Author: Pam Hogle

Last Night Alone

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koala-in-showerA guest post by Deni Elliott

Tonight is my last night alone. After four months of crawling into bed without Guiding Eyes Alberta snorting and snoring a few feet away, tonight is my last night alone. Tomorrow I meet Guiding Eyes Koala. As hard as I’ve squinted at photos and video and as tightly as I have clutched each new piece of information, I find it odd how little I can imagine about our future together.

Koala’s passed all the tests and has exceeded expectations. I’ve heard that she leaps into her harness and back-channels routes after only one trip. She eagerly solves problems and pivots on a dime, ready for new adventure. A personality match for sure. But I remind myself that I need to go slow and not expect too much of this 2-year-old.

At the cusp of this unknown relationship curving to be real, my tummy flutters with butterflies of anxiety and anticipation. I can imagine the home trainer better than the dog he is bringing me.

Jim Gardner, GEB director of home training, will fly from New York to Tampa with Koala curled at his feet. I imagine Jim cheerfully answering the questions I am annoyed to be asked. “Are you training that dog?” someone will ask. “Yes,” he’ll smile, “This is a new, young guide dog. I am taking her to meet her blind partner.” When asked, I put on the same “please the public” smile, but say in a way that invites no further intrusion: “Every day is a training day, but I am blind, and she is my guide dog.”

I imagine Jim calmly replying, when asked the dog’s name, “We don’t tell people that because we don’t want them distracted.” Knowing that despite 16 years of guide dog use that I am still paralyzed by strangers asking my dog’s names, other trainers have had me practice giving a fake name. I don’t lie well. Saying, “I won’t tell you,” feels rude. “Leave us alone,” is definitely rude. Saying, “If I tell you the dog’s name, you will immediately say it and distract her and that is exactly what I don’t want you to do,” is too long and complicated. So, I quickly say, “This is the dog’s name, BUT DON’T SAY IT.” As those words come out of my mouth, I concurrently offer a treat so that the dog doesn’t pay attention to what the other person might say. We then hurry away.

I imagine Jim chaperoning Koala and me on our first neighborhood walk. “What can we do for our first outing?” I will ask. “Two miles? One mile? 250 steps?” I have three routes mapped out just in case.  For the months I’ve caned my way through twice-daily walks, I’ve imagined being guided by new dog instead. I whisper “Right-right,” and “To the curb please,” and “Good dog, good job.” I’ve counted the number of streets I cross on these daily laps so that I can help Koala learn streets where she needs to stop and driveways where she doesn’t. I imagine the neighbors that I pass daily expressing surprise and sending best wishes when they see me with Koala in harness instead of gripping a cane.

I cry when I imagine Jim and Koala arriving from the airport tomorrow night. I have joked about lighting candles and pouring wine for the new girl’s arrival. In truth, I have stocked the house with beds, toys, crate, food and treats. I ache with the knowledge that none of these will fill her heart tomorrow night. All I can do is make promises that she won’t understand.

She’ll wonder where her most recent caregivers, Graham and David, have gone. She’ll look for her special canine friend, Wrangler. Some visual or scent will call to mind her puppy raiser mom, Eileen, although it has been six months since they’ve seen one another. From Alberta, I know that well-raised guide dogs never forget previous family members and greet them with great joy. I suspect Koala would prefer we all live together in one pack. I can’t make that happen, but I will promise to keep her connected with the dogs and humans who matter to her most.

koala-and-deniI will promise to keep her safe. I hope that she never needs to know that I will instinctively fold her under my body for protection if anything threatens her just as I did when Alberta and I were attacked by a stray dog.

I will promise to trust her today and for all of the tomorrows we have together. When I am utterly confused, I will follow her lead, knowing that she’ll have better ideas that I about what to do next.

I can’t imagine Koala at my side because I don’t know yet the person she will turn out to be. But I can promise to show her day after day that I will love her for being her own best self and for who we can become together. Maybe that’s enough for the first day.

Postscript: Koala and Deni are off to a great start!

Dogs Understand Our Words — and Our Tone of Voice

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janaNYT

This week, many media outlets have run stories on a recent Hungarian study that might show that dogs not only understand the words we say to them, they also understand the tone of voice. I haven’t yet read the full paper, but based on several articles, here’s the gist.

The 13 dogs, trained to lie still in an MRI machine (so already a select group of highly educated individuals …), were tested on four sets of cues: Praise words said in a “praising intonation,” described as a higher and more varying pitch than neutral speech; the same praise words in a neutral tone; neutral words in a praise tone; and neutral words in a neutral tone.

From interactions with dogs, most of us know that we can get dogs to respond to pretty much anything we say in an excited or happy tone. And we know that they respond to some words even if we barely whisper them. For instance, a whispered “c…o…o…o…o…k…i…e…e…e…” gets a reliable response even if the dog is 100 yards away, playing happily with her buddy. But this research study, like several other MRI studies by this team and an American team, looked at the response in specific areas of the dogs’ brains, not their actions.

Praise words, regardless of tone, caused reactions in the left hemisphere of the dogs’ brain; this is similar to what the researchers would see in a human brain that is processing speech. Neutral tones, regardless of words, produced a reaction in the right hemisphere; this is similar to what the researchers would see in a human brain that is processing generic acoustic information. And, when the praise words were spoken in the praising tone, the reward centers of the dogs’ brain lit up. This shows that the dogs were able to integrate the meaning of the words and the tone and deduce meaning from them.

This study seems to show that dog brains process speech similarly to the way human brains process speech, which is what this article on Smithsonian.com reports. Other media reports said that it also means that the dogs understand human language, like this one from NPR.

Some experts, like one of my all-time-favorite scientists, Dr. Gregory Berns, told Smithsonian.com that the paper has been “wildly overinterpreted,” partly due to its methods. He pointed out that responding to speech and tone is not the same as understanding it.

That may well be true. On the other hand, the NPR article warns of the perils of life with such smart dogs, particularly if — as I do — one leaves NPR on for them to listen to all day. My dogs are, indeed, both smarter and better-informed than I am, especially now that I work in an office and do not listen to NPR all day.

However, in all seriousness, I think the overinterpretation also may be oversimplification. Yes, our dogs learn that certain words, even sentences, have specific meanings. They learn our habits and routines, and through experience with us, they associate all kinds of things with words. In our household some examples are: Leashes and fun and ball-playing with, “Who wants to go to the park?”; bowls of yummy food with “How about some dinner?”; and a careful backing up so that just her large, furry front paws are over the threshold with “Out of the kitchen, Cali.” The front feet then scootch back almost imperceptibly in response to, “The entire dog, please.” So yes, my dogs understand and respond somewhat appropriately to several sentences; I suspect that each family’s dogs have a set of favorites.

But even armed with my years of knowledge of their intelligence, along with my new realization of their eruditeness (is there a dog-oriented radio station that I could leave on instead of NPR?), I do not think that they process and understand human language in the same way that a human adult does.

What I do think, based on a combination of experience and having read dozens of research papers on dog-human communication, is that they read us really, really well. They don’t respond only to the words we say or the words combined with the tone of voice. Humans don’t either; so much communication is based on body language and other cues, even between humans. But dogs really read our body language. They also read all the scents we are giving off, including pheromones that we are completely unaware of. They read our microexpressions and our posture and our facial expression and pay attention to what we are doing as we are talking to them. They can figure out our emotions from these cues. They know when we “mean it” and when they can push the boundaries just a bit further.

Cali is much quicker to listen to my “get out of the kitchen” phrases when I am fixing her dinner than when I am doing the dishes. She’s learned that I will stop fixing her dinner and wait for her to leave the kitchen. She doesn’t like that consequence. But she doesn’t much care if I get the dishes done and maybe even wants me to stop doing them so I can pay attention to her.

The point is, looking at dogs’ response to words and voice in isolation doesn’t make sense, because in their lives with us, that is not how they use language. Another important thing to remember about dogs, as opposed to any other nonhumans, is that so much of who they are has been shaped by the fact of their lives with us. The dog-human connection is unique; our communication with them is different from our communication with any other nonhumans (even cats).

The most important point, though, is that dogs pay close enough attention to us to learn the meanings of the different things we say to them. They care whether we’re happy with them — or just whether we’re happy. I’m excited about new discoveries about dogs’ intelligence and cognitive abilities. But I am even more excited about new reasons to cherish the relationship I have with my girls and that others have with their dogs.

 

A Scary Incident (That Ended Well)

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Jana and Cali_post vestibular_crop

Jana’s had a rough week.

She’s dealing with something that is fairly common, but a lot of her friends and family weren’t familiar with it: vestibular disease. It’s also called “old dog vestibular disease,” since it is especially common among older dogs. But Jana regards herself as neither a dog nor old, so we’re just calling it vestibular disease.

It shows up suddenly and looks for all the world like your dog has had a stroke. She might have. She also might have an inner ear infection, a brain bleed, a brain tumor — or none of these. Most vestibular incidents are idiopathic. A fancy way of saying the vet has no idea why your dog cannot stand up or staggers around like she’s drunk. Very drunk.

In Jana’s case, she woke up in the middle of the night and struggled to stand up. I know this because what woke me up was the sound of her flailing and falling. I calmed her down and we went back to sleep. In the morning, she could not walk. I got her outside to toilet and then into the car. Her vet offered the suggestions of vestibular disease, inner ear infection, or tumor. The tumor idea arose primarily because Jana’s left eye looked much larger than her right and was bulging a little.

I got her home and settled her in the yard. She spent the weekend struggling to stand and unable to walk without a lot of help. But by Sunday afternoon, she was noticeably better. I made arrangements with two wonderful individuals, our longtime friend Sally and our new dog walker, Stephanie, to care for Jana on Monday and Tuesday, as I had work meetings that I could not miss.

By Monday afternoon, Jana was taking herself outside. She was very unsteady and fell a lot but did not want help.

Since she’s a golden retriever, it might be unnecessary to mention that her appetite did not suffer a bit during any of this, but she needed help eating.

The vestibular system is what helps you balance and orient your body. Hers was way out of whack. This was not paralysis or muscle weakness. It was extreme dizziness and disorientation. She got meds for the supposed nausea (though she never seemed nauseated) and for the possible inner ear infection. She slowly recovered, walking a bit better each day, all week, and we went for a neurological consult at the end of the week. The neurologist said that her excellent progress, along with the improvement in her eye, indicated that a tumor is not likely. The only way to know for sure whether she has (or does not have) a tumor and to figure out (maybe) why this happened is an MRI and spinal tap. I’m not doing that for a number of reasons.  If Jana stops improving or gets worse, I will have to figure out next steps. But right now, she’s doing well.

It’s important to know several things about vestibular disease.

One is that it’s not painful. It is probably scary and miserable, though. I had an inner ear infection once and was horrifically dizzy. If Jana was experiencing anything like that, she has my sympathy. She was also much more of a trouper than I was; I couldn’t even keep water down. She scarfed down cookies, water, meals … a true golden.

Another is that most dogs recover — and quickly. The most significant recovery happens in the first two or three days. Many dogs have a wobbly gait and maybe a head tilt for a week or two. The head tilt might never go away. Jana’s head tilts noticeably to the right when she’s standing up. When she’s lying down, I don’t see it. And it too is a little better every day.

Many dogs recover and continue living perfectly normal lives, though some have additional episodes. Some have permanent effects — a limp, unsteadiness, the head tilt.

Finally, it’s important to emphasize that Jana had no personality changes, no cognitive damage — she’s still very much herself. As soon as she could stand, she was asking to go out on her own, did not want help, and did not want me or anyone else hovering over her. She was back on the job, demanding that I let her out to get the paper, by Tuesday morning.

It’s scary to wake up to a dog who cannot stand up. It is also scary to have to figure out how to get a 60-lb. dog outside to pee or into the car when she cannot support her own weight. We really need 30-lb goldens. If she had not recovered quickly, I would have had to make some hard decisions. I was very relieved to see Jana trying to stand, and, slowly, getting her bearings back.

A vet tech who takes care of Jana said that lots of owners panic when they see their dogs’ initial symptoms, and many make the difficult choice to euthanize. So I want to emphasize again that dramatic improvement in the first two-three days is the norm. If that is not what happens, then the dog might have something other than vestibular disease.

Cali was concerned and attentive throughout all of this — to me and to Jana — but also worried about missing her ball time and park visits. She bumped into Jana a few times before understanding that she needed to be more gentle. She’s been remarkably patient overall, though, and very good company.

Jana is still unsteady, but she doesn’t fall every time she shakes off or turns a corner. She’s cautious on steps, but we only have a couple of small ones. She wants to go for walks and visit her friend in the neighborhood. She wants to sniff and check out the news and get to her favorite grassy patch. I’m looking forward to the day that she’s stable enough to head out to the coast for a beach day. We all deserve one.

That Soulful (and Loving) Gaze

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Oxytocin is a hormone that plays a role in social bonding, as implied by some of its nicknames: the love hormone, cuddle chemical, or bliss hormone. It’s also something that dogs and humans share.

Studies published in 2009 found that, when dogs gazed at their owners — you know, that adoring gaze that says, “feed me; I’m yours,” owners had more oxytocin in their urine. This correlates with feeling affection and social connection.

You can see where this is going, right? They gaze at us, we interpret it as adoration, we respond by feeling loved and happy. This works well for the dog. For us, too; real or not, we have that great “someone loves me” feeling.

But there’s more to this story. A later study looked at more variables. For example, the oxytocin in dogs’ urine. Did they get the same emotional lift out of the exchange of adoring gazes? Also whether interaction with the humans affected oxytocin in either humans or dogs.

This is where things get interesting.

A note: In both studies, dogs and wolves were used, as a way to determine whether this was just a canine thing, or whether it really has to do with the dog-human relationship.

First, the study looked at the effects if the person and dog exchanged gazes only, versus when the person also interacted with the dog, talking to her or petting her. No one was given oxytocin in this study; dogs’ and humans’ levels were measured before and after. The dogs and owners who spent the longest time gazing and interacting with each other had significant increases in their oxytocin levels — the dogs’ levels as well as the people’s. The dogs like the attention — even you, Jana! The gaze-only dogs and the shorter-gazing couples had small or no increases. Neither did the wolves.

A variation of the study had researchers administer oxytocin to some of the dogs to see whether the amount of oxytocin in their bodies made a difference. Then, the dogs and humans were allowed to gaze at each other, but the humans were not allowed to intentionally interact. If the dogs touched the humans, it was noted, but the humans were not allowed to respond by petting or talking to the dog.

So, was there a change in the dogs’ behavior if they had higher (administered) oxytocin? There was — but only for female dogs. With more oxytocin, they gazed at their humans for a significantly longer time; the length of their gaze at a stranger wasn’t affected. Male dogs actually gazed at their owners longer if they had not received oxytocin. The wolves didn’t really gaze at the people.

Not to knock boy dogs, but … maybe they’re just not that into you.

Seriously, what this all means — according to the researchers, anyhow — is that a mutually reinforcing loop occurs (particularly with girl dogs). They gaze at us, we look back, babble nonsense at them, rub their bellies … Hmmm, how do they gaze at us while we’re rubbing their bellies? OK, we stroke their long, soft ears and gaze back into their eyes. And everyone feels all warm and mushy and loved, so the girls keep staring at us, to keep this good thing going. More gazing, more oxytocin, so more and longer gazing, and the cycle continues.

Gazing is important in human social bonding and communication, starting when babies nurse. Lots of research shows that dogs use humans’ gaze as communication — and use their own gaze to communicate with us. And, as I wrote a couple of weeks ago, dogs choose to hang out with us. All that, to me, adds up to a mutual bond that is very rewarding to all of us, including the dogs. That, and they need someone with working thumbs around to get access to their dinner.

Racial Profiling

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A new dog shows up at our park play group. Is Cali interested in meeting or playing with this newcomer? Is she curious? Is she hesitant, cautious? Or does she simply head for the other side of the park and ignore the new pup? And what about Jana?

That depends on several things.

When the newcomer is a puppy, I can be absolutely certain that Jana wants nothing to do with him or her. Cali might, but she tends to watch new pup interact with some other dogs first.

What about adolescent and adult dogs? Large dogs get a wide berth. Small dogs get more interest. But the one time I can be certain that Cali will go right over and say hello to a new dog is when that dog is a golden retriever.

Cali’s very wary of shepherds and huskies. She’s open to small poodles and terriers. A little nervous around very high-energy dogs. Very leery of big dogs, though once she gets to know them, she’s fine. She finds boy Labradors overwhelming, but has had a few Labby girlfriends. Cali’s the most relaxed with her sister Dora and a couple of other dogs she knows well, all Labs or goldens. Anyone who shows any interest in her ball is definitely off the potential friends list. Unless it’s a golden; then they can talk.

Cali is racially profiling dogs. Jana does it too. When Jana was a puppy, if we saw another dog up ahead on a walk (we didn’t have a great neighborhood park with a play group), she’d react completely differently, depending on the breed. Jana is a little broader-minded than Cali; she loved Labradors and goldens equally from early puppyhood. A Lab or golden up ahead would mean eager dancing at the end of the leash and maybe even pulling toward the potential pal. Any other dog, big or small, and Jana would slow down and walk very close to me, a bit nervous and unsure. She’d be fine once she met and got to know a dog of any breed, as long as the dog had good manners. But retrievers, dogs who looked like her — they were OK from the get-go.

It’s not just based on experience. One of the first nonfamily goldens Cali met at the park was an unusually bad-tempered young man who snarled and lunged at her. That did not make her wary the next time she saw an unfamiliar golden.

It’s not only a golden thing, either. A smooth-coated collie puppy I was working with, the lone collie in a sea of Lab puppies at a service dog training school, literally danced with joy the first time a staffer brought her smooth collie service dog to visit. I’d never seen him so happy, and he was generally a pretty cheerful guy. Then there are the German shepherds at the park. The young girl likes to play with Cali. Cali has, on a couple of occasions, accepted the play invitations. Sometimes, while she’s thinking about it, another shepherd, either a young male or an older, long-haired shepherd, will show up. Young girl is immediately off to play with the other shepherd. During breaks in that play, though, she tries again and again to invite Cali to play. She strongly prefers shepherds, but young golden girls are second.

We can’t really hold it against them; people racially profile dogs all the time. What else would you call legal restrictions on owning dogs of certain breeds or apartment rental policies or insurance policies that exclude specific breeds, without any attention to an individual dog’s personality and behavior? But I don’t think dogs learned it from us; I think they are hardwired to recognize — and feel more comfortable with — dogs of their own breed.

Just Hangin’ Out

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Jana_aging

We all know that our dogs love us, right? It’s not enough to know that, though; researchers have to prove it. Fine. First we had the wonderful Dr. Gregory Berns and his MRI studies that showed that the pleasure center in dogs’ brains lights up when they catch a whiff of a familiar human. Then we had oxytocin studies that showed that a meaningful gaze is also therapeutic — for dogs (more about that in a future post). Now, my favorite: A study showing that dogs will actually learn and perform a task for what reward? A chance to spend a minute with their person.

The study was published in the fall issue of the Journal of Applied Behavior Analysis. Titled “Application of Functional Analysis Methods to Assess Human-Dog Interactions,” the study itself if a tough read. Do yourself a favor and read Dr. Stanley Coren’s “translation” in his column for Psychology Today.

The study only looked at three dogs, so it is not exactly definitive. But these dogs were tested on several different scenarios. First, they learned to perform a task that would open a door and allow them access to a room where their human was sitting. They actually figured out — taught themselves —a task, then performed it over and over again, just to get to be with their humans. They could hang out with (and be petted by) their person for one minute, then they were taken back to the room.

Initially the room was bare and boring. But then the researchers upped the ante. They gave the dogs some toys. Later, they added the dog’s favorite bed. In each case, performing the same task would let them out and give them access to their person. Yes, they chose to leave a relatively comfortable room and their toys to be with their humans. One dog had a harder time leaving the toys than the empty room, and one of the dogs chose not to leave the comfy bed.

The next level test put the people and dogs in the same room. Now, the dogs had no bed, no toys, and a human who was working on a computer. The door was open; the dogs were free to head to their toys, their beds, out. Yet, even though the person wasn’t paying paying any attention to them, the dogs showed a preference for being with their person. They stayed, rather than head to a more stimulating place.

Remember, this is a very small study. But it tracks with my experience of living with many dogs over many years, and spending time with dozens (hundreds?) of dogs whom I knew well but did not live with. It also lines up with our understanding of dogs as great therapy visitors, empathetic creatures, and just plain good friends.

I live in a tiny apartment, but, in addition to the living room where I spend much of my time, the dogs have access to the yard most of the time, a bedroom (with very comfy dog beds), and the kitchen and bathroom,which offer a cool floor in hot weather. The vast majority of the time, Jana chooses to be in whatever room I am in. She gets up and moves if I do. Even if I tell her, “Don’t move; I am coming right back,” she goes with me. In fact, ages ago, tiny 7-week-old Jana attempted a huge flight of stairs when I ran upstairs to get something and she just didn’t want to be left alone for even a minute.Janas Bed age 2

Cali is less consistent. If I move, she always comes to see if something fun is about to happen. But she often likes to nap on my bed or hang out outside when I am working in the living room. Even then, though, she comes and checks in very frequently.

This study seems to say that dogs enjoy just hanging out with their people. I am happy to know that. The more time I spend with dogs, the more I appreciate the true friendship between us; it’s nice (though not necessary) to see research studies confirming that this bond is valued by dogs as well.

 

Funny Girls

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What's so funny, Cali?
What’s so funny, Cali?

Cali’s sister Dora recently spent several days with us, and I enjoyed watching them play, wrestle, and hang out together. It is fun and interesting to see how they are similar and how they are different. One similarity is that they both have a silly side and a goofy sense of humor.

All the dogs I’ve known, with the possible exception of a German shepherd, have had some concept of humor. They play tricks on each other and on us — keep away, hide and seek. They act silly. Cali lies on her back and wriggles around the living room, bicycling her legs. This never fails to get a laugh (and usually a belly rub and a play session). She especially likes to do this when I am on the phone.

Jana used to have a “geflite fish” stuffed toy that said, “Oy, vey …” and burbled when she squeezed it. This also was always good for a laugh. She’d dig it out and “oy vey” it whenever she thought I needed to lighten up. Sometimes, she’d stand and do it over and over, just to keep me laughing. She always watched me very carefully as she did this, as if gauging my reaction.

They don’t only enjoy getting me to laugh; they seem to like it even better when I do something silly and they get to laugh at me!

Jana LaughingCali and Dora lucked out. I had lunch with some friends while Dora was here, and we talked about different stretches and exercises we do at home. Someone talked about how important it is to do the “plank” pose from yoga, so I decided to try it. Well, that was about the funniest thing that Dora had ever seen. Cali wanted to play too, so she lay down and squeezed her head under one of my arms. Then she flipped over and wriggled until she was, belly-up, between my arms. Dora was — I swear — laughing. Literally ROTFL. I’ve never actually seen anyone do that!

The next trick was even better. I have a foam roller, and I use it to stretch my back. Fair enough. Hilarious, said Dora. She buried her head in my shoulder, laughing. I am sure she was laughing. Cali got in the act too, and within seconds, I had a fuzzy golden head peering at me from either side. Two big black noses in my face. Two girls nosing my shoulders, neck, face. Nudging. Occasionally, one or both could stand it no longer and buried her head in my shoulder. Laughing. Silly humans!

All those studies about how humans benefit from living with dogs? If laughter is the best medicine, I think it goes both ways.

Chow Hounds

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How many of you have dogs who steal food from the table or countertop? How about dogs who beg? On the flip side, how many have to cajole and hand-feed dainty treats to a fussy dog?

Taking available food is a natural behavior for dogs, so puppies generally have to be taught to respect some boundaries and not “steal” human food. They don’t necessarily accept our characterization of “helping myself to a snack” as “stealing.” We also tend to disagree on what items belong in the “food” category, but that is a whole separate issue. Some trainers claim that dogs can’t be taught not to steal food, but that is absurd. Of course they can. But if they keep getting rewarded by tasty snacks left out on the counter, well, that’s not their fault, is it? If you have a food thief, management is necessary. Great temptation plus no chance of getting caught is a tough test for even well-trained dogs, especially once they’ve formed the habit.

I recently spent the weekend with family, including my “cousin” Beau, a boxer. He loves to do the dishes, and his humans allow him the pleasure of this “chore.” Despite knowing that he’ll get some, or maybe because he knows, he doesn’t beg. He’s totally chill while we’re eating, even when we eat sitting on the sofa, just inches from him (reclining on his dog bed).

Jana would never steal food from the table or counter. She generally respects boundaries. But, when she was a puppy, she was invited to a 2-year-old’s birthday party. She was unable to resist the temptation of dozen of cupcakes walking around at exactly her nose level. Never mind that each cupcake was being held by a toddler … She wasn’t invited to the 3-year-old party.

She did learn her manners, but, a girl has to give in to temptation once in a while. I came home with her once and my roommate was sitting on a low chair on the patio, eating a turkey sandwich. She leaned forward to get up, sandwich in hand … at nose level. Gone in one gulp. Well, Jana thought she was offering her the sandwich. An honest mistake. And the now-former roommate is still a good friend. Though I haven’t seen her eating a turkey sandwich when Jana’s been over, come to think of it.

Then there’s Cali. Cali begs. To be brutally honest, Jana sometimes begs. She does so by resting her chin on my lap while I am eating. Or staring me down. If I tell her to stop, though, she seems a bit embarrassed and stops. Not Cali. Shameless beggar. She’s never actually stolen anything, though I wouldn’t put it past her. Besides, she has a family history of food theft. Her great-aunt Oriel, an otherwise perfect dog, would steal food given the tiniest opening. Ory even stole sandwiches from picnic blankets in the park near our house.

Scarlett-Eating-Peas-07-01-16
Scarlett makes sure to eat several servings of veggies a day (Photo by James Cramer)

Cali feels entitled to some (all?) of whatever I am eating. She employs a combination of the stare-down, the nudge, the head on the knee, the LOOK … plus whatever pops into her head at the time. She’s relentless. And I have never fed her from the table, though I occasionally let her lick out a dish, it’s rare, and not at the table either. She will stop when I firmly tell her to settle and stop begging, but she never seems the least bit embarrassed. Hey, a girl’s got to try, she shrugs. She also checks out any snack I put on the little TV table. She’s never taken anything, and she leaves it when I tell her to, but she definitely pushes the boundaries. I wouldn’t trust her alone with a tasty dinner.

And then there’s Scarlett. She has Cali beat, paws down, for shameless begging and food theft. She steals vegetables right out of the garden! Her dad has to scheme and trick her just to get a few peaches off of his own tree!

IMG_2090But these dogs are all “normal” for retrievers. Retrievers are chow  hounds. You can’t leave food out when they’re around. I get that. What I don’t understand, what none of us understand is the fussy dogs. What kind of dog turns her nose up at chicken?

I’m not sure I’d know what to do with one. Deni hand-fed cheese and crackers to a fussy house guest last summer, who enjoyed her visit immensely and did not waste away from starvation while she was with us. But getting her to eat required some creative thinking.

It’s really a question of management: Managing expectations (ours and the dogs’) and managing opportunities, as in, not providing opportunities for the dogs to steal food.

 

 

She’ll Have It HER Way

Pam Hogle Stories, The Thinking Dog Blog , , ,

Who else is old enough to remember the Burger King jingle about having it your way?

I’m sure Jana’s never heard it, but she’s completely on board with the idea. Jana is very particular about how she wants things done.

The other day, we set out for our usual morning walk. Except that she did not want to walk a block up Petaluma Blvd. to the crosswalk. Or a block the other way to the light and crosswalk. Nope. She wanted to cross on the corner of our street and head right to the little park a block in on the other side of the street. I could not convince her to walk to the crosswalk.

When she digs her heels in, nothing I can do will budge her. And I am not about to drag 61 pounds of elderly golden retriever down the street.

So we did it her way. She got to the park, rolled in the grass, smiled broadly, sniffed and rolled some more. Happy Jana. Then we went on our usual route to the big park.

On a Saturday morning, early, there’s not much traffic on Petaluma Blvd. so it doesn’t matter if we cross at our corner or at a crosswalk. On a weekday morning, I wouldn’t chance it. Other than traffic, does it really matter which way we go? Of course not. But to Jana, being able to express a preference and make a choice, even a trivial one, matters.

To Cali, too. When we play ball, if I take the “wrong” ball from the basket, she won’t return it to me. She’ll run over, sniff it, then give me a  reproachful look. That’s not my ball. I’ve learned. I pick two balls from the basket, any two, and let her choose. Then she plays happily with her ball.

Some afternoons, if Jana seems tired, I let her choose between a walk (I offer the leash) and her favorite toy (I also offer Squirrel Dude). Contrary to my expectation, she does not always choose Squirrel Dude, who comes with a bellyful of Charlee Bear treats. She often wants a walk. She always appreciates having the choice.

The choices are not monumental. It’s probably similar to letting your two-year-old child choose between two T-shirts when getting dressed. I’m not letting the dogs take over (I keep telling myself that, but even I don’t really believe it …); I’m just letting them have some control over their environment. There’s so much that I can’t give them a choice about that I am always happy to find things that they can decide for themselves.

 

Don’t Fake It …

Pam Hogle The Thinking Dog Blog , ,

I spent much of the day prepping for two short classes I am teaching on service dog access law. I’ve done this before, but most recently, I had an entire semester to teach students about access law and other dog-related laws. We spent seven weeks on the crazy quilt of federal laws that govern public access for people who have service dogs. Paring the vast amount of information down to two one-hour presentations is tough.

I decided that the most important things that the students, future service dog trainers need to know are:

  • The ADA might be the most important law to study, but it is far from the only law that touches on people with disabilities and service dog access
  • The right to be accompanied by a service dog is far from absolute
  • Not all dogs can be or should be service dogs

Beyond that, I hope to give this group of students an overview of the applicable laws and plenty of info on where to get more in-depth information.

The biggest problem with the number of laws and variations in how and where they apply is how easy it is for people to break the law — sometimes intentionally, sometimes not.

What do I mean?

People often confuse service dogs, therapy dogs, and emotional support animals.

Service dogs, individually trained to assist a specific person by performing tasks that mitigate that person’s disability, are often seen in malls, restaurants, supermarkets — almost anywhere that members of the public can go. The ADA, the Americans with Disabilities Act, gives people with an ADA-recognized disability the right to take their service dogs into these places. But dogs that merely provide comfort or “emotional support” are not considered service dogs. Animals other than dogs (with limited exceptions for miniature horses) are not covered by the ADA.

However, people can get permission to live with an emotional support dog or other animal in housing that doesn’t allow pets. Other people get their dogs certified as “therapy dogs” and visit hospitals, schools, and other places that normally do not allow pets. What gives?

Different laws govern access to housing, air travel, Veterans Administration facilities … the laws are confusing. There is no requirement for any kind of public access test or identification. Emotional support animals that accompany people in no-pets housing or on airplanes are not required to have any training.

Many people honestly believe that they have the right to take their pet along to the coffee shop because they have a letter, a “prescription” that turns their pet into a service animal, or because they’ve passed a test given by Pet Partners or another therapeutic pet organization. Other people know that they are breaking the law when they purchase a vest online and head off to the coffee shop with Fido in tow; they just don’t care.

They also might not think they are harming anyone, but that’s often untrue. Most pets are not temperamentally suited for the stress of being in public. Stressed-out dogs might pant, drool, pull toward an exit, hide behind the handler  — or become aggressive. It’s not fair to subject a pet to this level of stress. A dog that is reactive to other dogs, has high prey drive, or any tendency at all to behave aggressively should not be in public. These dogs pose a threat to other people and to people with legitimate, well-trained service dogs.

What’s important for everyone to know, whether members of the public, pet owners, or managers and employees of businesses, is that the right to access is not an absolute right. A person can be asked to remove a dog who is misbehaving, is showing aggression, or is not under the handler’s control — even if the person does have a disability and even if the dog is a trained service dog. Asking a person to remove a dog under those circumstances is not a violation of access laws.

Ethical service dog trainers are careful about which dogs they place as service dogs, both to ensure that the person’s needs are met and to ensure that the dogs they place are comfortable and safe working in the public eye. Service dogs get lots of attention, including petting and hugging from random children (and adults) who run up to them out of nowhere. They endure a barrage of noises, smells, and sights that most pets cannot even imagine. Not all dogs can (or want to) do this work. It’s unfair to expect an unprepared, untrained dog (or other animal) to behave perfectly and calmly in public, even if he is wearing a really nice vest. And it is unfair and unethical to endanger properly trained working dogs and members of the public by taking a poorly prepared, frightened dog into situations that he or she cannot handle.