Training Begins

What do you do when you have a bratty dog and are constantly pulling your hair out over it? What do you do when after you come home for a walk you find yourself handing the dog off to your spouse and saying, “I need to be alone.” What do you do when all you seem to want to do is drink when it comes time to walk the dog? You go to training.

Simply said, but not so simple. Have you ever looked around for a trainer? Do you know how many of them are out there? A lot. They all claim to have the best training methods, and specialize in this or that but how do you pick the one that’s right for you. How do you pick the trainer that’s a good match for both you and the dog? Depending on how you look at it I tend not to be the best student. I don’t usually just blindly follow the leader. If it doesn’t sound right, then it can’t be right. So I start with the questions and challenges. I made a conscious effort to step back from that. I decided that when I brought Chili to training, I would resist the urge to second guess, doubt, and take over. I would step back and let the professionals teach me. I couldn’t wait. What a dummy.

After sifting through tons of websites and talking to trainers on the phone I finally decided on one. I had this idea in my head (I’m always having these, ideas) that the trainer would want to meet me and Chili before we were placed into a class. You know, like an assessment. It seemed to make sense to me. What if she required some special classes before she went into the general obedience? How would they know if they didn’t assess her? Apparently that’s not how it’s done. An assessment wasn’t necessary. (There goes the voice in my head. Shut it up). Hmm, Ok, no assessment. Interesting. Class would start in a couple of weeks. I was counting down the days. I figured that once we got some training, life would settle down. Ha. On our walks I would look at her and say, “You wait, we start training soon and you’re going to be in trouble then.” It was the opposite.

Up to this point we weren’t letting Chili off leash and her walking manners were horrific. She was still pulling like crazy and lunging at other dogs on leash. She seemed fine once she got to sniff them but on leash, not great. I couldn’t even imagine a day when she would walk nicely and be able to play without being attached to me.

On the first night of training I was very nervous. I was afraid that she would spend the night lunging at the other dogs and we would end up being asked to leave. I loaded her into my truck, made sure that I had a ton of treats in my pocket and set out. Wait, I need to back up the story for a moment. I couldn’t let Chili loose in my truck, so I borrowed a cage from a friend. When Chili was in the truck and saw another dog, she would go absolutely ballistic. She would bark and growl and throw herself at the sides of the truck with her paws flailing and banging her head against the top of the cage. It was like I just caged a wild beast from the jungle. Of course, when we arrived at the hall there were other dogs in the parking lot so she started her caged beast routine. Since we were a bit early, I just slouched in my seat shaking my head while people stared as the truck rocked. Finally, it was time to go in so I carefully let her out of the cage. This meant that I would have to open the cage door with one hand and push her back in with the other. If I didn’t, she would bust out like a jack in the box. I would leave the leash attached to her collar to make it easier when it was time to take her out. She jumped out and started pulling me towards the other dogs. I had to dig in to stop her. Quite the sight I’m sure.

As we walked in the door, she pulled like crazy but wasn’t barking, yet. We found a spot and she surveyed the room. She looked like she was high and then the face started. She began pulling to try to get to the other dogs and barking. This went on for the whole class. I didn’t get the feeling that she had any bad intentions towards the other dogs; I just felt like she was frustrated and wanted to play. She wanted some action. To be free again and romp. At one point in the class, Mary (not her actual name) asked me why I thought she was acting that way. I told her that I thought she just wanted to get to the other dogs to play. She looked at me and calmly told me, “No, she wants to fight.” I was floored. It was like I had just been punched. Mary said she could tell by the look in her eye. What? The look in her eye! Did I miss something? Again, the voices in my head started going and I had to shut them up (another mistake). I promised Chili that I wouldn’t jeopardize the training by taking over and that I would trust the professionals. I felt heartbroken that I misread my own dog. I couldn’t believe that she was aggressive. I know she’s been a royal pain for me since the beginning but I already loved the dog and was disappointed in myself for not knowing what she was about.

I didn’t remember anything that was taught from the first class. I couldn’t hear above Chili’s barking. I cried the whole drive home. I was so frustrated with her barking and deflated because I suddenly had an aggressive dog. I looked at her in my rearview mirror as she sat quietly with her happy face looking out the window and I felt helpless. Where do I go from here? How do I make this right for her?

I’ll continue the story in my next post, however, I wanted to point out that this was the beginning of a greater lesson for me. Trust yourself, but use clear vision. I’ve had Chili checked out by other trainers and she’s not an aggressive dog. She’s no angel, but she’s not aggressive. Choose your trainer wisely.

The Face

I believe that I screwed up right from the start with Chili. I didn’t know it then, but I sure know it now. I wanted to do everything perfectly for my little angel. You know, be the perfect mom. What exactly does that mean? I obviously had no clue. At the time, that meant that I would give her unconditional love and a great home and the best food. In return, she would love and appreciate me. I was very frustrated when it didn’t quite work out that way. What’s wrong with this dog? She doesn’t even appreciate the fact that she’s been adopted and her life is going to be easier. OK, stop laughing at me. I know how it sounds. Like I didn’t have a clue. You’re right, I didn’t.

It must be a very confusing time for a dog. To be living their lives, then suddenly be placed in a cage at a shelter, then adopted into a new life. Now, they have to deal with the expectations of their new families and don’t even know the expectations. They’re just being dogs. They don’t sign any paperwork agreeing to the terms of their new lives. They’re dogs. I’m pretty certain if they knew what they were in for they would put a few of their own clauses into the contract.

The first day we brought her home I couldn’t wait to watch her explore and learn about her new surroundings. We watched her roam around and sniff and check everything out. She was very interested in everything around the house and not so interested in us. Then the face started. It was like she became a cross between an alligator and a crazed lunatic. Quite the combination. I’ll explain. She would give us these side glances, almost like dirty looks, as she walked by with her mouth open looking for something to chomp down on. It wasn’t the kind of look where you’re worried that she would bite you, it was just a,”HaHaaa, you’ll never guess what I’m going to do now,” badass look. It took all of 10 seconds for her to figure out that she was the boss. From that point on I just ran after her saying, “No, No, No, No.” She wasn’t understanding! Or was she? It was as if “No” would get her going even more. She just would not stop. That was when we started arguing about how to turn the whole thing around. What kind of discipline would she receive? My husband had a lifetime of experience with dogs and I only had a few precious years with Ruby. Somehow, I won out. Again, I know you’re not surprised about how things went from here.

As if the face wasn’t enough; there was the peeing. She wasn’t house trained. This was the first day and I was already overwhelmed. I had no idea about how we were going to get through the night. We couldn’t leave her loose, she’d eat the house and pee everywhere. I called my friend who has a Rottweiler and she

loaned us a crate. I was glad that we had a place to contain her and was looking forward to a good nights sleep. Ha. She did not like the crate at all. Every few hours she would go crazy trying to escape. This wasn’t working out. A few days later we ended up buying her a cage style crate. She seemed to like this better. I don’t think she liked being confined but since she could see out every side of the cage, she was settled and we were able to sleep better from that point on.

I put a lot of time and energy into picking the right dog. I believe it’s a great thing for people to rescue them from a shelter. People have the best of intentions but aren’t always prepared. I wasn’t in some ways but I was in others. When I started searching for a dog, I had a long conversation with my friend Carol. Carol has a lot of experience with dogs and isn’t afraid to share her opinions. She’s all about what’s best for the dog and she gave me some great advice. She made me really think about more than just the cute factor, which they all are. We were considering adopting a Newfoundland and she asked me if I was prepared for the cleanup of owning a long haired dog. It can be rainy here for a long time and even though it’s raining, the dog will still need to be walked. Was I prepared for the cleanup after days of wet walks? If we go down to the beach would we keep the dog out of the water because of the cleanup? Great questions. She also suggested to research the energy level, health concerns, and general information on various breeds. Are we OK with a dog that drools a lot and flings it on the walls and us? Do we like to go on long hikes in the summer and will the dog be able to handle it? This really helped us to narrow down what we wanted in a dog. You really have to be realistic and do what you can to get a dog that fits your lifestyle. If you don’t, it’s the dog that suffers in the end and they really don’t deserve that. Each dog needs to be with someone who’s prepared to do whatever is necessary to give them a good life. I may complain about my little brat but she’s my brat and I’d do anything for her to keep her healthy and safe. Bottom line, really consider the dog you’re choosing to bring into your life. A wise choice will benefit you both.

She was 'Meant to Be'

I’ve been asked to explain why I consider Chili my ‘meant to be’ dog. Was I evil in a former life and now Karma is getting me back? I don’t know about a former life, but I do know that I’ve kicked some ass in this life. Sometimes it was required, and others, well, let’s call it inexperience. No, she’s not my ‘meant to be’ dog as a punishment even though it felt that way sometimes.

Chili was born to be my dog. She was born to kick the crap out of me. No matter what we’ve been through together, she’s been good for me. I’ll tell you how it began.



Ruby

 Chili’s story can’t begin without saying a few words about Ruby. If you’ve read my profile you know a little bit about her. Ruby was my husband’s dog when we met. He had already done all the training so all I had to do was love her. I met her when she was 8. Ruby was a Newfoundland/ Rottweiler cross. Such a beautiful girl and boy did she love her daddy. I couldn’t believe the way she looked at him. It’s not something I would have believed if I hadn’t seen it. She really drew me in with her big eyes and wiggly bum. It didn’t take her long to have me wrapped around her paw as well.

When she was 12 she developed a lump that concerned us but the vet recommended that we leave it alone because of her age. We didn’t want to put her at risk so we took the vet’s advice. The lump continued to grow. The next time we had her at the vet, she wondered why we hadn’t gotten the lump removed. What?! Wait! Weren’t we told that it would be better to leave it due to her age? We were confused. We scheduled her for surgery right away. We should have gone with our gut.

Once the lump was removed the spring in her step had returned. The lump had literally been sucking the life out of her. She was renewed and we were ecstatic. By the way she was acting we figured we would have our girl around for at least another 2 or more years. Unfortunately, that wasn’t in the cards. Six months later we noticed that she had suddenly lost a lot of weight. It was as if it dropped off overnight. I knew that dog better than I know myself and I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t noticed this. A couple of days later she started getting sick. After a painful week of vet visits and tests, we were told that she had a cancerous lump that had ruptured at the base of her esophagus. It was time to say goodbye.

I still feel guilty. Why didn’t I do more? Did I fail her? I was part of the decision that ended her life. Who does that? What if....? We lost Ruby on November 25, 2008.

The house felt very lonely and quiet without her. We really missed her. We knew that we wanted another dog so I started searching. During my search I practically lived at the SPCA. There were many dogs that I saw that were great but none of them made both of us say, “That’s the one.”

On January 8, 2009, I saw there was a 5 month old female RottiX at the SPCA for adoption. I went to check her out and as I got close to her cage, her tail started thumping. She seemed so bright and happy. She looked like a Rottweiler but where there would be tan, there was brindle. I went to give some attention to the other dogs and as I walked back to her, there was the thumping tail again. I knew she was the one. I called my husband right away to have him come to see her but he couldn’t make it.

The next day, I was at a business lunch when my friend Carol phoned. I decided not to answer and to call her later. After 15 minutes my phone rang and it was my husband. He said Carol had phoned him. Carol lives above a veterinary office and saw some dogs come in from the SPCA. She went down to check them out. One of them caught her attention. Even though she’s never spoken to my husband before, when she couldn’t get a hold of me she had to phone him. She knew that this dog was the one. The dog was a 5 month old female RottiX with brindle that had come in to be spayed. It was the same dog. She would be returned to the SPCA that afternoon after her procedure and we would be there to check her out again. When we arrived she was still groggy from the procedure but her tail thumped on the ground. She wouldn’t be available for adoption until the next day so we agreed to come back.

After a very sleepless night, we arrived at the SPCA at 11:30am. I was so nervous. We waited in the front with other people for the viewing hours to start at noon. There were a couple of people ahead of us and as soon as the front desk people were ready my stomach started to jump. I was straining to hear if any of them were going to ask about Mona. Mona was her adoption name. Those few minutes were torture. Finally it was our turn. We took her out for about an hour. She obviously had no leash training but seemed like a very happy girl. When we got back we asked about her history. Apparently she had been a stray. A lady had taken her in but had too many dogs already so brought her to the SPCA. I don’t think she was with the SPCA long before we adopted her.

Chili, January 2009

Before we knew it, she was in our truck and on the way to her new home. She seemed unsure but happy. I was so excited to get her home. Little did we know what was in store.

So, as you can see, a few things aligned together to make sure that Chili was ours. I’m thankful. I can’t imagine life without her. She was ‘meant to be’.

A Bit About a Bratty Dog

I have a bratty dog. I know I’m not alone but it sure feels that way sometimes. She’s a Rottweiler/Boxer cross. A Boxweiler (check out this link if you're curious about Boxweilers, About the Boxweiler). She’s a super happy girl, and at the same time she’s super stubborn. She’s deceptively powerful and a big goofball. I’ve had more sprains, strains, bruises, and scratches than I’d like to count. For the most part, life with her is great but there are times that I’m so frustrated that I feel like I'm losing my mind. She doesn’t have any worries though. She’ll be ours until the end of her days. I don't think that would be the case if she had been adopted by someone else.

We adopted her from the SPCA when she was 6 months old. We named her Chili. Apparently, she was a stray. I’d been searching for a dog for a while since we lost our last girl, Ruby, to cancer when she was 13. Ruby was a Rottweiler/Newfoundland cross. When I saw Chili, I knew she was the one. Little did we know the challenges that were to come.

I blame myself for the escalation of the brattiness. I didn’t have a clue about what to do with a girl like her. Ruby had come into my life pretrained and she had been easy from the beginning so I couldn't even draw from that. I babied Chili and let her have the run of the house. I mean really, we rescued her and gave her a great home, and lots of food and toys, so why shouldn't she be appreciative and just love us. I was so afraid of hurting her and being a bad dog-mom that I couldn't discipline her correctly. And boy, was she a wild child. Your typical bad-ass, dominant, bossy girl. I couldn’t even walk her in the beginning. She would pull so hard she was like a marlin on the end of a line. And after a walk, you'd actually feel like you just fought one. In the house she would walk around with her mouth open looking for anything to chew on. She wouldn’t stop. Every second word out of my mouth was 'NO'. I think I spent most of my time sitting in the corner, rocking and pulling my hair asking, WHY?! She also started staring down other dogs on leash and lunging. Basically acting like an ass. I was not ready for this and had no idea how to fix it. At the same time, she could play with a pack of dogs all day without any problems. One great thing about her is that she really loves people. When anybody comes near her, she gets so excited and wiggly. She’s almost 3 now and although she has some of the same issues, she is starting to mature. Sometimes she gets this look in her eyes though. You can see the crazy brewing. All you can do is put on your life jacket and ride it out. Yes, I do try to calm her down and it does work now and again but other times....not so much.

I wish there was a support group for people with crazy but lovable dogs. A place where we would listen and pat each other on the back, no, scratch that. A place where we would drink and compare strategies. One thing I have learned is that a lot of dogs like her are mistakenly labelled as aggressive, when they're actually dominant, and because they’re not ‘easy’ their owners give up on them and either give them back or have them put down. Not fair really. I can’t imagine giving up on her. She makes me laugh when I don’t want to laugh, and she makes me get out when I want to be lazy, and every time she challenges me she makes me stronger. I have realized that I’m lucky to have a girl like her.

In writing this weekly blog I want to share both the good and the bad about life with a bratty dog. It’s not always pretty but it’s worth it. If any of these stories sound familiar I hope you’ll add your version. Who knows, this could turn into the support group. Just grab your drink and share your story, preferably before the bottle is gone.