As many of you know, Tim, Stella, Stewie and I are planning to move to Norway this month. It has been my job to prepare the dogs for the transatlantic journey. I’ve also been making the necessary arrangements for their immigration (our human immigration is already settled).
I was discussing the details with a colleague today and mentioned the interesting time constraints related to the last week before the move. The dogs need an exam from our vet, and a signature from her on a United States Department of Agriculture (USDA) document. Norway requires the USDA to approve this document before the dogs can leave the United States and legally enter Norway. That USDA document is time sensitive, so I’d have to travel to Austin to get it signed and then back to Houston to get on a plane to Norway within a matter of days. It was an interesting conversation until my colleague reminded me of a stark truth that’s been right under my nose the whole time
The USDA is closed indefinitely. Remember? The government is shut down; out of business; sorry for your luck. The result: Tim has to go to Norway anyway for work. The dogs and I are stuck here. Waiting.
I can’t help but chuckle. Less than an hour ago I was listening to the radio and the announcer said “we want to know how the government shutdown is affecting you.” I had the arrogance to think, it’s pretty much not affecting me at all. I couldn’t have been more wrong. This is the story of how the privileged and the power-hungry disrupt and damage American lives. In my case, it’s the story of how they split up a family. I can only hope it’s not for too long.
I have calls out to see if there is a work-around and will post updates on this site as I learn more.
It’s one of the most uncomfortable things for us trainers to say to a client. I am always looking for the kindest and most tactful way to say it. “I don’t think your dog really enjoys being patted on the head like that.” It’s tough because the thing is, we humans love to pat and pet and paw on our dogs.
Ethologist and Author Patricia McConnell PhD was one of the first to shine the light on this basic disconnect between humans and dogs. We humans are primates. Our social interactions are played out primarily with our arms and hands. Dogs are canines and they are notably lacking arms and hands. Their social interactions are played out with their whole bodies, but primarily with their mouths. So, it’s no surprise then to find new puppy owners bloodied on their limbs and digits baffled over why their young bundles of teeth keep biting them. It’s also no surprise to see a dog duck away when their person reaches out to pat their head.
Here’s the rub (literally and figuratively). Even when we know better, we humans keep on keeping on. We don’t get it, even when we get it. Case in point: that picture of me and Stella over there. My face says, I love this dog. Her face says, I don’t care just get me out of here. I knew better but I just couldn’t stop myself. Facebook and Google are littered with videos and pictures like this one, and worse. People hugging dogs who clearly are uncomfortable. Children draped over dogs who are at best tolerating the interaction. We can’t help ourselves. Almost daily we’re highlighting the difference between our species, photographing it, and publishing it for the world to see.
Sometimes I chuckle at myself when I forget and reach for Stella’s head for a nice pat. She, of course, ducks away and I apologize. The laugh is on me. I knew better and couldn’t help myself. Dogs tend to not like hands reaching for them; especially hands belonging to someone they don’t know too well. Some dogs are more sensitive than others (Stella knows me well and still doesn’t care for that kind of greeting). We forget because quite often we greet each other, including strangers, with an extended hand. We call it shaking hands. If we know each other even a little bit better, or if we’re in Europe, we might hug. Hugs to dogs are very alien and offensive. Dogs who drape their heads over another dog’s withers (shoulder area) often get in fights. So do dogs who full-on mount another dog (sort of like hugging).
People who reach for the wrong dog get bitten too. Sometimes the results are serious. Children, unfortunately get bitten most frequently. They’re the ones most likely to hug or even try to ride a dog. It pains me to know some parents don’t know better and actually encourage this. They grab the camera and log on to Facebook. I cringe. At least one dog related fatality this year involved a baby pulling himself up on a dog. Those cases are rare and extreme. It’s easy to blame the dog or the parents. The truth though is that we all need to learn better ways to interact with dogs; we trainers especially need to take the lead on this – teach – learn – teach again. No one who loves their child and loves their dog wants things to go badly. But it happens.
This doesn’t mean dogs don’t like to be touched. Most do. When I’m thinking correctly, I let dogs approach me first. If the dog appears fearful, I’ll turn sideways to the dog, and I might bend at the knees to get down to his level. I don’t reach into the dog’s space or make direct eye contact, the way you might do when you’re greeting a person at a business meeting. If the dog approaches, I pet him on the chest or on the cheek by his ears. Watch to see how he reacts. If he backs away, I stop. Of course, the overwhelming majority of dogs will love this. Many will be exuberant and jump for joy (that’s another issue altogether). Children are always supervised. In Stella’s case, because she is particularly sensitive, interactions with kids are structured and brief.
Trainer educator Jean Donaldson got it right in The Culture Clash. We want our dogs to be like dogs the in the movies. She calls them Disney Dogs. They are cute and always nice, with human sensibilities and manners. That, of course, is a myth. Dogs have their own ways, their own sensibilities, and they are nonetheless still cute and nice. I think they are more so. Nearly perfect in fact. I should remember that when I see a dear client looming over her dog and reaching out. “Your dog is wonderful, and so are you. Let me show you how he likes to greet people. He’s so cute.
It always comes down to this for me. Would I live with that dog? You see, I don’t endorse dogs for adoption lightly; that’s bad business for dog trainers. If I’m going to put my name behind a dog, he or she has to be a dog I’d honestly and freely welcome into my own home. I’m also not the kind of dog trainer who adopts rehab cases. I want to live with a just-plain typical dog, magical yes, but in the way ordinary dogs find magic by settling deep into your heart.
My dogs are those kind of dogs. They are mutts, as we used to call such gifts, mixed breeds of questionable origin. But, this isn’t really about them. It’s not about my adopting a dog either; our house and our hearts are full. This is about other ordinary dogs, magical dogs with no home, mutts whose origins and looks draw their worth into question. They are dogs who’ve touched my heart and even now risk breaking it.
Tara
When I posted pictures of Tara and Oreo on my facebook page, my brother posted only one question about them. “Are they pit bull mixes?” The question made me angry, and at first I wasn’t exactly sure why. My answer to him was staid. Breed identification based on visual observation is only about 30% accurate. He didn’t reply.
I met Tara and Oreo more than two months ago. They were scrappy adolescent dogs pulled from the streets of the Corridor of Cruelty in Houston and placed directly into a boarding facility. Oreo was literally a mangy mutt, black and white, slightly squared at the jaw. Tara was and is brown and muscular with a blocky head and slanted amber eyes. My job was to assess them and a third dog, a shepherd mix named Skipper, for a program called Project HEEL. The program places homeless dogs from Corridor Rescue Inc. with teenage boys in the custody of The Harris County Juvenile Probation Department. When I first met them, the three dogs ran amok and were definitely untrained. Nevertheless, they got along well and within a week they were sent off to a juvenile probation home in the rural reaches of a Houston Suburb.
Oreo
It’s hard to ignore the parallels – tough-looking dogs with tough-looking teenage boys, all behind the double locked doors and barbed wire of the county. For the dogs and the boys both, the trouble is more about how they look, than what they’ve done or ever will do. The boys at least know what they’re up against when they get out. The dogs have no idea. Block headed, bully bodied, banned in some places. They are totally, if not blissfully, unaware of how hard it will be for them to find a place in this world, a home, a family.
Someone claimed Skipper, the shepherd mix, weeks before Project HEEL ended. Skipper’s leash will be handed to his new guardians at a graduation ceremony. No one will take Tara’s leash, or Oreo’s leash, the ones my brother summarily asked about. They will return to their crates, and if time runs out they will go back to the boarding facility to wait. I don’t know for how long. I also don’t know if they are pit mixes. It doesn’t matter. They look the part and that’s enough of a mark against them. And here’s the irony , bitter as it may be.
I’d live with either of these dogs, Tara, Oreo. I would if it weren’t for the dogs who’ve already claimed me. Tara, tough as she may look, with her muscled body and serious eyes, would have a place beside me – curled and pressed against my chest please. Oreo would learn tricks and accompany me on TV, the eager learner, the clown. I’ve looked at each of them squarely and asked myself soberly, would I live with that dog. The answer is yes. I’d put my name behind either of theirs, and let them settle into my heart to find the magic life of an ordinary dog.
I don’t endorse dogs lightly, but these are dogs with whom I’d live. Wouldn’t you? Won’t you? Please.
