The Day the Music Died

Dear Chubbs,

This is truly my equivalent of the day the music died. Of the three letters I have written on this blog, there is no doubt this will be the hardest. You have always been my eternal puppy, the dog who never aged, who was never sad or disagreeable, who was there for me through every bad day and heartbreak. I never thought this day would come. Everyone in my life has been chanting "10 more years" since you were 10. You had a fan club bigger than most people I know. I don't know how I can see the world the same without you in it.

You found me. You crawled under my boyfriend's car and woke me on my day off, crying in the driveway. You were six weeks old and covered in fleas. I didn't plan to keep you. My soulmate Muggsy hated you. But once I knew you, it was impossible to think of life without you. You were always smiling, always making me laugh. I still giggle to think of you running as fast as you can to get to your food bowl and slamming into the wall as a puppy. I smile thinking of the way you always nodded at me while panting as if to say "sup?" I laugh thinking of the way you tormented our other dogs, stealing toys and then tricking them until you somehow had all the toys stockpiled in your crate. You even tormented Robby, getting into the trash only when he was home, pulling out Fenway's blanket only when he could be there to be irritated, licking his spot on the bed when you would never lick mine. Your sense of humor was infectious. I was never laughing at you, as with Bammie and Duncan; I was laughing with you. You were always laughing.

Because of you, I was recognized walking down the street, in grocery stores, and in restaurants in one of the biggest cities in America. "Are you Chubbs' mom? My son loves your dog." You touched so many lives. You were so gentle and intelligent. You let children read to you. You comforted sick children and senior citizen. My absolute favorite memory of your therapy work came on the first time you ever tried it. We went with that dog who could do 100 tricks. I can't remember his name. While he performed for all the laughing children, you found the kid who couldn't open up to anyone and wouldn't talk, and you put your head on his lap and sat there the whole visit. By the end, he was talking to you quietly, even smiling. You knew just what to do. No one taught you. It was absolutely beautiful. We saw that boy years later. He was so outgoing and friendly. I wonder how much of that had to do with you and your compassion. I admired your gift every time I watched you. You knew just how to comfort someone.

You knew just how to comfort me. We've never been cuddlers, you and me, but when I'm sad, you lie next to me on the bed with one paw on my arm, just to let me know you are there. When Muggsy died, and I was living alone, you would lie next to me every night, watching me until I fell asleep. I know how much you loved your sleep. That must have been quite a sacrifice. But I never felt alone. I always felt safe and comforted. You were there with me through two heartbreaks and the loss of Fenny as well. Bad grad school days became instantly better just walking through the door to your great wagging tail, the tail that was always wagging, everywhere you went. When it came time, you picked up my adventurous spirit, powering through numerous road trips. You turned your nose up at the painted desert, you pulled me out to the edge at the Grand Canyon, you powered through hikes at Zion and Sedona, you peed all over Bryce Canyon because their fences were too tall, you played in the snow in Vail and you sat by the ocean in LA. You made my life better. Every single minute that you were in it.

You were the face of my business. In addition to comforting children, you comforted other dogs. You were my demo dog, my perfect example of how I wanted dogs to behave. You helped me train so many reactive dogs that I can't even count them. Muggsy was in my logo, but you were definitely the dog who kept my business going. I have clients who still talk to me just because I was smart enough to have a dog as wonderful as you.

I love you, Chubbs. I recognize how inadequate this letter is compared to all the people that you touched and all that you did for me, but it's all I have left to do. I will think of you every day. I will carry you with me on road trips and I will hold you close to my heart when I am sad. I have walls and walls of pictures of all the joyous memories you brought me. You were strong and stubborn and amazing, and not a day will go by without me thinking about you and the special, unbreakable bond that we shared. You were a once in a lifetime dog. I feel so extremely grateful that we had 13 years together. You beat cancer. You beat two autoimmune disorders, one that was minutes from killing you. But you finally just couldn't survive all the pain. But you will be with me forever and ever.

I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words how wonderful life is when you're in the world.

The world will miss you, baby. And most of all, I will miss my puppy face, the most handsome dog the world has ever seen.

Love, Mama

Good-Bye to my Sweet Fenway

Dear Fenway,

I will never forget the first time I met you: I had ordered a ham sandwich from a nearby deli and was having lunch with your dad. I turned to talk to him and turned back to find a tiny dog running away with all the ham from the middle of my sandwich! It was so entertaining that I had to laugh. And it's that spirit that I have admired throughout the rest of your life.

You didn't need help onto the couch. You would let us know with a growl and bite. You didn't want your ears cleaned. You didn't want your nails clipped. You didn't want to be dried after a bath. I was able to handle my aggressive Akita with no problem, but I had to wear thick leather gloves to handle you. When Muggsy would go after your dear friend Chubbs, you would start biting his ankles, even though he outweighed you by 60 pounds. The vet was more frightened of you than Muggsy, in fact. That was my girl, always fighting.

You continued to fight when you were diagnosed with multiple myeloma two years ago, almost to the day. I will remember because that was one of the worst birthdays ever. And why did I suspect something was wrong? Because you cringed when Bammie ran at you rather than trying to take him out with a flurry of growls and snaps. That wasn't like you. I immediately took you to the vet. You were given a year and a half to live. You beat your diagnoses by more than six months. No one doubted that you would. You have more spirit than anyone I have ever met.

Throughout your illness, it always seemed that the worst thing you faced was still those damned ear infections. We had to take you to the vet every week for an ear cleaning, and boy, did you hate that (even though you loved the chicken sandwich at the end). After one visit where you lunged with your tiny body, legs going out, at the vet tech, she said, "I hope I'm as stubborn when I'm an old lady," and I thought, "Me too!" I've gained so much strength from having you in my life. I will always fight when I feel I am being wronged, and I will think of you.

But you are not just a fighter. You were also a sweet, kind friend. Even though you were Robby's dog, we shared a special bond. You would follow me room to room, even toward the end, your wide, inquisitive eyes following me wherever I went. You had to be by my side, no matter what I was doing, and you would sprint to the door with the big boys, even when your legs were going out, hoping I would choose you to take in the car every time I tried to leave.

And, of course, my favorite memories of you will be those of your playfulness. I loved taking you to the park and letting you off leash to watch you run. You would sniff far away from me, stop to see where I was, and sprint across the park, your back legs flying out behind you, to catch up with me. Then you would run alongside me, growling and snapping, trying to engage me in a game. We would run along together, you stopping only to roll in the grass, making the funniest noises I've ever heard.

You brought me so many gifts that I will never forget, and every day, I will miss crowding into the corner of the couch, looking at you lying there beside me. You left behind a huge space on both the couch and in my heart that will never be filled. You were everything I had ever hoped my daughter will be, and I will miss you desperately.

I love you, girlie.

Love, Mom

Bammie: Will I Be the New Demo Dog?

Training a new dog is difficult. Being a new dog is difficult, too, (especially when your predecessor was as awesome as I am -- Love, Chubbs) and I hope that by giving you updates on my progress, you can see that even a dog trainer's dog faces frustrating training challenges.

The last few days have been going very well. I can be reactive on walks. I am prey driven and get excited about basically everything. It has been Mom's goal to make me her new demo dog for reactive dogs and therapy dogs, but in order to do that, I have to behave perfectly on leash. That's not easy for me.

When training a reactive dog, you have to teach them something you want them to do instead of react. Mom usually teaches her clients a simple "look" command. Thus, my alternative to barking is to look at my mom. I can do this very well without distractions, but with them, I am still struggling. I want to look at the other thing, even if I'm not reacting! To help your dog learn that looking at you is the right move, it's really important to reward when your dog makes the choice to look at you rather than at the thing. In the later stages of training, you don't want to wait to reward until after you cue them. Instead you want to reward your dog when he initiates the desired behavior. People often miss this behavior, teaching the dog that to get attention they must first react before they obey to get the treat. To avoid this, reward every time your dog looks at you (particularly in the early stages)!

I am not at the point where I can look away from the thing I want to chase. Cats are the toughest. Man, I want to bark at them. A dog that barks at me is next toughest. I mean, that guy has it coming! But in the last few weeks of training, I have definitely been improving. Earlier this week, I was able to look at Mom almost the entire time that a dog passed on the other side of the street! Then, a few minutes later, I walked past a dog that was staring at me, and I didn't react at all. I briefly looked at Mom without a cue, and she got very excited. I knew I had been a good boy and started nosing at the pocket where Mom keeps the treats, but she had run out. What kind of dog trainer is that? I got praise, which is nice, but not as nice as liver.

Then, the next night, I went completely crazy pulling and barking at a cat. Hey, you win some, you lose some. If you're training your dog, reactive or not, stick with it. We will improve!

Love, Bammie

Ever Have One of Those Days?

In the interest of honesty, I should tell you: I'm not always a good student. Your dog probably won't be either. Last week, I had one of those days. It was a bad day that just kept getting worse. A cat darted out in front of me, and I started barking. I saw a dog across the street and started barking even more. Then, I barked at a biker. Then another cat. By the time we got home, both Mom and I were pretty frazzled. I'm guessing that if you have a reactive dog, you've had a day like this, too: Training is going well, and you're making progress and then all of the sudden, you have a day so bad that it seems like you haven't done any training at all.

What do you do when that happens? Take a deep breath. You have to be patient. Getting upset doesn't help. In fact, it makes it worse. Keep trying with your training. When I calmed down, Mom still took the opportunity to practice the "watch" command with me. Just because I couldn't do it when the cat was running by doesn't mean I shouldn't be practicing when there are no distractions.

Finally, do more training. Having a setback means it's time to slow down training a little. Go back to a level where your dog was previously successful. Practice in the house. Practice on your block when it is quiet. Get some successful looks and reward for those.

My mom did just that, and today, I did much better. My watches were very good, except once when I saw a bunch of kids getting on the school bus. (That wasn't about barking -- I love kids! I want to kiss them and jump on them and love them...ok, I'm getting off track.) But I looked like I was supposed to after Mom took a few steps away from the bus. She said that I walked past a cat, but I didn't even notice because I was doing my watch!

So don't give up! Just keep practicing. We all have our setbacks, but maybe tomorrow will be better. Love, Bammie

Helping Your Rescue Dog Adjust

I was rescued from a reservation with my sister. I was starving and probably had to compete for limited food in the desert. Thus, I came into my new home guarding food from the other dogs. I also pulled things off the counters and bookshelves and tore up anything I could find, especially paper.

Rescue dogs do not come into their new homes with the clean slate that many puppies do, so there may be an adjustment period. Here are some suggestions for making that adjustment as smooth as possible:

• Restrict freedom: Many times, humans have the instinct to protect their new dog because he or she may have had a tough life. They think that rules seem cruel. But rules make your dog feel safe. And they keep him from making mistakes that will make you angry. Use a crate when you aren't home. Or limit the rooms in which your dog is allowed. And be sure to keep your valuable out of reach! Just like your puppy has to earn its house freedom, so does your rescue dog. She will appreciate it. Really.
• Don't Make Assumptions: Dogs do not generalize like humans, so don't assume that we are potty-trained just because the foster parent says so. Your house is still new, so take your dog outside a few times and reward for eliminating in the right places. If your dog was previously potty-trained, you will only have to do it a few times. Some dogs are punished for going in the house and may be afraid to go in front of you. This might cause them to sneak off and go in hidden places. Don't give your dog the freedom to do that. For the first few days, he should always be in your sight. Once he realizes that going to the bathroom outside earns rewards, it will be easier.
• Be patient. Be consistent: Your new dog doesn't know the rules of your new home, so don't get too angry when she breaks one. But set rules and be consistent. If you don't want your dog on the furniture, don't allow her on for the first few days. If you want her to sit for greetings, start that training right away. 
• Leave Your Dog Alone: Many humans think they should spend every second with their new dog so he feels comfortable. However, you eventually have to go back to work, and your dog can't understand why you are suddenly gone. When you first get your dog, plan to spend an hour away from home or a couple of hours away from home each day, so he gets used to having you gone.
• But Keep an Eye on Her: However, don't leave your dog out in the yard alone. We can escape. And if your dog doesn't know the neighborhood or is frightened, she may take off and not be able to find her way back. When you walk your dog the first few days, make sure the equipment is fit properly and allow her to smell a lot, so she knows how to find her way back in case she does get lost.
• Don't Push Your Dog: Don't have a bunch of people over to welcome your dog. You don't know his fears. Take it slow with socializing. Don't let your dog greet strangers on the street until you know how he will react. Let him meet your friends slowly. Then, he can meet strangers -- if he wants to. I don't like all dogs, and I get so excited meeting people that I sometimes jump at faces. My mom is careful with who I greet, and that's OK. Your dog can be perfectly happy and healthy not greeting every person or dog on the street. In fact, he might just prefer that!
• Set Aside Alone Time: If you have other dogs, make sure your new dog gets alone time with you every day. This can be going on walks alone or having some individual training time. This will teach your dog to look to you for guidance rather than the other dogs. You want your dog bonded with YOU!
• Keep Them Calm: There are a couple of great products that can help reduce stress in your dogs: DAP diffusers, which release calming pheromones that we can't smell but can calm your dogs (I'm told these helped my predecessor Muggsy a lot), and Thundershirts, which wrap your dog and provide constant pressure to reduce stress. These will help reduce the stress of being in a new environment so your dog begins to feel comfortable in his new home.

New rescue dogs can be a great gift. But they also may take a little work. Take a deep breath. It's worth it. Take them to a training class or call a trainer if you think you need a little more help. But stick with it. It's worth it. Trust me. :)

Love, Bammie

Bammie's Training Challenge: Huzzah Moment

The training challenge got thrown off by my mom's trip to Boulder, but she still practices with me on all of my walks and has had visitors over to the house to test my polite -- you know, all the hard stuff. My sit stays on my bed may not be improving, but my mom is so busy that she had to prioritize her training goals.

Today, on my walk, I walked past two cats and two dogs. I did get reactive to one cat, but my mom just kept walking and asked me to "look" every few steps. When I finally did calm down enough to look at her, I was still rewarded with a treat. I did much better with the other cat and the first dog. I didn't bark at all, though I did pull toward the dog a little when he was very close to me. Mom rewarded every chance she could, so I finally rewarded her with an awesome training moment. When we saw the second dog, I looked at her twice on my own without a cue! When my mom is training clients, this is something she always tells them to look for and reward a bunch. Some owners think it's important to give a dog a command before giving a reward, but my mom says that good behavior always deserves reward. She wants me to make good choices on my own. Looking away from the dog on my own is the best behavior ever, she says, especially since I have had trouble with that when I am excited.

I also saw several people, and I even sat for one of them to pet me. I also practiced that this weekend with some of my mom's friends. I still have to be on a leash, but I am calming down much more quickly. I only did one leaping face kiss, which is my special move. I'm really excited to see my grandma tomorrow and show her that I'm a much better greeter than last time!

I hope your training is going as well as mine. Love, Bammie

Vets Rule!

This post is not for you owners, but for your dogs! Make them read this. I see a huge problem in the dog world, and it needs to be solved!

Dogs: Why do you hate the vet? This place is freaking awesome! You walk in, and immediately, everyone starts saying how cute you are. People pet you. Other dogs stare at you with jealousy in their eyes (OK, that's mainly specific to when I enter since I'm so awesome, but you get the idea). Then, you go back to this room, you may have to do one or two uncomfortable things that only last a second and then you leave. And guess what happens: Mom buys you a hamburger or chicken sandwich. Seriously! It's awesome!

What? You don't get a hamburger? OK, put your owner back on the blog now.

Hi, owners! Let me get this straight. You don't take your dog out for a hamburger after the vet? What about his favorite treats? Do you bring those? Come on now. How do you expect your dog to love the vet if you don't make it fun for him/her?

If you have a dog who is afraid of the vet, don't forget to take your dog to the vet occasionally where he or she just walks in and gets to experience all the good parts (vet techs saying how cute she is, treats) and then leave. Maybe she stands on the scale. But that's it. Make the vet a place he/she starts looking forward to!

If your vet doesn't encourage this practice, you may be at the wrong place. Be sure that both you and your dog feel comfortable with your vet. I mean, you want someone you can trust, just like with your own doctors.

It's so easy to make the vet a fun place to go. Give it a try. It will certainly make your lives easier when you don't have to carry your shaking dog into a place they clearly fear. Training should be fun. Make the vet fun too.

Love, Chubbs