With my first stint as a puppy raiser recently ended, I read this article from a new perspective: Sit, Stay, Say Goodbye.

Puppy raising is hard work. That’s partly because raising any puppy is hard work! But knowing you will not enjoy the payoff — a well-behaved adult dog friend — makes it harder. Having to work through fears or bad habits that you can (and do) let slide in your own dogs makes it harder. Feeling the pressure to get the puppy out, get her ‘experience’ in all kinds of situations — without doing something that screws up her future — makes it harder.

That’s why I am in awe of the family in the article. A family that raises multiple service dog puppies at a time. And has raised 17(!!!) puppies so far.

They are puppy raisers for Warrior Canine Connection, an organization started by my friend Rick Yount. They place service dogs with veterans.

The ideal puppy raiser might be … you. The NYT article profiles the awesome couple, both retired. And a family with 3 young kids and a pet dog. (Having done it solo, I do think having a backup person is a good idea.) A service dog puppy fits in well with a busy life; in many states, a service dog in training can accompany her humans anywhere a working service dog can — grocery stores, malls, the airport, museums, kids’ school sports events, etc.

If you’re in/near Missoula, Montana, or Northern California, you can puppy raise for Dotty’s school. If you’re in the eastern or southeastern US, you could raise a puppy for Hildy, Koala, and Alberta’s school (Guiding Eyes for the Blind in New York state). Wherever you live, a local, regional, or national program might be looking for dog-loving volunteers.

Continuing the theme of working dogs … here’s a compelling story, one which might raise lots of difficult questions for you, as it did for me.

A couple of weeks ago, I heard that DOGE had cut funding to my favorite federal employees — the dogs.

The truth is a little more nuanced than that. According to Snopes, what happened was a 30-day freeze on credit-card purchases as well as a freeze on requests related to care of TSA’s bomb-sniffing the dogs.

As Orly commented, that’s semantics. No Money = No Food. No food? No work.

Orly’s not wrong, but I doubt it will come to that. I am sure that the dogs’ handlers will continue to feed them… but it did get me thinking. As I returned from a recent trip abroad, I did not see a single TSA dog.

I did see a tiny beagle, proudly wearing her green USDA jacket, hard at work “Protecting American Agriculture.” She looked well fed.

She took her job very seriously, standing on her tiptoes to sniff at the backpack I was wearing. Detecting no contraband she walked on, sniffing at suitcases, carry-ons, and people’s purses …

When she reached an elderly woman with an enormous pink purse, the beagle paused. She sniffed. The purse was resting on the floor, and this dedicated federal worker took another careful sniff. Then slowly turned to face her handler and sat, making steady eye contact with her human.

Busted!

My suitcase arrived so I did not see whether the owner of the pink purse was hustled off in handcuffs.

In all seriousness, the dogs, whether at TSA, USDA, or another federal agency, do important work. And I admire all working dogs, regardless of their career choice.

The Thinking Dog blog is thrilled to share a guest post from Guiding Eyes Hildy.

Dear fellow Thinking Dogs:

I now know where antlers come from. Like you, for years I’ve been happy to live with the illusion that all dog toys come in boxes from Amazon or Chewy.com. Now I am somewhat embarrassed to admit that I thought purple stuffed bears and fabric cows with long stretchy necks were born that way.

Last month, a fellow canine researcher and I were so deluded about the connection between dog toys and once living beings that we spent a whole afternoon dissecting what my human called “Oscar the octopus,” in an unsuccessful search for his missing two legs. We proved beyond a doubt that Oscar was a hexapus through and through. I began to question what I had been told: only the best animals get reincarnated into dog toys.

The magical moment occurred while walking with Kent, a human friend,  in the Black Hills of South Dakota. Snow was still piled high to require athletic leaps so that I didn’t disappear forever inside a snow drift. I was in the middle of an airborne spin when I spied…an antler. Right there, sticking out of the snow.

I know that antlers are the most coveted dog toys. The few times my partner, Deni,  offered me an antler freshly peeled out of its plastic wrapping, she made a big deal about how expensive they are and how lucky I was to have one. I made sure to leave it in the hallway where Deni was likely to step on it and truly appreciate how often I gnawed it in gratitude.

Back in the woods, I grabbed my treasure before Kent could object. I was right. It was an antler. I was wrong in thinking I could pluck it off the ground and keep up with our walk. When I pulled, I found that the antler was stuck like glue on a head that was mostly skeleton with some decorative fur patches. “What demented human could have fashioned such a thing?” I wondered. I thought antlers grew on trees like other branch-like appendages.

I looked to Kent for guidance. He soon brushed snow away and shook the skeleton loose from where it had frozen to the forest floor. “You found a dead deer,” he said with pride. “A two-point buck.” Realizing that the antler I found along with its mate were securely attached to the deer’s head, Kent said, “Let’s come back with a saw..”

A few strokes with the saw and both antlers were safely in Kent’s pocket for the walk home. I was eager to taste a just-picked antler, but that was not to be. While Kent was sawing, Deni was researching how to make antlers safe for dogs. The antlers first swam in warm soapy stew, then danced in boiling water, then spent the night drying out on the top of the wood stove.

When I was given the choice of which antler I wanted first, I was pleased to find that both antlers retained enough of their wild animal smell for me to remember the moment I found them. I was glad to learn that deer shed their antlers and then hide them in the forest for adventuresome dogs to find.  When I return to Florida, I plan to keep watch on the lemon tree. Along with sour fruit, I am convinced that it also grows and drops yellow tennis balls.

Guiding Eyes Hildy

Once Orly finally got her wish for snow, lots and lots of snow, well… she doesn’t seem to be able to (or want to) turn it off.

We’ve had alternating periods of huge amounts of snow and bitter cold. “Too cold to snow” is definitely a “thing,” but not one that I enjoy, despite the welcome break from multiple-times-daily clearing the deck and front walks of snow.

To be fair, we’re getting a lot of that lovely, powdery dry snow that is lightweight and easy to shovel, sweep, or snowblow out of the way. But there’s a LOT of it. Several inches in the last few hours alone.

Orly is equally delighted with the 10th massive snowfall as the first. I, on the other hand, have had my fill. And then some.

She still does her thing of sniffing under the snow with her entire head under the snow. She runs and rolls and jumps. This weekend, she also chases and is chased by her buddy Cruiser, a high-energy Weimaraner about her age.

She especially enjoys playing in the deep snow of our front yard while I shovel…

What she does not like? When we go inside, I attack her with a towel to remove the snow she has carried in on her back and dry her off a bit. I’m not sure that she understands that it will melt anyhow…

I never met Karen Pryor or had the opportunity to attend one of her classes or seminars, but her work shaped the way I worked with dogs of all ages — and how millions of people approach teaching and training humans and non-humans alike.

Her best-known book might well be Don’t Shoot the Dog (1984), which introduced shaping, clicker training, and reward-based training to generations of puppies and their humans. She launched a transformation of animal training, whose principles have influenced human education as well, moving many educators/trainers from a focus on punishing mistakes to recognizing and rewarding success.

Clicker training uses principles of behaviorism to shape behavior incrementally, as the trainer works with the trainee toward a goal. When the trainee is a dog (or a dolphin, chicken, etc.), the trainee might not fully understand the goal at first. What they DO understand is the marker — Pryor used a clicker; others use a word like Yes! — that indicates that the trainee did something right. The marker is quickly followed by a reward. This positive approach encourages the trainee to keep doing what they think is needed to get more clicks/treats.

For instance, you want your puppy to sit before getting her dinner. You can manually push her into a sit before each meal, only to have her pop up the instant you move your hands. You can yell at her, but she’s a puppy who probably doesn’t know what “sit” means yet. Or you can teach her the click-and-treat approach, then wait for her to sit. Click, give her a treat. Puppies sit a lot, so if you are paying attention, you can catch her sitting — and reward it — a lot. You can also do short (2 minute) practice sessions, where you specifically watch for her to sit. Then click, give a treat.

You’ll be amazed at how soon your puppy is sitting “at you” — planting herself in front of you in hopes of getting that magic click. Soon, you introduce the word, “sit.” Within a few practice sessions, your puppy will learn to sit on cue. But even in the interim, you can wait for her to sit, capture it with a click, then put down her bowl. It’s a much nicer approach than getting annoyed and frustrated as your hungry pup jumps and barks at you, day after day.

Skilled trainers can accomplish amazing things with clicker training (I am not in that esteemed group).

But while it might be what she’s best-known for, clicker training is just an example. The real message is the postive, reward-based approach. And Pryor’s focus on the science underlying behavior (and attempts to change behavior). The clicker helps the trainer communicate what is wanted while ignoring what is not. It builds communication, which builds a relationship between the person and the dog.

When the trainee learns that trying new things is often rewarded — and never experiences the confusion of being punished for guessing wrong — that dog (kid, dolphin, spouse, chicken …) will be willing to try new things. And love learning. And enjoy spending time learning with you, the trainer (parent, teacher, spouse). They might not even realize that you are training them …

Derided early-on as “cookie pushers” by old-school, force- and punishment-focused trainers, clicker trainers pioneered many new ways of communicating and teaching, across species. While some trainers still use horrific methods to compel dogs and others to do what they want, Pryor’s work has had tremendous, far-reaching impact. When she was training dolphins in the 1960s, she probably never dreamed that one day, there would be centers at major universities around the world devoted to the study of canine cognition or that millions of people worldwide would be using clickers in innovative ways.

Karen Pryor passed away on January 4. Her legacy of positive, science-based training lives on.

Orly was becoming discouraged. Depressed, even. She wanted snow. It was cold(ish) out and when she went hiking with her friends, they often found snow to play in. But walking around the neighborhood, even when we went to the parks and trails where she was allowed to run and play off leash … no snow.

She got so desperate that, whenever we found more than 5 snowflakes in the same place, she threw herself down and rolled in the “snow.” It was so sad…

But she must have pull with someone somewhere.

After doggedly rolling in every “snow” patch (mostly damp, soggy brown grass) for several days, Orly woke up one glorious morning to a thin coating of snow in her back yard!

More snow fell all that day and night. She watched — and rolled in snow — as her mom cleared the deck, the driveway, the front walks once… twice… and again. And again.

On walks, Orly shoved her nose into the snow as she walked alongside the sidewalk, plowing through the beautiful snow with her snout. She bit at that wonderful snow and pawed at it. She ran around the back yard kicking up her snow and rolling in it some more. She lay down and dug in so that her whole body was coated in it. She rolled around some more.

Then the weather warmed up and that awful dripping sound of disappearing snow happened. The remaining snow was slushy and icky. Orly got her worried look — furrowed brow and all. She hoped really hard for more snow.

Overnight, her precious snow became hard and crusty, with some surprising slippery patches. Things were not looking good. Orly ran outside to play some more while there was still snow.

Then! The temperature dropped, gray clouds rolled in and — miracle of miracles — more  snow fell. At first, it was very light but, as the day went on, the snowfall got heavier and heavier. Lovely, large white snowflakes everywhere.

As of this writing, it’s still falling. Lots and lots of fluffy white snow, covering those icy patches right up.

Orly couldn’t be happier.