THE OTHER END OF THE LEASH

There’s good news, and there’s bad news. But the bad news is good news. Sort of. And the good news, well… it remains to be seen how it will be cataloged when the chapter is completed.

I’ll get the first news out of the way now, because its hard for me to write about. Those of you who know me well know that I love cats. I’ve had at least one cat ever since I’ve been an almost adult, for over 46 years. One of the best cats I’ve ever had is Sushi, the cat I got 11 years ago at the Dane County Humane Society. Sushi is fine, don’t worry, I’m not working up to tell you that she’s died. As a matter of fact, she’s never been happier. She’s just not at Redstart Farm.

Long story short: I’m allergic to cats. A lot. So much so that when I went to the humane society to look for a cat I held prospects up against my face and waited to see if my eyes would redden, my lungs would close and I’d break out into hives. That’s what happened with my first three choices. Sushi was the only cat who didn’t elicit that extreme a response. And so home she came, a young stray who liked to be in the same room as me but hated being touched. We worked on that, and after a few years Sushi became a cuddly lap cat, who hunted the barn religiously but loved nothing more than to be in your lap when inside. She slept in bed with me in winter, on my lap in the evenings and purred and rubbed her way even further into my heart.

As she became increasingly cuddly, my allergies became increasing worse. I will not bore you with what I have done to turn my allergies around. I’ll just say, it’s a lot.  (Nor will I even discuss that fact that my allergist says I’m allergic to dogs. “La La La” I say, with my hands covering my ears. But yes, I’m working on that too, but both dogs and cats appear to be just too much for my system.)

The worst consequence of my cat allergy has been asthma, which got so bad it made walking up my own hill difficult unto itself. After years and years of western and adjunctive, alternative medicine, I asked dear friends to take Sushi for a week so that I could have the house deep cleaned to see if it would help my lungs. It helped. Not 100%, but the difference was notable. But here’s what was far more significant: For the first time in years, I wasn’t feeling guilty because I couldn’t let Sushi in the bedroom anymore. I didn’t have to say, ten times a day, “I’m sorry Sushi” as I picked her up and put her out of my lap. I had known it was hard on both Sushi and me, but as is often the case, I didn’t realize how hard it was until things changed.

After a week, I went to my dear friends with some more cat food and to visit Sushi. I’d had almost daily reports, and she clearly was in heaven. She slept in bed with her new humans at night, made friends with the dogs (she loves dogs, and these ones won’t herd her), and carefully, slowly, was allowed outside into a perfect environment for an indoor/outdoor cat. The house is a good third of a mile from any road, and it’s off the road that’s off the road that’s off the road from my house, if that makes any sense. (If it doesn’t, just read “safe from cars.”) There’s woods and fields and comfy laps to cuddle in. They adore her, and she adores them. When I went to visit after a week I knew I should ask them to keep her. Eyes brimming with tears, I began to ask, but Gary, cat lover and already Sushi’s best friend, said “You don’t even have to ask.”

It broke my heart, and it was the right thing to do. Sushi has never been happier. (On my first visit she actually avoided me. The message was clear: Do NOT remove me from this perfect place. Thankfully she no longer worries I’ll move her and comes up to say hi.) Her new humans, Beth and Gary, are the best new family for her imaginable. They move heaven and earth for their animals, and wrap their lives around their pets. Sushi is a very, very lucky cat, and I will always be grateful to Beth and Gary for giving her a new  home. Predictably, for days I felt like someone had died. I grieved for Sushi and for my old life, cried a lot, and kept reminding myself how much happier Sushi is now that she can cuddle again. (I thought Willie would be happier too, but he actually became more hyper after Sushi left. Very interesting response, I have to say. He’s settled down now, thanks in part to his acupuncturist.)

The Cycle of Life: Two days after Sushi left I saw a tiny, dark cat run into the barn. I thought it might be the stray male that neighbors have told me about. I’d never seen it before, not surprisingly. Sushi had no interest in opening up the farm as a feline bed and breakfast, and would have aggressively kept other cats out.  A month after I saw the little cat I was feeding the sheep on the back side of the barn and saw a fuzzy little tail disappear down a hole. I’ve seen far too many tails lately in the barn: after Sushi left the rodent population seemed to explode. But this tail had hair on it, light orange hair at that.  Sure enough, a few hours later a tiny, little kitten face appeared under the barn’s old cement foundation. That night I only saw the one, and had no idea whether it had been dropped off (a common occurrence in the country), moved by mom from another location or what.

The next morning there were two. Then three. And four. And finally, about a week later, I can attest that there appear to be five kittens in total, probably just about 4 weeks old.  I’ve never seen all 5 at the same time, but there appears to be 3 oranges, one orange and white, and one calico (Mom is a tortie). I’ve seen mom a few times now; once she almost ran into me as I walked around the corner, her mouth stuffed with a large rodent as she exited the barn.

Here are 2 not very good photos of the kittens. I’d have taken more, but the noise of the shutter bothers them, and I’m working hard to habituate them to my presence. (Look carefully and you’ll see a second orange kitten behind the first in the photo on the right.)

Right now I have a large dog crate set out now beside where you see the kittens, door affixed open, for them to get used to. Soon I’ll start putting food inside. My goal is to use the crate to trap the kittens before they are too old to socialize. Kitten socialization is earlier than dogs, it’s estimated to be about 3 to 7 weeks of age. Alley Cat Allies, an excellent resource for anyone with feral cats or kittens in their yard, recommends keeping kittens with their mother if you possibly can until 6 weeks of age. On the other hand, my Facebook page is full advice to trap them right away, lest they become impossible to socialize to people.  It’s all a trade off, one can argue either side, from “Catch them yesterday” to “Wait until they are older.” I’m going one day at a time, balancing that oh-so-important time with their mother and getting them around people before they are too hard to tame.

Daily now I am spending time beside them as they play and explore a few feet from the barn and their hidey hole. Last night I began tossing them chicken — clearly their first introduction to solid food based on their attempts to gum the pieces — and it is already helping them habituate to my approach. This morning I was able to stand within 2 or 3 feet of two of them (the orange ones are the boldest by far) while they watched me attempt to toss chicken pieces close to them. (A video of my lack of aim would go viral. I got 1 out of 5 pieces of chicken anywhere near them. Sigh.)

Soon I’ll start putting food inside the dog crate, in hopes that I can catch them inside eventually. Yes, there are live traps, and lots of folks have used small ones on kittens, but I’d much rather use this method (sit outside dog crate with a string on the door and pull it shut once the kittens are inside) than take the risk of a live trap. The door to a live trap slams shut when an animal stands on a plate in the back of the trap, and the danger with a litter is having one kitten killed by the door as the other kitten sets off the trap. I may end up taking the risk, but only if I have no other choice.  Right now I’m going day by day, slowly teaching the kittens that I’m nothing to fear when I appear behind the barn.

It’s doubtful though that they will become tame enough for me to pick up, so I’ll probably have to use some form of safe trap to catch them. Once the kittens are caught I will set out a live trap for mom. If I’m successful (I am already feeding her in the area where I’ll try to trap her, and will set out the trap there tonight for her to get used to), I’ll have her spayed. My wildlife ecologist friends will be displeased to hear that I’ll bring her back to the farm and let her out in the barn. She is excessively shy and wary, and I think she would spend the rest of her life hiding in a basement if someone tried to make her a house pet. And who knows; perhaps she’ll eventually decide that people aren’t monsters after all. I’ll keep you posted on all this; I’ll write a more instructive blog post next week about what to do about lost or feral cats and kittens. But for now, time to go…. gotta go spend some time with the kittens again.

MEANWHILE, ON THE REST OF THE FARM: The primary news is that it is hateful weather. 97 predicted today, humid and still and just plain awful. We haven’t had rain in forever; my pasture is a disaster and I’m feeding hay twice a day now. It’s too hot to work Willie, for the sake of all 3 species. The poor sheep are miserable, I feel so sorry for them. Jim set up a fan in the barn which helps them immensely, and they spend much of the day in a stupor in front of it now. Even sitting outside with the kittens is tough for a border collie like me; it’s not too bad in the evening when it’s shaded, but early in the morning it’s in full sun and I just can’t spend too long there or I wilt. I sit out at night in a chair so I can spend longer beside the kittens, but in the sun I toss them food for approaching, or I turn around and withdraw if they even lean forward toward me.  Both should be good reinforcers, so I have hopes I can make a lot of progress in spite of the heat…. Cross your paws for them, they are damnably cute and of course I’ve become attached to them already.

So, here we are: I had to say goodbye to one cat, and now I have 6. Life is one amazing adventure, isn’t it? And what about you… ever tamed or trapped feral kittens?

Some wonderful things to report today. The first is that I had a restful and relaxing vacation. I saw lots of friends, gardened, cooked and got back to working sheep with Willie (more on that soon). I took an entire three weeks off, which felt terribly indulgent, but also desperately necessary. The last two years have included many wonderful things, but they’ve also included some major challenges, including Jim’s snapped bicep, surgery and recovery, my badly smashed knee, a summer raising a puppy who was (and is) better off another home, the death of Jim’s sister, moving his mother to Madison three weeks later, the out-of-the blue death a month later of Jim’s brother, Willie’s shoulder injury, surgery and year-long recovery, and a raft of my own health problems that I’ve been fighting in 2012. Among some other issues, I’ve been lame with an “about to snap” achilles tendon since January, and have worn the infamous “boot” for far too long. Living in hilly Southwestern Wisconsin in an old farmhouse with steep, narrow stairs is not ideal for healing an achilles tendon, just in case you were wondering. So it was truly glorious to take the time off, focus on my own rehab and be able to start working Willie again. Now I’m back in the office, excited about the new website we’re working on, getting back to writing a memoir and working on a series of fund raiser speeches for shelters this fall.

But enough about me. Willie is the one who deserve the attention here. Last weekend we entered our first sheepdog trial since his injury a year and a half ago, outside of Pigeon Falls, Wisconsin. In a way it was his first trial, since the only other one we went to was a “Fun Trial” in fall of 2010. So it’s our second attempt at working in a competitive environment, although both events were low key and very relaxed (and yeah for that). Willie did very well in the first fun trial, but he lost a tremendous amount of confidence after his injury and long period of restraint. Like many sheepdogs who have big, beautiful outruns and are easy to handle, Willie hates confrontations. His injury and endless period of inactivity just exacerbated it. Even at the fun trial in 2010 he refused to take the flanking whistles I gave him on the fetch, clearly preferring to follow the sheep along and not put himself in a position where the sheep would put a lot of pressure on him. This spring my flock leader, Barbie, chased Willie a good twenty feet when we first started working again. Gradually, over the last 2 months, I’ve been trying to build up his confidence, but even recently there have been times when he wouldn’t “cover” the sheep (meaning he wouldn’t move to where he could stop them from going in one direction or another.) But he loves to work, lives for it really, and I love working with him.  I will never forget Willie’s physical therapist saying to a vet student after his surgery: “We’re working on increasing Willie’s shoulder stability so that maybe someday he can work sheep again.” I blurted out “Oh no. That’s not what we’re working on. Willie WILL work sheep again, it’s just a question of what we have to do to make that happen.”

Life doesn’t always work out that way, but it did this time. He here is, working sheep again. As I’ve said before, I have accepted that he’ll never be truly sound, but I can manage him so that he can work sheep with little or no pain. Yes, our sessions are short, and yes, I wince when he slams to a stop on a downhill, and yes, he’ll need exercises for the rest of his life. But so what? I’m not in such great shape either, so we’re in it together.

Jim video taped Willie’s run, here it is for you to watch. For those of you don’t know sheepdog trials, a ProNovice course is as follows: The sheep are set out and held by a person and dog from about 200 to 600 yards away, depending on the class. (About 250 yards in this case, we ran in what’s called ProNovice.) Once the sheep are settled (as best as possible anyway), you send your dog to the left or right, your choice. Ideally your dog runs in a big, wide semi-circle that keeps him away from the sheep until he gets on the back side. Then he does the “Lift,” which is the point in which the dog makes “contact” (not physical!) with the sheep and takes control over them. Next is the “Fetch,” in which the dog brings the sheep straight to the handler, through 2 gate panels called the Fetch Panels. The sheep are then to be wrapped around the handler as close as possible and then driven away through the first Drive Panels, about 100 yards away. After going through those panels (theoretically anyway), your dog begins the “Cross Drive,” moving across the field to the second set of Drive Panels. You attempt to get the sheep through them, then straight back to you and into a free standing pen. Most trials are won or lost at the lift and fetch: Your dog needs to put just the right amount of pressure on the sheep to take control of them, but not panic them. Lots of trials are lost by dogs who go too fast and create wild, out of control sheep.

Willie couldn’t have done much better at managing some pretty difficult sheep. They tried their hardest to push to the left and get back to the barn, but this time Willie covered them perfectly. You’ll see we were working Suffolks, famous for not flocking and confronting and fighting the dogs, so I was extra happy about his work here. He made one major mistake in the outrun: he stopped about twenty yards out and looked backwards and then at me. I think, just guessing, that he was looking at sheep behind him, asking “Don’t you want me to get those sheep?” He’s a very strong-eyed dog and its hard for him to leave sheep close to him. But that’s just part of trialing and part of being an experienced dog. I said “Come By” again, and off he went. If you’re trial experienced, you’ll see that Willie did a lot right, and made very few mistakes. On the other hand, I can name several mistakes that I made, but I’m not beating myself up about it. It’s only my second attempt too after all. And I learned a lot, had a wonderful time, and left feeling so much love for Willie that it’s practically embarrassing.

It was a small trial, but there were some good competitors, and I’m truly pleased with how we did and what we learned. We even would have gotten first if (ah, those “ifs!”) I’d gotten the pen gate closed one second earlier, or they hadn’t changed the allotted time from 7 to 6 minutes partway through the runs. Being able to say you won is fun, but what mattered far more was me and Willie having a great time. And my good friend Donna and her lovely little dog Shae won the Novice class, so we all drove home happy and glad we had gone.

Ah, who doesn’t love a good bed? Anyone who has traveled knows the value (and rarity) of finding, Three Bears style, just the right bed. It appears that our dogs share the joy of a perfect sleeping place, and I thought it would be a useful discussion to ask all of you what your dogs like best.

I won’t suggest that I have any “perfect” answers. First off, there is no such thing, because surely dogs vary as much as people in what they like best. I remember once, while traveling for a sheep dog trial, putting a blanket I’d brought onto the bed and gleefully asking my dogs to jump up and sleep with me. They didn’t get to do that at home and I assumed that both Luke and Lassie would be thrilled. (Okay, I was probably most excited of all of us.) Both dogs lept up onto the bed enthusiastically. Luke licked my face, padded around awhile, lay down, got up, lay down, got up (rinse and repeat)…  and then finally jumped off. Lassie curled up in a ball by my hips and never moved the entire night. If she could talk I’d imagine she would have said: “It’s about time I was allowed to sleep where I’m supposed to sleep.”

Lassie loved soft and warm. Luke, I suspect, was too hot. At present, I don’t let Willie on the bed at night, primarily because of my asthma and partially because I think he’d keep me awake a lot. Tootsie comes up in the morning for cuddles after she is done with her Kong, but both her and Willie sleep in their own dog beds in the bedroom. Tootsie loves her cozy “circle bed” when it’s cold; she curls up like an arctic fox and covers her nose with her tail. Pretty darn cute. When it’s warmer she sleeps on a ‘faux’ lamb’s wool pad or the dog bed mentioned below. Willie mostly sleeps in an old, well-worn “do-nut” like bed with pillows on the outside of a circle and a separate pad in the middle, but he too varies where he sleeps.

However, a neighbor just happens to be in the dog bed business (lucky me!) and kindly brought over some beds for my dogs to try. Her company is Dawg Tired, which makes high-end dog beds with quality materials and easily cleanable surfaces. The beds are basically stuffed pads with great covers, with no “pillows” for a dog to rest its head, but I have to say that it’s common for me to look over and see Willie, Tootsie or Sushi the cat curled up on it. Sushi isn’t allowed in the bedroom because of my allergies (it’s tough on all of us), but if I forget and leave the door open, I can pretty well guarantee she’ll be curled up on the Dawg Tired bed. It has developed what must be a comfy depression in the middle, which appears to be “one size fits all.”

As much as they love the Dawg Tired pillow, most of my dogs often seem to enjoy having a “pillow” for their heads, so I’m pleased that Dawg Tired is coming up with beds that fit that description soon. LL Bean has some nice versions that they call Dog Couches, I like the looks of these too.

Here’s what we have in the house now:

Here’s Tootsie on one of the Dawg Tired beds. The beds have one side in fleece and the other side in a super hardy, water proof waxed-cotton or heavy duty denim. All the animals seem to like it a lot, but I have to say that Sushi would probably fight for it if she was given a chance.

Also in the house: a gazillion faux lambskin fleece pads in a variety of sizes. They are all over the place: in crates when it’s cold outside, on the rug for a soft surface for the dogs (and me) to rest. I love them because they are washable, long-lasting and come in a variety of sizes. I’m not sure what I would do without them. The ones I use are by Comfort Zone, called  “Polyester blend lambskin, Double pads — Fleece” on the labels.

Here’s Tootsie on one in her sleeping crate in the bedroom. I never close the door to this crate anymore, she can sleep wherever she wants in the bedroom at night. She chooses to go in it often however, so haven’t taken it down yet.

A non-fleece pad, also made by Comfort Zone, that is much cooler for hot weather, but comfortably padded. It’s surface is  Water Repellent and super easy to clean. I have this in Willie’s crate right now and we both love it. It’s called “Pet-o-Ped” on the label. I don’t have a photo, but picture a simple pad covered in an easily cleanable blue fabric. I can’t imagine going without these anymore either.

A large circular “couch” for Willie that he loves to sleep in, especially when it’s cool outside. He often rests his head on the “pillow” part. Apologies to readers and the manufacturer: it was made by a small local company and I’ve lost track of them. It’s getting a bit, uh, old, and I might replace it with another “couch” soon. Tootsie also has 2 Cav size couches, which she also adores, just as much as Wilie. One is in the living room, and she uses when she decides she doesn’t want to share my attention with Willie while we watch TV together (well, I watch, they mug for petting). She’ll stand on my chest and lick my face, settle in by my shoulder for a long round of belly rubs and then move to her couch while I continue petting Willie on the other side.

Here’s Willie last night in his. This version comes in two pieces, a circular part with a ‘pillow’ on the outside with a removable, washable cover, and a center pad that is harder to clean but admiringly hardy.

Tootsie’s Circle Couch: That’s not a product name, just the way I describe her favorite beds when it is cold outside. They are perfect for coiling up in a circle, covering one’s nose with one’s tail and settling in for a winter’s nap. It was pretty hot when I took this, so she’s sprawled out a bit.

Katie Martz’s Dogo, Lily, loves her Cozy Cave like life itself. As a thin-skinned Dogo, she especially loves being warm, so Katie says she’s in this even when it’s toasty outside. I’m inspired to get one for my dogs, it looks so cozy. Do they make one for people?

Then there are beds, with special “egg carton” surfaces, or elevated ones like the Coolaroo Elevated Pet Bed. These types of beds are often argued to be good for dogs with orthopedic problems: . It’s very popular on Amazon, with 558 5 star, ratings. I’ve never had one, anyone comments?

West Paw in another very popular brand in the States, although the Organic Bumper Bed does have a few complaints about the filling not lasting very long. I got one for Tootsie but she wasn’t a fan, didn’t seem to like getting in and out.

What about you? I know, some of us would call our dogs spoiled because we buy them their own sleeping pads, but hey… they deserve it. I’d love to hear about your favorites.

Certainly, as always, we must remember that every dog is different: I remember Bess, one of my first Border Collies, furiously digging out the soft straw I had put into her kennel on cold nights to keep her warm. I had seven dogs then and a husband who insisted on a “two dogs in the house at night rule.” (In his defense, by the time we got divorced I think there were 4 or 5 dogs in the house.)  Bess hated the straw I kept adding for warmth and softness, but it took me a couple of days to accept that she wanted to sleep on cold, hard wood. To each his or her own!

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: Yup, that’s where I am. In heaven, still kicking back and getting refreshed for lots of wonderful things to come this summer and fall. I’ll be back at work next week, looking forward to launching our all-new website. Oh boy Oh boy.

We’re happy to introduce Karen London, Ph.D. as a guest blogger for The Other End of the Leash this week!  Enjoy!

If people go running by your home accompanied by their cats, geckos, ferrets, parrots, or rats, then you live in a very different neighborhood, perhaps even a different world, than I do. It’s just not part of our relationship with those species, however close we may be to them. Yet running is something that many of us share with our dogs, to the point that it’s almost cliché for people to swear that their dog is the best running partner they’ve ever had.

There are so many reasons why people choose to run with their dogs beyond just knowing that their dogs need the exercise. Unlike most human running partners, dogs don’t ever have meetings that go late. They wouldn’t rather sleep in. They are always ready to go, and are generally willing to cruise at any pace with equal ease. They don’t complain that the weather is bad so they’d rather skip today’s workout. The chance to go for a run is greeted with enthusiasm by our canine companions. The truth is that dogs typically like running, which is yet another commonality between dogs and humans.

Okay, perhaps not ALL humans. (Trisha, for example, who is one of my very favorite humans, has described running as abusive though she is very active both on her farm and with long walks and hikes, which are great joys to her. She thinks it’s great that I like to run and that it makes me happy. Still, every time we room together at a conference and she sees me head out for my morning run, I can’t help wondering if she’s thinking, “Hey, better you than me!”)

In the last hundred years or so, people have become more sedentary than at any other time in our evolutionary history, and many of our dogs have joined us on the couch. (A small percentage can’t run because of health issues such as changes in structure that make the high aerobic demands of running problematic, as is the case for the brachycephalic breeds such as the Pug, Pekingese, and Bulldog, but most don’t run simply because we don’t give them the opportunity.) Though most dogs are still generally excited about running, the human species, outside of a small percentage of fanatics of the sport (or weirdos as we are sometimes called), isn’t interested in heading out to run each day anymore. As a result, those good feelings we get from running—the runner’s high—are not felt as often by as many of us. Yet, the potential to activate the chemical reactions that cause the runner’s high still exists within us. The ability to experience that rush of good feelings is shared by both dogs and people, even if we aren’t all dipping into the opportunity with the frequency that our long-ago ancestors did.

The runner’s high is caused by endocannabinoids, which are neurotransmitters in our bodies. These chemicals signal the reward centers of our brains, giving us the message that what we are feeling is pleasure. They lessen both pain and anxiety as well as create feelings of well-being. Running results in higher levels of endocannabinoids in our blood, which makes us respond to running by feeling good.

A recent study by researchers at the University of Arizona investigated the production of endocannabinoids in multiple species, including dogs, as a result of running. There are lots of advantages to running, including to capture prey and to avoid being captured by predators, but endurance running is still not likely to happen if it feels bad. These scientists were interested to know whether it’s possible that species that do a lot of long-distance running evolved to like running via the pathway of reward centers in the brain that respond to chemicals produced while running.

The researchers predicted that there would be a different chemical response to running in species with a history of endurance running compared to species whose natural history does not include running. Specifically, they predicted that running would result in chemical reactions in the brain that are associated with pleasure in endurance running species but not in species that don’t typically run long distances.

To investigate this issue, they compared the effects of running on endocannabinoid levels in three species. Two of the species—dogs and humans—come from long lines of endurance runners over the eons. Running has been an integral part of their evolutionary histories, even if not all of individuals of those species regularly run today. The other species, the ferret, is not a running species. Though ferrets can move pretty quickly over short stretches, running for long distances is not a part of their natural history.

The experiment involved training dogs, people, and ferrets to run and walk on a treadmill and taking blood samples from their subjects before and after they ran or walked. (Not surprisingly, it was way easier to train dogs and people to do this than to train the ferrets!) The blood samples taken after running from dogs and people contained highly elevated levels of one particular endocannabinoid, which is called anandamide. The blood samples from ferrets after running on the treadmill did not show elevated levels of anandamide, or any other cannabinoid. None of the species had elevated levels of any cannabinoid after walking.

This study provides evidence that dogs and humans receive a chemical reward for running but that ferrets do not. When I say that dogs receive a “reward”, it’s hard not to think like the dog trainer I am and compare this change in brain chemistry to a treat, since both provide pleasure. It gives our dogs pleasure to eat steak, which is why steak makes such a great reinforcement for training. Dogs are more likely to perform a behavior if doing so makes pieces of steak available. Having the reward center of the brain activated by the chemicals produced while running is a high-quality reinforcement for running, and one that has been acted on by the forces of evolution to reward people and dogs for running. In species that are endurance runners, the changes in our chemistry as a result of running and those effects on the brain help us enjoy running.

The brains of dogs and humans—both natural runners—are hardwired to enjoy running, which may have provided the evolutionary mechanism necessary for us to develop such skill at it. The quirk of brain chemistry that makes both dogs and humans love running is not universal among mammals. Ferrets, for example, derive no pleasure from running.

Simply put, this study shows that dogs and humans, unlike ferrets, achieve a runner’s high. Of course, it also suggests that Trisha is part ferret. (She said I could write that, in case you were wondering.)

So, consider indulging your dogs the next time they are begging to run. It turns out you are just like them—born to run!

I’d love to hear your views on running and dogs, whether you and your dog participate in this activity or not.

Here I am with one of my best running buddies as we share some water during our post-run happiness:

And here’s elite professional runner and dog trainer Emily Harrison with her dog Super Bee, who I often see running around my neighborhood. Besides the fact that I like both Emily and Super Bee personally, I have to share this picture because it seems just plain wrong to write a post on Trisha’s blog and not include a photo of a Border Collie.

Karen B. London, Ph.D. is a Certified Applied Animal Behaviorist and Certified Pet Dog Trainer who specializes in the evaluation of serious behavior problems, including aggression, in dogs.  She is the behavior columnist for The Bark Magazine, writes The London Zoo column in the Arizona Daily Sun, and is the coordinating editor for that same paper’s weekly running column, “High Country Running.” She runs and trains for races with dogs and people, with her favorite training partners being her husband Rich and her old dog Bugsy, who was half Black Lab and half Handsome Stranger. She has co-authored five books on canine behavior and training with Trisha.

When I was doing my PhD research in the 1980′s I wanted to see how a dog’s brain responded to different types of sounds before and after training. This was in the 1980′s, and the only method available for animals was to do Evoked Potential tests, in which simple, tiny electrical sensors were glued to the scalp. This allowed one to measure activity in the brain in an extremely general way: What kind of brain waves does one see in the Temporal versus the Parietal lobe, for example, after hearing or seeing specific stimuli?

Evoked Potential tests are logistically easy to do on adults: You shave tiny areas of the scalp, glue on the sensors, and ask the subject to stay still for a set period of time. The research subject mustn’t move, because muscles move through electrical stimulation in the brain too, so any movement confounds the brain’s response to external stimuli. But how do you do it on dogs?  How would you keep them still? Absolutely motionless? And here I was in Zoology, not neurobiology, so how would I pull this off?

I felt lucky to be at a large research institution like the University of Wisconsin in Madison, and so I reached out to neurobiologists in other departments. “How does one do Evoked Potential tests on dogs?” I asked. “No problem” I was told. “It’s not that difficult.” “But how do you keep the dogs from moving while you’re doing the test?” I asked. I received a blank face and a silence as an answer. “I don’t understand.” the expert informed me. “What do you mean?” I repeated my question. His answer, after another pause, was “We just don’t bump the tray.”

Slowly, with growing horror, I began to understand why he was confused by my question. I hadn’t asked “How do you do Evoked Potential on live dogs?” The dogs they used for their research weren’t alive; they were killed and the tests were done immediately after their death. Not what I had in mind, needless to say. I left his office and found a researcher (Dennis Molfese at Southern Illinois University) who did Evoked Potential tests on human infants. We did use small dosages of Acepromazine to quiet the dogs, but also did lots of training, and had few problems keeping the dogs still. We ended up with good results that showed dogs paid more attention to short repeated notes when linked with recalls than long, continuous notes.

You can see then, why I am thrilled to read that researchers have now pulled off doing fMRIs on happy, healthy, live dogs. Scientist Berns and others in Atlanta worked with owners to train 2 dogs to sit motionless in an MRI machine for 10 seconds at a time. If you’ve ever had an MRI, you know that this requires far more than just lying still. For reasons once explained to me while I lay frozen with fear in a tight, dark tunnel, the magnetic part of the MRI creates an ear splitting series of pops and bangs and groans that is hard for many people to sit through. And yet, they pulled it off with dogs, and got some interesting results.

“The task was designed to determine which brain circuits differentially respond to human hand signals denoting the presence or absence of a food reward.” And sure enough, when a visual signal was given that meant food was coming (not unlike a clicker stimulus), the ventral straitum of the caudate cluster was more active than when a visual signal meaning “no food coming” was seen by the dogs. Activating the ventral straitum causes the release of dopamine, the “Oh Boy!” neurohormone mediating happy anticipation. It’s the same neurochemistry that occurs when you get your dog’s leash and she begins to dance in anticipation of a walk.

The results are interesting, but not earth shaking, given they were exactly what was expected. What IS earth shaking is that scientists have found a way to study what happens inside a dog’s brain in kind and compassionate ways. This is huge…. the amount of information we could derive from this is immeasurable. I have long said that our relationship with dogs provides us with research opportunities unlike any other, and here’s proof of it.  Stay tuned… the next couple of decades of research and our understanding of other animals are going to be absolutely amazing.

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: The lambs are thriving, the dawn chorus of bird song floods into the farmhouse around 4:30 am, but who could mind such a beautiful way to wake up?

And although the weather has been challenging of late, (hot, cold, wet, no rain, too much rain, you name it), the flowers continue to lift me up and make me happy. Here’s an Iris I planted last year, first time seeing it bloom: