Still Learning

One year, when I was wearing my Child & Family Therapist hat, I was helping families bond and interact with their infants and toddlers.  I encouraged parents to read anything to their little ones, and was concerned about one parent in particular who had no books in the home.  No books for adults.  No books for children.  I asked the parent if I could bring a few books the next time I visited and the response was, "Why?  He can't read yet."  This introduced a wonderful conversation about being your child's first teacher and the nurturing experience of being together and sharing moments of discovery when your child's world opens up.

I was reminded of this conversation as I covered myself in guilt about Atticus having no off-leash time in his life.  The days have been so focused on Foster's health since June, that no one has been getting my best.  I've been praying that at least everyone's basic needs have been met each day, and I'm not always confident that that has been accomplished.  Being able to run is a basic need in my opinion, and going on bike runs helps, but it's not the same as running freely, no strings attached.

Atticus had to be an "X" dog at the kennel before he came home.  "X" dogs are unable to socialize with the groups of dogs due to safety.  Sometimes, the safety issue involves health - illness, joint issues, surgery recovery - but in Atticus' case, it involved behavior.  During his time at the kennel, Atticus had become increasingly antagonistic.  He either started fights with other dogs through annoying, dominant, bullying behavior, or if other dogs were playing or using their voices, Atticus wanted in on it and escalated interactions into fights.  He ran and leapt over dogs, and had also begun to show aggression over food.  A piece of kibble on the floor would have him pouncing on any dog nearby within milliseconds.  Plus, once Atticus had pinned a dog with his body and mouth, he didn't let go.  Atticus had some behavior challenges, but he was mine, and I brought him home with the plan to work on them all.

We worked on them all.  Atticus learned and we learned.  He learned that only the food I gave to him was his, and that food was plentiful and fairly and consistently provided.  We learned that he whined and nearly howled upon seeing dogs outside our family, and as a possible Treeing Walker Coonhound he might never be safe in our community off-leash.

Atticus is a young and curious dog.  He needs a lot of physical and mental activity to properly exercise his heart and mind, and to be a happy and fulfilled family member.  Bike runs with J are fun, but they aren't as great as running on your own, no leash attached, sniffing wherever you want, making some choices about your life with your safety provided by me.  It seemed like a dog park would provide everything that Atticus needed, except for that whole fighting and pinning dogs down thing.

Then I remembered the parent who believed books were only for when you knew how to read.  I knew that you couldn't learn how to read until you had books and had them read to you.  I couldn't expect Atticus to spontaneously be appropriately social in dog group settings without providing him with dog group settings and guiding his behavior.

I started small with a few dog walking clients.  When I learned that his whining was excitement and not I-want-to-eat-that, I guided him to be calm before interacting in a controlled environment like the house or garage, and then we walked together.  Still not the same as acres of running room, so the dog park had to happen.  I'm not a huge fan of dog parks with the community water and the inattentive humans, but I knew Atticus needed it, so we went, and he showed his wonderfulness.

Atticus ran and ran and sniffed grass and posts and other dogs.  He greeted dogs as they came and he seemed to escort those leaving.  He leaned against people and retrieved tennis balls.  He loved the puppies and he ran to find Foster Dog who likes to walk the perimeter.  He observed Luna drinking and tried it himself.  He ran and ran…and he humped a white Golden Retriever three times…  I gently corrected him each time and encouraged him to explore and sniff.  I whistled for him and called for him and he came each time, even from across the park.  I didn't see him even consider jumping the four feet tall fence surrounding the Big Dog Area even when he noticed dogs in the Little Dog Area.  Everyone started to tire after about an hour and we came back together as The Pack and left.  It was so great.

If I had waited until Atticus no longer grabbed Foster Dog's legs, or until he wasn't more interested in squirrels and deer than my voice, I never would have taken him to a dog park.  I had to remember that learning by doing, and experiencing, and observing, and being guided and supported is the best.  We've had challenges, and even mistakes and failures, but it is my job to provide My Pack with the chance to show me how smart and observant and wonderful we are.

One Year Ago

One year ago today, I realized Atticus was my family.  A few days before, he said to me, "My name is Atticus and I belong to you."  I asked a co-worker to take a picture of us, and asked J in a text, "What do you think of this dog?"  J's response was, "That's a good looking dog."

The actual picture sent to J

I tried to talk myself out of Atticus.  That was silly.  You can't deny your family, or at least I can't.  So one year ago today, I asked my friend Aubrey what I would need to do to bring him home.  She told me I would need to fill out an application.  I confided in her that I was worried about the whole process.  What if after Atticus told me he belonged to me, and I filled out the application, the rescue denied me?  She told me, "Trust me, you're approved."

All along, Aubrey had been the one to decide who was right for Atticus.  She was not only a volunteer for the shelter, she was the contact for adoption approval.  The entire  time I was asking about his story, and asking my co-workers their impressions of him, and telling Aubrey about the budget I had written up, and sharing with Aubrey the visions I had of walking in the woods of Glen Arbor with Atticus, Aubrey was just waiting for me to fill out the application.  I was approved.  Atticus officially belonged to me.  He wouldn't be able to come home for a few weeks, but among everyone in the world, he belonged to me.

Atticus still belongs to me.  Atticus will always belong to me.

"My name is Atticus and I belong to you."

Motivations

"Your dogs lead you around by the nose."

This.  This is what someone thinks.  This is what someone thinks is important for me to know.

"Your dogs lead you around by the nose."

I've got to tell you, it stung.  I can know that my relationships with The Pack include respect and loyalty and leadership and deep love, but it still stings when someone tells you several people in your life believe that you are fooling yourself.

Once the sting waned, I was left with a mark.  The mark is still there, and a realization.  I realize that not all people have the level of love in their lives that I do.  I realize that after the initial sting of anger, what I feel is pity.

I don't think anyone needs or benefits from my pity.  I think it simply keeps me from being hurt.  One day I will move on from pity, but today, that is where I am.

Several years ago, I picked a card from an Inspirational Deck.  It described my life then perfectly, and it has continued to describe my life and make me smile.  Today, the card seems to shine from its display place among pictures of The Pack and My Lovies.

"I am motivated by Love."

This.  This is who I am.

I am sleep deprived, not because my dogs control me and wake me through the night, but because Foster often doesn't feel well and is better able to get healing rest when I sit with him and massage him and rub his itchy skin.  He sleeps.  I don't.  That's ok.  I am motivated by Love.

I feel stressed about money, not because I don't work or because I buy too many toys and clothes for my dogs, but because high quality health care, surgeries, chemotherapy, high quality food and supplements cost a lot.  The Pack lives long and lives well.  I am motivated by Love.

I do not attend all family events, not because I do not value family, but because my definition of family includes my dogs and being with them and meeting their needs are high on my Priority List.  Happy, secure dogs make a happy, secure family, and make a happy, secure me.  I am motivated by Love.

Sometimes criticisms sting, but usually the blessings of my life prevent the sting from even occurring.  I wish for everyone to know the love I know, to know the love I receive, and to know the love I give.

As November begins, and Foster's chemotherapy is nearing completion, I feel thankful.  I am thankful for the love in my life and for the challenges that have put that love on display.  Thank you to everyone who is supporting us publicly and silently.  We are going to make it.  We are motivated by Love.

Atticus Improvement

I have been focused on Foster much of the Summer, and I've questioned my inconsistent attentiveness to the ongoing need of training Atticus.  Atticus will have been home for one year around Thanksgiving!  After almost one year, Attie and I are only about 1/2 way through mastering the Canine Good Citizen test items, and he still pulls a lot on the leash.  I have no confidence that Atticus would come to me if he was on a scent off-leash, and I've not built my confidence because I haven't been able to give him many chances to be off-leash.  Long-line, yes, and I've experienced his overwhelming attraction to snakes.  My waist and shoulders have been challenged by the long-line-snake combination.

This is one snake Atticus did not get close enough to to kill

I was feeling as if I was failing Atticus, and then he showed me two beautiful developments and I couldn't stop kissing him.

1.  Foster hasn't been eating everything at meal time.  Sometimes he leaves just a few kibbles, and sometimes he leaves half of everything:  meat, vegetables, kibble, supplements.  I usually put his bowl in the refrigerator to save for his next meal, but the other day I became distracted by the need to clean Luna's allergy eyes and itchy ears.  I noticed hours later that Foster's bowl was still in his feeding station and the food he left was still there.  Ground beef, beets and fish oil.  Atticus had left it all!  A first time for him!  Yay Attie!

Atticus On Watch

2.  When Atticus first came home, he nearly broke through the dining room doorwall whenever he saw a squirrel, chipmunk or raccoon.  A deer created a 5-alarm training session.  We've worked on his critter excitement, and he only occasionally whines or barks while looking out that doorwall after dark.  Recently, I saw Atticus looking out the doorwall with his ears all perky and his tail wagging.  No whining, no barking, no scratching at the glass.  Wanting to reward the behavior, I quietly said, "Good boy, Attie.  Thank you," while walking over to look out the doorwall with him.  He turned to look at me, tail still wagging, plus a deferential ear drop.  Perfect.  I knelt down to express my happiness and I saw what was so interesting to him.  INCHES from his nose, with only glass as a separator, was a chipmunk.  It was as if the chipmunk was taunting Attie.  Sweet Atticus had his eye on the chipmunk, but he seemed to have learned that  The Lady doesn't like it when he almost breaks the doorwall, so he observed the chipmunk, and maybe even telepathically communicated with it.  Maybe he said, "Chipmunk!  'Member when I used to try to eat you through this thingy?!  'Member?  Well, now The Lady snuggles me and kisses me when I don't do that.  And she gives me food and tells me I'm awesome, so I'm not going to eat you through this thingy today, but if I see you out there with no thingy between us, I might try, so be fast if you don't want me to catch you.  Ok, bye."

Yup.  Attie is Awesome.

My Girl

We've had a lot of years when a member of The Pack required 24-hour kind of attention, and a few years of adjustment and learning with a new Pack Member.  I have wasted a lot of energy feeling guilty about my strained patience from sleep deprivation and constant need.  I have said over and over to My Pack, "You do not have to be sick or misbehave to get my attention.  I want you all to be happy and healthy."  I don't want anyone to feel the need to be a squeaky wheel.  The Pack works best with balanced, aligned, smooth-rolling wheels.

In the last year, there has been a lot of focus on helping Atticus adjust to his new life, and most recently, on Foster Dog and his health.  My Perfect Peanut, Luna, hasn't made a squeak.  She never complains, and I hope each day that she doesn't feel taken for granted.

Bright Shiny Luna

The thing about Luna I have taken for granted, through the coping skill of denial, is her health.  I can't bear to even flash on the thought of living without her.  Through the changes and challenges within our family, Luna has been The One by my side supporting me.  She reminds me of our successes as a team, and the lessons she has taught me are truly priceless.  Luna is a sweet and patient teacher.  I hope I have been as patient with her when she has needed.

Perfection by my side

Last week, after a lengthy day of walking, I noticed Luna paused on her way up the stairs.  My Girl is 11, but I still see her as My Little Peanut, the Black Lab puppy who lit up my life when she ran into it when she was 10 months old.  She didn't squeak about the pause, but I saw her, and I will help her.  The Pack can't have a flat tire.  We've got to balance, align and pump up The Peanut.

My Luna may not be able to go with me everywhere anymore.  She may need more massage time and more supplements. She may need more of me.  I feel a bit stretched, but I won't squeak about it.  I'll stand by My Girl, just as she always does for me.  We're a good team.

This is what True Love looks like

All photos taken by

Tammy B Photography

Sweet Foster Dog

I am pretty strict with my dogs, demanding behavior that will allow me to be confident taking them with me anywhere.  Foster has taught me to appreciate my standards even more through learning about Breed Specific Legislation and the world's fears of dogs described as "Pit Bulls."

According to the Wisdom Panel cheek swab DNA test, Foster is 6% Staffordshire Terrier and 5% American Staffordshire Terrier, two dog breeds considered by many to be "Pit Bulls." Even with these breeds comprising only 11% of his DNA, nearly everyone asks if Foster is a Pit Bull.  My responses are varied, but in general, I acknowledge that he looks like a Pit  Bull to many and that we don't mind.  I tell people we consider him to be a wonderful ambassador for the breed.

So basically, I have a 60 pound, black, Pit Bull.  He has three strikes against him in the dog fears and stereotype world:  he's big, he's black (Big Black Dog Syndrome/Bias), and he's a Pit Bull.  While I do not accept the world's stereotypes as fact in my home, I do accept that people are highly likely to be afraid of Foster based on his appearance.  Any "bad behavior" will likely be seen as "aggressive" and "dangerous," or even "vicious."  A Golden Retriever pulling on a leash, and lunging and jumping toward a neighbor would likely create the response of, "Oh, he wants to play with me!  He's so excited to see me!"  Foster pulling on the leash, lunging at someone would likely create the response of, "That dog is out of control!  He's trying to bite me!"

Because of this bias, Foster and I have to be on our Behavior A-Game at all times.  That is my goal.  I'm not saying Foster and I have never made a mistake, but I am thankful Foster represents gentleness, discipline, and has shown our community the beauty of the breed.

Foster doesn't spend much time under the care of others.  If we ever travel, The Pack stays intact and we travel together.  We like to be together.  My discomfort with separation has been tested during Foster's medical needs of late.  Surgeries, ultrasounds, blood tests, chemotherapy, and OSHA have kept us apart at times.  The Separation has actually gifted me with the wonderful message of Foster's Fantastic Behavior and Temperament.

Chemotherapy #1:

The Separation stressed me.  Foster was fine.  We were reunited with Oncology Veterinary Assistant J who we met in 2009.  She told me that Foster slept right through his treatment and I panicked for a second thinking I had misunderstood the chemotherapy process and was unaware Foster would have to be sedated.  J reassured me, "No! No sedation.  He's just so relaxed, he goes right to his blanket and lies down.  He's perfect.  There are some crazy dogs back there right now and Foster is just perfect."

 Sweet Patient Foster Dog

Chemotherapy #2:

Foster was fine with The Separation again.  He was totally cute as he trotted back and forth with J.  She whispered to us that Foster is her favorite.  We said we're sure she tells everyone that, but she said, "No.  I really don't."  Another vet assistant overheard us and whispered, "Foster is almost everyone's favorite."  I was touched.

As we were leaving, a staff member I'd never seen before walked by with a dog who growled at us.  The staff member said, "No! No!  You can't growl at sweet Foster!"  Sweet Foster kept trotting along, oblivious to the growler.  There's a Pit Bull in the house everybody!!!

Chemotherapy #3:

We had a nutritional and alternative therapies consult for Foster in addition to his chemotherapy.  The wait was lengthy and we were told it was a crazy and stressful day for staff, but when they saw Foster's name as the 2pm appointment, everyone in oncology felt better.

We waited in the lobby and then we waited in an exam room. I massaged Sweet Foster while we waited, and when his oncologist arrived she apologized for the wait and complimented Foster for being so "chill."  He accepted an entire acupuncture experience, even the one "zinger" he had, and he walked away with J, who once again said, "Seriously, he's my favorite."  When Foster returned, he was excited and happy and I was introduced to H who said she LOVES him and another vet assistant popped her head into say, "Yay!  Foster's here!"  Before we left, J told us we were a "delight," and I wanted to hug every single person.  It was so comforting to know that Foster has been loved and cared for when I have not been allowed to be with him.

As we checked out, yet another vet assistant saw Foster and said, "Oh Foster!  You sweet thing!  Foster has a lot of girlfriends back there, you know."  Everybody Loves Foster.

He is loved, he is gentle, he is disciplined, he is a fantastic Pit Bull ambassador, he is perfect.  He is Foster Dog.  We are so lucky he is ours and that we can take him anywhere because I never want to be without him!

"Chill" Foster during acupuncture

Right Now

Foster has been managing his first chemotherapy treatment well.  Yes, he's thrown up a little.  Yes, he's left some food in his breakfast and dinner bowls, but really, he's been feeling good.  Good. Good. Good.  He's been feeling so good, he's been a little sassy!

Foster knows he is supposed to sit Over There, on The Spot, when I'm cooking.  Yesterday, Foster decided he was not only going to sit next to me, instead of on the rug, he was going to talk to me about how he needed a bite of the chicken I was taking apart.

He said he'd been patient for over six hours while it cooked in the crock pot and needed a bite Right Now! I said, "Foster Dog, you know how begging bugs me. I can't have you sitting over here telling me what to do.  Now you go to The Spot.  Go on."  Foster Dog tried to lie down next to me.  "No, Foster Dog.  You know where to be.  Go.  The Spot."  Foster's sassy self left the kitchen entirely!

Most people might find that acceptable, but I had directed him to The Spot.  He refused.  I directed him again, and he defied me.  No.  Way.  I called, "Foster Dog!  Come!"  He came.  I snapped my fingers to The Spot.  Luna and Atticus had already arrived, and Fosse joined them.  Sitting perfectly in that one square foot he elegantly consumes, I said to him, "Thank you, buddy."

A person who was waiting for J said, "Wow.  Isn't that the one who has cancer?  You're kinda hard on him."  Apparently, he had overheard the exchange between Foster and me.  I said, "Yes, he has cancer at the moment.  You sound concerned about how I'm communicating with him."  Person, "If my dog had cancer, I'd be doing whatever he wanted!"  Me, "What makes you think Foster doesn't want me to be me?"  Person, "What?  I mean, I'm just sayin'."  Me, "Yeah, me too."

As Foster goes through the dramatic process of healing from tumor removal, a splenectomy, and chemotherapy, every week involves him being poked intravenously for a blood draw, poked intravenously for a quick push of poison, and being separated from His Pack to endure it.  He may experience pain and nausea, vomiting and diarrhea, and I will have very little power to fully relieve his discomfort.  Now is not the time to switch up Foster's life at home.  Now is not the time to make his life even more unpredictable.

Sure, I've been feeding him organic ground beef and organic roasted chicken, but he has had to wait in The Spot, and be called to his feeding station, before eating.  Yes, I have turned The Pack around and taken Foster home when he seems too tired to continue walking with us, but he has been expected to show his leash manners during The Walk.

Fosse relaxing in the sun

I want to make accommodations for sweet Foster Dog, and I want to make his new experiences as stress-free as I can.  I believe a great way to do that is to be the one he can trust.  If I continue to be the rule-enforcing, behavior-guiding, predictably-demanding Lady he knows me to be, there will be comfort in the 165 hours per week we are not at a chemotherapy appointment.

Foster needs me to be me right now.  He always needs me to be me, but especially right now.

Sleepy Foster, happy in The Spot