THE OTHER END OF THE LEASH

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.

Here’s a video I’m going to show in New Zealand of Willie, Hope and friend Mico, from this summer. I’m not going to say much about it, because I am curious what words you would use to describe what you are seeing. Watch it a couple of times, and then if you are so inspired, describe the behavior of the two younger dogs. (Willie is the adult BC, Hope is the medium sized young BC, and the other black and white guy, the smallest dog, is what looks like a BC/Bully breed cross, but his genetics are unknown.) I’m especially curious how you describe a few of the things that Hope does….. Can’t wait to hear your comments!

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: Wheeeee… just a few more days before we go! Lots more to do, but we’ll make it. Can’t wait til the “drive away from the farm with Willie in the window” part is over. Argh, three weeks! Soooooo long to leave him.

While I’m gone I’ll try to post a blog once a week or so. I’ve pre-posted three of them, to come out once a week, and hope to add another each week from down under. I’ll have my cameras with me, so hope to send you photos of NZ. Our first full day there begins with a long walk on a black sand beach with our gracious host and a passle o’ dogs. Oh boy! Then the seminars Saturday and Sunday, which I’m truly looking forward to now that I have them all done and ready to go, and then it’s play play play. Oh my. Stayed tuned, hope to send you some great photos!

I love tail wags: they are such an interesting expression of internal affect and indicator of a dog’s emotional state. And I know the professional trainers who read this blog know how often they can be mis-interpreted by the general public. “But he was wagging his tail…!!!!” is a phrase heard painfully often, by people who have been bitten, or whose dog just snapped, nipped or bit.

Ah, but a tail wag is like a smile: often an indicator of happiness, but not always. For example, we all know what a “phoney” smile looks like. The lips part and the corners of the mouth rise but the eyes never change. I’m remembering one person who smiled at me in a way that caused me to think I was in danger.  There was nothing friendly about this guy’s face, because his eyes were cold and hard, and the muscles around his eyes, the orbicularis oculi muscles, were not contracted. Makes me shiver just to think about ti. In contrast, in a ‘real’ smile, (called a Duchenne smile) the muscles contract and the eyes look squinty and partially closed.

There’s an equivalent of a “phoney” smile in a dog’s tail wag. The more the wag spreads to the body, the happier I assume the dog to be. I call it a “Full  Body Wag,” in which the tail, the hindquarters and sometimes even the chest of the dog swings back and forth. In this case, the body is relaxed, the tail is sweeping back and forth, and if the eyes are squinting too.. well, then I’m as happy as the dog is.

However, if a dog stands still, stiff bodied and immobile except for a tail wagging slowly back and forth, red flags start waving in front of my face and tell me to stop what I’m doing. Tail wags that only involve the tail are often the canine equivalent of smiles that only engage the mouth: They are NOT honest indicators of a happy dog, and are often a sign of potential danger.

But here’s one for you: What about “Circle Wag?” I made that term up, so don’t go looking for it anywhere. But in the best tradition of ethology, “Circle Wag” is descriptive, because the tail literally goes around in a circle. Here’s my belief about it’s ‘meaning’ (and that’s all it is, a belief). Circle wags appear to be done by dogs who are extremely happy. I see it on dogs who just adore adore adore a particular person, and I’ve seen on Luke and Will when we finished up a great session of herding and we both were equally proud of ourselves. I can not remember ever seeing it on a dog who appeared to be anxious or potentially aggressive, either defensive or offensively. Many dogs never circle wag, and I have no idea how many dogs actually do it. Ten percent? Twenty?

What about you? Does your dog circle wag? And if so, in what context? I’ll spend some time this week researching the issue (is it described in wolves, in other ethograms, for ex?). I do know that Fox and Bekoff (1975) wrote “The only tail wagging behavior that seems to reliably predict friendliness is a relaxed tail waving in a circular motion.” I would love to hear your own thoughts and observations about what I call “circle wag”.

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: The pup’s name is Hope. I love it. It’s short, it’s fun to say, it’s a traditional Border Collie name (for both males and females, but more boys than girls) and it allows me to say “He’s named Hope because for a gazillion reasons I hope to hell everything goes smoothly from here.”

Here’s the good news: Will circled wagged when he came down the stairs for the first two days after Hope came home. (Thus the topic above.) They appeared to adore each other, they even slept together. I was happier than I can convey, I simply don’t have the words to express how good it all felt. Picture all of us glowing with happiness.

Here’s the bad news; On day three, Hope got his second vaccination, and in 30 minutes he was growling and lunging at Will over a stupid stick on the grass, leaping onto him and growling like a grizzly at other times. He then proceeded to play with me, but frenetically, not in a happy-puppy-kind-of-way. No circles wags were seen. Will became afraid of him, and tongue-flicked when he looked at him. Behavioral changes, especially related to aggression, have been reported after rabies vaccinations, but less often after the regular Distemper-Parvo series. However, the change in the pup was dramatic to say the least: from super sweet grovely-squinty boy to a very different dog, and the only event that one could link it to was the vaccination. I expect I do not have to spell out to you how it all felt to me. I’ve leave it that stress often inhibits one’s appetite, and I did need to lose a few pounds.

Long, long story, short short version: Will avoided the pup all weekend, the pup is now on Chinese meds designed to ameliorate reactions to vaccines, and I’ve been researching vaccine reactions (more on that later). In a day’s time, Hope calmed and became normal with me, but the relationship between Will and the pup was completely changed. Will asked to go upstairs when the pup was downstairs. Hope was no longer submissive and sweet to Will, not aggressive but somewhat aloof. On Tuesday night Hope went to a friend’s so I could concentrate on Jim and his surgery, and came back last Saturday after being a totally lovely puppy with her two dogs (more on that later too).

Sunday morning Will and I came down the stairs and Will completely ignored Hope in his crate. He was clearly nervous around him all day, but there were a few times they each attempted to initiate play. This morning we came downstairs and Will went up to the crate and sniffed Hope’s nose, and later initiated play for a second outside. Their play styles are very different now, but there are indications that Will is starting to relax around him. It goes up and down, mostly they ignore each other. Hope is a lovely, lovely pup, I adore him…. he’s responsive and fun and a total joy to work with. He’s played with other dogs and puppies very appropriately. He’s a bit softer (shyer) than the first pup, but gets over his fears very fast.  I have high hopes that as the weeks go on that Will and Hope will become buddies again . . . Crossing all paws.

My UW students just took their last exam, and along with grading all 150 of them, I’m off with Jim to pick up the pup tomorrow. He’ll be nine weeks, a male Border collie of excellent herding lines who are also carefully bred for health and temperament. I’ve known his dad for years, always considered him a “bomb proof” dog–so much so that he was the first dog that Will was allowed to be in physical contact with after a year of classical and operant conditioning to turn his dog-dog aggression around.) Some background:

Two days after Lassie died I was online looking at rescue sites and shelters. I’ve never done that before, always needing a long time to let the other dog go.  I’m not sure why I did it after Lassie died. Her death was profoundly difficult for me; the loss of her was hard enough, but a decision I made at the end turned out to be the wrong one, and she died on her own, and not well. I should’ve put her down the night before, but I didn’t, so she suffered at the end and I had promised her I wouldn’t let that happen. I felt physically ill about it for days and no doubt my internet search was in part about finding something to ease the pain. Three days after she died I found a little, sorrel and white fluff-ball dog, the kind I call an “oxytocin pump” on my local shelter’s website. We went the next day to donate unused medications, and I told Jim if we were lucky the dog would already be adopted. I knew it probably would be, dogs like that leave shelters within hours if not days, and it was indeed already reserved for a new home. “Whew” I said to Jim, dodged a bullet there–probably not too wise to get a dog 3 days after Lassie died. And I would’ve taken it if it had been there, no question about it.

Since then, I’ve been looking on-line for months, waiting for just the right dog to appear, the plan being to end up with a total of 2 Border collies and a small, fluff ball dog as the canine residents of Redstart Farm. I wasn’t planning on a puppy, but heard about a litter from two solid dogs with great temperaments and super herding skills, met the parents, had long talks with owners of 3 year old dogs of the same breeding.. and here we are, about to bring a new little life into our home.

I had 5 pups to choose from, 2 females and 3 males. Overall, a female would have a lower probability of getting into competitive interactions with Will, but his best friends have been smaller, submissive males, so I decided I’d take either sex if I found a pup I really liked. I thought you’d be interested in how I chose. As many readers know, there are many “temperament tests’ out there (tho’ really they are “behavioral assessments” or “personality tests,”) and I used a combination of standards tests and measures that I’ve used for decades. My own opinion is that although no tests of a young pup are as predictive as we’d all like them to be, they are better than throwing your hands up in the air and choosing based on coat color or a pretty face. It helps that I’ve done hundreds of these in a similar way, and my belief is that doing it so many times to so many different kinds of dogs surely must provide some wisdom… at least, one can always hope.

Here’s what I did: The pups were in an EX pen in a grassy area.

ONE: I took one pup out at a time, and put them down about 20 feet away from the pen, and then clapped and moved away from the pen. I hadn’t planned this to be a test of “bold/shy” but it was windy and noisy and we had to pass barking dogs in a kennels, and it turned out to be a great way to compare the pup’s responses.  My pup (we called him Tri Male) was only one of 2 who stayed with me. He actually did baby outruns around my feet and tried to stop my forward motion, all open mouth and happy. Three pups ran back to the pen, ears flat, one other pup stayed with me, seemingly oblivious to everything but staying with me. (Good sign of boldness and interest in being with me? Maybe! (Maybe not!) Good sign of herding potential from Tri Male? (NO… I know of absolutely no way to test herding interest or ability in a young pup! The behavior often doesn’t show up until 7-9 months, so I would never make any guesses about herding ability at 8 weeks.)

TWO: We moved to a quiet area, I let the pups sniff a bit, did some petting, and then tossed a crumpled up piece of paper about 2 feet away. Tri Male followed it, picked it up and brought it back 2 times in a row. One other pup did the same, 2 tracked it and touched it with their noses but didn’t retrieve, one paid no attention at all. (Retrieving a good sign of willingness to work as a team? Maybe, maybe not. Good sign of interest in objects and potential for lots of object play… maybe…)

THREE:  I gently rolled the pup over onto its back, and held it down with my hand on its chest. I scored intensity of struggles as 1 to 5, 5 being most vigorous, 1 being none. Tri Male struggled “3″ for 3 seconds, then stopped, went quiet, relaxed and looked at my face. He was only one of two who stopped struggling, but he had no signs of fear or appeasement on his face when he did so, he just looked relaxed. (Good sign of frustration tolerance? Maybe… )

FOUR:  Teach sit with food lure. All pups behaved the same. They loved the food and were all sitting easily within seconds. No differences here, great responses.

FIVE: Gently restrain and open mouth 3 x in a row. Most pups squiggled so much that I couldn’t divide my attempts into “first, second and third” (and had to struggle myself not to just lie down and laugh). Tri Male was the only pup who I could record 3 different actual “mouth opens” and we recorded him as “No struggle lst attempt, 2 out of 5 for the 2nd attempt, 4/5 3rd.”

SIX: Let explore on their own for 2 minutes, then called come (“pup pup pup” + hand claps) without moving:
4 pups ignored me completely (including Tri Male), one pup (a sweet, slightly shy female) responded and came over. All pups had moved under a large tree (in the shade, we were in the sun) and seemed obsessed with a scent in the leaves.) Tri M totally ignored me until I came closer.. no way to know if he was ‘not forgiving’ me for the mouth handling, or wanted to stay in shade and distracted by the scents.

SEVEN: Got pup’s attention by going closer, then called to come by clapping, calling and running away. Ran back and forth 4 times, about 6-8 feet each time. All pups followed perfectly. (Sign of all being Border collies? … I think I can say a definitive yes here.)

EIGHT: Startle response: threw bait bag down beside them, about 2 feet away from pup’s head. Noise loud, but was on grass so not as loud as if on hard surface. I did not do this with the slightly softer female, seemed too much for her, but did with the other 4 pups. Tri Male startled briefly without flattening, then approached and sniffed. (Good response and recovery to potentially frightening event? Maybe….)

NINE: All back in EX pen, adult dog let out who ran to pen. All pups approached, one female with tail up and over, almost touching her back, all others with tail horizontal, including Tri Male. Adult dog began to run fast, vigorous circles around pen. Four pups followed, running in circles inside the pen, except Tri Male, who moved to the center of the pen, with big eyes and flat ears. He eventually lay down in a crate and went to sleep while the others were still up and active.  (Sign of being easily stressed by .. what? Other dogs? Rapid movement? Hummmm…..)

And so, after a half hour of talking, Jim and I decided on Tri Male. Overall, it looked like a lovely litter.  One male and one female were super sweet and affiliative, and one female is going to be a pistol, the kind of dog who pushes your buttons but you still love like life itself. They all seemed like good, good dogs, but Tri Male had the best overall score of the bunch, doing great on 7 out of 9 tests. The only possible red flag was his last response to the circling dog, which I won’t pretend didn’t worry me. However, based on the fact that 1) his other responses were excellent, 2) he comes from solid stock (although every dog is different, so I didn’t want to make too much of that), and 3) okay, I love his face (another post will come someday about how much looks should matter.. if at all), I decided to take him. That last response could indicate huge trouble (easily stressed by a commotion and inability to recover quickly?) or nothing at all. How much do we make of one incident, either positive or negative? There’s only one way to find out, and you know what that is. . .  (FYI, Tri Male ran in circles with the other puppies when the same scenario occurred a few days ago. Yeah!)

Meanwhile, back on the farm: Crates are ready, puppy food is on the counter . . . and it turns out that Jim will need surgery, ASAP, on his arm. Ah life, never a dull moment, hey? No more photos of the pup yet, but we’ll take tons over the weekend. But here’s a photo I took a few days ago on the road to the farm, a perfect image of what it looks like here now. Yup, it really is that pretty out here.