I took Will to a friend’s to work him on different sheep in a new environment. I’m getting to the point where he and I don’t have too much more we can do at home. My small flock is so tame that Will has to be within a few feet of them to move them, unless I split out a few and force them away from the main flock. Then they are flightier (and more challenging), and I’ll do that more and more, but don’t like to stress the ewes and lambs too much when the lambs are young. Either way, it’s still the same sheep in the same place, and Will needs to learn how to work lots of different types of sheep in different places. (So do I!) We are used to working in first gear, when most sheep work in done in 4th.
I wish I could show you a video of how he did. We were at a gorgeous farm where Will has never worked, and three things happened that made me so happy I could have carried him home myself, all thirty miles.
1) I sent him on a long outrun, two to three times as far as he’s ever gone (perhaps 250 yards? I’m guessing). He did a perfect outrun, and I don’t have the words for what it feels like to watch your dog get smaller and smaller as he runs away from you, curving out at just the right time to go around the flock and not disturb them until he gets to the back. As I think about it, I should NOT qualify it as a “perfect” outrun, because no one was holding the sheep in place, and they were moving long before he got there and were close to the edge of the field. So, was his ‘lift’ perfect? (That’s when the dog gets around to ‘twelve o’clock’ and first makes contact with the sheep.) I can’t say, because the sheep were moving long before he got there (not because he was too close), he got them stopped once he got around them, he turned on balance and brought them straight to me. We’ve never worked on such a huge field and it makes my heart full to work in a place that open and free.
2) He’s got his flanking whistles down. Down pat. What’a boy, I’m so pleased. Here’s a synopsis of the process:
a) We work on his flank whistles for 2+ weeks, looks like he has them nailed.
b) Week three everything falls apart, I realize that once I thought he “had” them I tested him by asking him to change directions a lot. I begin to suspect he thought that both whistles meant “change direction.”
c) For 2 sessions, I go back to the first steps, having him run around and around, clockwise or counter clockwise as I repeat his whistle over and over, using the movement of the sheep and visual signals to keep Willie moving. I tested him a few times in a different context, and it seemed he wasn’t making any progress on which whistle meant what.
d) The next time we worked I send him on an outrun and he runs around to twelve o’clock and keeps going. And going and going. He runs an entire 360 degrees around the sheep, ignoring my signals to stop. It takes me a second outrun to realize he had interpreted Step C not as whistle training, but as training to run in mindless circles around the sheep.
e) After realizing this, I sat down and laugh out loud in the wet grass and asked Willie for a kiss. Willie obliged, then peed on a bush, then looked for sheep poop to eat.
f) I stop using his flank whistles for a few days (used verbal), then gradually added them in on occasion, no longer having ‘flank whistle training sessions,’ just using them when I know he wants to go that way anyway. Gradually I start asking for them when he’d prefer the other direction, and with very few corrections (a verbal no), Willie starts getting them right.
g) I take him to Peg’s (where Redford is) and he gets his flank whistles about 19/20 times.
h) Willie not only took his flank whistles every single time at our last outing, he listen beautifully, even at 200 yards. Bless him.
3) Willie came to me as a puppy pathologically afraid of other dogs but was great in the field with a guard Pyrenees (more on Willie and other dogs in other posts, and probably and eventually a book.) We’ve worked on it for three years, and he’s been improving leaps and bounds. My friend’s sheep were guarded by a working Great Pyrenees, described as a “big galoof” who loves all dogs, but still, I was thrilled that Will and he had two perfectly reasonable greeting encounters. At one point Will would have run away in terror, at another he would’ve attacked. This time Will briefly greeted him before going to work the sheep, and then left my side the instant I said “that’ll do” after working sheep and ran to sniff the other dog some more. I won’t say there wasn’t a bit of tension there, but nothing serious and easy to manage. Just being able to have Will around unfamiliar dogs is a joy, especially a big, guarding male. More to come on that score, as I said, but back to herding for a moment:
Mind you, Wilie and I couldn’t score well in a trial now if our life depended on it. He behaves completely differently if anyone, anyone at all is watching (I know, I know, is it me, or is it Willie?) and he is easily intimidated by sheep. He’ll lose contact with them, take the pressure off when he shouldn’t, get rattled if there’s any stress and if he is confused, but lordy he’s trying incredibly hard and I love him to pieces. And me? Oh dear. I have no ability at the moment to work fast moving sheep… I simply can’t make decisions fast enough to get flighty sheep to stay on a perfect straight line on a drive, but then, I’m trying hard, too. Willie seems to forgive me for it, or at least, he can’t talk and tell me what he thinks…
Lassie terrifies Trisha: Yesterday morning I woke up mildly surprised. In five minutes I was in terror. It was 6:15, and Lassie always, always ALWAYS wakes me up between 5 am (sigh) and 5:45 because she has to go outside to pee. In general, I haven’t set an alarm since we stopped taping Calling All Pets over a year ago (when I had to get up at 4:30 on Wednesdays). But now, it’s 6:15 and Lassie is sound asleep. No worries, I pad over to her doggy bed and gently touch her shoulder. “Lassie,” I say quietly, because she often startles when awoken because her hearing is so bad. Nothing. Lassie is soft and warm, but immobile. “Lassie” I say, and press with my hand a little harder, shaking her shoulder back and forth. Nothing, and no sign of her chest rising and falling either. This time I push forcefully into her, saying LASSIE now with real fear in my voice. I’m so loud and clearly scared that Jim peeks over the bed, worried himself. Nothing. Not a twitch.
It’s amazing the thoughts that run through your head when you’re in crisis. I remember, very clearly, thinking that “she must have died recently, because she’s still warm and there’s no rigor mortis” and “how sweet that she died in her sleep and presumably didn’t suffer.” These were cognitive thoughts, generated by my cortex, when my amygdala and hippocampus was screaming OH MY GOD LASSIE IS DEAD. I remember the thoughts and the emotions of terror and panic as being parallel, but completely separate from one another.
The panicked part of me shook Lassie one more time, this time shaking her hard and yelling her name with pure terror in my voice, and as I did she slowly raised her head and licked my face. I burst into tears and sobbed like a child, kissing her muzzle and saying her name over and over again. This morning she woke us up around 5:30, and at first I thought, “Oh Lassie, just a few more minutes!” and then…. was overwhelmed with gratitude that she’s there to wake us up at all.
Meanwhile, back at the farm, during the sweetest spring weekend you can imagine. Here is a picture of the yard that Jim took yesterday:
In this next picture, I love the different postures of Will and Sushi: Will is chewing on his Sunday bone, Sushi is practicing her “lion on the hunt” look.
And here’s why Sushi is now stuck inside for the next few days: This baby robin flew/fell out of the nest on top of the porch light this morning, along with two others. There are also Chipping Sparrows in the bush by the living room window, wrens nesting in the exhaust vent from the bathroom (which no longer works, although for years when you turned on the bathroom fan you’d hear cheep cheep cheep cheep… now it doesen’t work at all and I’ve just given it away to the wrens), a PeeWee nesting on top of a down spout by the porch and barn swallows nesting in the garage. [added note 6/10: an alert reader suggested it was not a PeeWee and she was absolutely correct! I watched carefully the next day and saw the typical tail flick of the Phoebee and heard their typical song. A PeeWee is nesting close by because I hear it often, but not on the house.} That’s four nests attached to the house…. and all with babies about to fledge. Sorry, Sushi!
Crystal says
Oh my goodness, the story about Lassie brought tears to my eyes.
I always love the pictures of your farm- it looks so beautiful! Why did I choose to live in the city again?
And that’s so awesome about Willie- I love it when you have those breakthrough moments in your dog’s training.
Smaki says
My heart was in my throat until you got to the happy ending with Lassie!
The pics are beautiful. Your farm looks so peaceful.
Rachel says
The story about Lassie reminds me of a funny story about my husband. My Border Collie is not a big active dreamer but when she was about a year old he saw her in a particularly active dream – mouth moving, paws flailing – hubby had an absolute heart attack – he called to me in utter panic because he was sure she was having a seizure. He wanted to rush her to the vet. We now also have a munsterlander who is a very active dreamer – i still tease my husband when the ml’s paws start paddling in the air about rushing them to the vet.
It is hard when dogs get older – for years my BC woke us up with kisses to the face now i have to holler under the bed to get her to wake up. Every moment with them is precious.
Ignacio says
I’m glad that Lassie is still hanging in there. We’re all sending our good thoughts for her!!
Leslie says
Hi Patricia,
I can relate to your story of Lassie! Every morning I stop as I exit my bedroom upstairs and look down over the hallway railing to see if my beautiful Bellamia who is a 14 1/2 year old white GSD/golden lab mix is still breathing, and every morning I celebrate when I see the rise and fall of her breathing. I adopted her when she was just 3 months old so we have traveled a long road together. It is so hard to see her approaching the end of her life. I hope every day that when she goes it will be in her sleep, though I still dread finding her gone.
Holly says
GO WILLIE (and Trisha). What a good boy he is. I can see why he tugs at you so.
and MY heart was in my throat (even tho I was pretty sure that it was going to come out ok from the title of the post) while I read about Lassie. I have a 12 year old Corgi that I worry about every single day.
Kelly Ladouceur says
Trish, even if you and Will never compete in trials, it sounds like he’s learning and you’re learning. And that’s the joy of it – the learning. Funny about how he figured the whistle meant keep running in mindless circles. That made me laugh out loud. Really, sometimes they are too smart for us.
I’ve been scared the way you were with Lassie. It’s tough when they age and they start sleeping deeply. Heart-pounding, tear-jerking moments for sure. I’m glad that all’s well that ends well.
Joan says
i also, can relate to your Lassie story. We just lost our 14 year old border collie to Cushing’s disease– or the drugs used to treat it–hard to know. It was truly devastating for us. In the last 18 months, we’ve lost 3 of our beloved dogs to the ravages of old-age. It was cool to have them all the same age when they were young—they were best buddies–but didn’t take into consideration that they would all be growing old together, too, with all the potential health problems that elderly dogs can experience. Sometimes I think that it would have been nice to have them go peacefully while sleeping, but have come to the conclusion that no matter how they leave us,it’s still awful to experience.
My heart goes out to you Trisha, and everyone else who’s dealing with the same thing. Kisses and hugs to Lassie.
Julie says
My cat is now sadly (to her) banished to the inside, too. It’s not baby birds I’m keeping out of harm’s way, but baby bunnies! There are 7 or 8 in my backyard who have just left the nest and hop about. They’re so tiny and cute and I’m so afraid something is going to get them. At first I wasn’t even letting my dog out but that has gotten old pretty fast, so now I go out first and make noise and tell the bunnies to hide, then I tell Casey “go potty” and we’re in and out of the yard pretty fast. I’ll miss them when they’re gone but I’ll be relieved. Casey is getting longer walks because I feel bad he’s not out much, so that’s actually good for both of us.
Jess says
I have to admit that I still have yet to read the chapter on Love and Loss in The Other End of the Leash. I have two beautiful labs aged 1 and 11 years. I feel very lucky to share life with them! Very happy to hear that Lassie is okay!
It’s always fun to read about the training you do with your dogs, especially Willie and the sheep. Congrats on the progress!
Amy says
Hi Trisha! So glad that Willie is rockin’ it!
You are very good to wildlife to keep your kitty indoors and away from the fledglings. I wish more people were like you. I think your pewee is an Eastern Phoebe – a type of flycatcher that likes to nest on man-made structures like buildings and bridges (Eastern Wood-pewees nest on horizontal tree limbs).
Trisha says
Amy well might be absolutely right (I hate it when I make mistakes but love that sharp readers catch me when I do!). Here’s why I said Pewee: I know the call of both birds well, Phoebe’s say FEEEEE BEE ! FEEEE BEE BEE! and Pewee’s say PEEEEE-AH-Wheeeee! Every morning and evening I listen to the later, but Amy is absolutely right that it’s a Phoebee most likely to nest on my house, and indeed, Phoebee’s used to nest in my garage until I got a garage door put on (finally!). Now 2 foolish barn swallows drive me crazy by insisting on nesting inside the garage and every day as I drive away and hit the button to shut the automatic garage door I say “I”m SO sorry, but I TOLD you not to nest there!” So who is nesting now outside of the garage, on a horizontal drain pipe linking a gutter and a downspot? It’s like a horizontal tree limb and I hear the Pewee call relentlessly right beside the house. But, Amy is right that it sounds more likely to be a Phoebee. I’ll have to get serious with the binoculars tonight!
And thanks for your comments about Lassie. A full heart to all of you with similar stories and older dogs (I laughed so hard at Rachel’s story about her worried husband and dreaming Border Collie that Willie came running into the room.) I’m happy to report that Lassie ran like a puppy (well, a slow one) this morning playing frisbee. Bless ’em all.
Laura says
I read your blog in my office at lunch. It often makes me laugh. Today I cried at your story of Lassie and I am so happy for you that she is doing so well. I lost my dog a year ago at 18 yo. The first time I came home and she didn’t come to the door I went in search of her. She was on the couch not moving and I thought, oh, Jessie is gone. I started to cry and then I touched her. I startled her awake and she certainly startled me. After that, I watched her to make sure she was breathing before I got upset. It is so incredibly hard to watch them age so much faster than we do. Best wishes to Lassie and you!
Terrie says
I recently had a simialr scare with my beloved 3 year old dobie. I got up in the night to use the bathroom, which almost always gets him to glance over to see what’s going on. One night, nothing. I stopped to drop a few pats on his head. Nothing. I shook him. Nothing. The panic that something was wrong started. I shook him again. Still nothing. I finally got down on my hands and knees and got up in his face. He blinked at me, gave me a quick kiss and went back to sleep. Meanwhile, I sat next to him, rubbing his ears and took a few moments to catch my breath. Even thinking about that fear gives me chills weeks later.
Liz F. says
Just got back from vacation so this really isn’t timely, but I just wanted to say how glad I am that Lassie’s okay. I can find beauty in many, many dogs- but -Lassie has just gorgeous markings and a seemingly dignified way about her that reminds me of old Hollywood starlets. Just an impression, I guess, but she is a striking dog who anyone would be terrified to lose.
Here’s to more time and memories!
Happy for Will, too, but more so for you and your Lassie!
Trisha says
To Liz, from Lassie: Tall two-leg female told me that you thought I looked like a Hollywood starlet and I wanted you to know that you are right. I am indeed as beautiful as beautiful can be, and I have never even had cosmetic surgery or used botox. Tall two-leg tells me that I am very vain, but that she is just as vain as I am about my looks lasting for so long. She is a bit miffed with me because I scared her again by leaping halfway down the stairs and smashing into a wooden gate. She held me at the bottom where I crumpled and said “what were you thinking?” but that’s a silly question to ask a dog. I didn’t really think about it, I just did it. I also wandered into the road last week, for the first time ever (in 14 and a half years) and now Tall Two-Leg keeps me within just a few feet of her when we’re outside, but that’s okay, cuz she often has crunchy good things to eat and she gives them to me when I look especially beautiful. (Willie thinks he’s handsome, but I think he’s too long and sort of goofy looking.)
Liz F. says
Too funny. I’m nearly to tears.
Lassie, darling, careful…while you may turn heads, cars are another matter altogether. Do enjoy yourself, though, and give Tall two-leg an inch for taking such good care! Maybe even Willie, too, just maybe (He is a youngster, but he really does pull off the charming-goofy-handsome look.)
Trisha says
Phoebee it is! Thanks Amy for keeping me honest. And thanks to all of you who mentioned that you too had older dogs who slept so deeply you could barely wake them up. I didn’t realize it was so common. Why is it then as I get older I sleep more lightly? I got about 2 hours sleep last night, we had 2 separate thunder storms that were so loud it was impossible to sleep. I finally gave up around 3:30, padded downstairs with a worried looking Lassie (who is apparenly not so deaf that loud thunder doesn’t bother her.. altho it may have been the vibrations, at one point the house really did shake) and read Love, Medicine and Miracles by Bernie Siegel til 6 am. Fascinating book (but could use a bit more sleep!).
Dena Norton says
Just more hugs for you and Lassie. My heart was in my mouth. And you described that disconnected feeling so perfectly, the one part of you thinking, and the other part screaming.