get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see the dew bespangling herb and tree
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Pundit and Cholula in the Early Days, Before They Stopped Playing

I didn’t get Cholula at an especially good time to bring a new dog into our lives. I’ve written about that experience earlier on this blog, but basically, I brought home Cholula last August mostly because it was no longer quite a terrible time to bring a new dog into our lives. For example, my baby was a year and a half old, so I was no longer completely sleep deprived (but I still had three kids under six! And my year-and-a-half old was still not sleeping through the night!) We’d just returned from our two-week summer vacation (but I was heading into a busy work season! And we were going to have to bring the strange dog camping with us over Labor Day after she’d been with us only about a week!) But ever since my old dog, Ubi, had died at age 18 about a year earlier, I’d yearned for a second dog. There was no rational reason for it, but the only thing that kept me away from the shelter even as long as I stayed away was the overwhelmingness of caring for an infant. So last August, along with my year-and-a-half old baby, I went to the shelter and met two dogs. A couple of days later, my oldest daughter and I went back to the shelter and brought home Cholula. I’d done nothing to prepare—I didn’t even have a collar for her. The sweet look she’d given my baby at the shelter proved to be prescient—from the beginning, she was amazingly gentle with the kids. But given that she turned out to have aggression issues with other dogs, the relationship I really needed to manage was between her and our beloved 12-year-old dog, Pundit. This, I could have done so much better—and if I had done it better, I could have spared Pundit some pain and, I’m convinced, with Pundit’s help, brought out Cholula’s repressed playfulness more easily and quickly—a playfulness I’ve worked for months now to bring out because I need it to get her past her problems. But I learned some lessons from the experience, which I’m happy to pass on:

LESSON NUMBER ONE: WHEN INTRODUCING A STRANGE DOG FROM THE SHELTER TO YOUR BELOVED AGING FAMILY POOCH, DO NOT BE THE ONLY ADULT IN THE HOUSE WITH TWO DOGS AND THREE YOUNG CHILDREN BEFORE YOU HAVE FIGURED OUT HOW YOU ARE GOING TO GET EVERYONE OUTSIDE: My daughter and I arrived home with Cholula when my husband was still at work, and neither my other children nor Pundit had seen me all day. Initially, Pundit and Cholula did okay, sniffing and circling each other in the living room. But Pundit needed to go out, and in the chaos of trying to get shoes on the three kids and convince everyone we were going to take the dogs out, Pundit mounted Cholula. I later learned from Cholula’s previous owner that having another dog mount her is one of Cholula’s biggest fears/triggers for aggression. Pundit mounted Cholula. Cholula attacked. The kids screamed. I carried the kids out of the room as Pundit squealed, and by the time I got back in, Cholula had pinned Pundit and the two dogs had separated. They stood panting and looking nervous. Pundit was not obviously hurt, although with his arthritis pain it can’t be good for him to be thrown down like that. And my daughter S, who had initially said she loved Cholula, for weeks afterward refused to befriend Cholula because Cholula had attacked the family pet.

LESSON NUMBER TWO: IF YOUR SHELTER DOG IS UNSTABLE, MAKE SURE YOUR BELOVED OLD FAMILY POOCH HAS AN ESCAPE ROUTE: Pundit’s a lover, not a fighter, and Cholula, although her leash aggression became more apparent to us each day, is generally calm in the house, so again, the dogs were doing okay together, until a few days later. Coming back from a walk, I had both of their leashes in one hand, partially twisted together, when just as we approached our front gate along the sidewalk from one direction, a dog came towards us along the sidewalk from the opposite direction. It was bad timing—that dogs’ innocent blocking of our way into our house triggered one of Chlolula’s unhinged lunging attacks—but with Cholula on the leash, she couldn’t get to the other dog, and in blind fury she turned on Pundit, who was trapped with her by the leash and again suffered, squealing, until she pinned him, when I managed to pull her off of him. After that, I still hold the dogs’ leashes in separate hands, ready to release Pundit if I need to let him get away.

LESSON NUMBER THREE: SUPERVISE TREATS: As I’ve written previously, when we first got Cholula, she was anorexic and had to be coaxed into eating. One of Pundit’s few sins, on the other hand, is gluttony—he’ll eat almost any amount of anything. For a while, when Cholula was still so nervous about living with us, she’d leave a lot of her food in her bowl, which Pundit would immediately eat if we didn’t pick up the bowl—and as it was one of the few benefits Cholula’s arrival had bestowed on him, we didn’t make a big deal out of it. One of the highlights of Pundit’s day is also eating whatever dinner scraps we offer him as we’re doing the dishes, while in the beginning (and even now) Cholula doesn’t usually follow us into the kitchen after dinner. But one day, she was there, and we had leftover meat which I divided into two bowls and gave one to Pundit and one to Cholula. Pundit inhaled his while Cholula daintily picked at hers. I turned my back, and Pundit went for Cholula’s bowl. Cholula, for the first time ever defended her food, attacked, and again threw Pundit down on the hard floor. And then immediately released him and slunk away. The last fight they had was over a raw hide that Cholula wanted to hold onto forever and Pundit wanted to eat. We don’t offer either of them raw-hides anymore.

Cholula never drew blood in any of her attacks on Pundit, and Pundit was never obviously hurt. But it can’t be good for an old dog who limps a little even on his good days to be thrown down like that so forcefully—and I could avoided all of these situations—and helped them get on the right footing so much faster if I had handled the moments better. Also, before the fights, Cholula would run with Pundit in the back yard or on walks, and even try to play with him (as illustrated by the photo)—but after they’d had these bad experiences, she, seemingly as eager to avoid them as Pundit, refused to engage in any kind of play with Pundit, which set back some aspects of my training with her.

Once they stopped fighting, for a while, the dogs circled each other warily and stayed out of each others’ way, except on walks when, except for when Cholula is freaking out about another dog, they’ve always been companionable sniffers. Slowly, however, their relationship has improved. If I take one out without the other, the other will come sniff the first all over when we get back in the house. Pundit will nuzzle Cholula’s face, sometimes, and Cholula will let him. Recently, revved up by a delayed dinnertime, Pundit initiated play wrestling in the living room. I know wrestling inside isn’t a good idea, but since they haven’t been playing at all, I waited to see what would happen. Cholula bounced back at him, and they were batting their paws at each other playfully until Pundit got overexcited and mounted Cholula. My heart stopped. But this time, Cholula stayed completely calm. She just turned her head and looked at me as if to request I get the bratty dog off her. Which I did, immediately, thrilled to see that even with my many missteps, their relationship has come this far.

D.C. Secrets I

May 16th, 2011 | Posted by sweet in D.C. Life - (0 Comments)

At International Progreso Market, on Mt. Pleasant Street next to the 7-11, the avocados are kept behind the counter. If you ask for one, the woman behind the counter will ask if you want it for tonight, and if you do, she will give you one that is perfectly ripe. Once, I asked for one for that night, and the woman wouldn’t sell me any because she said none were ready. I believed her.

International Progreso Market on Mt. Pleasant Street

An avocado from International Progreso Market

The avocado, brought home and sliced

Avocado Eating

Cholula still doesn’t bark on command. Instead, now that the weather is nice and we are all out in the back yard more, she barks too much at the neighbors. She occasionally digs holes along the edge of the back yard, and when we left the front door open by accident (while dealing with a minor child emergency) she frightened a flower delivery man up onto the recycling bin. She’s a work in progress, this dog.

However… however… and I almost hesitate to commit this to writing for fear she will backtrack—we seem to have crossed a tipping point regarding other dogs on leashes, at least when they are across the street. At the first sight of a dog on the horizon, her ears still pop forward, and a visible charge still runs along her body. But then she turns to me and pushes for her damp kibble (I don’t need hot dogs anymore); she jumps on me hard with little whinnies, bites the food from my hand and shows me her teeth. Even if the dog across the street lunges and barks at her, she will commit into the push towards me. Her energetic commit to me now seems to grow stronger each day. In that, she’s left behind the inhibition with which she arrived at our house, and much of the heaviness she seemed to carry within her. She seems younger.

So I decided to start working on her leash walking skills. When I first got Cholula, I got her a prong collar, and that’s what we usually walk her in. One of the first techniques I learned from dog-trainer Kevin Behan’s first book, Natural Dog Training, was to use a prong collar as a training aid, the key to the training method being to jerk the collar without any verbal indication of correction and, if possible, in such a way that the dog doesn’t realize it is you jerking the collar, at the same time you praise the dog, so that ideally the dog associates the shock of the prong collar with the unwanted behavior and your praise with the stopping of the unwanted behavior. Ever since we used Natural Dog Training to train my first dog, Ubi, back in the early 1990s, my husband and I have affectionately referred to this as the “jerk and praise.” So, although the generally applied “jerk and praise” has kept Cholula from pulling too much on the prong collar, when I tried to switch her to a flat collar she pulled really hard, and I realized I needed to do more focused leash work with her.

So I got out my old copy of Natural Dog Training and looked up the exercises that had been so effective with my two prior dogs, Ubi and Pundit. This book led me to Kevin Behan’s training methods, back when I first got Ubi in New York City. She was a stray that a friend had found and couldn’t keep. My friend drove her into Manhattan from Brooklyn; we met in Central Park and I walked her home from there. She was about 8 months old, a sleek, black pup who weighed thirty-three and a third pounds when we first got her and eventually fluffed out to 45 pounds; she had a patch of white on her chest and a pencil mark of a white line down the center of her nose, long, soft ears, and a plume of a tail she carried high as she danced along beside us.

She loved to play with the dogs on the Great Lawn in Central Park. For a while, she was willing to be the one dog chased by the whole pack; she would race in a swooping circle with a line of dogs following her, so swift and free. However, she stopped coming when I called her. She never ran away, but she would bounce around me, just out of my reach, and not let me catch her. This wasn’t okay in Central Park where, if I wanted to let her off the leash at all, I had to be able to get her back fast, right away, or I’d face leash fines and potential danger.

So I bought a few dog training books and started reading through them. None of them spoke to me. Some seemed too simplistic, the steps so easy to get the dog to follow—when the dog felt like it—that I didn’t trust they would teach the dog what to do in a moment of crisis. The Monks’ book took such a sexist tone towards female dogs I couldn’t even finish reading it. My husband picked up Natural Dog Training on sale and brought it home.

I read it, and I started trying the exercises Kevin describes in that book. I know his training methods have evolved quite a bit since he wrote the book, but thing that pulled me in was not only his philosophy, but the way that, although some of the exercises are really complicated and involve getting a friend to help out and a fair amount of preparation, including memorizing precise steps, when I managed to do them as he had described, they instantly transformed Ubi’s behavior. Kevin has such a perfectly distilled understanding of what drives dogs’ behavior that these exercises work like magic.

In Natural Dog Training, at the beginning of the leash training section, Kevin states,
“Now we need to select a target (distraction) that will be the focal point of the group’s activity…What I use most often is a doorway. I collect the dog into a sit at the door and pause for several moments as I praise him and reward him with food.

Holding him at sit with my left hand, I open the door with my right, and while praising him, I release the lead. He will, of course, bolt through the door, but as he heads in that direction, I move away from the door and give him a crisp shock. I intensify my praise and encourage him to make contact. Next, I run in and out of the door several times, with lots of rewards, praise, and stroking”.

The doorway seemed the perfect place to try this with Cholula because whenever I opened the front door—always after Cholula is on leash after the horror that happened when she ran out into the front yard just as a dog walked by, and attacked it—(put in link)— she would race out of it, pulling me behind her.

I had to read the passage several times before I had a firm sense of what to do, but eventually I broke it down like this:

1) Have Cholula sit at my left by the front door, and praise her and give her some kibble.
2) Open the door with my right hand
3) When she charged out, as assuredly she would, back away from the door, jerk her prong collar hard, praising effusively, and then get her to jump up on me or “push” into me.
4) Run in and out of the door several times with Cholula by my side, while praising, so she gets the feeling of moving through the door with me and my movement, while praising.
5) Repeat several times.

Then I did it. I had Cholula sit at my left by the front door, praised her, and opened the door. When she charged, I moved back, shocked, praised, and had her jump up on me, and then we ran in and out of the door several times. And just like with Ubi, the exercise instantly transformed Cholula’s behavior at the beginning of her walks. After her first charge, jerk, backpedal, praise, and jump up, she moved with me smoothly in and out of the door, completely focused on me, and completely happy.

Since that first time two days ago, at the beginning of each walk, I’ve repeated the exercise—even adding in Kevin’s suggestions for the more advanced version that includes counterclockwise spins and more prolonged travel towards the door—but she hasn’t charged out the door since—instead she waits for me. Even as Pundit runs past us and out the door, she sits without me asking and looks to me so that we can walk out together, leash loose. The real beauty of Kevin’s training exercises is that when they go well, the dog is so happy to present the desired behavior—there’s no hesitancy, no reluctance, no sense that while its following what you are asking of it, it’s secretly rolling its eyes at you crazy human. Instead, just as with the pushing, which has become his central training technique (and which you can read about on his website www.naturaldogtraining.com) the exercises convince the dog that you are the answer to what it is searching for. And I’m hoping that moving forward with this leash training with Cholula will reinforce the pushing work we’ve already been doing in integrating Cholula’s energy and drive with mine so that she thinks of our walks as an adventure we take together rather than the means by which she hunts that which she most wants and fears (other dogs), with me an ancillary presence holding her back from where she is trying to go.

Feliz Cinco de Mayo

May 4th, 2011 | Posted by sweet in D.C. Life - (2 Comments)

Photos from Sunday’s Celebration on the National Mall
(Photos by Ramon Jacobson)

Pundit and M Play with Cars

Pundit almost always comes onto my girls’ bed for the bed-time story. But at lights out he leaves with me. The other night, I put my older daughter Z to bed first because she was exhausted while the younger had napped in the afternoon, and closed the bedroom door behind me. When I brought my other daughter S to the bedroom half an hour later, we almost tripped over Pundit, who was inexplicably lying in the hall right in front of the closed door. I opened the door to find Z sobbing over a school-related anxiety. Pundit immediately hopped up on the bottom of her bed and went to sleep. And he stayed there for the rest of the night. He’d known she needed comforting while I, busy with the other kids, had had no idea.

For so many years, back when we also had Ubi, Pundit was the light-weight. Sure he was fun—he’d play ball until his tongue was hanging a foot out of his mouth and still never stop first, he’d jump into the coldest water, he’d leap into the woods as if he’d caught a whiff of wild animal and come back with a tennis ball in his mouth. We almost never had to buy balls because he’d find one wherever we went. On the day each of our three children came home from the hospital, Pundit walked up to the blanket on the floor where the new baby lay and dropped a tennis ball so that it rolled right up to their tiny infant head. But when one of us needed comforting, when the house was turbulent, and peace needed to be restored—that was Ubi’s job. Ubi was our devoted companion—she didn’t like to take walks without us—whereas Pundit would run off with whoever called him. When we returned from being away, Ubi would leap and whinny and when she was done with that, rub herself around our legs like a cat, while Pundit, after an initial greeting, would go back to whatever it was he was doing before.

But as Ubi’s strength faded, Pundit’s focus turned more to the family. I always called Ubi our nurse, but when I was pregnant with my third child and really sick during the first trimester, Pundit would lay with me in the bed and press his warm body into my belly—at times that was the only thing that lifted the nausea enough to let me sleep. Pundit’s physical abilities are not what they once were, but what he gives us now is more valuable. He has aged with us and evolved as we have needed him to.