Talking With Dogs

As I am moving back into my role as teacher, not only through the upcoming Tricks class at Borderhauss Kennels but as a certified CATCH trainer mentor, I'm realizing how much nonverbal actions and consequences go into my daily routines.  My thoughts are constantly on reinforcing behaviors that I like, eliminating ones I don't like.  There are very few random treats I give my dogs.  I am in the mode of thinking that no cookie goes wasted.  I am, in essence, a training machine.

Til and Ms. Rip hanging out at Cindy's house.

 
While this might seem kind of sad, it puts communication on a whole new level.  I have had to reassess this, too, because now that I have my first border collie, I realize that I haven't made full use of the wonderful cognitive skills in dogs.  I no longer use the grunts and broken English reminiscent of an old Tarzan movie.  I use full sentences.  "Til, Nikita stole your toy and hid it in her cage.  You can find it in there.  Go get it out and bring it to me."

And he does.

I am talking to the border collie much more than I have to others, and the overflow extends to other dogs around him.

A few weeks ago, in house sitting for my friend Cindy while she was away, and caring for her two dogs, I was back to Square One.  The dogs, a Labrador named Nikita and a spaniel mix named Maggie, are both "amateurs" when it comes to the ever evolving "Bailey Method".  Nikita especially is completely clueless.  She is a big, tan, smiling, good-natured oaf, awkward and pushy in her affections.

I hold up a cookie.  "Sit," I tell her.  I KNOW she knows this cue.  She just stands there grinning, ears flattened, whipping her tail back and forth.

At this point, I have another revelation that with rescue dogs, and dogs who have been randomly reinforced, it is better not to talk.  Their lives are filled with meaningless noise.  They tune it out.  So I revert back to my old nonverbal ways and simply hold the cookie back over her head.  She sits. I toss the cookie and she clumsily snaps at it.

With Nikita I would be back to Tarzan Talk for a little while, using the barest of verbiage, while she begins to grasp all over again that language really does have meaning, and to listen intently for more complex instructions.  As she got to know me, she would eventually start to pay more attention.

Perhaps even more importantly, I would have to learn how to listen to her.

Dogs have a more difficult time, I think, when they are trying to tell us what's going on.  They are usually limited to body language and it comes out in something akin to a game of charades.  "Timmy fell down the well?" is a joke -- sort of.

I just finished a stint at the Reading Pet Expo in Pennsylvania, where Til and I performed our freestyle frisbee routine.  Luckily for me, Til is very adept at catching, which compensates for my lame throwing abilities. Add to this the fact that our routine is usually performed amidst the agility course, with the equipment providing a number of obstacles. During one of our shows yesterday, the frisbee fell down inside one of the hollow jump columns, which is about waist high and barrel shaped.  The audience erupted into laughter, but because I had pitched it from behind the high jump, I couldn't see where it had landed.  When I looked around the high jump, I saw Til running tight circles around the column -- clearly indicating where it was.

I don't think I could do that again if I tried!

Yesterday morning, while I was sitting on the hotel bed putting my shoes on, little Estephar the Chihuahua decided to attack me.  We were running late for the show, but I started wrestling with her anyway.  Til came over, picked up one of my shoes, and plopped it into my lap.

That time, again, the message was unmistakable.

As my friend Susan said, "At least there is one mature and responsible member in this family."

Horses and Dogs

Rip and Til playing, "Ring Around the Pony"

Remembering a ride on the Island:  

It's Cliffy's turn to run free and I've saddled Trudy up. We are enjoying a lively trot down the road toward the shore. Til the border collie has taken it upon himself to do some sort of ad-lib herding thing, which consists of blasting ahead at top speed, coming back and circling behind both horses. 

Clifford is lagging behind to eat grass and then periodically galloping to catch up. On one trip back, Til sees him coming and hits the brakes. Most horses would slow down upon seeing a dog directly in their path. Clifford speeds up. He comes flying past Trudy, straight at the little dog. 

My heart is in my throat, but I say nothing because Clifford is clearly trying to scare me again. Til sees him coming, does a quick double back, and runs for his life with Clifford pounding along behind him. Cliffy leaps into the air and flings his back feet high, clearly ecstatic that he has had the desired effect. Til runs off up the road and Clifford stops, looking after him, and lets out a huge snort. "Take that!" Then he looks back at me to make sure I've caught the whole thing.

We go out to the shore and hang out for a bit, so the horses can drink lake water, lick the rocks and eat some of the harsh tufted grass which they clearly love. Clifford has had no interest in dogs since his surrogate mother Reva died in 2001. But I see that Til is not the least bit afraid of either horse and they seem to have some sort of arrangement. On the way back, it is the same, with the dog circling and racing and Cliffy nibbling grass. Then Clifford trots past us with his tail up, and I start yelling. "Git him, Clifford! Get that bad dog!"

More than happy to oblige, Clifford takes off, chasing the white dog madly up the road, shooting out his front legs and arching his neck and shaking his head. He has that same old suspension, floating above ground like he did when he was two years old. It is all a game, and the whole group of us, Trudy, Ms. Rip, Cliffy and Til and me, whoop and holler and run and ride like mad, all the way back to camp.

It's just like old times. It seems we just needed the right influence.

Dozing backstage at the Pet Expo

There is no question that the two species communicate very clearly to one another. 

I remember an incident at the 2011 Horse and Pet Expo in Secaucus New Jersey.  A lady stopped me in the aisle. She had a big boxer dog straining on the leash. She was smiling. "Could he meet your horse?" 

I was frazzled between shows, still had to take the dogs outside, fetch water and about a thousand other things. "Sure," I told her. "I'll have him out here shortly." 

I ran back by a few minutes later and she was still waiting with this big snorting dog. I grinned at her but I was thinking, "Good grief, why is this such a big deal?" 

I went backstage, got Clifford and led him over to his painting table. He was instantly mobbed as usual. He signed a couple of books but then, to my surprise, he singled out this big sloppy dog, walked over to him and went nose-to-nose. The two of them conferred for awhile with bobbing heads; the boxer with his grinning, gaping maw and Clifford with an interested spark. It was one of the sweetest things I've ever seen. Finally, the dog broke off and went back to his lady. She stood there with her eyes welling up. "Thank you." 

As they left, I made a note to myself that I should always remember to be kind.  I still don't know exactly what had happened there. I do know that when I stay out of the way, Clifford can do some wonderful things.

 

Ms. Rip Update

Several people thought that after our episode yesterday, Ms. Rip would want to stay away from the horses. Not so! Today she was eager to be back at work, keeping an eye on them as always. I did, however, leave Trudy penned up and Clifford was the only one to come out. He will roll a dog with his nose, but he never kicks at them.

Ms. Rip appears to be none the worse for wear, although I am keeping an eye on her and watching for any signs of seizure. So far so good. I think we got lucky.



Ouch!

Ms. Rip

It was a traumatic evening for Ms. Rip and me. I had let the horses out on the lawn while I cleaned stalls. The snow is almost gone due to the past four days of rain, and they were eager to take advantage of the winter smorgasboard. Rip as always was keeping close watch on both of them. The temp had dropped, and Trudy was feeling a little frisky. She kicked up her heels -- and connected with the side of Rip's skull. I heard a "klunk" and looked up to see Rip lying in an unnatural position, belly-up. She lay there and started to bark. She was at the top of the hill, a bit of distance from me. Clifford and Trudy were quite surprised at her condition, standing side by side, stretching their necks out, sniffing at her as she lay there barking.

"Rip!" I said, and at the sound of my voice, she jumped up. She ran in a large circle, once, twice around the back yard, and then disappeared in front of the house.

I called her again and she came running, scooting up to me. I looked her over and couldn't see anything wrong.

"Boy, are you ever lucky!" I said.

I finished the stalls and put the horses away. Rip followed me into the house and I went to the cookie jar to get her a biscuit. When I looked down, I noticed sometihng strange about her eyes. In the dim indoor light, only one was dialated.

Off we went to Kern Road Veterinary Hospital. Rip's pupils, though not matching, were reactive, and Dr. Surch thought that was a good sign. She gave her an IV anti inflammatory and antibiotic. Rippy is home now so I can keep her under close watch for the night, in case she seizes again. Her eyes are looking better all the time, so I am optimistic.

The sweetest part of this story involves something that happened in the waiting room, before we were called in for the exam. I was sitting on the bench talking to the receptionist, and Rip was lying at my feet. A man came out of one of the exam rooms. He was carrying a rolled-up blanket under one arm. He didn't look at us or say anything, but Rip jumped up and tried to run to him. She wasn't on a leash, and I had to grab her and physically restrain her from going to this man. Rip is friendly, but this insistent behavior was completely out of character for her. Even after I had a hold of her collar, she still kept lunging and trying to get to him.

Intuitively, I knew exactly why, and Dr. Surch later confirmed this.

The man had just had his dog euthanized. Rip, even with what must have been a slamming headache, was moved to do the job she was born for. She is the "Sympathy Dog," acquired for the sake of comforting Cajun and me after Scorch died. She was so driven to attend to this man that it was all I could do to hold her back.

I was so touched by her generosity, as well as her single-mindedness. Rip truly has a magnificent heart.

Back on Drummond

I walked Ripple down to my shore lot yesterday. It was the first time I’ve been down there since the fourth of July. I walk and walk two miles to get there and then there is always a certain white rock that I sit on, which is right by the water. It has a smooth top and even a little shelf where I can rest my camera. I can put my feet in the water if I want to. The rock, of course, has been there since the beginning of time. It’s about the size of a large footstool.

Anyway, yesterday, I came down, and….. NO ROCK!!!!

I thought I might be losing my mind at first. I looked around just in case I had come to the wrong spot. But after 16 years of walking down here and sitting on this thing, well. …. I know where it was.

I think Vickie and I sat on it. I will have to check my Facebook page.

Anyway it had to be quite an effort to get it out of there. Of course, I am livid! Whoever took it came onto private property, and this is theft.

Drummond is loaded with rocks. But there is nothing close to this one that would really serve as a replacement.

Rode Trudy to the beach yesterday too. I will try to post photos to my blog later. That was another disturbing thing – I haven’t been there in four years, since before Scorch died. They have dredged it out or something, and all that wonderful hard, clean sand has been replaced by muck and swamp grass.

People are idiots!!!! I could scream.

The horses, however, had fun anyway.

A Dog Story

As we walked down the driveway in the slanted evening light, I felt a bit sad watching Stewie come to terms with his disability. For a pup that was born with a hole in his head, he's really not dumb at all. His poor vision is an impediment. He is working on honing his other senses, but the way sound tends to bounce is often confusing to him. When a situation gets beyond his control, he makes the choice to just sit still and wait for rescue. I find this incredibly wise, especially at his tender age of four months.

Though he possesses a generous helping of terrier bravado, he has enough sense to know he's not immortal. Tonight when we were walking we met the neighbor's new German shepherd pup, who is about Stewie's same age, but an elephant by comparison. When he saw her, he immediately had to run up and say hello and offer to play -- but then quickly realized she was going to be way too much dog for him.

The GSD, named Celine, thought Stewie must be her own personal squeaky toy. She wasn't biting him as much as wanting to flatten him with her paw. Stewie could see well enough to tell that I was crouching down, and he made a beeline for me.

But he was never in any real danger, because Big Sister was there. Ripple helps me in puppy classes, as she has a terrific sense about how to put a stop to inappropriate stuff. She was on this German shepherd like a bullet! It was amazing to watch.

Celine tried to rassle with her at first, but that went over like an anvil. This wasn't a game. That pup was going to learn some respect, and that was that. When Celine flashed around in a game of dodge, Rip simply outran her. She body slammed her and sent her rolling. Every time she hit the pup, she snarled. Pretty soon Celine decided that her best option was to bolt for home! Once again, that was not an option! Rip ran her down and hit her again, this time circling to drive her back to us. Finally, the pup learned that her only acceptable recourse was to lie flat in submission.

Once Rip had established the rules, they got along just fine. They even sat together for treats, and Rip even played with her! Who knows... It could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship!

Holy Cairn

Normally aloof and bossy with puppies, Rip borders on openly contemptuous. He is just way too active and ill-mannered for her taste. Rippy reminds me a lot of my old German shepherd Reva in some ways -- gentle, ladylike and innately maternal.

Puppy has a strange sort of head tic when I pick him up and hold him facing me. His head bobs, flipping down toward his shoulder, first in one direction, then the other. His eyes are black and they stare blankly without expression. When I talk to him, his ears perk up, but his eyes register nothing. His nose will twitch and he will sniff in my direction as his head wavers unsteadily, but it is almost as if he can't really focus on me, or doesn't get it. I decide to do this exercise with him often, just hold him up and talk to him, seeing if anyone is in there.

It might sound kind of funny, but this brings back memories of my little sis Amanda when she was a baby. Amanda has Down's syndrome, and when she was really small she couldn't hold her head up. Her neck muscles were so weak that her head would kind of flop and roll after just a few moments' effort. My dad took her every day, and stood her on his lap, holding her hands, and would rock her in the rocking chair and sing to her. This forced her neck to work and before too much time, she could hold her head up.

It's a Wrap!

Ms. Rip finished her scenes for the Wayne State film, MY DOG RANIA last night in Detroit. Here she poses with her director, Marija.

We had a bit of a challenge because Jess, the leading lady, is supposed to chase Rip away with a broom when Rip shows up at the door. We did take after take, and finally Rip had a serious aversion to that broom! I tried to suggest better ways to accomplish the shots that wouldn't scare her, but I've been learning that nobody really listens to the dog trainer. ;-)

A dog like Cajun wouldn't have had a problem with this -- he woulda thought it all great fun and tried to eat the broom. But Ms. Rip is a little softer.

There was a scene where Rania noses through her owner's handbag and knocks a vial out. The vial falls on the floor, and Rania consumes the sample. It required a behavior chain of Rip hopping off the couch, grabbing the sample and licking or picking it up.

It sounds pretty simple, but it was very complicated getting the thing to fall in just the right spot, get her off the couch and nosing the thing all in sync and so that it looked good.

I had to work with her for a bit with the clicker, but we finally got the shot Marija wanted. Unfortunately it was the last scene we did, but Marija finally understood that if she could just wait a few minutes for rehearsals, she would get the best result possible.

It made me wonder what the Hollywood animal trainers have to go through in order to get the best results. I was working with actors who just were not dog savvy in the slightest, but still had to interact with her, and she had to look comfortable throughout.

I marvel at Rip's courage and tenacity. She really hung in there and tried to do what I asked. And despite moments where she wasn't sure of herself, she really seemed to have fun.

It was a great experience for both of us!

MY DOG RANIA is to be screened for the public in January -- I should be getting more information on it later.

Nancy

My Dog Rania

Another dream came true for me today, as one of my dogs got to be a movie star! Ripple is starring in, "My Dog Rania", a short film about some med students who find the cure for a virus, with the help of the dog owned by a victim.

Rippy and I had a great time at the shoot today. We did scenes in the science lab at Wayne State. Rippy was a pro!!! Rippy was a rescue puppy and she has always been a little on the timid side. I thought she would be nervous when I lifted her up on the table so they could give her "injections", but she was completely fine with everything. She had to run around a corner and got led into the lab, and then poked and prodded by everyone. She handled everything just fine and did everything I asked her to do.

We'll be doing some more filming on Wednesday.

Here's a picture of her with the cast. The lady in black in the center is the director, Marija. The leading lady, Jennifer, is holding up Rippy's name tag I had made for her that says, "RANIA".

This has been my most fun with a film yet! I'm so proud of her!!!

Cajun and Rip

They really want to play outside, but are trying to be patient!

The Excellent Blog Award!

Many thanks to my fellow blogger, Gecko the Aussie, of Geckomusings, for the award! I am so honored. It's funny too because I've had Australia on the brain a lot lately. My cousin who has a farm in New South Wales is currently visiting. My friend Kristi, who lives just down the road, has taken a trip there and is Down Under today. Last year I was contacted by an old friend I knew in Alaska, back in the eighties! Guess where she lives now... Right! Australia!

Then of course, there is my lovely Aussie shepherd, Ms. Ripple, although I hear they don't really hail from Australia. And I just finished blogging about Skidboot, the famous half Australian cattle dog.

I suspect there is a trip to Australia in my future. I don't know when or how... But I'll get there!

Thank you Gecko for the award!

Cliffyana Jones

So I was watching, "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade" last night. There's a scene where young Indiana Jones (played by River Phoenix) whistles and a horse comes running. The kid is preparing to jump off a ledge into the saddle, but just before he lands, the horse steps forward.



I had a flashback to that scene today, because Clifford was roaming around the yard while I cleaned stalls. I would look out the barn door periodically to make sure he was still in sight, and that the dogs weren't harassing him.



Basically, since his knee was diagnosed as arthritic, I have treated him like an invalid. But today he shot twelve feet straight in the air, snorted and launched a pseudo battle with the dogs. He eyed them wickedly, swerving his hindquarters toward them and shooting heels in the air.



Cajun and Rip know it's all a big joke, but they are careful of the heels. Clifford is clearly none the worse for wear. It doesn't hurt that it's sixty degrees here in Southeast Michigan.



I finished with the stalls, glanced out the barn door and didn't see him.



"Clifford," I said, in what amounted to a half-hearted yell. I knew he wasn't far. I turned around to fill the water bucket, and I could hear his hoofs pounding over the soggy ground. Ta da DUMP, ta da DUMP, ta da DUMP, just like Indiana Jones' horse.



He came clattering up the barn aisle, walked into his stall and stood rolling his eyes, nodding his head vigorously.



"Yeah, you're cute." I dumped his grain into his feed bin, rolled his door shut and snapped off the light.



I had no doubt that yes, he would move a step when I jumped.

Snow Day

Reminiscent of my days in Fairbanks, everything was covered in frost yesterday morning, with a soft low-lying fog that kept the weak winter sun from burning it off. The dogs love the cold weather! Rippy and Cajun had a great time romping in the snow.

A lot of people are surprised to find out that horses love winter! Trudy and Clifford are so happy right now. The only thing that bothers them is wind or freezing rain. Otherwise, there's no heat to contend with, and no bugs. They stand out in the pasture foraging for whatever is hidden under the drifts, and at mealtime they come charging in, blowing and snorting, all a-shivery and ears forward. They purr happy snorts while waiting for their grain and then settle down contentedly.

Horses "burn hay" to stay warm. With plenty of hay and an escape from the wind, they do just fine. They do drink a lot of water. I am so grateful for their electric buckets, because I don't have to break ice, but I have to fill them every day. As they consume more hay, they need to drink more, and that's fine because it keeps things moving.



With that in mind, I have a strong opinion that horses need to be outdoors as much as possible. Mine have free access to the outdoors at all times. On the rare occasions when Clifford is shut in his stall, the first thing he will do is go to his Dutch door and open it so he can put his head through and see outside.



I think as long as horses can keep moving, and put their heads down to graze or forage, their digestive system is healthier and they are less prone to colic. Plus, they are happier too.

Evidence

Proof of the new alliance! Pepper hanging out with Ripple on this snowy afternoon. Pepper will be 15 tomorrow.