around the neighborhood before work, strategically timed to avoid the bike commuters. I was not in the habit of walking Mia by herself closer to home.

Once Leo became “trustworthy” enough that he didn’t need to be crated while we’re out, I stopped bringing Mia with me. Who knows what kind of trouble Leo could get into without his big sister to keep an eye on him?

What better way to find out than to leave him alone while I take Mia around the block? On Wednesday, I walked Mia before it got dark, and then took Leo for his training in a university parking lot.

Walking Mia reinforced how unsafe our street is for Leo. It also reminded me how bicycle reactive I am. Me, not Mia. As we walked, I saw a bright yellow raincoat on the horizon, whizzing toward us on two wheels. Mia has never expressed the slightest interest in a bicycle, and yet I tightened the leash, thinking, “Oh god, oh god. What if she’s learned from Leo that she’s supposed to bark at those things? Oh god, oh god.”

Of course she was perfect when the bike went by. And she was perfect when we passed a dog who strained at his leash to get to her.

The amazing part? Walking Mia calmed me. “That’s right,” I remembered. “Walking dogs is fun.”

Mia’s positive reinforcement was so powerful that on our next walk, I didn’t flinch when a bicycle rode toward us on the sidewalk. I took her on the windy wooded trail where a mountain bike came at us out of nowhere. And we passed Isis’s nemesis’s house. Not only was the golden in the front yard, but her neighbor, a black dog, was loose in his yard, and the same dog that strained at Mia the day before was headed our way. It was a collision of four dogs. Mia’s hackles went up, but she sniffed politely and we went on our way.

My next post will deal with some of the calming tools recommended to ease dog reactivity and anxiety. Can you tell Leo is wearing a Thundershirt in the top picture?

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Biggest fears, part 2: Arachnophobia

I used to hate spiders as much as the next guy, but after last summer’s cocoon rampage, I just can’t muster up any real arachnophobia. As summer cooled to fall, lots of my Facebook friends cringed virtually about the number of webs and ginormous octopeds around their homes. Not only did I not mind the spiders barring our front door, nor freak out when I walked through an invisible, stringy web (Not like Rob, who actually cried out, “Ahh! Is it on me? Is it on me? Please, just check!”), I have let a spider dangle above the couch for, like, weeks. He’s not bothering me, why should I bother him?

spider

I used to have an “It’s them or me” policy about bugs, which came back to me the other day when I noticed something dark in the corner of the shower. What is that, a spider? I thought idly, then looked directly at it, and then, yes, I screamed a little.

“Sorry, dude.” I tried to sever the web from which she dangled, to lower her into the shower spray, but she just hung from my finger. I redirected the showerhead to spray her directly, but she just worked her way back up to the ceiling. I watched as she wriggled her front legs while she walked across the ceiling. What’s she doing? Is she trying to dry off, or is that how they spin webs? I watched fascinated as she worked her way toward the vent at the center of my shower ceiling, my mouth agape. Oh, god, what if she falls directly into my mouth? I pinned myself against the wall, hoping she’d work her way all the way out of the shower, but she just taunted me overhead.

I remembered a water glass I’d left in the bathroom windowsill (Remember the little girl in Signs, with her abandoned water glasses? That’s totally me). Stepping out of the shower, I dumped the days old water in the sink and pressed the glass around the spider. She fell into the bottom of the glass, which I then tipped upside down in the sink while I finished my shower, feeling a little guilty because what if she suffocated or drowned in a drop of water still remaining in the glass? Would serve her right for attacking me in the shower, I justified.

She lived to tell the tale and met the fate of nearly all the spiders I’ve had to remove from the premises. I let her out the back door.

That other guy, though, he’s still hanging over the couch. Maybe he’s dead. How long do spiders live, anyway?

What’s your biggest fear?

People overuse the term “biggest fear,” but mine is having something terrible happen to the dogs. Specifically, I worry about them escaping the yard and getting hit by a car. I saw that happen once in Olympia, or rather, I heard it, a dog running out a front door onto the busy street in front of the newspaper where I worked. I remember the owner’s scream as the dog ran out, and her scream after the dog got hit.

While home sick, I let the dogs into the backyard while I watched Tattoo Nightmares. After the dogs had been out there a while, suspiciously quiet, I expected to find them sitting right by the back door, but they weren’t there. I called out “Doggies!” into the empty backyard. Nothing.

Oh, god. Is this the day they get out and something terrible happens? Is this going to be another saddest day that ruins our lives?

I put on my boots and a jacket and started up the hill toward the chain-link fence that separates our yard from Interstate 5. Leo’s red skull-and-crossbones bandanna peeked out from behind our martial arts studio building. Phew. At least Leo was safe. I worry less about Mia getting out, because I don’t think she’d go anywhere. I imagine her being like my mom’s Lhasa apso, Barney, who would sit on the front porch and wait to be remembered if you accidentally left him out there.

leo

Leo zoomed around me and the gazebo a few times, kind of like Mia does when Leo is getting into trouble, except Mia usually barks too.

Where was Mia?

There isn’t much space between the studio building and the chain link, and most of that space is pierced through with blackberry branches. I held onto the chain link as I crept along the retaining wall on the dirt barely-a-walkway. Mia was back there, at the very corner of the yard, digging under the fence … LITERALLY my biggest fear. She ran toward me when she saw me, but I kept walking to the edge of the yard to see how much progress she’d made.

Not much, as it turned out, but enough to reinforce my fear that given enough time, she could escape under that fence and onto the freeway.

Mia, why? Why would you try to escape? You, whom I trusted!

leomia

And Leo’s just going to stand there and watch. What a bad influence Mia is on him.

How about you? Any of your biggest fears ever come true?

Stay tuned for Big Fear, Part 2: Spiders!!

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Happy Carnivores

I just met a guy in a parking lot and handed him a check for $175 for 100 pounds of raw beef and organs to feed to my dogs. The meat was delivered on Saturday, as part of a chain coordinated by a raw-feeding cooperative.

I’ve been meeting people in parking lots to buy raw meat for more than four years now, although I’m not a raw-feeding purist. When Leo was a pup, a holistic vet suggested I supplement the raw meat with a grain-free kibble, to help him put on weight. We like Taste of the Wild. Sometimes Leo doesn’t feel like eating his raw beef breakfast, so I like knowing that he’ll eat his kibble dinner (fed to him in either a Dog Tornado or Aikiou paw; I alternate which dog eats out of which).

Raw meaty bones are the best for keeping doggie teeth clean, so I recently picked up 100 pounds of deer bones, hoping they’ll last nearly a year. Here are my little darlings munching away. Twinsies!

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