A Bad Walk

Let me tell you about my terrible, awful, no good, very bad walk (name that book!).  It all started with me completing Aggie's new coat (aka: cutting off the extra fabric from a thrift store child's coat).  She hates that coat.  Stupid me for starting it out on a walk.  I SHOULD have started just by putting it on her for training sessions, which she loves, not walks which she feels mediocre about at best during this frigid weather.

The Jacket

So we started out the walk with her tail tucked because of the dumb coat on her back.  Not good.  I then remembered that yesterday the geese scared her.  This was actually kind of funny at the time.  She practically screamed at the geese (in dog body language), "I pass by in peace, I mean you no harm!!"  This behavior relates to an incident last summer in which she was "chasing" geese along the shore (geese were in the water) when she slammed her body into a stake meant to tie up a boat.  Neither of us saw that one coming, and she's been afraid of geese since.

Something about those geese yesterday put her over the top, and I remember her pulling her way home.  Now she had the awful jacket on, and we were headed toward the evil geese.  Tail was tucked even further under her belly.  Sigh.

Fortunately, the geese had moved on.  I relaxed, and prepared myself for a peaceful walk.  Not so; Aggie had a different view of the situation.  The place where the geese had been was just as scary, if not scarier (because, let me remind you, the jacket of death was wrapped around her belly).  She acted as if the geese were going to jump out of the bushes at any moment.

I lost my patience.  All I wanted was a nice quiet walk!  Nobody was around, it was the perfect setup for a perfect walk!  But we were both cold, and Aggie scared out of her mind.  At that moment, the clasp of the leash I was holding in my hand fell and wrapped itself around my leg.  In my frustration with everything that was going wrong, I kicked at nothing with the wrapped leg causing the clasp to smack the ground and shatter.  Now I was leashless with a freaked out dog staring warily at me (my frustration never escapes her).  Unfortunately, my stubborness knows no bounds, and we continued the walk.

This is the point at which I'd love to say it got better.  I purposely avoided a bridge that normally scares Aggie a bit since I knew I had already done enough damage in one walk.  But as we turned away from the bridge, the wind suddenly picked up causing a tree to squeak while simultaneously a duck caught sight of us and sounded a warning call to his mate.  Wind, squeak, quack.  I thought my dog was going to jump out of her skin.

I decided to stop and do some breathing exercises.  I looked up at the sky and muttered, "God, give me patience.  I have none, and my dog is driving me crazy.  I just wanted a nice quiet walk.  All I wanted was a walk."  I looked back down and Aggie had decided, enough with the crazy lady.  I'm out.

This is not normal for her.  I'm usually her safely net.  So when I saw her glance back at me but keep moving at a brisk pace toward home, I knew she was level 5 fear (see Aggie Stats for rating scale).  I had made a big mistake.  Not only had I put my dog in a position to reach this level of fear, but I gave her no choice but to figure out a solution on her own.

I wish I could say this is an isolated incident.  It's not.  I have done this to Aggie on several ocassions.  Like I said, I'm stubborn.  I grew up with the idea that humans are in charge and the dogs just have to go along with it for better or for worse.  To a certain degree, that's true.  Humans are in charge, and it is our responsibility to teach and socialize dogs to the world they live in: ours.  But with the knowledge and science that we trainers have at our fingertips, there is no excuse to teach and socialize our dogs in any way that would inspire fear or anxiety.  There is always a more positive way.  It's our job as the human in charge to find it.

(PS.  We were able to end the walk at her favorite field where we played fetch.  Once her tail was consistently not tucked and she seemed to be enjoying the game more than scanning the field for monsters, we ran home, did a fun training session with her coat on, and she's now curled in her kennel napping, coat free.)

Nighttime Anxiety

So here's a pattern that's been building since I started a new job.  On the days that Aggie is in her kennel 6+ hours, she has a hard time relaxing in the evening.  I always take her out right after I get home for a nice long walk that includes jogging, off leash sniffing, and fetch.  It is a walk designed to stimulate her both physically and mentally with few emotional side effects.  Sometimes she's so stressed from the day of doing nothing, that the walk is quite stressful.  Other days she does fine.

However, inevitably in the evening she will become anxious.  If she refuses to relax (after encouraging her to chill out in "her" chair) and only wants to rummage the trash or destroy the recycling bin (anxiety!!!), to her kennel she goes.  We know what to expect when resorting to kennel time due to destructive behavior: pitiful crying, and if anxious enough, biting or pawing at the door.  It's annoying and stressful for everyone involved.  Eventually, after her yowling wins her no reward, this is what happens:

For Aggie's ratings, I'm including these incidences in her overall points for the day.  I'll be tracking this pattern to see if it really is linked to more time in her kennel like I assume.  Eventually I'd like to find a solution.  Drugs?  More training/mental exercise?  Advice welcome if you the reader have ever experienced a similar problem.

Ode to Thanksgiving

As Thanksgiving approached so did my anxiety level (maybe we should make a rating system for the owner's anxiety...).  I knew it was not going to be a fun weekend for Aggie.  The alternative was to board her in a veterinary clinic that she had never been to, and I figured for a cheaper price she could just stay in her kennel up in our bedroom where I knew she'd feel safe.

And safe she felt.  Every doorbell ring started another round of "Dare you to come up the stairs, open the door, let me out of my kennel" threats that lasted at least 5 minutes each, only to start up again with the next arrival.  Fear wasn't the issue as much as territorialness.  I expected this, and had several yummy treats waiting for her whenever she was quiet between arrivals.  She calmed down after a while, and when everyone had arrived and decided to head out for a walk, I used it as an opportunity for introductions.

After everyone left the house, Aggie bolted out of her kennel and the Great Sniff began.  Once she was satisfied with the information gather session, we leashed up and ran to catch up with the group.  Running helps Aggie.  By the time we see the group, I'm out of breath, and she's feeling great.  She immediately looks to Jack, the visiting dog, and decides he is by far the most interesting individual.  She imitates everything he does, walk looking forward, sniff the ground, sniff that bush, pee over there (yay! friendly signals!).  It was one of the calmest walks I've had with her in a while since she was so focused on him.  There was no room left in her brain to be scared of anything else!  Plus, she was getting a gazillion treats for not bullying him (something she'll do to smaller dogs when she feels overwhelmed or anxious).

Naomi not paying to Aggie.  Aggie with eyes only for Jack.

The arrival home was a different story.  Her anxiety level rose as we all entered the backyard and then the house.  She clearly was not comfortable with Jack on her territory.  So up to the kennel she went, with no resistence, and slept the rest of the day.  This anxiety is hard work!

That evening, after everone went to bed, we let Aggie out to roam the downstairs for a bit before heading back up to the kennel.  Suddenly, Aggie runs to the front door.  The next thing I know, my aunt, who had decided to sleep out in her camper, walks into the house unannounced.  This is the very situation that will put Aggie over the top; the moment in which, if she doesn't control her impulse, she will reach up and snap.

I saw Aggie's body go stiff.  I can't remember who did what first, but both Aggie and I responded appropriately: me by calmly calling her to me, and her by turning away from my aunt and following my direction.  I had no treats in hand, but her eyes were locked on me all the same.  I directed her to the armchair nearby, she hopped up, and I calmly stroked her chest while keeping my entire body between my aunt and Aggie.  There were a few low growls directed at my aunt, but I ignored them, and continued my petting if I heard them stop.  By the time my aunt walked out, Aggie was much calmer and got an awesome treat for her cooperation.  Way to go Aggie!

Overall, the weekend was a success.  Aggie was ready to have her house back, but I think the experience was a positive one; something we should be able to build upon in the future.