THE OTHER END OF THE LEASH

Recently I had a discussion with good friends and colleagues about how to handle difficult cases in which two dogs have engaged in extremely serious fights in the home. We found ourselves sorting through what factors need to be considered if re-homing is on the table. This is a common problem brought to behaviorists; I must have seen hundreds of clients who had dogs who did not get along. At all. I don’t mean dogs who had minor tiffs, or dogs who were occasionally possessive-aggressive (“My couch! My human!), but dogs who had truly serious issues and were making life at home less than relaxing, if not downright dangerous. Sometimes they had serious, injurious fights, sometimes one dog lived in obvious terror of the other, even though actual fights were rare or non existent, and sometimes the owners managed the situation but the dogs could never, ever, be allowed to be in the same room with the risk of extreme stress or injury.

Some cases appear to be so serious that they call for the immediate re-homing of one dog, but that is a lot easier to do if you’re not the one who is in love with both dogs. Or can’t imagine either dog going to a good home if you decide to give it up. Or believe that it is never ethical to send one dog from one family into another. Cases like these can make the decision terribly difficult, which is why it is tremendously helpful to have a  template of questions to consider when faced with a difficult decision: Continue to try to treat the problem, manage the problem, or rehome one of the dogs? Here is my list, with gratitude to colleagues Kelly, Meg and Jamie for the inclusion of their wisdom and experience:

Job one is risk assessment. That is always true when one is dealing with aggression, and it is equally true here. First and foremost, you need to ask: How dangerous are the fights to the dogs? Noisy skirmishes are unpleasant and upsetting, but don’t always lead to any damage, either physically or psychologically. Have there been 5 instances of growls and brief tiffs, or have the dogs engaged in several fights in which one dog or both dogs were badly injured? I’ve had numerous clients who told me, with clear confidence, that one of their dogs wants to kill the other. I’ve had many clients whose dogs injured the other horrifically, and could barely be pulled off before the other dog was killed. I would never say never, but once things have escalated to that point, the odds of either dog being safe again is small.

In addition, what about the risk to the owners? We all know that breaking up a dog fight can be dangerous. I’ve had plenty of owners bitten by dogs while doing so. I well remember, how could I forget?, holding two fighting female Border Collies up in the air, each grasped by the base of the tail and lifted off the ground as advised by the books. (“If you lift the hindquarters from the ground the dogs will stop fighting.”) These visiting bitches (don’t you love that I can say bitch here?) had not read that chapter and were going at it like food processors on WHIP when my Great Pyrenees, Tulip, ran around the corner, leapt into the air with a roaring bark, scared the crap out of all three of us, and ended the fight then and there. But most of us don’t have a Great Pyrenees in our pocket when a fight starts, and can be at great risk when trying to break up an altercation. I’ve had client who were badly bitten by their own dogs, some who were seriously injured in other ways (injured knees, bad backs, etc.) and some who had to be hospitalized. There are ways to break up a fight that decrease the chance of being injured (don’t grab collars, grab the base of the tail or try to use a door or board between the dogs, etc.) but the fact is that there is always a danger, and it’s important to ask what is the chance that someone could be injured by one of the dogs.

Risk assessment is all about probabilities and consequences, and how willing people are to play the odds when they aren’t in their favor. Because a decision about whether to treat, manage only or re-home has to be based on the probability of success, there is something important to keep in mind: whether one will bet on relatively bad odds is always dependent upon the consequences. In other words, what would happen if management broke down, and someone forgot to close a door? Or there was a regression during treatment? How serious would a mistake or setback be? If losing the bet meant that the two dogs get into a short scuffle, some people might say “Well, if the odds are 5-10% it might happen again, that would be acceptable.” But if the consequence of a fight is a serious injury, several serious injuries to multiple victims, or even death (and yes, that is definitely a possibility in some cases), most people wouldn’t accept 10% odds, perhaps not even 1%.  A willingness to take risks is very personal, so each dog owner has to decide what level of risk they are willing, and comfortable, to take.

Management: Speaking of probability, what is the probability that management can be accomplished 100% correctly? If the dog isn’t re-homed, then management will be a key to safety, both during treatment or if the dogs are simply going to be kept separate for the rest of their life. Owners must realistically assess how likely it is that they can manage the dogs 100% of the time. That means no mistakes, no absent-minded forgetting to shut a door or drop food between the dogs. I’d estimate that a significant number of clients can manage things safely for a period of months during treatment, but very few for a the life time of the dogs. That is why one must ask: What does a regression look like? A horrific fight in which the two dogs both need medical care and the owner goes to the hospital? If things are that serious, the odds of of it happening again don’t have to be very high to suggest that re-homing should be high on the list of considerations.

Quality of Life for the Dogs: One very important question to ask relates to the dog’s quality of life. In many cases, the dogs have made it clear that they are extremely stressed in each others presence. In this situation, the dogs are absolutely aware that the other dog is living in the house, and that all it takes is an open door for one dog to attack the other. In other words, without needing the cognitive ability of a human, dogs can be well aware that they are living on the edge of serious injury or death at any given moment. I describe it to my clients as living in a house with a serial killer on the other side of the door, when you have no ability to control when the door is opened. A difficult way to live indeed.

Quality of Life for the Owners: And of course, an incredibly difficult way for the owners to live, too. I’ve had several hundred clients (over 25 years) in similar situations, and to a person they have told me that after they re-homed one of the dogs they had no idea, absolutely none, how exhausting it was to live with the stress of 2 dogs who wanted to kill one another until after one of the dogs left. I absolutely understand (been there, done that) how painful it is to re-home a dog you love. Truly, I absolutely get it. It needs to be acknowledged; it is like a death in a way. But if two dogs are truly hell bent on hurting each other, it is also giving life back to the dogs, and back to one’s self, given how stressful and exhausting it is to have one’s home the middle of a battlefield. One potential that has helped many clients is to board one dog, or send it to a friend (obviously this must be a safe scenario). Give it a 3 days, 5 days or a week, and see what life is like with just one dog. It is usually so very much easier to make a decision when the dogs are not sitting at your feet while you are talking.

It’s all about the dog. The toughest cases are the ones in which the owners adore both dogs, but the dogs truly despise one another. It happens, and it is heartbreaking, but in those cases, I would argue that love means putting the dogs first. I know, ouch. But better to make the tough decision and get it behind you than living every day in fear that something horrible is about to happen.

Remember here that I am talking about worst case scenarios. Many cases of dogs not getting along can be handled without having to consider re-homing. (See Feeling Outnumbered book and DVD for ideas about how to prevent and manage minor to moderate stress between dogs.) However, sometimes dogs dislike each other as much as some people do, and forcing them to live together can create serious problems to their and the owner’s safety. I hope you haven’t even been in that situation, but if you have, or have worked on this with clients, I’d love to hear from you.

MEANWHILE, BACK ON THE FARM: Several of my friends are at the sheep dog trial I’d be at if Willie hadn’t been recovering from an injury all summer. True confessions, I’m a little bummed that we’re not there ourselves. When the weather prediction was hot and humid it didn’t feel so bad, but today the weather is perfect and I’d love to be hanging out with friends watching great dogs work and–hope springs eternal–feeling good or inspired or educated–by our own run. But still, Willie got to move the sheep up into the pasture this morning, and maybe maybe, he’ll be healthy enough to go to a friends and work her sheep this afternoon. He worked the most ever (since early spring) on Friday, and he clearly needed a rest yesterday. So we are just taking it one day at a time. None of this bothers Willie of course, he is thrilled to be off leash and playing outside and romping with his rubber stick and getting to work sheep, even if not for very long. Right now he’s napping in his crate (door open, his choice, he loves it) and just looking at him makes me happy.

And then, of course, there’s food, always a way to make me happy. Yesterday was pretty much all about food. Not so much eating it, but processing the gazillion pounds of it that streams into the house this time of year from our CSA (Vermont Valley Community Farm), along with our yard and gardens of others. I made apple-pear-plum butter (plums from behind the farmhouse, apples and pears from a friend’s), put massive amounts of eggplant, broccoli and corn in the freezer, cooked up edamame beans and soaked black beans to make a bean/bean/corn salad today, cleaned and cooked up green beans with butter and bacon (I know, I know) for dinner last night with roast chicken and potatoes. What else…. ? Oh yes, I made Zucchini Yum again, which uses zucchini (thank god), tomatoes (praise be to heaven) and onions all at once, freezes really well and is, well, really yummy. Here it is before I popped it in the freezer:

The rest of the weekend has been about seeing good friends and gardening, (read: Trisha and Jim dig like field hands trying to re-establish gardens after major earth moving work done earlier in the summer), and processing food. I’ll spare you the photographs of ugly patches of dug up dirt and me looking like I crawled out of a ditch. Here’s something a bit better: A healthy bee in the garden.

Just one more thing. As much as I love having fresh, local, organic food, please do not mention the word “tomato,” “eggplant” or “zucchini” to me. I’m just saying.

This poem was written by a friend and colleague, Catherine Young. I hadn’t seen her in awhile, and then ran into her at a local coffee shop, where she handed me an envelope with a poem she’d written in it.

Oh thanks, I said, focused on other issues at the time. I stuffed the envelope into my purse and thought nothing about it until a few days later when I dug it out to clean up my purse before traveling.

And then I read it, and sat down and read it again and got all soppy-eyed and petted Willie and went to the couch and got Tootsie on my lap and read it again. It’s the best description I’ve ever read of how many of us feel after we lose a beloved dog, and it seems especially fitting after so many evocative comments from last week’s blog about “dogs as family.”

Here it is, with a wave of gratitude to  Catherine for letting me share it with you:

Things to do after your dog has died

Sweep the floor

Look out the window

Pant

Make a cup of tea and some toast

But then not eat them

Change the sheets on the bed

Try to sing

Start to cry

Forget what day it is

Stumble into a corner of the floor and hold your knees tightly

Keen

Pull yourself together

Make another cup of tea and this time drink it

Look out a different window

Stare at that spot on the floor where your dog used to stretch out, languid and happy, his paws twitching as he raced across sleep meadows and into dream ravines filled with moss and ferns and the scent of foxes

Look for the Kleenex

Use toilet paper instead

Wander around the house,  your heart like a damned anvil in your chest

Heat up leftovers

Push them around the plate before leaving the entire thing in the sink

Look for what is not there

Hear things

Feel the forgotten fur beneath your fingertips

Feel the forgetting begin

Hold a memory, any memory, bright and shining, soft and sad, smelling of wet fur and leaves, with a whisker there and muddy paw prints left on the stairs, of a walk of a hike of a trip to the park with a treat and a bone and a bally rub snacks stolen off the counter and tug of war and the squeaky toy a glance of complicity in play with your hand on head with tail wagging and breath misting in the morning light or the moon over the trees while an owl croons ears are pricked and nose to the ground sniffing, sniffing, sniffing following the invisible trail to its joyful finding

Put on your pajamas

Turn around three times before you curl up by the rope toy and find yourself chasing the echo of a bark into a night that will never end

Grow a tail

Catherine Young 11.27.12

Wow. Good, hey? It helps to know we’re not alone, in our love for our dog, doesn’t it, and that someone can express how we feel when we lose one? If this strikes home because of a recent loss, you might want to read the post I wrote, Love, Guilt, and Putting Dogs Down, which continues to get comments every week.

MEANWHILE, back at the farm: Well, not really, because I’ve been on a family vacation on Vancouver Island. Soon I’ll be on my way to Boulder to give a talk on communicating with dogs and cats for the Animal Behavior Society this Sunday. (Lots of great talks on Sunday, free and open to the public, from Suzanne Hetts on dogs getting along with cats, Mark Bekoff and his research on play, Julie Hecht and new research on canine cognition, Pam Reid from the ASPCA on their new programs to help animal victims of cruelty and neglect. It should be a great day, come up and say hi if you make it!)

Here are a few photos from my time on Vancouver Island. Photo credit goes to Jim, in part because he’s a great photographer, in part because I dropped my point and shoot camera in a tide pool. I’m afraid it did not survive the experience. Oh well, I did want a new one.

I love Vancouver Island, I think it is one of my favorite places on earth. We didn’t make it to Buchart Gardens this time, but we all spent lots of time hiking in gorgeous forests and playing in the tide pools. The woods are so cool and peaceful…

Lots of fun discoveries in the tide pools, including this green anenome. I’m not sure who had more fun, the six-year old grand daughter or the parents and grand parents!

It’s not just us that sees our dogs as family; apparently, dogs see us as family too. This may not be shocking news to many of us, but it is always good to look at our beliefs objectively. An interesting study was recently published on Plos One about whether dogs are attached to their owners in a similar way that children are attached to their parents. Done by Horn, Huber and Range, the study was based on the early work of ethologists Bowlby and Ainsworth, who argued that human infants require a “secure attachment base” to develop normally. Far beyond simple “affection,” what they called true “attachment” included voluntary close proximity between parent and child, distress from the child at separation, seeking out the attachment figure for contact and reassurance if stressed, and most relevant to this post, the use of the attachment figure as a “secure base for exploring the environment.” These formulations were originally done on children, but in the decades following, researchers have found similar patterns in the behavior of the young of many species.

In this study, the authors asked if dogs would show the same type of attachment to their owner, who is, after all, a member of another species, albeit the one they live with. Owners brought in dogs who loved food and were comfortable in novel environments. After some pre-testing to ensure the dogs would indeed try to get food out of an object, they gave the dogs food-stuffed items that required manipulation by the dogs to get a food reward. Each dog was given an opportunity to manipulate the object to get the food under three different conditions: owner absent, owner present but silent, and owner in the room and encouraging the dog. The experimenters recorded the time the dog spent manipulating the object (which required a lot of work to release food). They found that the simple presence of the owner, even if silent and blindfolded, had a significant effect on how long the dog tried to get the food out of the object. In other words, the dogs were more likely to “interact with their environment” if their owners was close by. One might argue that the dog’s behavior could be explained simply because distressed dogs sat at the door when their owner was absent (and thus didn’t work on the object), but that did not appear to be a significant factor. Even dogs who showed little or no visible distress when the owner was gone spent less time manipulating the object. (There was always a person in the room, although silent and never looking at the dog.) Nor was it related to a decrease in appetite when left alone; pre-tests had been done to determine if the dogs would continue to look for food even if left alone.

Interestingly, although the dogs did work harder when verbally “encouraged” by their owners, this difference was not significant. Thus, there might have been an impact of owner’s vocalizing some encouragement, but the only difference confirmed by statistics is that the dogs spent more time manipulating a foreign object when the owner was in the room versus not. This parallels the work in other species in which young animals interacted with their environment more frequently and for longer durations if their parent was with them.

You can read more details about the study here. I think it’s an interesting study, as much because it generates a conversation about how we perceive our dogs and how our dogs perceive us. I think of my dogs as “family,” and yet, do not think of them as children or furry people. I am 100% convinced that both Willie and Tootsie are strongly attached to me (and Willie to Jim, too), given that they fit three of the four criteria above: they choose to stay close to me in space, they appear to be distressed if I leave them in an unfamiliar place, and they each seek me out in times of stress.

What do we make of all this then? Can a member of another species really be a member of our “family?” If not, how would we describe them and our relationship to them? How might we describe their relationship to us?

I don’t have any pithy answers to these questions beyond what I’ve written in The Other End of the Leash, For the Love of a Dog and in blog posts about whether dogs really love us or not. What I do know is that I don’t think of Willie or Tootsie as children, and yet I do see them as part of my family. Certainly there is much about taking care of them that is similar to raising children: They are dependent upon me for their very lives, they are non-verbal, they can not think through problems like an adult human, and the love and affection that they elicit overrides the extensive amounts of dog hair, the smell of fox poop on fur, and an occasional day in which one does little but clean up diarrhea and vomit. I continue to be gob-smacked by this relationship that we have with members of another species. Surely it is one of evolution’s most miraculous results. It seems to be that perhaps we are broadening the definition of family . . .

What about you? How would you describe your dog? As a member of your family? A cherished guest? I look forward to hearing from you…

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: This topic is timely, because I’m leaving soon for a family vacation and have to, yet again, drive away from the farm as a victim of separation anxiety. I hate leaving my dogs, absolutely hate it, and it feel especially worrisome given Willie’s injury and need for careful management. I have wonderful farm sitters, who I know are extremely responsible, and yet, still, it’s hard not to worry. Clearly, I have attachment issues . . .

The great news, though, is that Willie is truly improving. He had his physical therapy session on Monday, his last laser treatment on Tuesday and acupuncture on Wednesday. I can’t possible say what is actually helping, or indeed, if anything is beyond time and exercise restrictions, but he is no longer “off-loading” onto his right hip when he gets up from a down, and has no discernible limp or leg restriction of any kind. Of course, soft tissue damage being what it is, he is still radically restricted: still on leash, still crated often, but now he gets 20 min walks twice a day (Eeeee Hah!) and more exercises on his exercise ball. I’ve entered him into a sheep dog clinic in October, and Courtney says that is more than realistic. I suspect that I may have to give up on getting back into trialing with him, he simply is not a sound dog and I will have to manage him carefully so that he can continue to work sheep on the farm. (And oh, have I missed him! Herding sheep is hard work if you’re a human!)

Here is Willie doing his ball exercise, absolutely one of the best parts of his day. Something to do, and lots of treats… what’s not to love?

It’s been brutally hot here, hot and humid and clouded with mosquitoes. I’ve never seen it so bad; clearly we are living through the results of a wet spring. Now, however, it’s been dry for too long, it seems we swing from flood (literally) to famine (metaphorically). There is talk it might rain tonight, so I’m watering the garden you see below in hopes it will increase the chances we’ll get some moisture. The day lilies are doing themselves proud, aren’t they? By the way, the white buckets in the background are to keep our new trees and bushes hydrated. The tall tree is a June or Serviceberry, the kind of tree we just had to remove from behind the house. That was a heartbreaker, because the tree is loaded with gorgeous flowers in spring and yummy berries in summer that attract flocks of one of the world’s finest birds, the Cedar Waxwing. We are truly happy to have a replacement, a wedding present from some dear friends.

First, watch the video of Katie’s young Leo trying to get an older Mastiff, Herk, to play. (You’ll know who is who, trust me!)

Second, take a minute to wipe the tears from your eyes because you were laughing so hard.

Third, think about all the ways you’ve seen dogs try to initiate play with other dogs, from a standard and obvious play bow, to Leo’s method of smashing a toy into another dog’s head. I find the topic of how dogs convince other dogs to play an interesting one. How do dogs go about initiating play in others that are a tad reluctant? I’m especially interested in Leo’s use of a toy (tool?) to get Herk’s attention.

How common is it for a dog to use an object to elicit play from other dogs? Willie’s favorite method of play is “Let’s be race horses!” but he also loves to play Keep Away. He and an age-matched Aussie used to play Keep Away relentlessly. One dog would pick up a stick and run toward the other dog. It may be anthropomorphic, but I can find no other word to describe the behavior as “flaunting.” Once the other dog was engaged, the game began, best described as “Catch Me If You Can.” Willie was brilliant at seducing others to try to get the toy, and then turn his head at the last instant to prevent the dog from snatching the object out of his mouth. Of course, sometimes the other dog got the toy, and then it was Willie’s job to try to race up to him and get a hold of it. The owners and I watched carefully to be sure that neither dog got too aroused or snippy about the competition. Willie was relatively young when he played this game, mid to late adolescence, and he hasn’t had seen his play buddies in quite a while. I wonder if he would play the same way now that he is older? Perhaps when Willie recovers I can find out.

What about you? I would love to hear your experience with toys as an object of mutual play, but especially the use of a toy to initiate play from another dog. Does your dog use toys to initiate play with another dog? Do you see others do it, and with what success? Of course, most of us are used to our dogs bringing us toys to fling, throw or play tug with, but I suspect it is less common dog to dog. What do you think? (And, if you like debates on the same level of angels on pin heads… if a dog uses a toy to get another to play, is the toy then correctly classified as a tool?)

Alas, Leo’s method wasn’t successful yesterday, but today Herk was in the mood.  Here’s a photo of Katie’s Lily, Leo and Herk after a vigorous play session in the back yard.

MEANWHILE, back on the farm. I won’t know definitively until next Monday, but it looks to me like Willie is improving. Yeah! He appears to put equal weight on both hind legs when rising from a down, which he wasn’t before. Yeah again! We tweaked his management plan (even more crate time -sigh, rubber runners on all the hardwood floors, lots more training to do everything in slow motion), added some more exercises and began laser treatments in a nearby veterinary clinic. (Thanks to FB friends for helping me find laser therapy close to home!) Of course, his Physical Therapist reminds me every time I see her that just one leap/spurt/lunge forward can set him back to zero, so who knows how he’ll be tomorrow, but right now I’m focusing on HE’S BETTER! (Did I mention YEAH?!)

Besides Willie’s PT and management (for which I am forced to lie down on the floor with him every evening for at least an hour and rub his belly while watching television, poor me!) it feels crazy busy out in the country. Besides tons of gardening and pasture maintenance, Jim and I spent much of last weekend putting summer’s bounty into the freezer. And our mouths. We picked buckets and buckets of strawberries and sour cherries in the yards of generous neighbors and spent hours cleaning and preparing them for the freezer. Strawberries are like jewels to me, so beautiful and so yummy.  They keep me sane during the dark, monochrome winter.

Our CSA is providing us with turnips and chard and escarole and three kinds of lettuce and sweet, young onions and broccoli and and and… I can barely keep up. Made some home-made shortcake biscuits and we’ve been eating strawberry shortcake all week. Here’s what is left of a chard pie I made Tuesday night with the chard, spring onions and some lovely Parmesan cheese I bought last week. Yum.

Thank heavens there is a lot to do in the garden, because otherwise my food consumption and time spent lying around with Willie would require an entirely new wardrobe. After truly hateful weather–so hot and humid I could barely put one foot in front of the other–we got a break and it’s lovely here again. Lovely that is, except for the mosquitoes, whose numbers are now approximately as high as the number of oxygen molecules in the air. I hope the weather is good, if not tolerable where you are.

This is Bits. He is a hybrid wolfdog. Or maybe some coyote, no one knows. He is drop-dead gorgeous and is flat out terrified of strangers. He has been living with Jayne and Mike Belskey at the Grey Wolf Central Wisconsin Rescue  for two years now, having been rescued by them as a panicked, huddled, terrified mess from a shelter. It made me happier than I can say that after two hours after I arrived in the house he relaxed enough to lie down only a few feet away from me, albeit with a table between us. Maybe it was because I did lots of look aways, yawned a lot, avoided eye contact and kept my voice down. Maybe not, but I hereby admit to being thrilled to be in the same room with him, and was absolutely overwhelmed by his beauty. And heartbroken, because wolfdogs should break everyone’s heart.

I got to meet Bits only because it was the day of the annual veterinary visit at Grey Wolf Rescue. Jayne and Mike figured the wolfdogs would be stressed already by the veterinary work, and that one more person wouldn’t make a difference. Bits is on a leash only because he is about to be vaccinated and have blood drawn to check for tick-borne diseases, and for one brief moment he looked directly at me and I snapped the picture. I am positive that there is a message in his face, I just can’t say that I know what it is.

I’ve met a few wolfdog hybrids as a consultant. The two that I remember best were both adolescents: a four-month old living in an upstairs apartment with a young couple who got him because, well, they were idiots and didn’t have a clue what they had taken on. The wolfdog, 75% wolf reportedly, was gorgeous and brilliant and virtually unstoppable.  While we talked, she climbed on the table, then the top of the couch, chewed on my hair, began eating my notebook, then played with the coffee cups, then squatted to pee, then lept at the blinds and pulled them down. Rinse and repeat. Of course we intervened whenever possible, but it was like trying to stop water coursing over a water fall. She had energy radiating out of her like mist rising from a lake, a jewel of a sparkle in her eyes and an overwhelming need to DO SOMETHING every single second. It did not end well.  The couple eventually realized that there was no way they could manage a wolfdog and tried to find her a place to go. The breeder wouldn’t take her back. (I will refrain from expressing my reaction to that here. I’ll just mention that it is unprintable, and leave it at that.) I couldn’t find a rescue organization that had room, they were all bursting at the seams and exhausted from trying to take care of the misfits they already had. I don’t know what happened to her, but I’m sure it wasn’t pretty.

I remember the other wolfdog especially well because while he was sinking his teeth into my hand he looked me dead in the eye and clearly, oh oh ever-so-clearly, communicated “Don’t you EVER do that again.” I believe there was a curse word in there too, but I don’t know canine curses very well. He was also young, perhaps six-months old, but with a massive head and huge paws and his owner thought it a tad amusing that the animal was biting his wife and downright hysterical that he bit me after I traded the toy he had for a piece of chicken. The wolfdog ate the chicken while I picked up the toy, and then I offered the toy back to him. (“See? If you let me take your toy, then you get something better and you get the toy back too! ” This works beautifully with dogs. Not so with wolves, as I learned in my “Possession is the Law” training session with this particular individual, in which case I became the trainee and he the trainer.) The next week I heard that the wolfdog badly bit his male owner and was euthanized.

For years I struggled with what to call wolfdog hybrids. Should I call them wolves? Dogs? “Wolfdogs” doesn’t flow off the tongue, it is awkward to say. And yet, it is thus the perfect name, because they are not wolves, they are not dogs, and they are trapped in the awkardness of being neither. They can’t live in the wild, and many of them can’t live with us in our homes, and so they are trapped in a never-never land of never being comfortable in their surroundings. Yes, I know that some wolfdogs do well with their human family, and even get along with other dogs. Yes, I know that. I will no doubt get comments from wolfdog supporters and breeders who defend the practice of breeding wolves to dogs. When I testified as an expert witness in support of a woman who went to court to force her ex-husband to keep her young children away from the wolfdogs that her husband had purchased, I was put on the official Wolfdog Blacklist, and heard about it for years afterward. The fact is, it doesn’t matter that in some cases, some wolfdog hybrids are happy and safe to be around. It doesn’t matter because the practice of breeding a dog to a wolf creates a flood of suffering. Wolves simply are not designed to live in houses with people. They need to trot miles and miles every day. They do not, and will never, look to their human for guidance, or boundaries, or anything but to live together as equals. You do not, ever, tell a wolf what to do.  If you need more evidence, read the beautifully written and heartbreaking book, Part Wild, by Ceiridwen Terrill. (I reviewed it in a previous blog.)

Here’s what Jayne Belskey, who has dedicated literally every minute of her life to wolfdogs since 1999, has to say about them:

I started our rescue in 1999 by default. It was never my intent to have a Wolfdog in my life, let alone open a sanctuary and rescue. But everyone involved in rescue can understand about those life changing moments when a certain animal points the way to a new life path. For me it started with one abandoned Wolfdog pup that had 2 choices, either come home with me or be euthanized and so the journey began.  I will be the first to say that after sharing the last 14 years of my life with them, I fully understand the draw these magnificent animals can have on the human heart. I have loved each and every rescued animal unconditionally. I have met some very loving and committed owners who do a wonderful job accepting life with these animals and giving them the best life possible, I work with a national network of rescues and sanctuaries around the country that do a fantastic job and I have met some very happy and well-adjusted animals. But for some (many) there is such a bone crushing sadness. They don’t fit in our domestic world with our domestic expectations and they wouldn’t fit in the wild world either. So they are doomed to life at the end of a chain or stressing and fearful in a small pen out back where the owner can use them for a show & tell ego boost.  When an owner realizes they are in over their head, there are few options for a happy ending. If I could build 20 new enclosures today, I could fill them all tomorrow with wolfdogs needing rescue.

The ethics of captive wildlife is a struggle for me. I view *Captive Wildlife* is an oxymoron, you can be one or the other but you cannot be both.  Our wolves belong in the wild, not chained out in your back yard.

Grey Wolf Central Wisconsin Rescue is a testament to the power of commitment. Mike and Jayne have constructed huge, safe enclosures which each house a male/female pair of wolfdogs. Containing wolfdogs is no easy feat, and the work the two of them has done is no less than amazing. Every individual animal they have has a horrendous, heartbreaking story behind it, and every individual receives attention and care from them both every day, every hour. They do not travel. Their lives revolve, 24/7 around the animals in their care. It was an honor to be able to visit and spend time with them and the wolfdogs. Most of the time I merely observed while Jayne gently captured each wolfdog, muzzled it for safety sakes, and then DVM Pam Prochaska of Tomah WI gave it a once over, what vaccinations were needed and took blood to test for diseases. Please know that it is not a public facility; the wolfdogs are easily stressed by strangers, so although they accept and welcome contributions, they do not let visitors come “see the wolfdogs.” I felt honored and lucky to be there. I’ll be sending The Grey Wolf Rescue a contribution. If you are so inclined, it would be a wonderful thing if you would too. They deserve all the help they can get.

Here’s Flint, muzzled for safety sake and held by Jayne while the medical work is completed as fast and gently as possible.

I’m curious: Are wolfdog hybrids a problem in your area?  I have heard that there are a lot out west in the states, but a surprising number in the midwest too. What about other countries? Is this an issue where you live?

On a related note: Anyone who wants to help the effort to disallow the use of free running packs of dogs in the wolf hunt in Wisconsin can check out the Ride for Wolves sponsored by the Dane County Humane Society in Madison, WI. “Bikers against using dogs to kill wolves”… gotta love it.

MEANWHILE, back on the farm. Willie’s check up at UW didn’t go well. After 3.5 weeks of extreme restriction and lots of adjunctive medicine and PT he was no better. A dark day for me. We’ve upped the restrictions (he’s crated so much that I just don’t even want to be home anymore, I take any excuse I can get to leave the house) and started laser therapy. I’d write more about it, but at the moment it is just best to say that I am doing everything I can and that, someday, this too shall pass.

Here’s something beautiful: A fawn who stopped to check me out while I was on my way to Grey Wolf Rescue. Lovely, yes?

And then, ah well, here’s something not so beautiful. We are doing major work in the backyard to better manage water flow (the house is at the bottom of a long, steep hill) and are having retaining wall built. Of course, once everything was ripped to shreds the company’s truck broke down so that the wall construction is now on hold until, well, until it begins raining again and then they won’t be able to work either…. You know how it goes. This is a bit rough on a woman who loves her plants and flowers (many precious native wildflowers I’ve been nurturing for years were dug up and are temporarily transplanted in another place) but I keep repeated trite phrases like “You have to break eggs to make omeletes” and deep breathing. Patience is not my virtue however. I’m just saying.

Many years ago, in the 1980′s, I was in Scotland being introduced to a cocktail party full of veterinarians. Imagine my surprise when one of them cornered me, waving his drink and spluttering his words, and began berating American veterinarians for promoting spay/neuters of pet dogs. Several others joined in, and before I knew it I began waving my own drink and spluttering my own words, in defense of my dog’s vet, as well as many colleagues and friends. For all I know I threw apple pie in there somewhere. Their point was that it is not good medicine to remove vital organs, which have many functions beyond reproduction, in order to prevent something that may or may not happen (mammary cancer, pyometra for example).

That was my first introduction, a long, long time ago, to the fact that not all health care professionals believe that spaying and neutering young dogs is in their best interest. This controversy, heard often when I traveled in Europe and rumbling at a low level in the US, didn’t reach critical mass here in the States until research began surfacing that questioned the side effects of these procedures. One recent study, on 759 Golden Retrievers by Torres de la Riva et al at UC-Davis, found that males neutered before the age of 12 months were twice as likely to suffer from hip dysplasia, and that three times more early-neutered males suffered from lymphosarcoma than intact males. On the other hand, late-neutered (after 12 months) females suffered from hemangiosarcoma four times more than intact or early-neutered females. In either case, intact dogs came out better than those that had been neutered (I’ll use that term for the removal of reproductive tissue in both males and females).

However, another study just came out by Hoffman, Creevy and Promislow, that found a correlation between reproductive sterilization and a longer life span when neutered dogs were compared to intact dogs. In part, that increased longevity was associated with a decreased risk of death from infectious diseases and trauma. However, they also found that neutering was correlated with an increased risk of death from cancer. The plot thickens, especially after a study published in 2oo9 by Waters found that female Rottweilers neutered after the age of four were more likely to achieve “exceptional longevity” than females neutered at an earlier age.

Is your head spinning yet? Whatever are we to make of these findings? Do they suggest that early (and in the case of shelters, “very early”) neutering of animals in shelters is a bad idea?  Should American pet owners forgo neutering their pet dogs in order to increase their life span or prevent joint and tissue injuries? My answer to these, and all related questions is “Whoa.” “Whoa” in that these studies have found correlations, not causal effects, and one can never be too careful about correlations. We’ve all heard the examples: “Breaking News! More murders are found in cities with a lot of traffic lights.” Next follow up story: “Traffic lights cause murder rates to go up.” The next iteration is: “Traffic lights kill people!” Of course, there are higher murder rates in cities with lots of traffic lights, because murder rates are higher in big cities, and big cities have more traffic lights. That might (I emphasize might) be what’s going on in some of the findings. For example, the study by Hoffman, Creevy and Promislow found that neutered dogs lived longer than intact ones, but how do we know that being neutered was what caused the dogs to live longer? We don’t, in spite of one author, Creevy, saying “I am very satisfied that our data show that animals that are sterilized live longer.” Well yes, I’d agree with that, but not that the former caused the latter. Perhaps neutered animals represent a different demographic, with different health care histories, different diets, different levels of health care, etc. The fact is, we just don’t know.

But… And… However… One doesn’t need to be a veterinarian or physiologist to suspect that removing hormone-producing organs has a profound effect on a body’s physiology, beyond that of eliminating the potential of reproduction. Natural selection is a conservative process, and it is rare for any hormone to play only one role in the body. Androgens produced in the testes play a role in muscle and skeletal development. Estrogens, we’re told, affect the urinary tract, the heart and blood vessels, bones, breasts, skin, hair, mucous membranes, pelvic muscles, and the brain. Thus it is reasonable to wonder what the effects truly are of neutering animals at young age, sometimes as young as a few months of age. We already know that extremely early neuters lead to more long bone growth in dogs, but what of other effects? What do we really know?

Chris Zink, a highly respected DVM who specializes in canine athletes, has argued for years that the evidence suggests we must reconsider neutering animals before they have fully developed. Her comprehensive review article on considerations about neutering, which deserves a lot of attention, ends with suggestions that I hope become part of our conversation about how to balance the benefits of neutering with the costs. One question worth discussion is: Why not vasectomize males? Yes, they will still be intact males, and might lift their legs more often, but breeders have had intact males for years that learn to be polite in the house. (I’d love feedback from those of you living in countries where dogs are not usually neutered but still expected to be polite social companions.) Some people believe that intact male dogs are more aggressive than neutered ones, but I’ve seen so many dog-dog aggressive, neutered male dogs I’m not convinced that is true.  My one-in-a-million dog, Luke, was intact, and was consistently gracious to virtually everyone he met, dogs and people too. Females, as always, are more complicated; Zink’s suggestion is to let them cycle at least twice before removing the uterus and ovaries.

Back, then, to the question I asked earlier? What do we really know? I’d argue that the recent research and the controversy it has generated has highlighted more about what we don’t know about the effects of neutering our pets than what we do. This is painful in one sense, because it makes life evermore complicated when faced with decisions about whether to neuter, and if so, when. But life is like that, science even more so, in that at some point, the more we learn, the less we know. I, for one, am thrilled that the topic has found a place at the table among dog enthusiasts and veterinary medicine.

I look forward to our conversation about this issue…. jump in!

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: Willie is still restricted because of his iliopsoas strain. We go back to the physical therapist on Monday, July lst. Paws crossed. The other news from the farm is first, The Weather. Good grief. Rain, rain, thunder, lightening, rain, thunder, rain, thunder…. you get the idea. The area had from 2-4 inches of rain fall in an hour a few days ago. It is supposed to dry up this weekend. I’m hoping. Best news is that our hay farmer got hay in during the short dry spell last week, so we have 440 bales of good hay coming on Saturday. Everyone out there with livestock knows exactly how good it feels to have the barn full of hay for the winter.

The other news is that 95 amazing, wonderful people came to a rocking barn party on Sunday night to celebrate my and Jim’s marriage. It was fun and sweet and silly and we will never forget it. Lots of family from all over the country came, which made it extra special. We actually had out of town company from Friday through Tuesday, and it was blissful. And then yesterday and today I recovered by finishing the best jigsaw puzzle EVER in the entire world. Bliss. Back to the office on Monday, getting ready for some super fun speeches in Chicago, IL and Boulder, CO.

Here’s Willie boy, on a sit-stay so I could take some flower photos.

Here’s a photo I took while Willie waited patiently. Well, waited anyway…

Question: Is there ever enough time to read? Answer: No. I read every night and every morning at a minimum, and if I ever had a genie rise out of a bottle and ask me for one wish, I’d ask for another hour or two of reading time in every day. (And long, pretty legs instead of stumpy ones. And world peace.)

Here are some of the books I’ve been savoring, in hopes of beginning a conversation about other great books just waiting for me to turn the page:

The Possibility Dogs. I wrote about it last week, but couldn’t skip mentioning it again. Here’s the quote I sent to the publisher after reading the review copy: “What an amazing book. Combine love, knowledge and real-life drama with pitch-perfect writing, and you’ll end up with The Possibility Dogs. Simply brilliant!” I like it so much we’re selling it on our website.

What the Dog Knows by Cat Warren. I’ll have to start by asking for your forgiveness, because the book won’t be out until next October (but you can pre-order it). I mention it now because it is so closely related to Susannah Charleson’s Scent of the Missing, in that it is about dogs using their noses (in this case Cat trains Solo, a singleton pup German Shepherd Dog, to become a “cadaver” dog.) Cat is an Associate Professor in English and the writing shows it; it’s the kind of writing that either inspires you or makes you want to throw your hands up and stop writing yourself altogether. It is a fantastic book, combining CSI-like details about the science of finding the remains of deceased people, Cat’s experiences learning to become a handler, and her abiding love (and occasional humorously described frustration) with her amazing dog, Solo. I think that this book is one of the greats, so don’t worry, I’ll write about it again in October when it is released.

Cooked by Michael Pollen. Those of you who know me know that I love food almost as much as I love dogs or Jim, so of course I had to buy Cooked as soon as it came out. The subtitle, A Natural History of Transformation, is an important guide to the book’s content. Not a cookbook, not a discussion about what we eat or where it comes from (as in his other books like The Omnivore’s Dilemma or In Defense of Food), Cooked is about the miraculous transformation that occurs when the skilled use of four classical elements–fire, water, air and earth–change, for example, a simple mix of flour and water into a crusty, air-filled loaf of bread. After reading it, I am inspired to make my own sourdough starter (I make bread a lot, but I use commercial yeast and flour), I appreciate BBQ like never before (that’s saying a lot) and am inspired to make even more slow-cooked stews and pot roasts. As usual, Pollen’s writing is informative, interesting and funny. I laughed out loud so often that Willie began glaring at me when I picked up the book.

Gulp by Mary Roach. Food goes in, food goes out. I didn’t plan to read these books in concert, it just seemed to happen that way. While Cooked is all about the preparation of food, Gulp explains what happens to it once you put it in your mouth. Not for the faint of heart or the squeamish, Roach doesn’t hesitate to get down and dirty about what goes on inside your body after dinner. Subtitled “Adventures on the Alimentary Canal,” Gulp is ridiculously funny (The Washington Post calls her “America’s funniest science writer”) and endlessly fascinating (Elvis probably died of constipation–seriously). However, even I, the woman who attracted a circle of stunned Masai warriors when I squatted down in glee to discover dung beetles in cow poop, had to take a break for awhile once the food traveled into the gut. There’s just so much I can read about poop, so I began to read the end in small doses. Still, I heartily enjoyed it. Mary Roach also wrote Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers, which I loved, and Bonk: The Curious Coupling of  Science and Sex. (How have I missed out on reading that? Anyone read it?)

Daring Greatly by Brené Brown. This is a book I want to buy for every single person I have ever cared about. I think it’s brilliant. And amazing. And important. You may have heard about Brown’s TED talk about vulnerability, and the importance of embracing honesty, humility and vulnerability as a strength rather than a weakness. Brown is a PhD, LMSW (social work) professor and writer who has spent her academic life studying vulnerability, courage, and shame. Yes, shame, that emotion that no one wants to think about but is the cornerstone of so much of our suffering. She has a blog that is a wonderful source of inspiration (and other great books). Daring Greatly is an important antidote to a world in which people are lightening quick to criticize anyone who doesn’t fit their standards of perfection, and in which snap judgements are encouraged by social media. And if I may, I might suggest that it is just as relevant in the world of dog training as in any other. Dog trainers and dog lovers can be terribly hard on one another, and I think there’s little profit in that. After I finished this book I started on one of her earlier ones, The Gifts of Imperfection. I’d love to hear if you’ve read her work already (or seen her Ted Talk) and what you thought.

With Me or Without Me by Domenica Ruta. The list of memoirs written by women raised by crazy, abusive, or just downright difficult mothers grows and grows, but this book stands out to me above many of the others. Ruta, a writer with an MFA from the Michener Center for Writers at the University of Texas at Austin, has written a book that is unflinchingly honest and relentlessly engaging. I finished it in two sessions, cursing her at one point for robbing me of a good night’s sleep. Here is one of my favorite quotes about the book: “Freakishly brilliant, brilliantly freakish, this is one of the best memoirs I have ever read” (Gary Shteyngart) and “…hums with jangled energy and bristles with sharp edges.” (Slate) A word of caution however: Ruta does not hold back about her behavior. If you are easily shocked or offended, you might want to pass it up. (And of course, now some of you are especially interested in it, right? Smile.)

Also, I’ve recently read Mary Karr’s The Liar’s Club (1995, another memoir about growing up with, or in spite of, parents who did not read the book on raising children) and The House of Tyneford by Natasha Solomons (historical fiction, 2011). Both excellent.

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: Summer is well along and the lambs are growing well. We are almost done with bottle feeding, all five bottle babies being over eight weeks old, ruminating and able to turn grass into usable energy. That will give me over an hour a day back, what a gift! We are learning as we go about the ins and outs of a strictly followed controlled grazing regimen, and the learning curve is steep but interesting. If the area we create with electric fence is too large, the sheep still pick and choose what they like best and trample the rest. Sort of like picking out the chocolates from a chocolate chip cookie by throwing away the cookie part. If the area is just right, they eat everything in sight, exactly as we want, but areas that small will only last one or two days and so have to be created several times a week. However, we’ve learned that if the grass is too high, a “right size” area doesn’t work, because they won’t eat the flower or seed stalks, and end up trampling those long stems onto whatever was good food for them. Either way, it is a great deal of work for us, mowing lanes to set the electric fence (it’ll short out if just a few blades of grades rest against one of the wires), setting up the fence, and then moving the sheep back and forth one to two times a day. Willie thought it was great until he injured his hip and went on a “crate rest” regimen. (More on that below.) My reaction is mixed: I like that huffing up our steep hill 2 to 4 times a day means that I can eat a chocolate chip cookie every once in a while without worrying I’ll have to buy new jeans (Okay 2 cookies. Maybe 3. I’m just saying.) Jim is absolutely stalwart about mowing and setting the fence, and has yet to complain about the frequency of it. The sheep don’t like it at all. Sometimes I’ll put them in an area with the equivalent of porridge, and they’ll stand there bawling at me in protest. The “baa’s” of protesting sheep are unmistakable, and truly amusing. (Unless you are tired, and Buttercup, the loudest whiner of the group, won’t stop yelling in your ear while you’re cleaning out the barn. “NO-O-O-O-O,” she’ll say. “I want more Foo-oo-oo-ooo-ood!” The words, “Buttercup, shut up,” have passed my lips on occasion.)

The bad news: Willie’s strained his Iliopsoas muscle. Sigh. He got up last week and held his left hind up for at least 12-15 strides, then put it down but limped badly. The good news is that it is a mild strain, and recovery is expected within four to six weeks.  I’m grateful that it’s not worse, and predictably bummed that it has happened at all. I think he is dealing with it far better than I, but I am working on acceptance and deep breathing and being grateful for all we have. I’ve pulled him from the two trials we had entered and canceled our herding lesson in July. We’re doing special exercises two times a day, he’s on lots of supplements and had acupuncture yesterday, so hopefully this will be behind us soon. Cross your paws. (A related note: I continue to check to be sure I’m not spelling “Iliopsoas” incorrectly. A veterinarian friend of mine said it was her favorite muscle because it sounds like a dinosaur. I agree, and I’m grateful to her, because now every time I say “Iliopsoas” I smile.)

Oh well, more time for me to garden, right? This spring we’ve had lots of water, about 4-6 inches over usual, a far cry from last year’s drought. We’re all getting a little nervous about getting in a hay crop (it being especially hard to get last year), but it is lovely to see the plants get “fed” so well this spring and early summer. Here’s an Iris, a flower I find lovely and ridiculous at the same time:

And the detail of a Tree Peony flower. The colors are so bright it looks fake, but this truly is exactly the colors the camera recorded. Honest, I promise. Wow.

Susannah Charleson, author of Scent of the Missing, has done it again: Given us a page turner that is exquisitely written, and rich with both emotion and information related to working dogs. However, this time the dogs aren’t search and rescue dogs; although in some ways you could suggest that’s exactly what they do. The Possibility Dogs, just released a few days ago, directly relates to last week’s post about Psychiatric Service Dogs, because that’s what it is about: dogs who help people function, and in some cases,  heal. Some of these dogs seem able to search out people in need as if following a scent trail, and “rescue” them by their insightful awareness of what a damaged person needs.

As in Scent of the Missing, The Possibility Dogs entwines incidents from her own life, insights into the struggles and triumphs of others suffering from a range of traumatic experiences, and stories about her own dogs. Starring roles go to a deaf, blind dog named Ollie that Susannah flew across the country to rescue, and a charming, young looker named Jake Piper, a dog who showed up on her doorstep when she was still raw from the loss of two of her beloved dogs. She was in no condition to take on a half-dead, needy pup, but of course, you know the rest of the story. Here is what she writes while at the vet clinic, leaving him there with only a small chance of making it:

“Almost literally fading before my eyes, the puppy is now too weak to sit up. I kneel down beside the metal table, and he lays his  head on my open hand. He is ugly from neglect, patchy fur stretched taut over visible bones, but he is beautiful, nonetheless, all dark eyes and wonky crashed-kite ears.”

“Wonky crashed-kite ears?” This woman can turn a phrase.

Susannah, after years in Search and Rescue, knows as well as any that many wonderful dogs are not suited for work as a service animal. However, her book is a testament that the right genetics and the right environment and training can create a dog who does wonders with the right match. The genetics might be planned, as dogs bred for CCI work, or they might be a random set of chromosomes nestled inside a furry package abandoned in a shelter. What’s important is a dog who truly and deeply cares about people, and a handler who truly and deeply understands the responsibility they have for caring for an individual of another species.

Susannah and I talked recently during a short break in her busy book tour schedule; I thought you would enjoy hearing some of our conversation.

Trisha: I’ve done some book interviews myself, and sometimes I never get to talk about what I think is most important about the book. What would you like to tell us about your new book?

Susannah: Perhaps that the book addresses two sets of needs: dogs who need rescuing, and people who need a dog to help them function and, in some cases, heal. The book emphasizes that there are rescued dogs who can do this work and can do it brilliantly, but that choosing them has to be thoughtful, meticulous and just. In addition, the humans who take on these partnerships have the challenge of addressing their own conditions honestly and specifically, while training and working with a dog while respecting the dog’s needs at the same time. They need to be asking “What am I doing for the dog today?” When successful, I’d argue that part of the healing comes from the person taking that wider point of view, looking at the two of them as a team, always thinking ‘This is what we do to address me, and this is what I will give back to the dog in return.”

Trisha: Applied animal behaviorist and primatologist James Ha, wrote recently suggesting that shelter dogs aren’t good prospects for service dogs. However, your organization, Possibility Dogs, has many examples of rescued dogs being good therapy or service dogs. Any thoughts on that issue?

Susannah: Because Possiblity Dogs (the organization, not the book) works with a variety of dogs, from Assisted Animal Activities to Emotional Support Dogs to Service Dogs, our net is a wide one. I find a lot of hope in shelters, perhaps for one thing because the social network is now so good at getting the word out about dogs quickly. Of course, not all dogs are cut out for the work. One hears that 1/30 dogs might make it as a good service dog, although I’ve also heard 1/1,000. At Possibility Dogs, we have a strong focus on creating partnerships between rescue dogs and people in need, but the needs vary greatly. One dog might be a fabulous therapy dog, but not a service dog because she is party animal who loves everyone and isn’t able to narrow her focus. Some dogs with disabilities themselves can become calm, serene companions to someone with anxieties, although they don’t have to have physical capability to be a service dog. [Note from T: One of Susannah's dogs, and a star in the book, is Ollie, a deaf and blind cartoon of a dog with ridiculous ears, who makes miracles happen around anxious children.]

Trisha: What exactly does Possibility Dogs do?

Susannah: It is a 501.c3 “niche” organization that supports service partnerships of all kinds, particularly those requiring mobility and psychiatric service dogs.  They support these partnership at any stage of the game, which is relatively unique in the field. For example, perhaps someone has had a service dog for 4 years and are now recovered enough to try flying for the first time since their illness. Possibility Dogs will help them understand TSA regulations, negotiate the airport, and use best practices at the gate area. They support the partnership for life, which other organizations that raise and place dogs often can’t. Not long ago a veteran with both psychiatric and physical conditions contacted us. His physical problems were serious, and he was most frightened about what would happen to his service dog when he died. Possibility Dogs is working with him to assure a good home for his dog, so that he can enjoy the remaining time they have together.

Trisha: You begin the book talking about your own experience with trauma, and being diagnosed with PTSD and what is called “critical incident stress.” I’m writing a memoir right now that includes some of my own difficult life experiences and their effect on my life. I find it both painful and liberating to write about them. How was it for you to write about your own trauma and recovery?

Susannah: It was excruciating–writing it down was like reliving it, and I had nightmares while doing it. BUT it was probably beneficial and hugely necessary for my work now with people in need of PSDs. One of the things critical to working with one’s own service dog is taking ownership of your condition. You can’t hide from yourself. I was one of those emergency responders who was ruled by (and in some respects probably still am), “it hurt, get over it, move on.” However, facing the truth of one’s condition is paramount to being a good partner in a service dog team, and so, to a degree, having to write about it made me a better collaborator.

Trisha: I’ve done my share of book tours, and they can be exhausting. I can’t imagine doing it with a dog. What is the hardest part of being on book tour with Jake Piper?

Susannah: No grass in New York City! My dogs are trained not to go on concrete but you can walk for miles in some cities and never find grass! I learned this the hard way on book tour with Scent of the Missing when I took Puzzle on tour. I had an early morning talk show, and had to get up at 3 AM to have time to walk her a million miles to grass, then walk back to the hotel, bathe and blow dry her!  I learned my lesson, and on this tour I asked to be in  hotel no more than 4-5 blocks from grass. So now I’m close to Central Park, but when we got there after 8 hours of travel, the heavens opened and it rained buckets. Just what you want right before making a public appearance! Traveling with a dog has made me appreciate how carefully people with service dogs have to pre-plan their trips, and constantly be an advocate for their dog.

Thanks to Susannah for taking the time to talk. I hope you enjoy the book. Here’s a schedule of her tour, just in case you are in the right city at the right time.

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: The good news: I get to eat the Lobster Pasta In Cream Sauce tonight at my favorite, local restaurant. That is because of the bad news: Willie injured his Iliopsoas muscle and is back on leash. That’s a hard place to return to after 14 months of that a few years ago. I am relieved it’s not his cruciate, but don’t know if recovery is weeks or months. I’ll know a lot more next week once we get into UW PT. I also have a DVM, Chinese Medicine/Acupuncturist coming out, so cross your paws. He is already on some adjunctive, “alternate” supplements, perhaps those will help too.  Because of his injury, I’ve been herding the sheep myself the last two mornings–thus the justification for pasta with cream sauce. Yesterday they were easy to move, I suspect they assumed Willie was somewhere in the wings. Today they had figured it out, and I regret only the slightest bit that you can’t watch a video of me working my tail off while herding them into their designated grazing area this morning. Let’s just say the Lady Godiva, bless her gorgeous little lambs, turns out to be the smartest of the bunch, and is faster than I am. But not smarter.

Nellie the barn cat has taken to walking up the hill with us everyday to pasture the flock. Perhaps I can teach her to herd? However she has avoided being in with the sheep around the barn ever since she arrived, but lately that seems to be changing. The cats love being in the barn when I am there, and always run over if they see me walking toward it. Polly sleeps on the hay bales often during the day, so it’s common for Nellie, Willie and I to enter the barn and wake up a sleepy Polly, who does everything but rub her eyes with her paws.

Recently Nellie has begun spending time in the pen with the sheep. The lambs are very curious, and follow her around, sniffing her whenever possible. Katie and I just happened to be taking photos of the bottle lambs feeding when Katie got these shots of two of the lambs investigating Nellie.

And here’s Poor Ralphie (that’s practically become his official name, “Poor Ralphie,”) who was rejected at birth by his mother, and is 100% imprinted onto me. The flock has just left the barn and gone up the hill to graze. Ralphie often ignores all the rest of the sheep, stands by me as if to say “And what are WE going to do today?” In this photo I am taking Ralphie up the hill, where he will eventually leave me and begin to graze beside his brother and sister. Once he’s busy grazing, I can slip down the hill and move on to other things. As bucolic as all this looks, you never know when things will get dramatic. I almost lost Ralphie on Wednesday; the sheep were let loose to graze areas where they usually don’t go (because of Willie’s injury), and Ralphie must have eaten something that none of the others did. Lambs pay careful attention to what their mother’s eat, and Ralphie has no role model, so who knows what he ate or how much of it.  I walked to the barn to give the bottle lambs their second feeding, and Ralphie was bloated up like a Mylar balloon and frothing at the mouth. Those are the symptoms of bloat, and it doesn’t take long for them to die of it. (One website says the “symptoms of bloat are dead sheep.”) I literally ran to the house to get bloat medicine (which breaks up the bubbles of gas that can suffocate the victim) and poured it down Ralphie’s mouth. Whew. In 20 minutes he was ready to drink his milk. Whew again. Poor Ralphie.

Here’s one of world’s greatest descriptions of a dog: “[Gander looks like] … the canine version of a forgetful old literature professor in a corduroy jacket with patches at the elbows.” I’ve never met Gander, but the photos of him  remind me of a grown-up, bachelor party version of Little Orphan Annie’s dog, Sandy. With muscle and gravitas. Sort of a “Sandy joined the Marine Corps but still plays with marbles” kind of dog. And Sandy is a hero, there’s no doubt about it. Gander is the dog that Freedom Service Dogs placed with a man named Lonnie, who suffered from PTSD and autoimmune issues that can make mobility almost impossible some days. Lonnie sums it up simply: “Gander saved my life.”

Before he got Gander, Lonnie rarely slept and had paralyzing panic attacks several times a day. This is a smart, articulate man, a military veteran who won prestigious awards for his poetry, who spoke around the country and the world at universities, Health Care Conferences and was a full professor on the faculty of two health sciences academies, among many other accomplishments. In other words, a successful professional struck down by a series of events, some of which he described to me as “worse than horrific.” But now that he has Gander, life is different. When Lonnie and Gander return home at night, Gander turns the lights on before Lonnie enters so he is not forced to walk into a dark room. Gander stands between Lonnie and jostling crowds in public places, and will even put his paws on Lonnie’s chest in an environment likely to cause panic attacks. “Time to leave Dude.” Lonnie is smart, and when Gander “talks,” he listens.

Gander (who is up for Dog Hero of the Year for the American Humane Association) is a Psychiatric Service Dog (PSD), a dog specifically selected and trained to assist people with psychiatric challenges (like PTSD) or developmental neuronal disabilities (like autism spectrum disorder). They are distinct from “therapy dogs,” in that they 1) live full-time with the person in need and 2) are trained to respond in specific ways that ameliorate the challenges their owner or charge is facing. Some examples of a PSD’s tasks are interrupting a person with OCD and redirecting him or her, entering a dark a room or house first to assure their owner that there is no danger, waking up  someone with PTSD from a nightmare, and reminding their owners to take their medication.

I was motivated to write about this for several reasons, one being a raft of questions about PSDs after a brief comment here and on Facebook related to grading papers for my UW class on “The Biology and Philosophy of the Use of Psychiatric Service Dogs.” The student’s first paper focused on the biological issues, (broadly defined) and included a description of the dogs, what knowledge we have about their effectiveness and how the job might impact the welfare of the dogs themselves. Here is just some of what the students and I learned, related to the costs and benefits of PSDs.

HOW EFFECTIVE ARE THE DOGS? There is a raft of anecdotal evidence that suggests that in some contexts, the dogs can be life savers. According to the Department of Veterans Affairs Department, [scroll down to "Veterans Affairs" for the pdf on service dogs]  veterans diagnosed with PTSD have reported less hyper-vigilance, better sleep (sometimes being able to sleep at all), an increased sense of security and a decrease in the need for psychotropic medications. However, there are concerns that most of the evidence of effectiveness is “subjective” and anecdotal. Although I’ve been trained as a scientist, or perhaps because of it, I find the concern about a lack of “data” interesting. Given that most of the symptoms of PTSD are subjective themselves (increased fear, vigilance, lack of ability to sleep, intrusive re-enactments etc.), why would we not believe vets when they say the dog is helping them?  We base the effectiveness of pain medication on the reports of people who take it,  because what matters is that the person feels better, not what an MRI tells us about activity in the areas of the brain that mediate the perception of pain.

Certainly we have a great deal of evidence that the presence of a dog increases the level of oxytocin in the body in most people, and that oxytocin can have a profound (and positive) effect on the body and the mind. In an earlier blog about AAA and AAT (Animal Assisted Activities and Animal Assisted Therapy) I cited studies that found even brief visits from dogs decreased the perception of pain after surgery, that petting dogs boosts one’s immune system and makes us feel safer and more secure. (If you are interested in more about AAA and AAT dogs I have a DVD of a 1/2 day seminar on that very topic.)

It’s not much of a stretch to generalize the potential positive effects of the right dog on someone suffering from conditions like PTSD or autism spectrum disorder. However, that doesn’t mean that dogs are good for everyone. Dogs are a lot of responsibility, and are require far too much care and attention for some patients. Every dog, of course, is not appropriate for every person–just finding and training dogs stable enough to be PSDs is a huge project, requiring not just the selection of the right dog, but hundreds of hours of training time to match a dog and a patient. This is not to say that I am not in support of more research; it would be extremely helpful to gather data about predictors of good matches, more about the mechanisms that create the positive effects and what is needed to prevent problems from occurring. However, a need for more information doesn’t negate what we have already, and if we use the same criteria for PSDs as we do for pain killers, it seems we already know a lot.

WHAT ABOUT THE DOGS? Asking if the presence of a dog can truly help someone suffering from neurological issues is one thing, but it’s another thing altogether to take the perspective of the dog. That was, in part, the charge of my students, to ask what effects being a working PSD might have on the dogs themselves. Here are some of the concerns:

Are the dogs themselves safe? Some psychiatric disorders result in lack of impulse control and an increase in aggression. That is why the good programs (examples are Freedom Service Dogs in Denver and Pathway Home, to name a few) are exceptionally careful to screen potential recipients and only place dogs in homes in which they believe that the dogs are safe and the person will benefit rather than being overburdened.

How hard do the dogs work? Obviously this varies greatly, but a study by Burrows et al raised concerns about dogs placed in families with children with autism spectrum disorder. The authors found that some of the dogs were expected to be “on” for most of the day, and were allowed too little time to rest. In some cases, the children were borderline abusive to the dogs, and the parents, in the author’s opinion, were not aware of the dog’s visual signals of discomfort and distress. Clearly, I would argue, the welfare of the dogs themselves should be a high priority, both for the sake of the dog and for the safety of others. (Tragically, in 2012 a service man’s PSD killed a six-year old boy. The veteran was suffering from PTSD himself, but there is no way to know what triggered the dog’s behavior.) However, the incident brings up the next question:

What effect does the work have on the dog? What is it like for a dog to live with someone who is anxious all the time? I asked this question of Lonnie, wondering what effect his symptoms have on Gander. Refreshingly honest, he answered me by referring to the “empaths” of Star Trek, who took on the emotions of others to free up the victims. “Sometimes I think that describes Gander,” a dog who is not only rock solid but seemingly in touch with the emotions of others. Lonnie describes Gander as a dog who intuitively senses when others are needy, and goes to them and offers exactly what that person needed at the time. What is the cost to Gander? We’ll never know, but it does seem that in his case he is truly a dog that has found his calling, and from talking to Lonnie, I expect that Gander has a wonderful home with an owner who loves, respects and adores him.  You can read more about them on Lonnie’s blog, Veteran Traveler.  Full disclosure: I’m voting for Gander for Dog Hero of the Year as soon as I finish writing this blog, not just for his work with Lonnie, but for protecting a young girl from what looked like a serious attack from another dog.

This “new work” of dogs is a huge issue, and I’ve only touched on a small piece of it. Currently the US Department of Defense has stopped funding PSDs for veterans until there is more research to support their effectiveness. (Go to veteran, author and PSD dog owner Louis Carlos Montalvan’s site to find his blistering criticism of this decision.) There are also controversies about whether the dogs must all be trained by organizations like Freedom Service Dogs or self-trained. The list goes on, but hopefully this introduction will spark some conversations about this very new, and very ancient, “work” of dogs… making people feel better.

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: We had a contest on Facebook to name one of  the ewe lambs we’ll be keeping as part of the flock. One lamb is the daughter of my favorite ewe, Lady Godiva, a lovely, benign and prolific ewe who gives us healthy, wonderful lambs year after year. This year she had triplets, and unlike all the other ewes with triplets, she is raising them herself and they are thriving. (Rosebud had triplets and rejected one at birth (Ralphie), Solo had triplets but almost died in the process and her smallest female has been on a bottle since birth, and Spot had triplets but couldn’t milk out of one side of her udder and now out of neither, so all 3 are 100% bottle lambs.) Every year I have hoped for a ewe lamb from Lady Godiva, and finally this year she had 2 boys and one female. The little girl’s distinctive markings and her curious, outgoing personality is probably why I have become so attached to her. Here she is, with her new name, courtesy of “Name the Lamb” contest winner Cindy M and in a pose fitting of her name and personality– I give you (drum roll) Lady Baa Baa:

For those of you not on Facebook, we had 488 entries, many of which suggested more than one name. Wow. That prolific response inspired me to use the suggestions for the other lamb that we will be keeping, the female lamb of lead ewe Barbie, who had twins this year. I have also waited for a female lamb from her, because although she can be an absolute witch to dogs (not anymore to Willie, we got that sorted out this spring), she has gorgeous lambs and has been a trouper mother over many years. Although she is black, her lambs are both all white, and because we have several others who look like clones, I haven’t gotten to know her as well.

However, I spent some time with Barbie’s female lamb the last few evenings, and chose the name suggested by Micheal C, because she reminds me of a cupcake with vanilla icing. We’ll see if she stays sweet, or becomes The Enforcer as she gets older, like her mother. Here she is, our little Cupcake, with Momma Barbie staying close by:

And here are Spot’s triplets, who are still being bottle fed five times a day. The lambs were struggling for weeks, they couldn’t seem to get the hang of doing more than nibbling on the bottle, but they are thriving now. Whew. [Thanks to Katie for coming out and taking the photos!]

Remember the movie Groundhog Day, in which Bill Murray wakes up every morning to repeat the same day, over and over? That is a bit of what it feels like to write about the value of benevolence in dog training, and the problems associated with aggressive, confrontational techniques. And yet, I just can’t stop, because there is still a flood of advice about using force and confrontation to correct a dog for ….. (fill in the blanks)…. because 1) misbehavior is a sign your dog is attempting to dominate you and 2) you can only counter it by using force. Sigh.

Those of us arguing that we should be teaching our dogs, rather than forcing and threatening them, have an excellent study by Veterinary Behaviorists to support our perspective. Meghan Herron, DVM, DACVB, Frances Shofer, DVM and Ilana Reisner, DVM, DACVB, of the Matthew Ryan Veterinary Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania, asked clients what methods they had used in the past, and how the dog responded. (Applied Animal Behavior Science 117 (2009), 47-54). 140 people, selected because the dogs were brought to the clinic because of “aggression” problems, responded to their survey. Granted, surveys asking people about past behavior are never ideal, we humans being poor historians of our own behavior, but I would argue that this retrospective study has a lot of value. The owners were asked what methods they had used in the past, a question I also always asked of my clients, and to describe their dog’s response to the best of their recollection.

The authors divided the methods used by owners in response to their dog’s misbehavior into the following categories: “Aversive: Direct Confrontation” (alpha rolls, leash corrections, “dominance down,” hit or kick, neck jab, putting on a muzzle, etc.), “Aversive: Indirect Confrontation” (Yell “NO,” Say “Schhhtt,” stare down, growl at dog), “Non-Aversive: Reward-Based” (Food, “Watch Me,” Clicker Training, Sit for everything) and “Neutral” (Avoid, increase exercise, pheromones).

Not surprisingly, leash corrections were common, used by 71% of respondents and 74% yelled “No” in response to their dog’s behavior.  However, 18% reported using an “alpha roll” and as many as 26% used a “stare down” to “correct” their dog. 11% admitting to hitting or kicking their dogs, and 14% to roughly grabbing the dog by the scruff or jowls.

Here are the numbers that matter: The most confrontational, and I would argue, aggressive, behaviors on the part of the owners resulted in the highest levels of aggressive responses from the dogs. 43% of dogs responded with aggression to being hit or kicked, 38% to having an owner grab their mouth and take out an object forcefully, 36% to having a muzzle put on (or attempted?), 29% to a “dominance down,” 26% to a jowl or scruff shake. You get the idea. Of course, these are all dogs who were seen by veterinary behaviorists for aggression-related problems, but it makes the data even more important. Violence begets violence, aggression begets aggression.

An important distinction: Note that the authors, correctly, did NOT label the owner’s responses as “punishment” or “reinforcement.” For one thing, “punishment” is an action that results in a decrease in behavior, so if an owner stares a dog down (argh! who ever started that idea anyway!) and the dog becomes more aggressive, the stare down was not punishment. Second, there are all kinds of actions correctly termed as “positive punishment” that have nothing to do with force or confrontations. For example, I use tons of food (positive reinforcement) to teach dogs a solid stay, and respond to breaks in a stay with a Body Block (Here’s a video as an example.). A Body Block is an example of positive punishment (adding something to decrease the frequency of a behavior), but it is not confrontational or threatening if done correctly. (Note how little I move in the video, and how cheerful the entire episode is.)

Thus, the study is not so much about “reinforcement” and “punishment,” as about what happens when you threaten your dog, or forcefully and physically respond to misbehavior. Please be clear that I am not saying that if one of us occasionally raises our voice to our dog, or has a moment of humanity and loses our temper, we are going to destroy our dogs forever. Neither am I saying that aversives are always bad: aversive events are part and parcel of life, and we all need to know how to handle them, dogs included. However, as many of us have observed for years, using force and confrontation as a primary method of dog training often backfires and creates some of the very problems it is trying to solve.

One of my favorite parts of this study is that it was conducted by two Veterinary Behaviorists (Meghan Herron & Illana Reisner, both, DVMs and board certified vet behaviorists (DACVBs), who I suspect (I am just guessing here), are the experts most likely to effect the behavior of many others in the field of medicine. It has been my experience that quite a few canine professionals, included some veterinarians, are still quick to buy into the “dominance-based” theories of dog training, and it is great that we have data to add to the observations of CAABs and progressive trainers that force elicits force in return. Surely the study is a great addition for anyone who would like to have some good science behind their arguments for benevolent, science-based training, so don’t hesitate to remind people that if you force a dog to defend itself, it will. Canine defensive behavior does not include calling a lawyer or writing a letter to the editor. Teeth will be involved. I’m just saying.

MEANWHILE, back on the farm. It’s GORGEOUS!!!  I mean, it’s make-your-heart-sing, heart-breakingly beautiful this week. There are tulips scattered as if someone sowed jewels instead of seeds in the flower beds. The wild plums are blooming and the air actually feels heavier with their scent. The birds at the feeder are a riot of color: Scarlet Tanagers, Indigo Buntings, Rose-Breasted Grosbeaks, bright yellow Goldfinch. The leaves are swelling from their buds, the grass is growing almost visibly, and the sheep are luxuriating in it.  Of course, the weeds are growing like…  wait for it…  weeds. The pasture needs reseeding, there are a gazillion plants to plant, thistles to battle, barns to repair, etc etc. Jim and I fall into bed after creaking up the stairs on the days we can work together on the farm. That’s actually one of the reasons for the extra work: we’re making major changes in the back yard so that 1) the basement will stop flooding and 2) we can put in a hot tub before fall. One more wonderful thing: the harvest has begun! Amazing, given that we had snow just a few weeks ago, but I’ve got rhubarb from the farm in the frig, resting beside asparagus from friends. I made a special dinner for a good friend last weekend, and we had fresh asparagus roasted in Meyer lemon-infused olive oil. Yummmmmmmm.

Here’s the Scarlet Tanager (thanks to Jim, he took the photo). The tanagers don’t nest here, not the kind of woods they like, but we got to watch them at the feeder for 3 days. Heaven! (And no, I didn’t boost the color, the bird REALLY is that bright. It’s crazy scarlet-orange-red, and one of the prettiest birds in the Northern Hemispheres, in my humble opinion.)

Here’s Rosebud napping under a willow tree with her triplets. Regrettably, she completely rejected one of them (Ralphie), the black and white one curled up on the bottom left. He never tries to nurse from her, but often hangs around with his brother and sister. He is completely imprinted on me, and if he had woken up he would have run to me, bawling for milk. It’s rather sad sometimes, he’ll watch the entire flock run up the hill, stand at my feet and look up as if to say: “And what are we going to do?”

Some tulips to make you smile! I absolutely get why people became obsessed with these flowers, there are few flowers that make me happier. Smiles to all of you dear readers, with my gratitude for spending time with me.