the swing

Just as you think you have everything under control, pointing forward, moving slowly but surely toward a good outcome, you have a day like this one. And you ask yourself -- how did I suddenly end up here, with this mess?

My rescue dogs, Henry and Sadey, are a handful. No doubt about it. I know he is reactive to strangers and that it is impossible for him to heal in an apartment building with people coming and going. So we moved out. I know that she is somewhat reactive to strangers with dogs. She pulls hard and especially hard when she sees both. I know that they play forcefully and that she appears to control the direction of their play. I know to tread carefully in the distribution of foods and treats lest they should turn possessive. With this in mind, I have structured our days in a way that would allow us to sail through without issue. And slowly move forward to a more relaxed time where all the pups' anxieties would be well under control.

This morning only confirmed that you can't prepare for all possible misadventures, missteps, mishaps. 

 

It was a good beginning. Someone barked downstairs at 6:10. I decide to ignore it and stay in bed for another half hour. They had predicted storms overnight, but none came. What a relief. No thunder scaring my dogs. Still, the front of warm, humid air hadn't quite receded. When I finally get up and head out at 7, it feels wet and clammy. 

I decide not to take my camera and to concentrate instead on their walk. To get them into a brisk pace, without pauses except for their potty stops. Henry and I walk all the way to Steffi's House (mind you, a six minute stroll) and I feel happy about his sniffing that yard out. Henry likes to know his surroundings and to recognize scents. Might as well get him comfortable with this block of houses. 

We stroll back toward Sally's House, he pauses to do his stuff, I turn toward my cleanup job. That's when the jogger comes at us from around the corner. Normally I prepare Henry for such encounters in two ways: I create distance and I reward him with treats. But I could do neither now. I am removing pet waste. I don't see her coming. He is on a full 6 foot leash. She arrives suddenly, and she runs fast. He is taken by surprise. He barks, he lunges. She is not pleased. Small wonder. Dogs should not come at you when you're using the sidewalk for a morning run.

Such a setback!  

What could have I done differently? Well, right away, I throw more money at the problem -- my go-to way of dealing with his issues. Admittedly, only $9 for a shorter leash, but Henry expenses have been astronomical if you add to this his daycare, his training, his meds, vet visits, the chewed through car seat belt for humans, and the treats for his daily training needs.  Secondly, I make a mental note to look carefully when I turn toward my cleanups, making sure no one is within spittin' distance. 

But of course, you cannot protect yourself or your dog from all of life's possibilities. There are so many ways things could unravel. Just getting my pups in and out of the car leaves plenty of room for one pulling in the wrong direction and maybe even leaving my control. You just can't predict which way your dogs will turn, where and when they will expend their forceful energy.

So this was a low point for me and I allowed myself to day dream what it would have been like to have in my care a non-reactive dog. One like I see everywhere around me: quietly walking, passing strangers without a second glance. Happy to just be a dog, secure, loved. 

The morning did not end there.

I walk Sadey. She doesn't see the family across the street (too busy sniffing), but I do: parents with a stroller and two tots on tricycles, and a dog. And I think -- would my dogs really bark their heads off at this calm happy group? Am I ever not going to worry about this? 

We go in, I feed them and then start in on preparing my breakfast. My two pooches are always a little rambunctious after a walk. I thought I understood their dynamic. They mouth each other and Sadey not only stands her ground, she usually pushes hard and oftentimes Henry (tail still wagging) runs upstairs to get away. Sometimes she chases him, other times she does not and he comes down and they resume their play down here.  Their play is loud  -- big dogs, bouncing around upstairs is like sending boulders rolling down a bumpy terrain. I smile to myself with relief: I dont have to worry about the noise. We are in a house. There is no neighbor downstairs.

But this morning I suddenly hear something new: a piercing cry that doesn't stop, it just keeps going. I run upstairs wondering what the hell happened? Did a dog get trapped in some chord? Is someone choking? I'd never heard anything like this!

Upstairs, I see them, seemingly still at play, but Sadey is besides herself, tail down, crying. Neither dog is growling or showing sign of aggression but still, they are entangled in some fashion. I pull her away, take her downstairs and sit with her in her own space behind the gate, calming her down, petting, hugging her. Henry comes down, sniffs her from behind the gate. Again, no one is growling, no one is snapping, barking -- yet something happened and she remains visibly upset and scared.

I stay with her for a long while. When we come out, she stays by my leg, the whole morning. When I go upstairs, and Henry follows, she wont come up with us. (Usually, she is the one leading the charge.) I coax her, reassure her and after some while, she slowly makes her way up. More petting, soothing. She seems better. But the play between the two is done. Henry seems calm. She seems calm. But the spunk has gone out of both.

I'll never know what happened up there. I dont believe it was a fight. Perhaps their rough play got too rough and she got hurt, though I see no physical sign of this. And in fact, these dogs normally know how to self-regulate. They give signals and back off when someone is crossing the line. Apparently not this time.

The two appear to have no lasting feelings of fear or hostility toward each other. Heads and bodies together, no hesitation, no retreat. And yet the play has stopped.

Off to a great start today, no? 

 Breakfast. Peace. Exhale.

Oh, you two!!

 

 

 

Knowing darn well that these guys would need exercise, I signed them up for private yard play. 45 minutes in a little over an acre play area for dogs. Yours to visit off-leash for $15. Like I said, Henry's reactivity is not easy on my budget! (The place is called "Good Dog Unleashed Park" and it's a twenty minute drive from Sally's House. There is actually a closer to me rentable dog space, but to get a decent price for it requires a monthly or annual commitment. I am amassing too many monthly fees for too many things. I'll start here, and see if this is indeed a good idea.)

My new car restraints for the pooches haven't arrived yet, so I make do with what I have. And I put on harnesses to secure them further. So long as I can keep Sadey in the back seat, we should be fine. Henry never aims to crawl into my lap up front. 

Ed offers to come with us. It's not a space that's conducive to any human exercise, but still, we like these local excursions, especially on the weekends and with NPR podcasts teaching us everything from bread baking to the wonderful prospect of slowing down dementia with your shingles vaccination.

The dog play area is in the same compound as their boarding camp. This is good, I think. Maybe they'll come to associate this place as one where pups can have freedom and fun. But I think Ed comes to regret his decision to join us (well, except for the part where he gets to be with Gorgeous). Henry is delirious with joy and cannot stop himself from jumping all over Ed, muddy paws and all. Sadey, initially cautious, at least stays off of him. These dogs are so dirty -- says the guy who hasn't vacuumed the farmhouse since I left six months ago, and who does his laundry every few months. For me, the problem is their initial chase. They run like dogs possessed...

... and if you are in their path, you get that hurtling cannon ball of fur and mud hitting you full force. If you aren't careful, you will become nothing more than a mound of broken bones. 

But, they always calm down after a while. And the "dog park" has a bench... 

 

 

 

... where you can sit and watch (though the dogs then tend to "sit and watch" with you and that's not the point!). Ed is still determined to teach any dog "fetch the ball" and this is a good thing because it really tires the guys out! All three.

As I sit on the bench I think about how peaceful it is, despite the hum of the nearby highway. The peace comes from within. There are no other people, no dogs, no distraction for my dogs. Imagine -- a whole park for reactive pooches. Are there that many coming here from Texas? I suppose so.  

At home, Henry and Sadey rest, I move on to my sixth or maybe seventh Maeve Binchy novel. I wont stop until I've read them all. Her Ireland has entered my soul, my brain, my sensibilities. I want everything to just stop so that I can read. In retirement, you're not supposed to feel guilt over reading and yet I do: my training session with the dogs lasted all of five minutes. My cooking ambitions have withered and possibly died from disuse. Ah well, at some point I will move on. But probably not until a full Wisconsin spring arrives.

So, reheated soup and more reading. I call that a swing in a good direction! From a crummy morning to this! Amazing how quickly a mood can improve and hope can be with you again. 

with so much love...