Dog Eared Tales.

The week is not over yet but it has been a long one.  We heard from a lot of you through Facebook, Twitter, email  and the blog about your lost pets…some recent and some long ago.  It didn’t matter; we all remembered the joy of their lives with us and the pain of losing them as if it were yesterday.  Many thanks and sympathies to all who reached out to us.

Since the topic got such a reaction after devoting a story to LoJack, it did not feel right to move past it without a tale about Nikki.  Nikki was my 12-year-old lab sister.  She is the dog that made my Mom a dog person. We lost her suddenly on January 4, 2010. She came from a breeder, as this was well before Mom knew about all the rescue dogs that needed us. For her story, we start at the beginning, right from her puppy days. It has given me some ideas on how to segue way to another topic that is relevant to a lot of shelter animals and their new families.  Some call it “training” but we prefer “bonding”.   We can get back to rescue tales from there.  For now, please indulge us and read one more story from our life as we tell you how Mom learned what it really means to let a dog into your life.

Learning about Nikki’s puppyhood reminded me of my very first vet visit. On the  same day that my Mom brought me home from the pet store 8 years ago, she took me to the vet. I did not even have a name yet. I was very small and shy and cute (and I still am), but she wanted to make sure I was healthy too.  The doctor was not swayed by my puppy eyes or my soft shiny fur—he gave me a very thorough and objective examination.  After it was over, he picked me up, patted my head and handed me back to Mom with this summation “Everything looks fine, I think you should keep her”.   My Mom was taken aback by his words.  She had taken me for an exam only to do right by me and to see if I needed anything…of course she was going to “keep me”.  No matter what. She told him so, too. I had a feeling right then and there that I had landed in the right place.

Our vet is of course a very caring and compassionate man and a great doctor.  He was just doing his job and figured this stamp of approval what Mom had come to his office for. I think most people who will take the time to read a blog like this believe what Mom does; a furry friend is family and there is no looking back once they enter your life.  After meeting my new brother LoJack 4 years later and helping Mom with her volunteer work over the years Mom and me both understand now that unconditional love is not always a given for a dog or a cat.  It is not always possible to give your pets the life I have had…whether one becomes unable or is simply unwilling. The vet, as it turns out, has met a lot of people like that too so he likes to be careful. I don’t like to think about it, but there are a lot of dogs that do not get the chance to find a proper forever family so I think the doctor took his role in making sure I got that chance very seriously.

When I got home from that vet visit, I met a four-year old Nikki and she seemed like one spoiled dog.   I always figured wherever they met, her and Mom must have hit it off right from the start. Love at first sight, no doubt about it. Just like what hit Mom when she saw me. In reality, Nikki and Mom had not hit it off so well for the first few years.  No one told me about it because they barely even think about it now…Nikki was part of the family from day one just like I was and one just does what one needs to do to learn how to make it work, don’t they? Its nothing special.  “No big stories here, Shady…take your pen and find something else to write about.” Mom told me. “Step away from the laptop…no scandals or newsworthy events in this back story!”  When pressed, it Mom did admit that there were some “challenges” early on. 

Nikki, after a swim in the lake. (age 9)

Nikki was just the kind of puppy I was not.  She had tons of energy and loved to play and retrieve stuff.  She was very brave and alert. She was the first one in the litter to approach when Mom knelt down to meet them all, and the only one who chased the ball when Dad threw it.  She was the last puppy in her litter to drop for a nap after playtime.  These things made her stand out and ultimately she was the pup they chose to bring home from the breeder.  Turns out some of these things also convey dominance, a word Mom did not know then but came to know all too well in the year that followed. One of the trainers we had said Nikki had the strongest dominance he had ever seen in our usually eager to please Labrador breed. Mom never had a dog before and Nikki was really low on the eager to please thing.  She sensed Mom’s uncertainly and tested her over and over.  I’ll let Mom step in here and recount some of the typical interactions between them that first year for you. 

“Sometime soon after I removed my umpteenth sweater, with Nikki still attached to it by her teeth, and added it to the pile of ruined clothes I had accumulated in the last few months I started to crack.  This tiny puppy had such a grip on it that it was stretched to the floor and I could not walk without dragging her with me.  She leapt at me out of nowhere and latched on to my clothes time and time again. The trainer warned me, biting my clothes was the same as biting me. It cannot be tolerated, it is aggressive behavior.  Even if it is coming from a 10 lb, 10 week old black fuzzball. She does not bite or break skin but she is growling and snarling and clearly angry. Nikki pulled these stunts constantly and I knew as she got bigger it could be dangerous.  She kept her distance from me most of the time, standing with her ears alert and watching me constantly. She never let me pet her or sit by her or do anything with her (except feed her). I was beginning to wonder when she ever slept. She was always carefully assessing if she could really trust me. Could I handle some dog emergency like a bear attack or whatever the heck it is that scares Labrador retrievers?  And so she tested me like this over and over—in a sneak attack.  I wondered when or if she would ever be able to be a real part of my life, to be in the same room with me even without both of our nerves being fully on edge.

I consulted with many trainers and they all had very strict regimens and rules—no rewarding with treats, training walks with the use of choke and pinch collars, do not allow her on furniture or to walk through a door ahead of you and so on. Following one trainers advice, I tethered her to me 24/7 with a short leash.  This way she was never more than 4 feet from me and I had a choke collar to correct any undesired or ominous behavior, such stealing food or voicing a menacing growl, before it escalated.  Nothing would get by me this way.  I felt silly with a choke collar on this little pup.  I rarely had anything to correct—Nikki never chewed up furniture legs or stole socks or did any typical puppy mischief. She still growled and attacked me and for that I never had time to pull any silly collar to stop it.  One day, as I got her ready for a walk she did her usual routine of furiously nipping at the leash and growling as I tried to get her to move and we got all tangled up near the basement stairs. Before I knew what happened…we tumbled down 12 steps on to a concrete floor. I broke several bones in my foot and Nikki hurt her paw. I brought her to the vet before I even worried about my foot.  Her paw was not broken (I think I broke her fall) and he offered to keep her overnight and spay her as we had planned to do soon anyway so I could get myself to the doctor.  I came home alone, bruised and battered and with a broken heart too.  Would this dog ever trust me?

I knew then that something had to change.  I decided that when she came home, things would be different. I went against what every book and trainer said. I went “soft”.  Not because I believed it would work per se or that it was what she needed, but because it is more who I am.  Nikki got to sleep in our room after that. That alone made the most difference. She also got treated to walks on a retractable lead where she could sniff and explore instead of the regimented “heel” walks we  had been struggling through.  I baby talked her and gave her occasional treats and special meals and invited her on the furniture.  Combined, it all began to make us more relaxed together.  We started to know what to expect from each other.  Although it would still be many months before she would lay or sit close to me or show me any affection at all, the sudden physical attacks ceased.  I had taken the first step to gaining her trust—I stopped trying to be something I was not.

Several people along the way asked why I didn’t just “get rid of her”.  That never crossed my mind. She was still my dog and she did not ask to live here.  When time and trainers did not cure it, I told myself it was my obligation to make it work.  Looking back it was more than that.  I loved her from day one.  Our conflict was our bond. We both needed to grow up a little and we needed each other’s help to do it. Looking at us together after the first year or two, no one would have ever known we had a problem.  Nikki got to figure out who she really was, too.  She is a tireless watchdog and once I earned it, she was loyal to me to no end. She was still always alert and watching me, but then it was in her capacity as protector. She never did fully rest until I did. We had learned our roles, each doing what the other needed to live and love together. ”

Nikki did a lot for our family, but mostly she paved the way for yours truly.  She left the role of snuggle bunny wide open for me to fill. I got to sleep in the bedroom from day one and I never saw a choke collar or any of that other crazy trainer stuff.   I am still the same puppy I was 8 years ago and Mom took the time to get to know me and what I need right away thanks to the lessons she learned with Nikki. For example; if you call me, there is only a 50-50 shot I am going to show up.  If there is a dog on TV, I am going to try to crawl behind the TV set to meet him.  If the vacuum comes into the room, I am going to leave.  If it is raining out, I am not going any further than the outside steps to do my business.  If you set something soft down anywhere, I am going to lay on it. When the doorbell rings, I am going to grab my favorite bone and hide—every time. As a matter a fact I used to hide from almost everything until Nikki told me it was okay. Even then, under no circumstances will I allow myself to be in the same room with goldfish—something about them is just not right. Suffice it to say without Nikki to pave the way; I might be in some other family right now. Nikki always took care of the serious stuff around here like checking out strangers, barking at the mailman or other dogs walking by. I am happy in my role as cuddle partner and face smoocher. This is definitely where I was meant to be.

Mommy had the best of both worlds with us and Nikki had a good life.  I will get to age gracefully and be spoiled even more as I get older.  Lots of other dogs deserve this life too.  Maybe you have a dog or a cat like that?  If you tell me and my Mom a little about them, we will blog about them if you want.  Maybe if we tell enough stories, all the dogs and cats in all the shelters will get another chance to find the right family, too.  That is what “Dog Eared Tales” is all about, to support of Mom’s business to raise money and find homes for homeless dogs and cats.  We both hope you will be a part of it.