Sometime over the winter, Lobo and I were at the dog park, enjoying the solitude that comes with a cold day in the middle of the week. Sometimes he just prefers to run and sniff without getting interrupted by all the friendly tail wags. And I do too.
I'm not a sociable person. I'm a dog person. Lobo is quiet, fairly undemanding, and he doesn't seem to mind those long silences that crop up every now and again in our conversations. He's always happy to hear about me. I don't have to ask him questions about his job or his family and worry about making social gaffs that cross the line into the realm of 'far too personal'. It's a perfect relationship for a shy someone who hasn't had enough practice hanging out with her own species.
This particular day, though, near the end of our walk, we ran into Murphy. Murphy is some form of medium beige and brown terrier (50 pounds or so) who was rescued from Petfind in Montana. He is not the tiny white shed-less poodle Kimberly dreamed of getting. Still, she loves him to death and I could see why.
The two dogs immediately fell in love (none of that sniffing and circling that can best be likened to speed dating in the human world). They knew what they wanted and went for it unashamedly. While they wrestled and sprinted around the field, Kimberly and I stood rooted, shivering in the morning air, gamely trying to make the best of the social situation the dogs had forced us into.
We talked about everything (and not just the dogs - how old they are, where we rescued them, how much they've changed our lives). It was like we'd known each other forever. We made it back to the parking lot and said our goodbyes and I was buoyant.
Next time we ran into each other, Kimberly and Murphy were on the other side of the field and - shocking to me, to say the least - they crossed over to be with us and we continued our conversation.
There was a dry spell. No Kimberly. No Murphy. And then a couple days ago I walked straight into them. "Hello, Stranger!" she greeted me.
(Let me say that as a shy person, I'm naturally private. Very rarely do I put myself out there. So I'm always pleasantly surprised when people make friendly overtures toward me. They're foreign gestures, but also quite nice to experience, so I was pleased when Kimberly seemed happy to see me.)
And I think I have made a friend.
Because of Lobo.
Good dog!
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Monday, May 31, 2010
Standoff!
The man and woman were walking their three shitzus. Jay, the pit bull, noticed them from far off and ran up to meet them. Jay is only ten months old. Still a bouncy puppy. Still eager to meet new people and dogs. But because of his breed, he will likely always have to deal with the prejudices of dog owners of little shitzus. The woman admonished her husband to pick up the smallest of the dogs, and they carried on, watchful and nervous.
Which only heightened Jay's interest. He bounced harder.
Jay's owner (call him Bob) told everyone that his dog was just being playful, that he was safe - if rambunctious.
The shitzu owner - apparently not believing that a larger-than-a-soccer-ball sized dog could be playful, and feeling that walking away was just not enough - turned, crouched, waved his arms like a goalie refusing to let the opposition in...and growled.
(One or two things about little dog owners:
Their dogs are moppily cute. They charge, they bark. They stalk, pounce and threaten just like other dogs. But because they're so small, they get away with it. Mommy and Daddy scoop them up and coo in their fuzzy ears after they've shown aggression because it's just so darn adorable when a small dog tries to be menacing. These owners (and I'm not suggesting all of them are this way) are irresponsible, if not downright terrifying in their ignorance of dog behaviour. Small dogs are still dogs. Bad behaviour is still bad behaviour.
Conversely, big dogs are not always exhibiting aggressive behaviour when they bow, box, or grin.)
If you know anything about dogs - which shitzu owner obviously did not - you know what happened next. Jay, the pit bull, lowered his head, looked up through slitted eyes and began to bark. Jay had been threatened and he was protecting himself and his owner.
Bob, always in control, grabbed Jay's collar and settled the dog.
The shitzus and their silly parents carried on, the man blissfully unaware that, if not for the pit bull's training, he'd narrowly escaped attack because of his ridiculous actions.
If you're going to spend time at the dog park, it's not just your dog that needs to be under control. Make sure you, as a responsible dog owner, know how to behave as well.
Do not:
- stare a dog down.
- reach over to pet his head (scratch his chin instead).
- speak in a squeaky voice to get him excited and then jump back, astonished, when he leaps.
- tug to get him away from a potential fight (this will only make him struggle harder to get what he wants)
- stand off with a dog you don't know
I hope Mr. Shitzu Owner doesn't have to learn these rules the hard way.
Which only heightened Jay's interest. He bounced harder.
Jay's owner (call him Bob) told everyone that his dog was just being playful, that he was safe - if rambunctious.
The shitzu owner - apparently not believing that a larger-than-a-soccer-ball sized dog could be playful, and feeling that walking away was just not enough - turned, crouched, waved his arms like a goalie refusing to let the opposition in...and growled.
(One or two things about little dog owners:
Their dogs are moppily cute. They charge, they bark. They stalk, pounce and threaten just like other dogs. But because they're so small, they get away with it. Mommy and Daddy scoop them up and coo in their fuzzy ears after they've shown aggression because it's just so darn adorable when a small dog tries to be menacing. These owners (and I'm not suggesting all of them are this way) are irresponsible, if not downright terrifying in their ignorance of dog behaviour. Small dogs are still dogs. Bad behaviour is still bad behaviour.
Conversely, big dogs are not always exhibiting aggressive behaviour when they bow, box, or grin.)
If you know anything about dogs - which shitzu owner obviously did not - you know what happened next. Jay, the pit bull, lowered his head, looked up through slitted eyes and began to bark. Jay had been threatened and he was protecting himself and his owner.
Bob, always in control, grabbed Jay's collar and settled the dog.
The shitzus and their silly parents carried on, the man blissfully unaware that, if not for the pit bull's training, he'd narrowly escaped attack because of his ridiculous actions.
If you're going to spend time at the dog park, it's not just your dog that needs to be under control. Make sure you, as a responsible dog owner, know how to behave as well.
Do not:
- stare a dog down.
- reach over to pet his head (scratch his chin instead).
- speak in a squeaky voice to get him excited and then jump back, astonished, when he leaps.
- tug to get him away from a potential fight (this will only make him struggle harder to get what he wants)
- stand off with a dog you don't know
I hope Mr. Shitzu Owner doesn't have to learn these rules the hard way.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Phoenix
Phoenix came from Pawsitive Match two years ago. Before that she came from a dumpster on one of the reservations.
She's a beautiful Shepherd Something. Sheds great gobs of hair in June and December despite the hopes of her Mom and Dad that her sleek coat would be almost maintenance free. Great disposition. Waggy tail. Played hide 'n' seek with my husband (even though it was the first time they'd met), and happily slobbered all over Lobo until he decided that yes, she could be one of his select group of friends.
I've told you that Lobo is very choosy about who he plays with. This one took some time - walking around the entirety of the dog park until, when it was nearly time to go and Phoenix had laid down to protest the suggestion of more exercise and bemoan the fact that there was nothing she could do to entice him, he turned and pounced in play mode. New life! The two chewed each other's necks and tails from a sitting position, then standing. Then they burst into an all out game of chase that lasted several minutes.
Patience could be Phoenix's middle name. She persevered and won.
Good dog! Lucky Lobo.
She's a beautiful Shepherd Something. Sheds great gobs of hair in June and December despite the hopes of her Mom and Dad that her sleek coat would be almost maintenance free. Great disposition. Waggy tail. Played hide 'n' seek with my husband (even though it was the first time they'd met), and happily slobbered all over Lobo until he decided that yes, she could be one of his select group of friends.
I've told you that Lobo is very choosy about who he plays with. This one took some time - walking around the entirety of the dog park until, when it was nearly time to go and Phoenix had laid down to protest the suggestion of more exercise and bemoan the fact that there was nothing she could do to entice him, he turned and pounced in play mode. New life! The two chewed each other's necks and tails from a sitting position, then standing. Then they burst into an all out game of chase that lasted several minutes.
Patience could be Phoenix's middle name. She persevered and won.
Good dog! Lucky Lobo.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Bad Weather!
I heard on the radio yesterday that this area gets its worst storms in the spring. No surprise. It's been nasty out there. Rain, snow, you name it, we've gotten it.
I've missed a walk with Lobo once. It was last week, actually, when the rain was coming down so hard one morning he looked at me at the back door as if to say, 'Are you serious?' Then he backed away and refused to do his business until later that evening when nature was determined to have the last word.
The next day I covered myself up and the two of us battled the winds to make a short romp through the slushy fields. I was proud of myself for making the effort. In my recent Lobo-less past, I would've asked myself the same question, 'Are you serious?' and curled up on the couch.
Today, however, there's no question that we'll be missing our morning walk. The snow is coming down sideways. Even on the coldest -26C Lobo and I managed to complete a swift circuit at the dog park, but this is so unappealing we're going to have to wait to see what the evening weather brings.
Lobo's pouting. I feel guilty.
To make up for it, I filled my pockets with a bunch of goodies and we ran around the house practicing 'Stay' and 'Come'. He was brilliant and eager and it was good exercise.
I'm thinking that, should we find ourselves housebound again, I'll take the opportunity to reinforce his training. It gets him thinking (which really tires him out) and for me it washes away a bit of the guilts.
I've missed a walk with Lobo once. It was last week, actually, when the rain was coming down so hard one morning he looked at me at the back door as if to say, 'Are you serious?' Then he backed away and refused to do his business until later that evening when nature was determined to have the last word.
The next day I covered myself up and the two of us battled the winds to make a short romp through the slushy fields. I was proud of myself for making the effort. In my recent Lobo-less past, I would've asked myself the same question, 'Are you serious?' and curled up on the couch.
Today, however, there's no question that we'll be missing our morning walk. The snow is coming down sideways. Even on the coldest -26C Lobo and I managed to complete a swift circuit at the dog park, but this is so unappealing we're going to have to wait to see what the evening weather brings.
Lobo's pouting. I feel guilty.
To make up for it, I filled my pockets with a bunch of goodies and we ran around the house practicing 'Stay' and 'Come'. He was brilliant and eager and it was good exercise.
I'm thinking that, should we find ourselves housebound again, I'll take the opportunity to reinforce his training. It gets him thinking (which really tires him out) and for me it washes away a bit of the guilts.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Oliver
We played with Oliver today, a wire-haired pointing griffon who wore Lobo out. He's a beautiful dog with grey and black markings and a proud head, and he was sporting a cool, clean summer do for the briefest of moments before he and Lobo found adventure in the many puddles around both the South and North legs of the Acadia Dog Park (known as Southland to most of us).
Lobo meets new dogs with enthusiasm. A bounce of 'hello' beside them. A tail wag and a sniff. And if he deems them worthy, he might play for a bit before raising his head to the wind and sauntering off in a more interesting direction. Oliver, however, captured Lobo's attention for a good two hours. They boxed, they ran, they shared a common love for certain smells. They used their precious exercise time well.
For the most part, Oliver was never at a loss for conversation, what with his constant stream of plaintive yelps to keep the fun alive. And while Lobo is usually immune to this type of chatter, he listened politely and seemed willing to have a vigorous go with his new friend as long as they stopped periodically to catch their breath.
Oliver is just over a year old. His Mom and Dad knew exactly what they wanted when they decided, after 25 years of relative doglessness, to search for the perfect pet. In his research Dad discovered breeders in California and Quebec. They made the three-day drive west to bring their new puppy home (I'd have gone that way, too, with a little Disneyland detour), a day before his eight-week birthday.
However, the dog that had been set aside for them was not the dog they'd envisioned. After such a long trek, they must have been disappointed to discover that they might have to turn back empty-handed. But the breeder brought another pick of her 21 Griffons into the yard to meet the couple, and this one, walking proudly, head up, eager to meet them, was the Oliver they'd been looking for.
I know nothing of what makes a dog special to his breed. All I know is what makes Lobo special to me. And I could tell by the way Mom talked about him that Oliver was more than his lines and coat and what-have-you to her. He could be a perfect example of Griffon-ness, but he's also personality and love, and that's why he's living in Calgary, and why Mom dropped a day of work from her regular schedule to add a day of play to Oliver's regime.
It's fabulous - isn't it? - what great lengths (literally) we'll go to to be with our pets.
Lobo meets new dogs with enthusiasm. A bounce of 'hello' beside them. A tail wag and a sniff. And if he deems them worthy, he might play for a bit before raising his head to the wind and sauntering off in a more interesting direction. Oliver, however, captured Lobo's attention for a good two hours. They boxed, they ran, they shared a common love for certain smells. They used their precious exercise time well.
For the most part, Oliver was never at a loss for conversation, what with his constant stream of plaintive yelps to keep the fun alive. And while Lobo is usually immune to this type of chatter, he listened politely and seemed willing to have a vigorous go with his new friend as long as they stopped periodically to catch their breath.
Oliver is just over a year old. His Mom and Dad knew exactly what they wanted when they decided, after 25 years of relative doglessness, to search for the perfect pet. In his research Dad discovered breeders in California and Quebec. They made the three-day drive west to bring their new puppy home (I'd have gone that way, too, with a little Disneyland detour), a day before his eight-week birthday.
However, the dog that had been set aside for them was not the dog they'd envisioned. After such a long trek, they must have been disappointed to discover that they might have to turn back empty-handed. But the breeder brought another pick of her 21 Griffons into the yard to meet the couple, and this one, walking proudly, head up, eager to meet them, was the Oliver they'd been looking for.
I know nothing of what makes a dog special to his breed. All I know is what makes Lobo special to me. And I could tell by the way Mom talked about him that Oliver was more than his lines and coat and what-have-you to her. He could be a perfect example of Griffon-ness, but he's also personality and love, and that's why he's living in Calgary, and why Mom dropped a day of work from her regular schedule to add a day of play to Oliver's regime.
It's fabulous - isn't it? - what great lengths (literally) we'll go to to be with our pets.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Rescue Dog
Melodrama alert!
Lobo saved my life. True.
Not in one of those courageous acts you see on TV - you know the ones: dog steps between hungry cougar and child; dog swims out and pulls flailing man to shore; dog runs to farmhouse and barks until occupants spot overturned car on lonely highway. Those are spectacular displays of intelligence and courage and loyalty, and while Lobo has yet to exhibit such a feat of bravery (which I'm certain he's capable of), his sheer joyful existence has been enough to save me from myself.
Lobo saved my life. True.
Not in one of those courageous acts you see on TV - you know the ones: dog steps between hungry cougar and child; dog swims out and pulls flailing man to shore; dog runs to farmhouse and barks until occupants spot overturned car on lonely highway. Those are spectacular displays of intelligence and courage and loyalty, and while Lobo has yet to exhibit such a feat of bravery (which I'm certain he's capable of), his sheer joyful existence has been enough to save me from myself.
We found Lobo through ARF in August, 2009. He was less than six months old, living with a pack of 20 dogs on the Tsuu T'ina Reservation, struggling to find food, and failing to outrun the pellets that were being used on him for target practice. After he spent ten days with an extremely patient and caring foster family, we brought him to our home, eager to show him that a dog's life could really be a dog's life.
He hid under the deck.
Before my husband and I made the decision to adopt a rescue dog, I'd done a lot of reading. Blogs (two of the most informative I've posted on the right), several library books, and my favourite, The Complete Idiot's Guide to Positive Dog Training by Pamela Dennison, which I eventually bought and still refer to often. Lobo hadn't done any research at all. It's a wonder he saw through all our bumbling, came out from under the deck, and allowed us to love him anyway.
(The cheese didn't hurt. But don't tell our vet - it was only used in those first few weeks and only in emergencies.)
From the dog who yelped at the first sight of himself in a mirror, who pulled his leash in the opposite direction whenever we encountered another dog on our walks, to the dog who waits impatiently for the signal to hop out of the car and explore the visitors at the off-leash park, Lobo's made quite the transition. But as much as he's changed because my husband and I are committed to spending quality time with him, it's nothing compared to what he's done for me.
Our gorgeous Heinz 57 got my lead-filled butt off the couch and back to a positive reality. I'd been eating my way through litres of Breyers ice cream, shunning my favourite books for 'Lost' reruns and hours of Solitaire on the computer, and pretty much only existing in sleep and work modes. Clinical Depression and I had a solid relationship. If you've met, I'm sorry. I know what it's like to try to numb your brain so that you don't have to listen to it shouting at you anymore.
Loving Lobo shut my brain up, simple as that. I walked him twice a day. Not because some rude inner voice was berating me, but because I wanted to. The Vitamin D alone has been enough to lift my spirits, but then there's all that exercise! I researched dog food and began making my own - and yes, some of what's good for puppy (carrots, brocolli, blueberries) happens to be very good for Mom and Dad, too. I would have settled for feeling as good as I do, but then the weight started coming off, I rediscovered my love for reading and writing, I began sleeping better.
Don't get me wrong, the endorphins aren't enough all the time, but when a crying jag wants to get hold of me I just get hold of my dog and have a restorative cuddle. Crisis averted.
So the rescue puppy rescued me. Good dog!
One of my favourite new things is finding out how dogs have enriched other people's lives. A couple hours a day at the off-leash park satisfies much of my curiosity. It's amazing how many fabulous stories are out there.
I'd like to tell you some of them.
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