Brattier Chili Week

Every now and again for about a week Chili decides that nobody rules her, she doesn’t answer to anyone and she’s the boss of the world. Like most other things she takes on she’s dedicated to her cause, unfortunately for us and anyone else in her path. You’d think it would be one of those isolated things where she just rebelled against us. Kind of like when your dog behaves for everyone except you. But no, Chili doesn’t discriminate. She pushes everyone around equally. No one is immune.

You might be wondering how it’s even possible for a bratty dog to be even brattier. Well, it’s possible. Believe it or not, Chili is quite predictable and for the most part well trained. Stop laughing. I’m serious. She may be crazy, but she’s predictably crazy and that’s how I get the upper hand. I usually know her moves, before she makes them. I can hear the meatballs rolling around in her head and formulating a half-cooked plan. She can’t get much past me. Even when she goes into Bratty-Bossy Chili week, it just means I have to pay attention that much more.

So what makes a bratty dog brattier? It goes something like this:

- Loss of ALL commands and a whole lot of avoidance. (She knows them all but somehow forgets them, and she’s a master at ignoring you.)

- Every sound and every movement requires barking. (This is just plain annoying. I mean really, do you have to bark at the hummingbirds.)

- It’s impossible for her to walk beside or behind us. She MUST be in front and she must ensure there is tension on the leash. (She usually walks great on leash, at my left.)

- She barges past everyone to make it through a door or gate first. It’s like a dance, block with your left, block with your right.... (She almost always waits. I don’t even have to say anything.)

- Going out for a pee or poo takes FOREVER. There something in the bushes or something was in the yard, or there’s something down the street, or hold on I need to just find something to bark at. Squat, change her mind, squat, change her mind. The problem here is, if I take her inside before she’s ready, I have to bring her right back out an hour later. It’s better to suffer through it until she’s done. (She’s never quick when she goes out to the bathroom, so this just makes it worse)

- Worst of all, she’s on high alert, which takes all the fun out of walks. (She’s been doing so well on the Halti, but during this week, I have to actually cover her eyes when we walk by another dog)

The poor girls at daycare. They have to deal with her all day while we’re at work. At least we get her back tired. When I was waiting to pick her up the other day I heard the door open, then I heard a bit of a commotion. I shook my head, I knew what was going on. Then Chili bound around the corner and Angie comes behind her telling me her and Chili are not friends today. I laughed. She said Chili was bratty all day. I wasn’t worried though, they know how to handle her, even on her bossy days. Not to say it’s easy, like I said, Chili is dedicated to her cause.

So why don’t these bossy days really work for Chili? Easy. The people who manage her every day aren’t afraid of her. She’s too much of a squishy goo-ball when it comes to people. She just can’t help herself. She loves people. She might be bratty-bossy, but it’s just a phase. As long as you can be more patient, you’ve got her. She’ll push and push, but there’s nothing behind it, it’s just tiring for everyone around her.

Then one morning, she’s back to normal, bratty Chili who’s full of tricks and smiles. From that point, it’s over for a little while, at least until the phase hits again. I don’t know what triggers it. We haven’t nailed down anything in particular. It’s just something she does. Chili being Chili. A bratty dog being brattier. It’s all a part of life with Chili.

The Roles We Play

Chili loves life. She’s always smiling and running around in a blissful state with the belief that the world is her cookie. Well, except for when she’s defending the house against a rabbit, squirrel, cat, or deer that happens to dare to cross into her yard. Even then, she’s happily defending her home and doing her job. Those who know her love her. Seriously, they do. She makes people smile. No matter what she does, she’s committed to having the most fun ever. As we walk and she passes by people, I imagine that if she could talk, she would say ‘hi’, ‘how’s it goin’, ‘hello’, ‘what’s up’, ‘wanna play’, to every person that walked by her. I often wonder how such a happy dog could cause us so much trouble.

We all think we know our dogs. Do we really know them, or do we know the story that we’ve created around them? Although Chili has improved incredibly, I know that she lunges at dogs, and I know that I have to facilitate greetings for her with other dogs. After the initial crazy, she’s ready to play. That’s what I know from my history with her. However, the girls at daycare know a different story. They don’t know one of lunging and problems, they know her as pushy but playful, happy and energetic, a big goofball who will play with almost any dog who will play with her. She doesn’t have any lunging or greeting issues. She’s the perfect dog to welcome new dogs into the daycare. So, which is the real Chili?

I find this whole idea fascinating. I like to think that daycare Chili is the real Chili. She’s allowed to be herself. They don’t worry about her and feel like she needs to be monitored. She’s watched just like the rest of the dogs, and when she acts up, she gets in trouble just like the other dogs. It’s all quite simple. Not like at home. I know I worry about her too much, but really, what am I supposed to do? Our story started when we adopted her and it’s been a difficult story to rewrite. Early on when she started lunging, we didn’t know how to manage it, so it went on and on. With consistency, we became more and more stressed and the story we played out was giving each other the heads up when we saw an oncoming dog, preparing to hold her back and riding out the wave. The story for Chili was that every time a dog passed, mom and dad became nervous and stressed so she would lunge. It happened consistently so it became her routine. It was our routine, our story. After a number of repetitions, we all learned our role in the walk.

The whole time, I always knew it could be different. I believed that Chili had it in her to walk by a dog calmly. I didn’t know how to make it happen, but I knew it would. So, we kept playing our parts. We had some success with the E-collar but it was inconsistent. It was great for the recall, but not so great for breaking her focus. As I look back, I’m quite certain I wasn’t doing my part with the collar and that’s why it wasn’t really working. I had to find a way to get her to stop staring at the oncoming dog. I knew the answer would come, I just hoped it would come soon. I had to find a way to change the story and change our roles. Daycare Chili would prevail.