THE OTHER END OF THE LEASH

A colleague just sent me a link to one of my favorite science and behavior blogs, that of Harold Herzog, the author of  Some We Love, Some We Hate, Some We Eat: Why It’s So Hard to Think  Straight About Animals. I use his book in my University class, The Biology and Philosophy of Human/Animal Relationships,” because the author is thoughtful, knowledgeable and one of those rare scientists who writes beautifully. If you find the topic interesting and haven’t read his book yet, pick up a copy. I highly recommend it.

The book includes a section on pets, and his recent blog addresses that issue as well; in this case, whether a video-gone-viral about “Baboons Keeping Dogs as Pets” accurately depicts the relationship between individuals of these two species. If you haven’t seen it yet, the video is included here, but before you watch it I want to give you an alert. Or a warning. The video begins with a male Hamadryas baboon grabbing a puppy by the tail and dragging it, squealing and screaming, across a bumpy field of rocks. It’s not fun to watch, and if your empathy quotient is set on “super sensitive,” just skip the first two minutes and watch the rest.

There are two issues here that I find especially interesting and thought would be interesting to you as well. One is the obvious question: Do baboons really keep dogs as pets? And even more interesting I’d argue, do any animals other than humans keep dogs as pets? Herzog has gone on record that, in spite of the exceptions of some captive animals like KoKo the gorilla’s pet cat, and the YouTube sensation of a grieving orangutan who formed an inseparable relationship with a hound dog, there are no credible records of any wild animals actually having what we would call a “pet.” If you’re interested in this dialogue, I’d read Herzog’s blog about the baboons first, including the comments, then come back here.

There are a lot of valuable nuggets of information in this article, in part because of Herzog’s dedicated attempt to discover the truth behind the breezy assumptions of the documentary from which the video was taken (Animals Like Us). Because the baboons and some dogs live in association in a garbage dump, and because the baboons sometimes groom the dogs, it is assumed that the baboons “steal” puppies with the intent of keeping them as their pets. But how do we know why the baboons grab puppies? If you watched the beginning of the video, you’ll have noted that the baboon licks the puppy’s anus before releasing it. Why? Familiarizing itself with the pup’s scent? Looking for lunch? Maybe baboons like poop as much as dogs do. And why is it only male baboons that do the “kidnapping?” I find that fact one of the most interesting of all. Usually it’s females that first keep individuals of another species around to comfort and be comforted by.

The question of what is happening in this particular troop of baboons is interesting enough. However, it brings up the larger question that I asked above: Do animals other than humans keep “pets.” First and foremost, I’ll argue, we have to define what we mean by pet, and already the waters get murky. Standard definitions of “pet” are “any domesticated or tamed animal that is kept as a companion and cared for affectionately” (Dictionary.com), and “a domesticated animal kept for pleasure rather than utility” (Merriam-Webster Dictionary). Herzog himself defines a pet as a member of other species that are being kept for an extended period of time, for enjoyment.

Of course, “enjoyment” can mean many things. We call a dog kept in a small kennel in the back of someone’s yard a pet, even if it’s only taken out during hunting season. We call the dogs of others who live in the house, sleep on the couch and have their own acupuncturist pets too, yet their lives, and their “purpose,” are significantly different. On the one hand, both of the animals are being “kept for enjoyment,” one because the hunter presumably enjoys hunting and the other because of a close social connection. On the other hand, the key to “petness” and “non-petness” appears to be “utility” versus pleasure, yet the kenneled hunting dog appears to be kept primarily for utility.  Thus, when asking if other animals keep pets, it’s useful to remember that the concept includes a wide range of relationships in our own species.

Perhaps one perspective when asking if non-human animals (in the wild) ever keep “pets,” is to look at the evolution of pet keeping in our own species. Surely our first, close relationships with other species weren’t for the pure joy of petting their fur. How much was utility and how much pure “pleasure?” I’d guess those things weren’t particularly black and white.  And our relationships still vary widely. In many areas of Africa now, a Masai village for example, dogs live in close association with people, but I doubt they would fit the definition of a pet. The only time I ever saw one “petted” was when tourists asked about the dog, and a Masai grabbed one and posed for a photograph. Believe me, the dogs did not look like they were enjoying themselves. When I asked, the Masai told me they had the dogs because they barked when lions approached the edges of the thorn fence that enclosed the cattle and the tribe at night. When I asked them, one at a time, if it was “their dog,” each individual said yes, it was “their dog,” although none had a name for the dog and the dogs did not come when called.

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this topic. Clearly all I’ve really done here is asked some questions, not answered any. But that’s part of the fun of being a human, right? A few starter questions: What makes a dog a pet? What is the boundary line that makes a dog absolutely not a pet? Have any of you seen anything you’d call “pet ownership” in one of your own dogs? Horses?  (Here’s a key question: What’s the difference between 2 individuals who are socially bonded, and one being the pet of another? Clearly it is something related to autonomy, and who feeds and takes care of who, but how clear is the dividing line?) Here’s another blog post on Primatology to whet your whistle….

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: Rain! More and more of it. Not a lot, about a quarter inch two days in a row on the farm. We’re still a good 8-9 inches behind average, being in a seeming rain shadow and getting significantly less rain than just five miles away. But the grass that wasn’t killed is growing, the sheep are on pasture instead of hay right now, and I’m no longer dragging huge, heavy hoses around every day. Even better, Willie and I are working sheep every day. Last night we drove the flock up into the “high pasture,” and I split out a few to practice driving the sheep in a straight line away from me. (Like any sport, it looks easy when the pro’s do it, but in reality the sheep want to go right, then left, then right… my lines look more like big zig-zaggy zippers than straight lines, which is why I need to practice so much.)

The small group we split out to work on included a lamb who’s mother was in the other field. The draw to mom was much stronger than the pull to the rest of the flock, and lamb-boy kept Willie on his toes, repeatedly trying to dash away and run off to mom. Willie had to turn on the speed to stop him over and over, and yet he never lost his temper and threatened to bust in. Good boy Willie. This morning he had another test: Lady Godiva was not interested in moving where I wanted her, and continually took her two lambs away from the flock and attempted to dash back to the barn through the woods. She wanted to go right, and the rest of the flock wanted to bolt left.  I needed them somewhere in between. When Willie ran around to stop Lady G, he risked losing the rest on the other side. He did a great job of alternating between both sides, good boy again. And now it’s time to get the heck out of the indoors, and go outside with Willie again.

Here’s Willie an hour after I wrote the above, working another group I’ve split off from the bunch. This time it’s a ewe, Butterfinger who wants back to the main flock. In this first photo I’ve sent him around to stop her and bring her back to the group.

Notice how in the photo below she is already shifting her weight back away from Willie? Notice her head, her left foreleg position and her weight shifted backward instead of forward.

Now she’s headed back to the right group. Immediately after I took this Willie turned in toward her. He sometimes stops short, so I was pleased he “covered” her.

And below is the final photo, Butterfinger grudgingly going back to the small group for us to work awhile. Willie is moving faster than I normally would like, but in this case I let him take charge. This exercise puts a lot of pressure on a dog, and I wanted to take the pressure off for a second. Never fear, all the sheep got back together again soon after. As a matter of fact, they’re bawling at me right now… time to give the lambs their handful of grain and the ewes a tiny bit alfalfa hay just to spoil them.

I was recently reminded that my first national book, The Other End of the Leash, was published in June of 2002, ten years ago (thank you Lisa). Wow. Ten years. It feels like a long time, and it feels like the years have flown by. Time is like that.

There’s something about big blocks of time and anniversaries–10 years, 25 years–that helps us to step out of our busy lives and look at the big picture. This feels especially relevant to me now as I work on a memoir. I find myself asking what parts of the book still resonate most for me, and what aspects of the book most relate to what I want to say in the memoir. At the moment there are two things that stand out the most: how understanding the world as best we can from a dog’s perspective enriches our relationship, and how dogs are such a vital, essential connection to the natural world for so many of us. Here’s how I described that connection in The Other End of the Leash:

“We humans are in such a strange position–we are still animals whose behavior reflects that of our ancestors, yet we are unique–unlike any other animal on earth. Our distinctiveness separates us and makes it easy to forget where we come from. Perhaps dogs help us remember the depth of our roots, reminding us–the animals at the other end of the leash–that we may be special, but we are not alone. No wonder we call them our best friends.”

It’s true that our differences from dogs causes no end of problems, from people mindlessly hugging dogs who perceive it as a threat, from running toward a dog to get him to come to us when in reality it causes him to stop. One of the most gratifying consequences of the publication of The Other End of the Leash is the receipt of notes and emails from all around the world that thank me for helping them to better understand their dog, or to save a run away dog from being hit by a car. (The book, I say sheepishly but unable to stop myself, is now published in 14 languages–or is it 15?–a fact that continues to delight and amaze me.) I still love playing the “contrast and compare” game between dogs and people, asking what is the same and what is different as a way of enriching our relationship, and I being one voice, in a chorus of many, asking dog owners to respect and understand their dogs, rather than dominate and treat them like small, furry  people trying to take over the household if you drop your guard for just a minute.

I also appreciate, even more now I think, the importance of a dog’s ability to link us to rest of the natural world. It’s a tragedy, in a way, that we speak about ourselves and “nature” as different things, as if we moved isolated and above all the rest of creation. We don’t. We still need air and water and food to eat and a place to poop like other mammals. Almost as much as that, our spirits need to see leaves fluttering in the breeze and the sun shine off the water. We need to marvel at the intricacies of a daisy and the jazz riff of a house wren as she sings beside her nest. There is a growing body of evidence that being outside, in the “natural” world is good for you. See, for example, The Children and Nature Network. And what do dogs do? Besides cuddling beside us and licking our faces and acting as if we hung the moon, they get us outside, on the grass, under the trees and in the rain. Bear with me while I repeat myself: No wonder they are our best friends.

Here’s an excerpt, relevant to that point, from what I am writing now. Be forewarned, it will be years before this book comes to light, at least a year before I am done writing it. But here’s something I wrote this morning that feels relevant to the anniversary of the publication of The Other End of the Leash, about a pair of Barn Swallows that nested in my garage, and wreaked no small amount of havoc to my daily routine. It’s yet another example of the importance of a conscious and respectful connection to the natural world.

And then one day, one magical day that I will remember for the rest of my life, I came home to find all five baby birds straining so far out of the nest that I knew their first flight was inevitable. I stood in the garage and watched one bird after another take its first flight. Each bird dove out of the nest flapping crazily, it’s movement uncoordinated and seemingly inadequate to keep them airborne. At the last minute, as they zig-zagged toward the ground, their wings took hold and they managed to stay airborne. They’d fly for a few more seconds, seemingly at the edge of airborne disaster, and then slam into the nearby spruce tree, having as much to learn about landing as flying. But gradually, second by second, flap by flap, the movements of their wings became more coordinated, their paths through the air became straighter, more purposeful and they figured out how to land without smashing head first into a bough.

As the seconds stretched into minutes, they began to learn what was inside of them. They found what they had all along, an innate combination of ability and knowledge that lifted their bodies and directed their flights. They began to dip and turn, faster and faster now, until within just a few minutes I was watching five expert, tiny pilots, zooming right and buzzing left, streaking toward my face and veering off at the last minute. They looked overwhelmed with themselves and the joy of what they were capable of. I was overwhelmed too, with wonder and delight at their transformation from chubby, awkward babies into sleek, skilled flyers. I am still overwhelmed, just writing about it, at what me and five baby birds learned in just a few minutes inside my shabby old garage.

I am grateful for every day that I live on the farm, even when it’s 107 and it almost kills me to haul hoses to try to save the trees or 30 below and the water pipes in the barn are frozen and I’m carrying buckets down an icy hill to the barn cussing like a sailor. I write knowing that not everyone can live on a farm, and that I am a lucky woman. But I spent as many years of my adult life in tiny apartments with moldy showers and dank, stinky corridors as I have on the farm. I shared cans of Alpo with my Saint Bernard because that’s all we could afford, and bought my clothes from Goodwill. And I learned, that no matter where we live, we can all cherish a flower, put up a painting of a lake, sit under a tree in a park and listen to a robin sing to the sky. And if we are very, very lucky, have a dog with whom to share this amazing journey through time and space.

I don’t want this to be soliloquy, I’d love to hear your thoughts about your connection with the natural world, and perhaps your dog’s part in it. I look forward to reading your thoughts…

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: Willie is a happy boy. It’s still hot but not as bad as before, and we’ve been able to work sheep for short periods of time. I’m working on my timing while driving (the sheep away from us), trying to react fast enough to keep them in a straight line instead of zig zagging around the field. Let’s just say I have miles to go before I sleep. Willie isn’t putting a paw wrong on this, this is all my challenge. He needs to work on driving at a distance and staying comfortable letting the sheep get farther and farther away from me (and trusting that he an maintain control), but we can’t practice that on my little, short pasture. Hoping to do that this weekend.

Willie also got a new toy yesterday. It’s one of the new ones for sale on our website in the section named “Toys and Fun Stuff.” The toy is “Ellie the Elephant” and we love her because she is one sturdy pachyderm. I suspect she’ll even stand up to Willie’s tough love for quite awhile. I’ll keep you posted.  I’ll let the photos tell you whether he likes it or not.

Here’s their first introduction. I asked Willie to lie down and stay while I snapped the first photo. Note the elevated hindquarters (that I didn’t notice while taking the picture!)

Willie decides to get acquainted.

Here’s Willie’s impersonation of a rat terrier, as he begins to attempt to shake Ellie back and forth. Good thing he doesn’t know she’s an elephant.

Yup, this is almost as fun as sheep herding!

And finally, after a long play and photo session, Ellie and Willie rest in the grass. Willie looked so contented I half expected him to ask for a cigarette.

Here’s something interesting I learned while working on a talk I’ll be giving at the Annual Conference of the Wisconsin Association of Behavior Analysis on August 15th in Madison. My talk is “Creating Harmony Between Dogs and Special Needs Children,” and it involves discussing the benefits to the family of having a dog, but also the risks to the dogs that need to be addressed and minimized as much as possible. As we all know, even parents of typical children sometimes struggle with interactions between their children and their dog, and things can be even harder for parents of children with special needs.

While working on my talk I read a research paper that is relevant to dog training in general, even though the case study was about changing the behavior of a child with Autism Spectrum Disorder, or ASD. A 6-year old boy was “inappropriately touching” the household dogs (grabbing and pinching the dog’s anus, oh dear). Needless to say, this was both unfair to the dogs and dangerous for the child.

The therapist attempted three different types of intervention: 1) a verbal reprimand if the behavior occurred and attempts to physically block the behavior from happening, 2) DRA, or “Differential Reinforcement of Alternative Behavior,” in which the child got a jelly bean for touching the dog appropriately and 3) DRO, or “Diff’l Reinforcement of Other Behavior, in which the therapist gave the child a chance to choose the reinforcer before each session, and then told the child “If you don’t touch the dog’s bottom, when the timer goes off (10 sec), you’ll get X (chosen reinforcer) afterward”. Appropriate touching was verbally reinforced as it was in DRA, and inappropriate touching received a verbal reprimand “No touching. That means no X. Let’s try again.”

No surprise to dog trainers, verbal reprimands had little effect. The DRA method (reinforcing appropriate behavior) resulted in an increase in appropriate touching BUT no decrease in inappropriate touching. However,  DRO (don’t grab dog’s butt for 10 seconds and get a reinforcement of your choice) eliminated inappropriate touching completely. You can read more details in Bergstrom et al, 2011, Research in Autism Spectrum Disorders 5, pg 218-221.

Note that there were at least 2 variables that differed between DRA and DRO: In the latter the child got to choose the  reinforcement (rather than being given one, a jelly bean, that the therapist knew he liked). Second, in DRO the reinforcement came after 10 sec of not doing something, versus getting a reinforcement for performing an alternative action. This makes it a bit difficult to sort out which factor had more influence on the result (remember, this was a case, not an experiment). My guess is that both factors were significant. Certainly it is critical to understand that, just like us, dogs want different things at different times, whether it’s being let out to pee and sniff the sidewalk, get a piece of bacon or get to play ball. One of the key distinctions of good trainers is the understanding that we need to get into our dog’s heads as best we can and guess what it is that the dog wants at any given time. That said, I suspect that reinforcement for the absence of a behavior might also have been significant.

If you’re a learning theory expert then you are well versed in the term Differential Reinforcement, (DR) including DRI (where I = Incompatible behavior) as well as DRA and DRO. Most dog trainers use these concepts all the time, just without the formal labels to them. I bring it up here because so much of family dog training includes stopping a dog from doing something you don’t want it to do as much as teaching it what you do want (which should go hand in hand, right?) I teach incompatible behavior all the time, (sit when greeting people at the door rather than jump up), but we all know that some behaviors in some dogs can be challenging to turn around. I haven’t used DRO as described above very often with my own dogs or with my clients, however I did have good luck with it when Willie was obsessed with herding Sushi. Reinforcing incompatible behavior didn’t help, if anything, it made it worse because everything became a secondary reinforcer. Once I figured that out I could manage it reasonably well, but before Sushi left I had the best success with reinforcing a lack of herding for X amount of time (inspired by a seminar with Ken Ramirez, by the way). It’s not an intuitive method at all, and I suspect it’s best used only in specific circumstances. I’d love to hear your own thoughts about your own experience with it, or with dealing in general with behavior that is difficult to extinguish.

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: Even more rain! Whoopee, almost an inch in the last 2 days. It’s probably too late to save my pasture, it appears to be dead and gone; but maybe not, said Trisha the optimist? Maybe, just maybe, it’ll come back? I’ll give it another week or so before deciding to plow it up. That would be an ouch. I only have one other small pasture and if I replant I’ll have to do it in fall and then keep the sheep off for a long time afterward. Would have to buy lots more hay, and that’s not so easy to find right now.

Speaking of sheep, I realized it’s been awhile since they had the spotlight. About time I’m sure they’d say. Here are two of the ewes I call the “camel sisters:”

They are just visiting, to help me and Willie work flighty sheep.

Here’s a question for you: What’s wrong with the picture below?

Did you guess that sheep shouldn’t be eating hay in Wisconsin in the middle of summer? Yup, you’re right. The flock is eating their winter’s food and has been since late May. Maybe I’ll have to put them on a diet like I am?

Here’s an interesting case for you: A good friend has a lab cross, MeMe, who was badly skunked a few nights ago. This appeared to be a direct hit to the eyes, the poor dog was rolling desperately on the ground, gagging repeatedly and batting at her eyes. MeMe got medical care and appears to have recovered, but here’s her owner’s question: When Debby found her, she cringed and cowered, “belly nearly scraping the ground, eyes averted and tail down.” Debby said she looked like she was afraid she was about to be hit, although that has never, ever happened. (Okay, it’s not like I live inside the dog’s collar, but I know Debby, and believe me, she’d no more hit a dog than I would.) Debby was not scolding MeMe in anyway, but MeMe still had her head and tail down in the positions that people inaccurately (not Debby) call “guilty,” and she behaved as if she was afraid to get close to Debby, even when she held out cheese. MeMe eventually crawled into bed with Debby that night (still skunky, what a dedicated dog owner!) but cowered her way into the vet clinic the next morning, when normally she’d dash in all excited to see her friends.

Here’s the question: Why did MeMe behave that way? Was she really afraid of Debby? What did her postures and signals mean? I’d love to hear your speculations. I’ll chime in after a few days with my own ideas. Debby sent me a photo of MeMe the next day, eyes still a bit red, but healing.

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: The drought continues, during the day the sheep lie on their sides like dogs, but the evenings now cool down a bit and Willie and I have been able to work the sheep for brief periods of time the last two nights. However, I’m neglecting the dogs a bit because The Kitten Chronicles continue. Here’s an update:

After trapping 4 kittens last week, we successfully live trapped first mom and then her last kitten on Saturday night (with two traps, side by side, cats trained to enter by placing food farther and farther back inside the traps). I was thrilled to find mom in the trap at about 9:30 pm Saturday night (I was feeding her every night at 9) and then the last kitty in the other trap in the morning. Yeah! Just call us Trapper Trisha and Jungle Jim.

Mom, who is now named Xena, was taken first thing Sunday morning to Friends of Ferals for their monthly “Spayathon” and spayed that morning. New Kitty was put in with the gingers, where she hid behind the toilet and hissed at me whenever I entered. Xena returned from spaying on Sunday afternoon, and on an expert’s advice, I let her out of the small trap into a larger dog crate in the barn to heal up for a few days.

Alert: Do not repeat that yourself. Xena darted out of the small trap, hit the back of the dog crate and went crazy. Here she was, having been spayed just a few hours ago, throwing herself against the walls, flipping 360′s off the ceiling while I stood helpless and watching in horror. That’s three times in the last week I’ve seen cats discover themselves in small cages and flip out. Both sets of kittens and Xena, when finding themselves trapped, panicked and threw themselves at the walls repeatedly. Lesson learned. In hindsight I wish I’d kept her in the small cage for longer. [Addendum added a few hours after posting: In case this is relevant someday for you: I should add that it is important to have the cages completely covered. Several people suggested that if the cages had been covered, Xena would have remained calm. Alas, she hadn't read that chapter, the cage was completely covered top and sides, and she still panicked. Not for long, but 15 seconds of extreme panic and activity probably isn't a good thing few hours after surgery.]

Worried, I checked on her often, even though I couldn’t handle her. I thought about capturing her with a rabies pole and taking her to my vet, but decided that would just stress her more. I used a flashlight to look for blood on the towel she lay on, nothing there. She ate the food I left her three times a day–more good signs. I finally opened the crate door Tuesday morning and left the barn. When I returned an hour later she was still lying in the back of the crate as if she hadn’t moved. Uh oh. That had me worried. Back an hour later… still there. Oh dear, not good at all. I decided to give her one more hour, and put food on both sides of the doorway. When I returned a half hour later, she was gone.

But would she ever come back? Was she recovering or not from her surgery? A bit later I heard a plaintive cry from the woods above the barn. Oh damn, I first thought, she’s injured and desperate and I’ll never find her again and what will happen to her now and… But then I remembered that injured or ill cats don’t vocalize, they go silent as stone, as my own injured cat Ayla did so many years ago. Perhaps then, I thought, she was calling for her kittens. That was my hope, but I could only guess and worry.

But that night, Xena did come back and ate the food I left her, and she continues to do so. I saw her several times on Tuesday and Wednesday, always cautious, but clearly not as frightened by me as before. And the news gets better…

Kitten Calico and Momma Xena are now re-united. So far anyway, everything is going as well as I could hope. First, Calico is 100% socialized to people. She seeks out people, rubs against us, loves chin and belly rubs, and plays like a champ. She is physically fearless and already Olympic in her athletic ability. She tamed down much faster than the others, primarily because she was alone and I spent more time with her, but I think she is also a bit of a fearless little sprite.

Once she began to come when I called her, and was clearly enamored of people,  I began carrying her to the barn and feeding her there, letting her play in the hay for a few minutes, and then bringing her back into the house. The first time out she played around the barn like a wild woman while I held my breath I’d be able to get her back. Yesterday afternoon I sat in the haymow and while she played I read A Lawyer’s Journey, a fascinating book by Morris Dees, founder of the Southern Poverty Law Center. I heard a plaintive meow from outside of the barn, and sure enough, it was mom. I stayed quiet and still, and in a few minutes Xena walked in, saw me and trotted out. I stayed a few minutes more, left some chicken for mom, picked up Calico and the two of us went back to the house. After a few hours we went out again, and this time Xena walked into the barn and greeted Calico while I sat, breathless, heart pounding, totally enraptured by mom and kitten re-acquainting. There was no doubt they remembered each other. After several minutes of rubbing, sniffing and vocalizing, Xena moved further into the barn and realized for the first time that I was there. She left again, but this time withdrew only a few feet, sat in the grass and growled at me. Never have I been so happy to hear a cat growl. I was about to pick up Calico and take her back for the night, but my gut said no, better to leave her here with momma so they can complete bonding.

So that’s what I did, walked back to the house taking deep breaths while the night sky turned navy blue and the farm light glowed over the driveway. Not so easy to leave this little bundle of fur to herself and her mom, but I felt it was the right thing to do if Calico and mom were to live together in the barn. This morning I looked out first thing toward the barn, and there Xena sat in the driveway. She didn’t run off when I took the dogs out to pee (another first), and little Calico popped out of her hidey hole like a piece of toast when I called for her when I went to visit. I’ve seen her twice since, bringing food and head rubs and toys to play with. My ultimate hope is that Calico will help Xena learn that not everyone wants to hurt her, and that she can count on me to feed and protect her.

Here’s Calico yesterday sniffing the trap that caught her mother. She was fascinated by it, went back to it over and over again. Not long after that, Xena began to meow from the woods.

And the others? Little “orange and white,” now Amelia, is described as the friendliest, most social cat Scott has ever had. She is flourishing and about as happy as a kitten can be. So are Brave and the other 2. All the kittens (the 4 I still had anyway) went to the vet on Monday for vaccinations and worming, where I discovered that little boy “Not Brave” is actually a little girl.  Whoops. But they all progressed well over the weekend, Brave taking food right off your finger, happily playing with toys with you, while the newbie slowly adapted to taking food from a long spoon. Dan Johnson of Friends of Ferals came to take them on Tuesday, where they will be up for adoption sometime soon. If I thought my farm could handle 3 cats without compromising the wildlife, I would have kept one more in a minute. They are gorgeous and lovely kittens, and I will do my best to follow their adventures in life. I hear that two of them might have found a home already. Here they are lounging on the porch (thanks Dan for the photo!). And I have to go out of my way again to thank Dan, Kelly, Dr. Adam, Dr. Susan and all the wonderful people who volunteer for Friends of Ferals. The world is a better place for your efforts.

It’s been quite a ride, this adventure that began with Sushi leaving and Xena coming. As a zoologist I know that Xena most likely came into the barn because of the vacuum left by Sushi’s absence. That’s no doubt true, but I still want to believe that maybe, just a little bit, the universe knew how much my  heart ached for a cat, and decided to do something about it.

Happy Day! The first kitten just went to her new home. OJ, the little orange and white female, is going to a good friend and yoga coach, Scott Anderson and his wife Collette. They both adore cats and have moved heaven and earth for them if the need arises (think the feline version of Willie’s surgery and year long rehab). I am still all oxytocin-y about the whole thing. Here’s Scott and the little girl right before they went home:

In hopes it is helpful to others, here are some things I’ve done (so far anyway, this adventure is far from over) and some things I’ve learned along the way:

CAPTURING: It was clear early on that taming the kittens so that they let me catch them in the barn was not going to happen. If you want to start socializing kittens when they are within their defined period of socialization (3 to 7 wks, although that doesn’t mean you can’t do it later) you most likely need to capture them with some kind of trapping method. Lots of folks on FB told me they had had luck with trad’l live traps, but there is a danger that the door could slam on one kitten while following another who is already inside. I also hated the idea of a very young kitten trapped in 100 degree weather for up to 8 hours, so I used the low tech, tried and true method of building a trap (a huge old dog crate), attaching a string to the door, and conditioning the kittens to come inside when I was sitting about 15 feet (20?) feet away. The plus side here is that once the kittens are trapped you know it, and can handle it right away. You also know what you’re trapping: I didn’t want mom yet until I had the kittens, nor a raccoon (possible), a rat (possible), or a weasel (fill in the blanks).

The downside is obvious: you have to sit outside forever waiting for the kittens to venture inside. (Try your hardest to avoid a record setting heat wave that means it is still 95 degrees at 9 o’clock at night.) I used chicken as a lure, first tossed it within 5 feet of the kittens and then withdrew, gradually moved it closer to the crate and eventually inside. I left food inside twice a day for 3 days before I tried to pull the door shut.  I tried to make the timing predictable. Although I carefully tested pulling the door shut (note the comment on FB about someone who pulled the string but the door didn’t close well enough) it STILL didn’t work the first time I pulled it shut with 2 kittens inside. The string got hung up on a bungi cord and the kittens easily slipped out. That actually turned out to be a good thing: they weren’t that frightened and came right back in and this time the system worked. There also weren’t other kittens out who could see what happened; one of my criteria was to get all the kittens in the area into the crate before pulling the door shut. I didn’t want one kitten outside seeing what happened and avoiding the crate from then on.

On Wednesday night two kittens showed up and after teasing me (one in, one almost in… other in, one almost in….) both finally went into the crate and I pulled the line in like a fisherman with my heart pounding. Success! I covered the crate and carried it, kittens scrambling and yowling, into the house. The next morning, yesterday, I caught 2 more. No sign of the 5th, but I have high hopes he is still with him mom. I’ll start again this weekend trying to trap them.

TAMING: I don’t use that term lightly.  Feral kittens are basically wild animals who have the potential of being afraid of people their entire lives. But if they come in early enough, and I am confident that these have, they can be socialized to people in relatively little time. Here’s what I’ve done, and some very helpful things I’ve learned along the way from people more expert than I in taming wild kittens:

WHERE SHOULD YOU PUT THEM? The answer is simple: In a small space. I put them in the downstairs bathroom, a pretty small room where they immediately took refuge behind the toilet. That’s fine. They are easily caught or fed there, and there’s no chance they’ll be able to run away. The last thing you want is to chase them and teach them that they were right to be afraid of you in the first place. If you don’t have a small room, use a crate.

TOGETHER OR ALONE? Until now the kittens have all been together, but it seemed to me that they’d socialize faster if a human was their only social companion. Kelly Sorensen, feral kitten socializer of Dane County Friends of Ferals extraordinaire, agreed. So Jim brought home another litter box, and after we took the photos below we moved the two ginger boys to an upstairs bathroom and keep Calico girl by herself downstairs. I might separate the boys too, but that does make time with each of them more complicated. It’s all a trade off of what’s best for them, how much time you have and the logistics of life.

FEEDING: Food should come from you and you alone. I came into the room about 5 times a day with food (okay, I’m fessing up, my productivity has taken a dive, no question). I entered trilling like a queen cat returning to her litter with food. FYI, it took me 4 years to learn how to trill–I’ll try to make a recording of it and put it on YouTube next week. I have no idea if it had any effect on the kittens, but it does serve to condition them to expect something good when you enter. Here’s a great tip I learned today from Kelly: Instead of putting the food down on the floor, with the idea of bringing it closer and closer to you (which I’ve done with some success), it goes much faster if you put the food at the end of a long spoon and let the kittens lick it off. I found I could get my hand within a foot of them with no hissing from Brave (aka Hissy-Boy, more on him later!) Don’t worry if they are too frightened to eat the first night, that is a common side effect of cortisol production and is expected. I wasn’t worried that the first 2 didn’t eat that night, but was glad to see them eat the next morning. Whenever I left I did not leave food in the room for them: Again: YOU = FOOD and are the sole source of it, don’t let them eat when you’re not at least in the room. If you are getting worried that they haven’t eaten, Kelly suggested putting the food on the end of the spoon and leaving it there, thus getting them used to eating from a spoon. In a day or two you can pick up the spoon and let them eat off of it while you hold it. Smart.

HANDLING: Here’s what I wasn’t sure about, given that my work with cats has almost all been with socialized, older companion animals who either don’t use the litter box or are aggressive to cats or people: How much should one force an interaction? Should you wait and lure them closer and let them come to you? That’s often your best bet with adult dogs and cats. But not in this case, says Kelly, don’t hesitate to reach in and pick them up. Picking them up by the scruff (if they are still young) is best, using the method that their mom uses and that results in a relaxed posture and no desperate scrambling to grab onto something with their nails. Be sure to use leather gloves at first, some kittens, including Brave, will bite and scratch before you can get a good grip. I like to swaddle them with a towel so that their 4 paws are wrapped in such a way you don’t have to worry about getting scratched. Then their little heads are sticking out and you can feed, pet and get them used to you. I loved that even yesterday, on day one, Calico raised her chin when I rubbed it, as if she liked it. Yesterday I found that some would readily swallow goat milk from a dropper, others were too nervous to do so. But hold them against you if you can, for up to a half hour or so, even carrying them around in a sling if you have one. The more they get used to being held and carried around the faster they will socialize. I’ll be spending lots of time catching up on my reading with a kitten in my lap. (Allergies? Did someone mention allergies? La La La, I can’t hear you!)

VEIL YOUR EYES: I almost forgot to add this very important point, one of my favorite aspects of feline communication. Cats avoid direct eye contact (much like unfamiliar dogs) and sometimes do “Look  Aways.” But cats also simply shut their eyelids, slowly and purposefully, while continuing to look in the other’s direction. I have used that for years with adult cats: as soon as the make eye contact I slowly lower my eye lids. We think it’s a friendly way of saying “I mean you no harm,” something like extending your weapon hand to “shake” to prove you have no axe or knife in it! Be sure to do this whenever your kitten makes eye contact with you. Calico is looking at my face often now, and I make a big show of slowly closing my eyes. (It’s sort of fun!)

HOW LONG WILL IT TAKE? Ah, there’s no answer to that question, because the answer is in the details. What are their genetics? How inherently shy are they? How much time do you have to spend with them? I’ve heard everything from 3 days to 3 weeks. One thing you can predict: the hissiest, growliest one will be the first to tame and the quiet, shy one in the corner the last. It makes sense when Kelly explains what she thinks is going on: all the kittens are frightened, but the hisser is the one brave enough to act on his fears. “YOU! He says. “YOU ARE BEING WARNED! I HAVE WEAPONS!” Brave hissed so much yesterday that I started laughing at him. He’s much much better today, but I have to give him credit for being the one to step up to the plate and try to defend himself.

HERE’S WHO IS LEFT: I’m hoping Calico and her mom will become my barn cats, so that I still get to have a cat, just not in the house, and that the three boys find wonderful homes. Whether it is inside or out is a complex issue, one that is best considered in a blog focused on just that issue. Friends of Ferals has agreed to foster them because of my allergies (thank you Dan Johnson! What a guy….), but the kittens will be here until early next week. Anybody, uh… want a kitten? [By the way, they look MUCH bigger in these photos than they do in person! They weigh about 1.50 to 1.6 lbs right now, truly tiny.)

I mentioned it last week, but another good source of information is Alley Cat Allies and on a related topic, Pet Detective Matt Elvin’s website is a great source for information about a lost cat.

HERE’S ‘CALICO’ (Sorry, I’ve got dibs!)

HERE’S ‘BRAVE‘ (Note the flattened ears! At least he wasn’t hissing!)       

AND HERE’S ‘NOT BRAVE’ Help, he deserves another name, yes? Any ideas? Better yet, homes? 

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?

So much to learn, so little time! I recently did a guest appearance on Wisconsin Public Radio and didn’t do a very good job answering a question about a rabbit who pottied on the couch instead of its litter box. Thanks to an alert listener and member of the Wisconsin House Rabbit Society, I’ve learned a lot since. And I have to admit I find it fascinating. You all know I’m an animal behavior addict, whether it’s dogs or donkeys or doodle bugs, and I even had rabbits for a time, so I’m gratified to learn more about them.

I’m not proud of my own efforts at rabbit husbandry. It was a very, very long time ago, before I knew much at all about animals and animal behavior, and the rabbits lived outside in a cage in a building. Granted, it was warm and safe, but one of the most important things I now know about rabbits is that rabbits are like dogs in that they are highly social and inquisitive. Keeping a rabbit in a cage outside with little social interaction  is no life for a rabbit.  (Thank heavens we at least had 2 of them together, and they  got along well.) They need physical and mental exercise just like dogs, and they need relationships with others that are friendly and fun.

On the other hand, rabbits are nothing like dogs. And there’s where I messed up on my radio answer to the rabbit who wasn’t using its litter box. I had cat and dog behavior too much on my mind when I answered, and I didn’t say that rabbits, unlike dogs but exactly like my sheep, potty where they eat. Like dogs, they use urine and feces  to mark territory, but unlike dogs, they take this territory stuff inside the house very, very seriously. So seriously that the national House Rabbit Society (a marvelous resource by the way, as is the Wisconsin chapter) advises you to avoid even putting your hand in their cage. Their cage (with litter box within it) is their territory, and rabbits do better when what’s theirs is theirs and what’s yours is yours.

The House Rabbit Society advises never putting your hand in the rabbit’s cage for any reason if the rabbit is inside. Don’t reach in to pull him or her out (they are prey animals after all), and don’t pick them up and put them back. Herd them back, Border Collie like, so that they make the choice themselves to go inside.

There’s a lesson for all of us here, one I find myself learning over and over again: Every animal has its own ethology, its own umwelt or reality that it lives within, and it is critical for us to understand and respect that. The sheep taught me that the first year I had them, when I spent hours trying to close up and insulate the barn so that they wouldn’t suffer during the brutal Wisconsin winters. . .  and ended up giving them pneumonia because sheep need fresh air to be healthy. I sometimes find them on the coldest of mornings lying in comfortably outside on icy snow, instead of the warm, comfy straw I’ve put in the sheltered barn.

What about you? I’d love to read about what your experiences with any species has taught you. Horses and sheep taught me to think more like a prey animal, my cats have taught me about the need to pause before going outside so that one can look and smell for other cats or danger. What about you: Lessons from gerbils? Here’s what my pet rat taught me?

And oh yeah: One last thing: Rabbit fanciers call rabbit poop “pills.” If that’s not cute I don’t know what is. (I should note that rabbits also have two kinds of poop. Check it out here.)

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: It’s gorgeous and sunny but cool with puffy clouds and blue sky and blooming poppies by the front door. I can’t savor much of it now because it’s crunch time at the University, lots of exams to grade and lots of work too on our new website (coming to a computer near you this summer). Here’s some of what I’m soaking up:

We just released a DVD of the seminar I did in Naples, Florida on Animal Assisted Therapy and Activities, “Lending a Helping Paw.” I’m excited about it, because it gives me the opportunity to help individuals and organizations who want to help others. It is an example of an activity we can do with our dogs that is a triple win (for us, our dogs, and people who need some oxytocin and/or physical therapy). Because of that, old social worker that I am, it’s near and dear to my heart.

Speaking of hearts, and what fills ours with happiness, the question arises about how effective AAT (Animal Assisted Therapy) and AAA (Animal Assisted Activities) really are. I remember a conference put on by the Delta Society many, many years ago that included a controversial study. It showed that, in this study anyway, the greatest benefit was to the owners of the dogs, not the patients in the facility. Whoops. While the audience greeted the news with a disapproving silence, I was cheering in the wings, because it’s good to examine the issue objectively, rather than just following our hearts in this case.

Indeed, the study was very useful and no doubt had an impact on “best practices” as currently defined. It found that the teams in this case had just walked into people’s rooms without asking permission. No surprise then that the residents weren’t all in favor of the project; they’d already lost so much control in their lives that the last thing they needed was to lose more. That’s why good programs like The Delta Society and TDI emphasize the importance of putting the patient first, and letting them drive the system.

But the question remains: Is AAT and AAA really effective? First, we need to distinguish between AAT and AAA. Much of what people call AAT isn’t truly therapy in the medical sense of the word.  To be labeled as therapy the interactions need to be directed or delivered by health and human service professionals, with goals set, treatment plans written and progress carefully recorded. Animal Assisted Activities, on the other hand, include visits, petting, games and tricks.

Here’s the good news for those of us who want to believe that AAA and AAT are beneficial to the recipients: There is indeed research that shows it’s efficacy in several modalities:  Two studies that I can think of off the top of my head found that visits from dogs decreased the perception of pain after surgery. One study asked children to rate their pain (Robbins et al, J of Holistic Nursing, Vol 24, No 1, 206) and another looked at the amount of pain medication used after joint surgery, which is a good, objective and quantifiable measure (Kaplan, AAT Conference Abstract 2004). A third study found that walking with a dog significantly increased compliance with physical therapy programs and increased ambulation exercise: 28% refused to walk without a dog, only 7.2% with a dog. In addition, steps walked more than doubled once patients did walk (Abate et al J. of Cardio. Nursing 2011).

This is not surprising to those of us who are aware of the impact of dogs on our oxytocin levels, and the impact of oxytocin on pain perception (it decreases), immune responses (it increases) and affect (it tends to make us feel safer and more secure). But we do have to be careful here: Not everyone benefits from visitations or therapy from a companion animals. You have to like dogs to get an oxytocin rush from them. (Most “therapy” animals are dogs, but some programs have cats or rabbits for selected patients. No reports of sheep yet….) Awhile ago I visited a senior center with a good friend and her dog. I’d guess about half the people we saw were interested in interacting. The rest appeared to be either neutral or clearly avoiding an interaction. My friend knows what she is doing, and was careful to not impose her dog onto anyone who wasn’t a dog lover.

This all gets back to one thing I emphasize in the DVD: The patient is the star of the program. Not your dog, not you. As much as we love our dogs, if we do this right we’re doing it for people who aren’t as fortunate as we are, and don’t have the opportunity to interact with dogs as we do. It’s all about them, and keeping that in mind is critical to a program’s success.

Other aspects of AAT and AAA are essential too: The Lending a Helping Paw DVD has an extensive section on what dogs are suited for therapy work, and how to ensure that your dog is really enjoying the process (these are the 2 most common problems that professionals in the field encounter). It discusses organizations that certify teams, what is required to obtain certification and how to work with facilities in a professional and pro-active way.

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: Instead of playing with the lambs or gardening, last night I went to a senior facility outside of Madison and delivered copies of the DVD to one of the stars of the show: Ruth Trameri. She’s the lovely lady on the right of the cover, with my good friend Beth Viney’s (on the left) and her certified therapy dog, Czar. (Czar was an early admirer of my Gr Pyr, Tulip… that’s actually how Beth and I met.) Here they are,  gracing the cover of the new DVD:

And here’s a video from the DVD of Tootsie’s first visit to a facility. We used her (and Willie and 3 other dogs) to evaluations of  potential therapy dogs. (Tootsie passed, Willie… no surprise here, does not: too enthusiastic). This video segment is testing for one of the most important qualities of a good therapy dog — sociability. Dogs need to be interested in everyone, true social butterflies, but calm and respectful at the same time. Watch how Tootsie tells us where she’d most like to be…. (and feel your oxytocin levels rise?). Thanks to Beth Viney, the Director of Pet Pals in Madison WI, Dr. Linda Sullivan, and Pet Pals volunteer Diane Peltin and Ruth Trameri for helping with the evaluation section of the video, we all had a great time and it resulted in some very instructive (and, I might add, amusing) videos.

I had an entirely different blog written and about to be posted, but there’s a swirl of discussion going on right now about an article that came out in Time Magazine by Carl Zimmer about “friendships” in animals. He has lots of good information from researchers who argue that true friendships are formed in many social species, including horses, dolphins, and baboons. I was a tad irritated at suggestions that “we” (scientists) haven’t accepted that friendships can be found in other animals until just recently…” look at the writings of Jane Goodall and Frans de Waal for example for exceptions to that…  but in general it’s a truly good article.

But imagine my surprise when he writes that evidence of true friendships can not be found in dogs.  He says: “.. most scientists think [they...dogs] fall short of true friendship….. noting a lack of evidence in dogs of constancy, reciprocity and mutual defense…” found in other species. In other words, dogs can’t form true friendships with us, or other dogs. It is true that dogs are less studied than many other species regarding their social relationships and that we can’t use anecdotal observations as substitutes for good data. But the article doesn’t say that there is not enough evidence to make conclusions about the social relationships of domestic dogs. It says “…most scientists think they [dogs] fall short of true friendship.” It also says “… dogs have become capable of being sweet and loyal to humans, but it’s likely that they treat us more as guardians than friends.” It is one thing to say that we don’t yet have the evidence, and yet another to make conclusions based on a lack of data-driven research.

If you want to read more about, this, go to my Facebook page. Carl has been good enough to join the conversation, which I greatly appreciate.  My argument is that, if as the article states, true friendship requires “constancy, reciprocity and mutual defense,” then at least observationally we have ample suggestions that social relationships between some dogs are as strong as social relationships between some horses. I suggested on FB that the reason many scientists are hesitant to attribute “friendship” to dogs is not just the lack of data, but rather a scientific bias against domestic, familiar animals. “Familiarity breeds contempt” is as true in science as it is elsewhere.

As someone who has observed and worked with domestic dogs for over twenty three years, it is hard for me to imagine arguing that they can’t form social relationships analogous to friendships in our and other species. Lassie appeared to fall in love with Luke the day she met him, followed him everywhere, groomed him daily, paid attention to no other dogs and sank into what looked like a depressions when he died. That’s not data, but neither does it suggest that dogs aren’t capable of forming true friendships. I find myself somewhat amazed that we are even arguing this point. Of course we need more data, those of you who know me know I’ve been encouraging good research on canine behavior for 23 years, but concluding without data that dogs probably can’t form “real friendships?”  Given that there is no data behind that either, I don’t see it as a supportable or reasonable conclusion. Especially given our observations, which may be anecdotal, but still are valuable (as were Jane Goodall’s observations of chimps.) If the article had said: “Although it appears that dogs form strong friendships, we need the same kind of data collected on them as we have of other species,” I’d have no problem with it.

Jump onto Facebook if you want to read Carl’s and others comments. I expect he is busy answering no small amount of email and comments on the subject!

MEANWHILE, back on the farm. WILLIE IS WORKING SHEEP!!! Be still my heart, that’s about all I have to say. Granted, the sessions are short, painfully so, but he looks sound so far and he’s working as if he’d never had a year long break (it was a year ago last week he was injured) and it’s so much fun for both of us that we can hardly stand it. When I say “That’ll do” he runs to me, spins in happy circles and I clap my hands and we grin at each other and somehow my heart gets bigger in my chest and we float back to the house and life is good. I’ll never be able to work him for very long, and I’m sure we’ll have set backs, but just being able to work a little bit is more wonderful than I can say.

No work this weekend though, we’re off to the Big Apple for the Dog Writer’s of Association of America annual awards. Love Has No Age Limit is up for an award, as is a column that co-author Karen London and I wrote for the APDT Chronicle.  FB readers have suggested I not wear jeans and my usual plaid shirts from LL Bean or Land’s End. Okay, I promise I’ll get the straw out of my hair, but I’m not wearing black. I just can’t understand why all black is so chic when it’s the “color” that oppressed women are forced to wear all over the world. I’m wearing orange, and NYC will just have to deal with it. The banquet is Sunday night, Saturday we’re going to see the play Memphis on Broadway. All very fun and exciting… but when do I get to work Willie on sheep again?

And apologies for no new photo today: I’ve spent all my time on the first blog (next week!) and the article about friendship and now have to pack, clean the house for the sitter, write out my lengthy set of instructions, etc etc.  Just too much to do today! I’ll make up for it next week!

Part of the fun of preparing for the seminar I did in Orlando was working on the canine olfaction section. The overall topic of the day was Canine Communication (often compared to primates like us), and most discussions in this vein emphasize visual communication. That’s all well and good, I’m a visual signal groupie from way back, but I loved beginning the day talking about scent, and imagining what it would be like to be able to use one’s nose like a dog. We all know, intellectually anyway, how important smell is to dogs, but because we tend to be so oblivious to it, it is hard for us to imagine (Example of our obliviousness: What’s the common word used to described people who can’t smell?  Yup, there isn’t one.)

Hard to imagine what it’s like to be a dog (okay, impossible), but here are helpful hints, many of which I learned from Susannah Charleson, author of Scent of the Missing: Dogs can sort out individual scents just as you can visually distinguish different pieces that make up a stew. There are the carrots, the onions, the beef…. And if you are trained, you can taste the gravy and notice the hint of rosemary and thyme. Just as we can sort out visual stimuli, dogs can separate out all the components that make up one particular smell. What we don’t know (we know shockingly little about the world of scent to a dog) is what scents they perceive and notice in the environment, especially as it relates to other dogs. Does a good whiff in the grass relate to “Hmmm, a little female poodle, a large neutered boxer…”, or something more along the lines of “Female, slightly nervous, ate fish last night, having kidney trouble apparently…”

When working with tracking or trailing dogs, you also learn that scents are like objects in that they have a shape and a physical presence–imagine them as an oddly shaped balloon, whose shape depends on the soil moisture, wind currents etc. When dogs are searching for a scent (or just blunder into one), you can tell when they first discover the “edge of the envelope.” Of course, all dogs are different, but most dogs pause for a microsecond, and their posture changes: their tail might go up, or perhaps their head. It is usually quite clear when a dog first discovers the ‘edge’ of a scent. I saw Susannah illustrate this in human terms last November in Austin, and she graciously has allowed me to pass it on. I love doing so, because it is yet another way of trying to bridge the gap between canine and primate, my favorite game in life.

Here’s the demo: Have one member of the group volunteer to leave the room. Turn on a long playing piece of music (yup, music, bear with me) on a small device like an iPod or iPad. Turn it down so low that it can barely be heard, but is still clearly discernible if you are close enough, and hide the music somewhere in the room. When the volunteer returns, ask them to locate the music. People search for sound just the same as dogs search for scent, moving around until they …Ah! …think they might have heard something, and then gradually work their way closer and closer until it gets louder and louder, just as scent gets stronger and stronger. Of course, the music won’t be as affected by wind currents (I love how you can follow wind currents by watching a dog search for an object), but it is fascinating to watch a person try to localize sound, and clearly indicate, just as dogs do when they first discover a scent, that they have found it’s ‘edge.’

We did this demonstration in Orlando at the Communication Seminar (DVD coming in a few months if you missed it!) and it was truly great fun. You can do this with any group of people, it could even be fun in a basic dog training class if there was time. By the way, I learned so much about scent work, and loved Susannah’s writing so much, that we are selling her book, Scent of the Missing, on the website.  You might want to check it out. And stay tuned, I mentioned earlier that a TV show is in the works right now, based on Puzzle and Susannah and a cast of other S & R team members. (And yes, there’s a really hunky guy in it. Of course!)

What about you? Do you have any ‘scent games’ you play with dog owners to help them understand the umwelt of a dog? I’d love to hear about them. This sense of dogs is so important, and yet we so easily ignore it. I see it relevant in so many aggression cases (Ex: Willie once attacked a dog for ‘no reason’.. until I remembered that the dog’s house mate had attacked Willie once, so the scent of trouble was there all along.) I’d love to hear your perspective.

MEANWHILE, back on the farm. Willie is just back from PT, and Courtney is thrilled with his progress. We did have a set back early this week–running in semi-deep snow made him lame that night, but he recovered 95% in 2 days and that’s good. I am still working on accepting that this is just what it is, that just like my body, sometimes Willie’s is going to bother him. We’ll just make a note of it and avoid that activity if we can, and if not, then just let him rest up whenever he needs it. He’s just simply never going to be sound, but then, neither am I (neck, back, knee, spine, I could go on…..) but who cares! We just learn what works and what doesn’t and manage around it.

We have the go ahead to VERY VERY cautiously begin working sheep again.  Be still my heart. Of course, only a minute amount at first. A short little drive here. Then rest. Then maybe a very short, simple outrun and fetch on very quiet sheep there. There won’t be much sheep work now though, because it’s icy in some spots (the absolute worst for Willie; he even has to heel beside me all the way to the barn now, the driveway is a skating rink) and I don’t want to work in him snow deeper than two inches or so. He’ll wear his hobbles and I’ll set it up as carefully as I can, hold onto to my heart and go from there. I’ll keep you posted.

Here’s a photo that is, uh, a little out of the ordinary for this blog. It’s me mum as a little girl,  (yes, she was English), illustrating her love for animals at an early age. Mom has been gone a long time, but she adored animals, dogs especially, and somehow it just seemed right that she had a place here. I loved animals too even when I was tiny. I had 52 stuffed animals at one count, and refused dolls (because they weren’t soft and cuddly.) Anyone else crazed for stuffed animals when they were little?