I’m taking a holiday break, surrounding myself with laughter and friends and lighted candles. And good food. Lots of that. Yum.
Whilst I cavort, I’m repeating one of my favorite posts from the past, ten years ago this month, actually, December 29th, 2009.
If you’re busy and need a quick oxytocin rush, scroll to the end and watch a video of a dog who had the right stuff–but it took awhile to find it.
The Right Stuff: Every Dog Has Her Place
Pippy Tay didn’t look much like a purebred Border Collie; I’d bet money that most shelters would have described her as a BC/Labrador cross. She was big, almost 60 pounds, as long as a table, and had a large, square head that had Labrador written all over it.
But she was a Border Collie, the daughter of one of the top trial dogs in the country, and she had an outrun around sheep to break your heart. Early in her training I visited a handler’s farm in Iowa, to get a lesson and work her in a new area. Unlike my little farm, the land was perfect for long outruns, where you could send your dog from the top of a rise, watch them run a semi-circle through a sweeping valley below, and gather the sheep from as far away as you wanted. We trudged to the top of the hill, and Doug said: “Go ahead, send her after those sheep.”
What?! The small flock was at least 300 yards away. Pippy had never done an outrun longer than 75 yards. The difference is huge, bigger than you can imagine until you stand in one spot and watch your dog get smaller and smaller, disappearing into the size of a dark pencil point, running a semi-circle to get behind a fuzzy fluff of sheep. I said as much, not wanting to set Pip up to fail, but Doug encouraged me, said “Go ahead, just give it a try. What could happen?”
“Come Bye” I whispered, and Pippy was gone, ten yards away before I could even register her movement. We watched her streak down the face of the hill, widen out as she got within a hundred yards of the sheep, and circle behind them, far enough away to avoid disturbing them until she found the perfect balance point to control the sheep. She stopped, collected the flock (“the lift”) and walked them in a perfect line back to me. It was a perfect outrun, a glorious outrun, an outrun you’d expect of a older, wiser dog. It was a perfect fetch, slow and quiet and perfectly timed. I didn’t do much of anything, except stand in place, jaw open, heart swelling, blown away by my young dog and her ability. Doug didn’t say much, maybe “Wow.” I think he paid me the best compliment you’ll ever hear from a professional handler. “What did you say the breeding was on that dog?”
A year later, Pip and I were competing in a trial in Illinois, when the sheep took one look at her, turned to face her, ducked their heads like cartoon animals and attacked her. She was literally chased across the field, the audience howling derision in the stands. I truly believe she understood, if not that others were laughing at her, at least that she had been beaten by the sheep. I called her off, and she and I walked, heads hanging, off the field together. That night, I made her a promise to never, ever do that to her again.
The truth is, Pip was never meant to work difficult sheep or compete in trials. Her perfect outruns were a curse to us both, because they overshadowed her lack of power, her fear of being hurt and her total dislike of confrontations. For over a year I tried to make her something she wasn’t, and I still feel a pang of guilt when I remember how fearful she’d be when sheep turned to confront her.
But Pippy turned into one of the most valuable dogs I’ve ever had. Her gentle nature and distaste of confrontation became one of my greatest professional assets. For over ten years Pip worked dog-dog aggression cases with me. She was invaluable and unflappable. She’d lay down 20 yards away from defensively aggressive dogs, and slowly and gradually, reading them perfectly, she’d inch her way toward them. Within minutes they’d be licking her muzzle, or play bowing and tearing around the pen with her, their owners with tears in their eyes because their dog had never played with another before.
Pip taught me so much, and was such a help when I’d work with clients who wanted to compete in agility, but had dogs who hated crowds, or wanted their dogs to visit nursing homes, when the dogs were shy and afraid of strangers. Oh yes yes, training and conditioning can do so much, but it’s so important to know who are dogs are, what they are capable of, and what they are not. It’s the difference between swimming upstream, or down. I’m sure this has happened to many of you: I’d love to hear your stories.
If you want to see one of the best examples of this I’ve ever seen, go to the link below. It was sent by one of our colleagues in the comments section of the last blog (thank you Pike!). If you don’t get an oxytocin rush from watching it, I suggest therapy. . .
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BGODurRfVv4
MEANWHILE, back on the farm: Still brown brown brown. Not a drop of snow.
Add the lack of color to the lack of daylight, all the more reason to love brilliant sunsets!
And holiday lights indoors . . .
and outdoors . . .
We’ll leave the lights on for you.
May your holidays be both what you want, and what you need.
Kaari says
Our Potter is a good example of a dog who needed the right fit in her home life. She and her sister Kaja and brother Fergus were surrendered by their coyote-hunter owner just before they turned 3. Kaja and Potter were described as “very shy.” We adopted Kaja, who is now a sweet, loving, calm (but still timid in new situations) girl. Potter was adopted by a busy family who lived in the suburbs next to a small airport. Her family got in touch with us (knowing we had her sister) after 4 months and said Potter was not doing well–too scared to go potty outside even when carried out, hid in her safe place in the house all the time, etc. They had her on Prozac but she was still miserable. So we adopted her and she’s in the right place now–living with her sister and a couple of middle-aged introverts who live on 10 acres and don’t get out much. Potter is now off Prozac, relaxed, happy (and a little bossy), and loves to go outside. We take the girls to a huge (30 acre) rural dog park a couple times a week and they just come alive! Seeing Potter run and jump at the dog park made me think she might like agility, but we’re taking the girls to a (very calm) sighthound-only reinforcement-based training class and they both hate it–too many noises, too many unfamiliar things to look at/smell. So we’ll stick with them being our sweet backwoods country girls and do the things they love. It does make me wonder, though, how many good dogs and good owners are just a mis-match that makes life miserable for both. I give Potter’s previous owners huge credit for taking the difficult step of saying that their beloved dog just wasn’t the right fit for them…it had to be very hard, but it was the right thing for Potter.
Becky G says
The photo of the “police dog” is beautiful, but I hope what appears to be a prong collar is just a result of camera angle.
Franny in Vermont says
This is inspiring. My boxer/hound mix is a fast learner. We’ve worked on several ‘tricks’, but she gets bored and wanders off. However, one of her very favorite things to do is play “find it”. She’ll do a sit-stay (forever if necessary) while I hide treats around the yard or house. I release her with “Find It!” and she tears off with her nose working like crazy. The game has gotten easy no matter what kind of less-smelly treats I use. This article inspired me to start reading and watching videos about nose work. It may be a fun and stimulating activity for both of us.
If anyone has info they recommend about recreational nose work, please pass it on. Best wishes Patricia! I’m always thrilled to see your posts in my email.
KC Wilson says
Nine years ago I adopted Olive, a delicate and darling Jack Russell Terrier. My flyball dogs were aging and I thought Olive would love the sport. I made the mistake of rushing her into it for starters, before we bonded, before she trusted me. It was obvious after some time that she hated it. Her little brain just couldn’t handle the chaos and pressure. We tried agility…same result. I had to realize she was happiest just being a loving pet, going for walks, and snuggling under the blankets. Sorry to say, I lost her last May, but she taught me so much about her breed, her temperament, her likes and dislikes.
Hali says
This post could not have come at a better time for me. I cried even before I watched the video. I have been doing agility with my four year old Lab X for over three years now, beginning with a foundations level puppy class when he was about six months old. To make a long story short, just this past weekend I decided to call it quits, realizing that my once agility loving puppy was showing more and more signs of anxiety and much less interest in participating. My goal had always been to make it fun for Jasper while increasing his confidence. However, for quite some time now, Jasper has been showing me that he really doesn’t want to do agility any more. I finally decided to listen to him, and I wish I had done it much sooner. Jasper is happiest when he’s out running on trails, swimming in the lake, and playing with other dogs -not in an agility arena. We took a winter hike this weekend instead of participating in an agility event. Watching him excitedly run up and down the trail, gracefully jump over downed trees in the woods, joyfully roll in stinky stuff, and happily check in with me when I called him (and even when I didn’t) made my heart soar. This was such a contrast to him moving slowly around the arena, avoiding certain obstacles, and sniffing the ground while ignoring me when I called him during class. I don’t know whether I’ll try some other dog sport with Jasper in the future, but, for now anyway, we’re going to use what was once our agility training time to hit the trails, spending time doing the things that Jasper loves best. Thanks so much for this, Tricia. I really needed it.
Peg MacCallum says
I loved Ricochet’s story. As I continue to learn more and more from my dogs, they teach me something everyday, I continue to see what makes them happy and what doesn’t. I have a passion for agility and love the training part of it, even more than the competing. I have trained six dogs, two of them rescues, who love the game, and continue to work through the challenges of competition. The atmosphere in a competition is so different than training and they get really excited. Thanks for sharing this wonderful story that I will keep with me.
Terry Long says
“That night, I made her a promise to never, ever do that to her again.” Tons of respect for that decision. I have a Border collie who will never see a competition obedience ring, an agility ring, or a dock diving competition because whatever happened to him before we got him at 5 1/2 months convinced him that dogs barking, screaming, and moving erratically are a threat he cannot cope with. We made the same decision: no competitions for Cooper. Thanks for all your great stories about herding and dog behavior. What a great combo.
Anne says
I have so many that it’s hard to pick just one. I think Teak was similar to Pippi in that she didn’t stand up to pressure. She worked sheep at home, but when I took her to a cattle working clinic and one of them charged at her (and me because we were on the same side- you should have seen my bullfighter-worthy dodge!) she ducked under the gate and wouldn’t come back. Ok, so she’s not a cow dog. But she had a very long sheep herding career and also she was perfect as a visiting nursing home dog. She was so gentle with everyone, and went from person to person, getting her pats, but one week she wouldn’t move from one lady’s side, just sat there getting petted by her the whole time. We found out that the woman’s husband had passed on since our last visit, and Teak seemed to know she needed extra comfort.
Lisa R says
I had MY DOG – Aussie x, a bit nervous, a bit frantic, a bit under socialized with other dogs, but not a mean inkling in his body. From the shelter, bad hair, garbage gut, thunder phobic, somewhat a velcro dog, good with cats, 45#, and I loved him complete;u and he me. A few years later, still volunteering at the shelter, there was a tall, lean, 65#, sight hound looking guy, with scarred legs who stood up on his hind legs, and without otherwise touching me, ‘booped’ me on my nose. I brought him home. Good with Louis (now 63# and beautiful hair), good with the cats, a beautiful runner on the beach. He was about 6 to Louie’s 10. He was perfect with other dogs and people, he could play hard – too hard for Louie. I felt Louie was first in, he got to be in charge. He got his dinner first, he went out the door first – because I did that. I finally realized that Louis didn’t want to be ‘Alpha’, and Solomon (we named him that hoping he’d be smart, but he was very sweet), in all his 80+#, sleek of body, fleet of foot, didn’t need to be top dog. As soon as I stopped insisting on a hierarchy, Lou was calmer, Sol started self-handicapping by lying when they ‘face fought’, and never grabbed or bumped Louis again. They both became happier, more balanced and, dare I say it, better dogs when I let go of imposing an order to them.We still have Sol – with two TPLOs and one implant removal behind him, 16+ y.o. according the microchip he came into the shelter with – and I still miss Louis every single day – but learned so much about dogs, cats, and people with the two of them. I’m not big on kids, but Sol and I go to schools, Girls and Boys clubs, summer camps with a great organization to teach kids to be kind to animals and how to meet a dog safely; Louie wouldn’t have liked it, Sol revels in the kid-attention. You need to listen to what you see, and not force dogs (or people) into doing what is not their strength and joy. A very good lesson for me.
Thanks for writing about Pippy. I get it.
Alice Clayton says
Merry Christmas Patricia, hope it’s a good one!! xc
Diane Mattson says
I loved reading about Pip and Kari’s dogs. Thank you.
When I was a young girl, one of our neighbours bought a German Short Haired Pointer, Candy. Candy was to be a working dog, as our neighbour was a keen hunter. Candy had other ideas. She hated being out in the woods. She really wasn’t interested in pointing, and would have preferred playing with birds over pointing them out to be shot. Candy was happiest playing with the neighbourhood kids. She got along great with other animals, whether they were dogs, cats or even rabbits. Her hunting career was abandoned, although she stayed with our neighbour, and lived to a ripe old age of 17, being adored and loved by all of us.
Jenifer Koberstein says
The year was 1994 and I had just met a man who had two wild dogs. They would jump up and bite you in the face. Out of control. I looked for a trainer and found Patricia McConnell. She showed up at my farm and I hadn’t had time to put the dogs away. I ran outside thinking that they would go after her. I was frantic. She got out of her car before I could begin to yell and was instantly friends with the dogs. She taught me more about dogs than anyone had ever taught me. thank you. I have since rescued hundreds of dogs. Never forgotten guy or the valuable lessons you taught me.
Trisha says
OMG. That is the best Christmas present ever. Thank you more than I can say Jenifer!
Trisha says
What a wonderful story!
Trisha says
Wonderful story!
Trisha says
Yay Teak for all the great work she’s done. And for you for your ninja cattle dodge! Getting charged by cattle is not for sissies.
Trisha says
Yay for you! Not always an easy decision, but such a good one.
Trisha says
So true about competition energy being totally different. Willie hated it, Maggie loves trials, even if the sheep completely beat her. No matter what happens, she’s crazed to go out and try again. (I’m lousy in competition settings, reaction time slug-like, but still torture myself cause I learn so much trying to get there. And… okay, the times we do well are REALLY FUN!)
Trisha says
Hali, I truly sympathize. It’s so hard to give up, I think especially cuz we get sucked into “if we were better trainers we could fix this…”. I’ve had a lot of clients actually whose friends said exactly that to them. Yay for you for making such a wise decision. Jasper is a lucky dog.
Trisha says
I watched a few flyball competitions and I swear to god if I hadn’t been able to leave on my own I would’ve been in the corner licking my apws and stress whining. I have never had a dog who could have handled that much noise, but if I had, I’d have been a basket case!
HFR says
Merry Christmas to you and a Happy New Year! And thank you so much for your wonderful blog. I’ve learned so much from you over the years (yes, I’ve been following since your show with your ex-husband!).
I remember watching that video of Ricochet back in 2009 and am I the only one who thinks that dog does not look happy surfing? Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but my first reaction was that this dog would rather not be surfing.
Barb Stanek says
Love the dog you have, not the dog you think he/she should be. The dog you have is perfect for you. My Trio girl taught me this and so much more.
Kat says
Ranger was supposed to be a pet. It didn’t take long though to figure out that he was a dog who was born to do Therapy Dog work. I was only dimly aware that such a job even existed but I was wise enough to know what I was seeing and to do the research to figure out how to give him his best life doing what he was born to do. We documented well over 500 visits before the end.
D’Artagnan came to live with us in part because I miss Therapy Dog work and wanted another dog that would be good at it. Early indications are that he will like the work and he has the qualities that make for a good Therapy Dog. But the proof, as they say, will be in the pudding. He’s signed up for the Therapy Dogs International test on February 9. Between now and then he’ll need to learn to ignore other dogs when he’s on leash. Currently he wants to play with every dog he sees. If he leans to contain his enthusiasm for playing with other dogs and passes his test we’ll start visiting and then I’ll be looking for him to tell me if this really is what he wants to do. I hope it is. If it isn’t we’ll figure out what he wants to do and make that happen.
Trisha says
Paws crossed! I remember that Tulip was soooo slow to mature. She was over three when she finally calmed down and stopped stealing my boots to chew on and chasing anything that moved.
Melanie Hawkes says
My trainer sent me that video almost 4 years ago when I had to decide whether to keep my assistance dog or not. I’d only had him 6 months, but it was clear he’d never be able to pass a public access test as he was reactive to noises, dogs, men, flies, cars and lots of other things that moved. But he enjoyed doing all his tasks to help me at home, which I relied on. A bad dog was better than no dog at all right?
So I kept Upton, but had to fight the organisation who provided him. I’d signed a contract which said they’d retrain, re-classify, retire or replace a dog that failed. Nothing about returning him. They wanted him back, to go to a man with PTSD!! I thought how ridiculous, he was giving me PTSD! I didn’t want to let that happen, and I won the case, but have questioned my decision most days since, especially when I had a neighbour whose dog barked very often. It made life miserable for both of us. I had him on anxiety meds (plus he has allergies and pain issues) but would still react often. I came very close to rehoming him earlier this year. But I have had great support from trainers, a bowen therapist and a vet behaviourist. She suggested he start taking antinol for joint pain, and the difference has been incredible. He rarely reacts to traffic now, can walk calmly most days and is relaxed at home. It’s been tough, but glad I never gave up. And thanks to your books and blog posts too Patricia! Happy new year!
Carrie says
Although I’ve known your work since my first pup’s obedience class in WI (the trainer was a former UW student), I’ve only come back to the blog after recently devouring “The Education of Will.” That book takes the theme of this post even further. I loved that book for many reasons, but here are two. First, I so appreciate the risk it took for you as an accomplished professional and published author to write something so deeply personal (and upsetting). I also relate to the way my own state of being impacts my work with my dog, Coco, which is the second reason I love the book. I’ve learned so much from your descriptions of how to watch more closely to what Coco is telling me. A nearly three-year-old Belgian Malinois, she is wicked smart and beyond perceptive. All she wants is to please (and protect) her human(s), but getting her from a shelter at age one, we had no idea what kind of training or experiences she had before us. I immediately enrolled her in every class I could to keep her engaged: obedience, agility, tricks, nose work. She eagerly did it all. If I had the time, I’d look into search and rescue because I think she’d excel. Instead, we tried animal-assisted therapy. We were total failures and what the trainers led me to believe is that it was because of my own shortcomings as a trainer. Because I couldn’t get her to attend to me and only me, they led me to believe I was deficient. Because she had some fear-based reactivity to certain situations, they tried to refer me to a behaviorist. We dropped out after two classes and I felt utterly defeated. What now, I thought? Well, we went back to long, off-leash hikes because in the woods, she doesn’t feel any threat. Why not? Because I don’t feel any threat. The point of this story is that it is just as important to realize and accept the strengths and weaknesses of the handler, not just the dog. So many dog trainers don’t know how to address the human’s limitations. As an anxiety-prone person, I had to remove myself from training situations in which the canine on the other end of the leash was reading ME more than the more experienced, professional trainer. That is her ultimate skill and we now embrace it. When Coco comes to sit between my husband and me because the tone of our interaction is getting tense, we’ve check ourselves and try to be more kind because we trust that she knows how to read the room.
Trisha says
Argh, sorry slow to answer Becky. But sadly, it’s not the camera angle. I am appalled at myself for not noticing. I was so enraptured by the dog’s intensity about the toy I simply didn’t see it. No excuse. I will say that all the work I saw all afternoon was positive–tug toys, lots of enthusiastic praise, but I should have noticed the collar. Ouch.