Paws for Last Week's Plight

 I thought sleepless nights were reserved for people who were experiencing blossoming love, newborn babies, and newly acquired puppies. So it was a little startling and uncomfortable when my dog, Roxie, was keeping me up all night. She was not sleeping soundly either, and as the night progressed fluids were coming out of both ends. I kept being awakened by putrid smells that could not be ignored, so I found myself up and changing the towel lining her crate about every hour on the hour.

By the time morning arrived, I had changed her crate exactly eleven times. No surprise that I didn’t have any desire to get up as my husband, Brad, began his day. When he let her out to do her business, I heard him yell from downstairs, “Your dog is acting weird!”

I moaned as I put my feet on the floor and staggered to the window to look outside into the back yard. What I saw didn’t look weird at all. He was kneeling over, talking in a soothing voice, and petting her back. I decided to investigate further, “What’s she doing?” I yelled from our upstairs bedroom as I opened the curtains, peering outside to the backyard that was below me.

“First she tried to bury her nose in the leaves piled over by the lemon tree, then she staggered and hid underneath the birdbath,” he answered. “I think it’s time to take her to the vet.”

My brain was not firing correctly due to the small amount of sleep I had received the night before. I threw on some clothes and hurried downstairs. She was lethargically following him through the sliding glass door as I entered the family room. I scooped up my dog, wrapped her in a soft, warm blanket, and placed her gently on the couch. She moaned as I picked her up, and then again when set her back down, where she remained still and listless. She was clearly in pain. I stayed by her side stroking her forehead and listening to her breathe. Upon every exhale she moaned miserably. I felt helpless watching her there, knowing a visit to the vet was warranted, so I called, Dr. Warren.

Unfortunately, I got a recorded message stating that his offices were closed that day, telling me if it was an emergency, I should take my pet to the local emergency clinic. I wondered if this would constitute and emergency, but I wasn’t convinced. I knew my dog was in pain, but I didn’t think it was life-threatening at this point. I decided to continue sitting by her side, stroking her head trying to ease her suffering, and perhaps providing her water after she seemed to feel a little better.

Eventually I got up to grab a bite to eat, and I sat down next to her with a piece of toast, munching it down as I assessed her. At this point, she had begun to shiver on her inhale and moan on her exhale. Then she sprang to her feet and began retching. When she was through, there was blood mixed with bile on the floor, and she exhibited a high pitched raspy whine. I hadn’t ever heard a sound like that come from any dog before, and I scooped her up in the blanket and carried her upstairs to get help from my son, Nate.

“Roxie is barfing up blood!” I informed him excitedly.

Chico

My first encounter with Chico was a peaceful one. Upon receiving him on my porch, safely latched inside his dog crate, I peered inside. I took care not to stare at him, knowing that direct eye contact with a dog would be interpreted as a threat. When I saw him, all I could think was there had to be a mistake. He didn’t bark. He didn’t growl. He didn’t seem scary. He just gazed back at me with vacant, lonely eyes. I felt like I was watching a dog in one of those television commercials that tugged on your heartstrings to donate money for abandoned and abused animals.

I picked up the crate and carried it to the backyard dog training area. All of my other foster dogs had already been put outside for the morning. They were running around marking and socializing with each other underneath the sunny, blossom scented, spring air. As I opened up the gate and walked into the enclosure, the dogs began barking and generally behaving unruly. I heard nothing from inside the crate as I set it down on the ground. I picked up my handy water bottle and squirted the offending dogs on their noses stating, “no bark.” The dogs obeyed, and it became quiet as I opened the crate door, keeping my water bottle at the ready.

Out walked a little white terrier mix, slowly and cautiously. He sniffed the ground passively as the other dogs came over to meet him. His head looked like a Chihuahua, and his body was muscular like a Jack Russell. He had an all white body and the cutest little caramel speckles on perky white, pointed ears. I watched, attentively, as Hardy and the other foster dogs welcomed him into the pack. It was looking like a harmonious interchange. I felt relieved. This was going to be easy, I thought.

I left the dogs to go and get a few treats, wanting to see if he knew the command, sit. He looked to be about two years of age, and I wanted to test him out and see what sort of training he had received, if any. I went back inside the house and gathered up my chicken treats, as well as pieces of kibble to use for rewards. After I returned back inside the training enclosure, finding the animals getting along perfectly, I found myself wondering how could a dog that looked to weigh a mere twelve pounds be so dangerous?

I was about to find out.

As I had become accustomed, the dogs began to bark and carry on once I came back inside the dog area. Once they realized that I had treats, however, they became highly attentive and well behaved group. They seemed to follow Hardy’s cue. He was always the first dog to behave, the “alpha” in our pack, and I rewarded him both verbally and with a treat. I watched to see who would get the next reward, waiting and watching the dogs to see which would be the next one to sit and be quiet.

The new terrier mix caught my attention. He was moving slowly towards me growling and raising his upper lip to display his front teeth. Watching him move, with his barred teeth, huge jaws, and stocky body, he looked extremely threatening. I thought he looked like a tiny Pit Bull getting ready to attack. I quickly averted my eyes, yawned, and smacked my lips (these are calming signals dogs use to communicate a peace). I raised the pitch of my voice to become even more non-threatening saying, “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Doggie Rehab

Our winnings from the pet trick competition were meager: a basket of dog treats, doggie shampoo, and a gift certificate for twenty-five dollars. But the experience was unforgettable and it did what I had hoped - brought several more clients into my dog training business. Although the performance aspect was a little stressful for me, it didn’t seem so for Hardy. He loved all of the attention and responded with grace towards any and all who came over to congratulate us. It was a game-changing day for us.

Realizing his popularity was practically infectious, I began to think about how I could share my sweet and talented Hardy with others. My greatest calling was to take him to hospitals to visit children as a performance type therapy dog, but I met up with nothing but roadblocks when I tried to take that path. There were too many liabilities for hospitals, and there were too few organizations in which to volunteer. I knew Hardy would be great at it, but I didn’t know where or how to begin.

Eventually I veered into a different direction. Because of my success in finding Trixie a new home via online rescue, I decided to get involved helping out with rescue dogs. One of the local rescue organizations was thrilled to sign me up as a foster home for dogs that were literally out of time. It was explained to me that many dogs have a limited amount of time to be adopted when they are in the shelter due to overcrowding. When time is up, these dogs are put to sleep.

It wasn’t long before I began fostering small dogs. It was my vision to offer training rehabilitation at my home to help fix the bad behaviors that would keep the problem dogs from being adopted. I felt that those rejected animals, if given a chance, could learn better behaviors. This would make them easier to care for in their new homes, and also narrow the odds of their being returned to the rescue pool. I had already learned that terrible dog manners could be overcome with patience and humane training techniques. I wanted to use my training skills to make the dogs become more companionate and loveable.

Because I had a lot of space at my house, my home started to fill up fast. I found it difficult to turn away the little devils, who most of the time seemed misunderstood, from my perspective. My liaison with the rescue organization, Theresa, quickly learned that I was responsible and capable. My job was to rehabilitate these animals and bring them to an adoption preview that was held at the farmers market downtown each weekend. This worked perfectly for me because it brought me up close and personal with my foster dog’s new owners, and these folks almost always became members of my dog training client base.

As I found a new home for a wayward dog at the adoption event, Theresa would supply a new one to take its place the next week. After my first two successful placements, she persuaded me to bring more animals into my home.  Each pet came with a perfectly sized dog crate (most of the dogs needed to be house trained), and story of woe, which explained the problem behaviors I needed to fix. I found that my personal limit of foster doggies at my home was six at a time, including Hardy. Our training still continued, but when we weren’t teaching, the yard was now used for socializing the foster dogs.

Then one day, amidst all of the chaos of dogs coming and going, and what surprisingly wasn’t too much effort on my part, I received a phone call about helping a little white terrier mix who was said to have bit the mailman. I was informed that this little guy was literally saved from being put to sleep that day, and if I couldn’t get him to stop his vicious behaviors, he was not going to make it in this world. The idea was to get him neutered first to see if it would lower his aggressiveness, and then re-train him to stop biting. This time, I was also instructed to take him to the veterinarian for the surgery, after a day of getting to know his true nature.

My Little Pet Star

Now that my business was dog training, I started looking for ways to keep myself highly visible in the dog lover community. I watched our local newspaper for events that I could attend with Hardy, and one day I found one that sounded fun. A new health food chain was opening one of its stores in a nearby town and they were advertising a pet trick competition to be held at their grand opening celebration during the weekend. I marked my calendar and began practicing tricks with Hardy for the competition.

While I knew we weren’t going to win any major awards, I surmised that our being in the event might provide exposure of my talented pet, which I needed for my business. I started watching shows like Pet Star on television to get ideas. Pet Star quickly became one of my favorites, as I watched how the contestants would either succeed or fail in their endeavors to show off their pets. After watching, I would go outside and practice the better tricks with Hardy.

Each day we would practice our old standard: the “jump through my arms” trick, since Hardy enjoyed jumping so much. By now, I had decided to add several new tricks to the mix. I opted to create a little routine to keep things predictable. I knew we would be under pressure to perform, and we had never done that in front of a crowd, so I thought a routine would help.

By the time I was finished putting our routine together, there were about six tricks we would perform in succession. We began with Hardy sitting pretty in the center, barking hello to the audience. Next I had Hardy give a high five to show he was ready to perform. After that he would follow me around in a small circle off leash and I would put him some distance away from me in a sit/stay. For the grand finale, I would call him to run towards me and he would jump through my encircled arms, coming back to stand beside me. Then I would tell him to take a bow, and we would bow together as he dropped down into a play bow.

When the performance day came, we were well prepared and excited. There was a small crowd of people around the outside of the store meandering around, tasting healthy food samples from different vendors, generally enjoying the day wandering. The place had a farmers market type of feel, and there were children getting their faces painted as well as people coming and going from shopping inside the new store. I saw dogs gathering with their owners off to the side corner, so I went over and queried about the dog trick competition.

In short order, I had successfully entered and discovered that there were at least a dozen other contestants in the competition. This made me a little nervous, but I was excited to try out our cute little act, confident that we would at least entertain our audience. I took Hardy aside and worked with him a little, practicing his sit/stay, high five, and play bow. Children who were nearby loved the high five part in particular. I tried to keep things low key, discovering that Hardy’s cuteness alone was causing attention.

Finally it was time to perform. The master of ceremonies called all of the pet trick competitors to the center of the parking lot. Someone had partitioned off an oval ring for us to parade our dogs around, which we simply fell into doing without question. People gathered around the ring pointing to the dogs, remarking about them to each other. Anticipation was growing both inside and outside of the ring. I could feel the nervousness from all directions – except from Hardy. He was prancing around like a little animal celebrity!

It took about an hour from start to finish for the contest to unfold. Hardy and I were up sometime during the middle of the pack, but we performed our routine perfectly. The children were particularly enchanted with Hardy’s performance, the crowd cheering loudly when Hardy jumped through my encircled arms. It was a delight watching him perform with such confidence. It wasn’t a surprise to me that we won the competition with flying colors. 

From Walking to Agility

This became our daily routine in my sunny California backyard: periods of off leash, clicker-training sessions alternated with gardening. As I walked around the yard with Hardy, I would simultaneously assess what I could add or take away to make the space better for practicing, while also keeping things aesthetically pleasing to the eye. I added a barrier fence to delineate the garden from the training zone, a splashy water feature in the patio zone, as well as statuary, newly planted flowers, and ornamental shrubs along the borders. Because we were out there so often, I also included quaint places to sit and rest.

With the barrier fencing installed, and my clicker in hand, it was decidedly easier to keep Hardy’s attention. Dog training took on a new direction. The walking problems I had experienced in the past basically went away. Hardy was a polite walker in every circumstance from trail walking, to going to the nursery, to entering and exiting dog parks, to going to pet friendly restaurants. My off leash methods had worked. I marveled at how clever he had become.

Taking the advice of a friend at the dog park, I began to add agility obstacles into the backyard training area. I began with a hula-hoop that was rigged to some PVC pipe that I had fashioned into a jump, and this inspired the creation of some other types of jumping hurdles. Eventually Hardy was jumping over anything he could loft his little body over. My little Schnauzer was an outstanding jumper!

Meanwhile, word started to spread throughout the dog community that I was a great dog trainer. I had business cards printed, and I gave them to anyone and everyone with a dog. Clicker training was something people in my sphere wanted to learn, and it became my business to teach it to them. Hardy was the perfect example of how well it worked, and he became my training partner. A little bit of money started to come in, and a new vocation was born.

I believe Hardy was the reason people wanted me to help them with training. He was a walking advertisement, and because I took him with me practically everywhere, the potential to pick up training clients was ongoing. It was easy to pick up clients. I would start up a conversation, and then demonstrate how smart Hardy was by showing off a few tricks. My favorite one involved him jumping through my encircled arms, which I usually saved for the finale. He would perform anywhere and everywhere without hesitation - even inside the dog park.

Lucky for us, I had inadvertently created the perfect facility to train dogs. There was a well-trodden path for walking, the barrier to keep the dogs in the training zone, and a little agility playground in the middle with jumps, a plank dogwalk, and a chute type tunnel to use as a pleasurable finish after the training session was over. Hardy and I became the “dog training duo.” Together we instructed people and their dogs of all sizes, everything from basic obedience commands to agility tricks. It was one of the happiest times of my life.

Indoor - Outdoor

Because Hardy was responding so well with respect to the clicker, I decided to begin practicing off leash walking in paths around the inside of the house. I knew there would be less distraction this way, and I also knew I could increase the size and direction of movement over time, as well as keep things random. I started in the largest part of the dining room, walking around the table, leading Hardy in a small oval pattern, much like I had observed in the training classes at the pet store.

With the clicker in one hand and treats in the other, I had Hardy’s undivided attention.  I watched him perk up whenever I would grab the clicker to practice this sort of training, eventually adjusting the off leash practice throughout the house in a random pattern for longer and longer amounts of time. Once Hardy had that down pat, I worked with him in our backyard, where he was more easily distracted. I soon learned that it was the perfect environment for training: flat, grassy, spacious, and appropriately fenced.

Off leash walking outside was such a greater challenge than inside the house! There were many factors I had to keep in mind. I had to maintain a watchful eye on Hardy’s interest level, which I discovered would increase and decrease randomly throughout our sessions. I had to be careful not to work with him for too long, because of the distractions. Just like working indoors, I had to begin with short sessions that were easy to complete - one good lap around the perimeter provided plenty of challenge. It took a lot of patience, but since I was with him all day, I was able to repeat these short sessions as the day progressed.

The scents, sights, and sounds became my foremost opponent, especially if a stray squirrel in a tree or a cat climbing a fence interrupted us. I also noticed that shadows cast on the ground from birds or small planes flying overhead, would take his attention away from the task at hand. Sometimes I would lose Hardy’s attention altogether. If this happened, I would begin playing with him and end the session as if I was planning the interruption, tucking the clicker in a pocket, and tossing a ball or initiating a game of tug rope with him. 

Using the Clicker

            I am one of those people who marveled at watching an amazing dog walking directly along side its handler at a calm, slow pace. I would see these types of dogs from time to time on my daily walks with Hardy, wondering if I really needed that much obedience from him, and thinking this sort of training should be reserved for assistance or working animals. I did want to make our walking time more comfortable; however, this was because I was getting tired of feeling like my arm was going to be tugged or jerked out of my shoulder socket.

            Then one day, during one of my many visits to the book section of a pet store, I discovered a book that promoted training dogs to walk with their handlers by using an off leash method. Clicker training was also quite popular at this time, so I picked up a book about that, as well as several clickers, in what was to become the next major training phase for my dog and me. As I perused through the books, I became keenly interested in these more humane methods for training my dog.

            I studied my new books at length when I got home, and I began applying their methods that same day. I used the clicker first and foremost. Hardy willingly became my enthusiastic canine participant, likely because clicker training begins by what is called, “loading” the clicker. This means that whenever I gave the device a click, I would then follow up with giving Hardy a treat. I repeated this process about twenty times in progression. During this initial process, Hardy didn’t have to do anything but participate, I would click and he would get a treat.

            After about twenty clicks and twenty small but extremely tasty treats, I began the next phase. I had to discern if the click sound would bring about a specific, but simple, desired behavior. I decided that I would call his name, and if he looked at me, I would click and treat. If he didn't look at me, he would get nothing.            
          Hardy passed this first stage with fervent interest. If he were a person, I would have classified him as gifted and talented. It seemed like I had to click and treat very few times to bring about my desired response. It was as if he had already done this before.

Walking Dogs Don't Lie

            Shortly after doggie graduation day, Hardy lost his poise when walking on a leash. He was well behaved inside the pet store where he attended his trainings, but in other places, like the local trail where I loved to go for a briskly paced walk, he became a different animal. It became obvious to me that he needed more polite walking practice.

            Like many folks who love to go for a daily walk, I was accustomed to driving the car to my favorite spot. My trail of choice was once a railroad route that traversed through the outskirts of the neighboring towns in the valley where I lived. As the railroad phased out, a walking trail phased in. Its paved surface stretched out for miles, as it linked together town after town. The location I frequented had a little creek that flowed along its side, passed through a park with a tiny bridge, and continued through several holes of a golf course. I enjoyed walking there both for its beauty and because of all the wildlife I had become accustomed to viewing.

            Over the years I began to recognize the same people walking the trail, waving hello or stopping to chat a little, then moving on in opposite directions on our quest for a good aerobic workout. Just like a visit to the gym, I had easily fallen into a somewhat predictable schedule of days and times when I would visit the trail, but after bringing Hardy along, it had started become a routine I was beginning to dislike.

            Hardy was easily distracted by all of the different scents he would encounter along the way. He was a typical Schnauzer, keeping his head towards the ground, sniffing as he moved towards some random scent. He was always tracking, but obnoxiously so on the trail. Shortly after we would begin walking, he would start to struggle forward, his nose to the ground, in an effort to pull me along. Armed with my newly discovered insights about dog behavior from the classes we had been attending, I found myself noticing how following the scent seemed like it’s own reward, even if whatever he was tracking never transpired.

            Other dogs were another challenge. I quickly realized that a well socialized dog, and an owner who knew the drill, didn’t cause problems for us while we were walking on the trail. We thought it best to allow our animals to “say hello” to one another, and then move on. These pets and their owners were usually courteous, matter of fact, and went back to business without any trouble. It became second nature for me to practice with those animals in an effort to maintain a well socialized dog, and I saw it had reciprocal, calming effect. These people and their dogs were not the problem for Hardy and me. The socializing opportunities were recognizable, and became a pleasant infusion into our daily walking routine.

          However, if someone with an disobedient or unsocialized dog came the other direction, it was a different story. Hardy would revert back to his shelter ways, viciously barking non-stop and lurching towards them like our first day in training class. It got so that I could recognize some distance away what sort of pet owner was traveling our direction. It was all in the manipulation of the leash, and how the dog made eye contact with my dog. If the owner stiffened up and pulled tightly on the leash, the dog’s body posture would change, and it would look fierce and threatening. In effect, the owner was making the dog look threatening to my dog long before they were even near each other.

            These sorts of encounters were aggressive and inconvenient, but unavoidable. I knew I couldn’t control who walked on the trail, so I had to find a way to get control of Hardy in these instances. The sporadic yanking during these sorts of dog encounters, which seemed to occur at some point during every walk, hurt my shoulders, my knees, and my back. I started researching other methods that trainers used to keep a dog walking politely on a leash. I didn’t care if Hardy was at my heal, I just wanted him to stop tugging away from me and causing the joint pain. I needed to discover a way to teach Hardy to want to be next to me.

Obedience Training

The cool morning air helped awaken Nate, Dawn, and me as we unloaded Hardy from the car and began walking towards our first obedience training class.

“This is going to be fun,” Nate exclaimed. He had been eagerly awaiting this morning from the day I had come home and discussed the veterinarian visit, and my selecting obedience classes instead of invisible fencing. Dawn had been equally excited about observing the classes and promised to tag along. So began a family ritual each Saturday morning, as we learned how to teach Hardy to do all of the polite things a purebred Miniature Schnauzer should know. For me, that meant to behave for the children too.

There were about eight other dogs that were enrolled in Hardy’s classes. They ranged in size from Great Dane to Chihuahua, and their handlers were young and old. They all had one thing in common; their dogs were poorly behaved. It was a good thing that the store hadn’t opened its doors for business before our class was over, because when we were there it was nothing but chaos - barking, chasing, and “marking” going on everywhere.

The salesman who had talked me into signing up was present, helping us clean up after our pets. Our official dog trainer, Larry, accompanied him. Larry said it was okay for the dogs to behave that way at first. It was important for us to socialize them; by socializing we would diminish these objectionable instinctive behaviors. 

Larry was a slightly large fellow, who’s personality reminded me a little of Santa Claus because he smiled and chuckled a lot. He was especially kind and patient with kids and dogs, and he gave away a lot of treats. He carried around candy for the kids and meaty tidbits for the dogs, and he dispensed them generously. He was filled with hope and joy, and when the class was over, he would disappear.

I could not believe how much we learned after that first class. I thought it remarkable that Larry believed a dog’s vocabulary could reach to over 50 words. He told us to be confident and firm towards our dogs, so they would learn who was boss. He assured us that our dogs would be well behaved on “graduation day,” when they would most definitely obey us if we told them to sit, down, stay, come, walk politely on a leash, or leave it. He also told us we would learn how to brush their teeth and trim their nails properly. On that day, it seemed like a tall order to all of us. To say that the first class was chaotic would be an understatement, but we put our trust in Larry and over the weeks that followed we learned that he was right.

Our mornings at the pet store over time became more and more valuable as each successive training class built on the last. When we shared our frightening chase incident with Larry, he suggested that we stop chasing our dog through the neighborhood. He said that we needed to stop the reinforcement for running away, which was the act of chasing after him.

It was life changing watching my son week after week, as he helped Hardy evolve from an unpredictable and misbehaving stray into a proud, obedient Miniature Schnauzer. I have no way of knowing, but it even seemed as if Hardy enjoyed the trainings, seemingly showing off during the graduation in front of his dog friends. True to Larry’s predictions Hardy learned all of the commands he mentioned on that first day, and we came away with the skills to teach Hardy even more.

Dr. Warren's Suggestion

The vet came in, introducing himself to me, as well as to Hardy. “I’m Doctor Warren,” he said wrapping his hands around my dog’s midsection.

“Hello, Dr. Warren,” I responded. “My dog seems nervous. I’ve never seen him act this way.”

“I see it all the time,” he replied as he handed Hardy a treat. “Nothing to worry about.”

Hardy wasn’t interested in the treat. He turned his muzzle away. Surprising, I thought, Hardy’s behavior was off. He was usually quite friendly upon meeting a new person, especially of the male persuasion. Not this time. He was, in fact, acting lethargic and withdrawn. I shook my head in disbelief.

Then I remembered my purpose. I wanted to learn as much as possible about Hardy as I could. As Hardy stiffened on the examining table, I began to ask questions. “Can you make a guess about his age?”

“I’m thinking he’s a little under a year, approximately ten months of age,” he answered. His hands massaged Hardy’s body as he spoke. “He’s been well taken care of, except for the stray pick up. He seems healthy, he has no physical abnormalities, and he has the classic Schnauzer puppy surgeries, plus all his shots. I believe he is purebred.”

Hearing Dr. Warren’s assessment of Hardy, made me feel like a proud parent learning their child was gifted, “He’s really smart too.”

“My main concern is that he is prone to running away. As you’ve already learned, running away can be dangerous. I suggest you take him to obedience classes. There are boundary controls you may also want to put into place surrounding your property. I’m assuming you have good fencing?”

I nodded.

“You may want to put in invisible fencing too. Just as a precaution. It’s quite humane, if the dog is introduced to the fence properly. You need to stop him from running into traffic.” Dr. Warren picked up Hardy’s left hind leg, and examined the scraped part. “You were lucky this time.”

As Hardy and I left the building, I can’t remember ever seeing him so jubilant. I praised him as he jumped into the car. I pulled the car out of my parking space, and decided to head to the nearest pet store. I needed to discover exactly what Dr. Warren meant by an invisible fence. I also wanted to get a recommendation about a dog obedience class. I hit pay dirt (no pun intended) in the front isle at the largest local pet store in our area, where I learned invisible fencing is basically burying an electronic radio controlled wire around the perimeter of the property for the purpose of providing an electronic shock to a corresponding collar when the pet as is crosses over the wire. The picture on the cover of the invisible fencing package displayed two well behaved dogs peacefully watching a foursome of golfers play through on a golf course. It turned out the fencing was tremendously expensive!

Not wanting to go through another neighborhood chase, I stood in the isle mulling over the cost versus benefits when one of the employees came up to me and discussed how dog obedience classes might be a better alternative. They cost less than the invisible fencing, and not wanting to be the reason my favorite pet got a shock to the neck, I listened the sales pitch without hesitation.

“The next series of classes begin this Saturday morning,” the salesman stated, showing me a sign up sheet with several names on it, and pointing to the price at the top of the paper.

“Convenient,” I replied. “The price is reasonable too.”

“It’s almost full. So you should sign up soon,” he noted.

“It’s lot cheaper than that fence,” I added. “Okay. I’ll give it a try.”

The salesman put the paper on a clipboard, and I began filling out our contact information.  In the end, I decided to sign up Hardy and my son, Nate, for the classes. I figured that Nate would want to learn how to train his dog, and I would be there to learn by observation and provide support. I concluded that if the obedience classes didn’t get Hardy in line, I would try the electronic fence. I paid for the classes, and promised to return with Nate and Hardy on Saturday morning, complete with a 6 foot leash and some small tasty treats.

First Vet Visit

I scooped Hardy into my arms, hugging him tightly to my chest. “You sure gave me a scare,” I said, checking him for injuries. All I could see was a bit of road rash on his knee. I felt relieved, but I thought the driver who had returned my dog to me was correct. It was time for my pet to be thoroughly checked out by a professional.

I wanted to establish a relationship with a good veterinarian, and not really knowing where to turn, I went back to the animal shelter where Hardy was adopted to ask them for a recommendation. It just so happened that the volunteer who had helped us back when Hardy was a temporary occupant was happy to oblige. He was thrilled to discover that we had been successful in our endeavor to adopt our preferred shelter dog, and thought the name, Hardy, was fitting. When I told him about my need to locate a good veterinarian, he recommended Dr. Warren, who I called immediately.

Dr. Warren was able to see us that same day. By the time we arrived, I was sure Hardy was perfectly fine from our earlier debacle. So when we got there, I had found that my expectations had shifted a little. Instead of wishing for Hardy’s clean bill of health, I was hoping our visit would shed light onto many of the mysteries that came home with Hardy due to adoption. For example, I really wished to know how old he was, and I thought an educated guess from the vet would be helpful.

One of the most interesting aspects of a pet adoption is the lack of history. Things that puppy owners take for granted like knowing the birth date, prior diet, shot records, and such, become speculation. Deduction and observation become ways to fill in missing information. As I drove to the vet office, I found my imagination filling in a history for Hardy that established the young businessman at the shelter as his prior owner. I had decided that he and his wife had owned a Miniature Schnauzer – Hardy. I imagined that he had simply escaped from them one day, exactly like he had done to me. I had decided that he and his wife both led busy lives, and they were likely bound by time constraints that kept either one from being able to chase after him the day he ran away. I had also decided what they really wanted was a baby, not a Pug.

As we got out of my parked car, leading Hardy towards Dr. Warren’s office, I could see that Hardy’s anxiety level had increased dramatically. Hardy sniffed the ground outside, and looked at me with eyes of dread. He did not like that place at all. How did I know? His body posture had changed from upright to slumped, and his nub of a tail was tucked as far down as it could go. He was not relaxed, but stiff, and he refused to sit on my lap or allow me to pet him. He opted to sit underneath the bench seats that were in the waiting room of the vet’s office, crouching low, almost hidden.
         It became time for our appointment. There were so many questions I had for the vet, but they all seemed to vanish, as I focused on getting Hardy into the examination room. It was as if I was dragging a freshly cut Christmas tree through the hallway. I made a mental note to bring treats next time. I picked him up and set him on the exam room table. The assistant spoke softly and moved slowly, stroking his coat in an attempt to help him cope, but he could not yield. He became more restless, shuddering and panting. I helped her weigh him, take his temperature, and check his heart rate, but he didn’t stop shuddering the entire time. She wrote down the acquired information, and left the room. 

Near Miss

Our modest suburban abode had several majestic Sycamore trees surrounding the house, both in the front yard and in the back. Along with the trees, and the cool shade they provided during the warmer months, there lived a family of squirrels. In fact, there was a large nest situated high up in the branches of our back yard Sycamore tree. After a little observation, and bearing witness to an overabundance of bolting infractions whenever a squirrel was near, it was easy to see that Hardy had a weakness for chasing squirrels. It was a recipe for my first dog training fiasco, which landed Hardy directly on the examination table of the veterinarian’s office.

I don’t know if it was in the make up of Mini-Schnauzer breeding, or the rodent scent, or the scurrying behavior of the furry little tail swishers. More likely it was all of the above. What I know about Hardy is he could never resist the scent of a squirrel in the vicinity. We all came to recognize this and learned quickly that if there was the scent of a squirrel anywhere within sniffing distance of that bearded little snout, Hardy would abandon anything he was doing to investigate. This was not a delicate course of action - not by a long shot. It was as if a screw went loose in his little doggie brain, and he could not focus on anything else except the hot and irrational pursuit of squirrel. His better attempts were elegant defeats, and the crazier ones became amusing and funny to watch, leaving me shaking my head in disbelief.

It was not funny or amusing on the day Hardy decided to leap out from the side gate towards a squirrel that was freely scampering around the side yard Sycamore tree. Thinking he would be bounding through the neighborhood, and because it was fast becoming a daily event, this particular squirrel pursuit caused me, once again, to respond by chasing Hardy in an effort to protect him from the oncoming car I saw coming towards us from up the street.

I doubt that he realized he had two of his most favorite games going on at once, as I played dogcatcher, and he chased after the resident squirrel. I am certain that he was not even thinking when he bound across the street as the car screeched it’s brakes to avoid hitting him. My breath caught in my throat as I watched him crawl out the underside of the car and nimbly cross the street, only to stop at the neighbor’s tree to sniff around for the scent of the squirrel.

As the driver pulled over, and we both began to walk across the street to check to see if Hardy was okay, he began bounding down the street, frantically. He was no longer interested in that squirrel. It had now become irrelevant, and a new game began as the driver and I made an attempt to catch him by joining his race down the block and away from home. Down the street we ran, picking up more helpers on the way, in our feeble attempt to reach him. I felt a little like Forest Gump as I kept running after my dog, gathering momentum, and finding myself leading a small crowd of followers some distance down the block and around the corner of our street. When I noticed that a driver had enticed my little escape artist to jump inside their slowly moving car.

“Is this your dog?” I didn’t recognize the young woman who had pulled her car to the side of the street.

I nodded my head, relieved.

“I think you should take him to the vet. He’s got a little scrape on his knee.”