Whenever a dog comes into a new environment, whether that's into rescue or into an adopter's home, there's a 2-week "honeymoon" period. During the first two weeks, it's common not to see a dog's true personality. With owner surrenders, strays, and shelter pulls, they're usually somewhat reserved and seemingly on their best behavior. They're observing everything about their new environment - the people, the other pets, the routine, the rules, how things work in general - and trying to figure out how they fit in. It takes them two weeks to get comfortable, and then their true personality emerges.
Although it's not a honeymoon, there's a 2-week adjustment period with puppymill dogs, too. Patience has never been my strong suit. When mill dogs first come in I want them to understand - now - that they're safe, that I'm not going to hurt them (or let anyone else hurt them, either), and that their lives have changed forever for the better. With every dog or group of dogs that comes in, I have to fight not to be impatient, not to overwhelm them, to be kind but detached while I earn their trust. Every time I have to remind myself, "just be patient for two weeks."
Two weeks and a day ago, I got in a new "batch" of mill dogs. A pair of Shih Tzu (a big chunky boy I'm calling Elvis, and a long slender girl I'm calling Cherry), three adult Chihuahuas (a chunky girl named Ruthie, a chunky little boy named Paco, and a tiny little white guy who hasn't picked a name yet), an adolescent Chihuahua (a petite little girl currently named Lena), a Chihuahua/Dachshund puppy (Remington, I think, because he's a real pistol), and an adult Chihuahua/Beagle (a girl who doesn't have a permanent name yet).
Once in a while I can tell almost from the first day that they're going to be OK; they may stiffen when I touch or hold them but they don't freeze, they may not relax when I hold them but they don't struggle or protest, they may avoid meeting my eyes but their ears prick up when I talk to them. Once in a while I even see a tentative tail wag or two. Elvis the Shih Tzu is just such a dog. He was a little tentative for a day or two, but I could see right from the time he came out of the crate he traveled in that he would be a happy, confident boy fairly quickly.
I always carry the dogs out to the exercise pen that's their "yard" at first, until they're wormed and through quarantine. Coming over the threshold and through the door is scary for most of them, though, so when it's time to come back in, I usually have to go out and "catch" them and carry them back in. Within 3 days, Elvis was coming back in by himself. A day later, he climbed up the two steps from the hallway to the kitchen by himself. A couple days after that he went out through the door himself, and a day or two later he would come out of his crate, head right for the gate to the hallway, go down the stairs and over to the door, and then outside, all on his own. It took a week, which is actually very rapid progress, but that's Elvis' personality. "OK, all that other stuff's behind me, I'm going to get on with my life!"
Now, Elvis goes all the way to the back door by himself, goes out on the patio and even out into the big yard, takes care of business, gets a drink, and comes back in. He solicits attention and, when I pet him, he maneuvers his body under my hand so I can skritch where it feels good. He meets my eyes when I speak to him. In another couple of weeks most people would have a hard time believing what his background is.
Cherry and Elvis came from the same place. I think it was probably a pretty bad place. They were both in horrible condition, and needed to be shaved down to find the dog below the mats. She was very scared at first, but even the first night she buried her face in my neck and gave me a couple of tentative kisses. I knew even then she would probably progress very quickly.
Now, she's soliciting attention (putting her feet up on my knees when I'm sitting), giving kisses, sleeping curled up next to, or even on, my feet. She still won't go out or come in by herself, and she's afraid to try the stairs, but once I lift her up the stairs and into the kitchen, she's confident enough to explore the house and to settle right into the small dog pack. She's also confident enough to go out in back with some of the other dogs. She lets me approach her and pick her up, but she wriggles the whole time I'm carrying her. I haven't decided if it's because she's afraid I'll drop (or throw) her, or if she's excited to be held. Maybe it's a little of both.
The puppy and the adolescent Chihuahua adjusted quickly, I was never concerned about whether or not they'd adjust to real life. The puppy was fine from day one, and Lena only took about 24 hours to turn into a snuggle bug. But the others have been more typical - still scared, still unable or unwilling to engage, still uncomfortable being held, still flinching when touched.
I've seen so little progress. I've quietly worried I'm not going to be able to reach these battered souls, I'm not going to be able to help them. I've watched, and I've waited, and I've hoped, and I've despaired. And then we hit the two week mark. There's something almost magical that happens at the end of two weeks.
A couple of days ago, Ruthie decided I wasn't so scary after all, and maybe being held and petted and smooched was something pleasant rather than something to be feared. A week ago she was stiff as a board when I held her, but now she solicits attention, allows me to pick her up and hold her on my lap, and snuggles right into me. She comes in through the door from the exercise pen by herself; it takes her a minute or two to work up her courage but that's better than the 10 minutes it took a week ago. She can handle going out in the big yard, though I have to go out and get her and bring her back in. When I talk to her, she wriggles in pleasure. She's going to be a wonderful little companion dog.
Until now, Paco froze every time I touched him. If I tried to skritch under his chin, he flinched. He flinched when I stroked his head, or behind his ears, but I discovered he likes having his rump skritched so I've been limiting my affections to rump-skritching. A couple of days ago, he stopped hiding in the back of his crate and started sleeping curled up against the door, where he could see everything that was going on and participate, without actually leaving the safety of his crate. This afternoon, he came up the steps on his own. Tonight, when I let him have some house time, he approached me and looked at me as if to say, "I'll let you pick me up, if you want to!" I did, and he sat comfortably on my lap while I rubbed his head, ears, and face, and when I tickled his chin a little with the tip of a finger, he raised his chin up to give me better access to his throat and neck.
Even the little white guy loosened up tonight. He didn't flinch when I reached out to stroke him, didn't try to avoid me when I picked him up, and was content to snuggle down next to me in my chair and stay there while I petted him, until I needed to get up. He's still a little leery, but he's decided it might be worth his while to interact with me and maybe he'll trust me - at least a little bit. Gotcha! I think he'll make quick progress from here on out.
The Chihuahua/Beagle is not, so far, adjusting. She may be too fear aggressive to fix. But that's a story for another post.
Two weeks. The blink of an eye, in the greater scheme of things, but it feels like forever.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Friday, January 8, 2010
Ruby and Baby
The friendship between Ruby and Baby is stable and strong. I'm getting such a kick out of watching them!
Earlier this week I needed to move a litter of 5-week old puppies into a new setup with more room. This necessitated rearranging the crates in the living room. The final configuration put Ruby's crate about 2 feet to the left of my chair. It was more of a space consideration than a conscious decision, but it has been a serendipitous move.
Ruby has always liked to hang out in her crate with the door open, if she's not there she likes to be in the tunnel on the bottom of the cat tree. (The tunnel is about 2 feet to the right and behind me when I sit in my computer chair, it's always been a favorite hang-out for small dogs.) Since I relocated Ruby's crate, she hangs out in there when I'm sitting in my chair, and in the tunnel when I'm on the computer.
Baby wants to be where Ruby is. So much so, in fact, that when Ruby is in her crate, Baby will often crawl in after her and snuggle up. Ruby - sweet, silly Ruby - is just fine with that. In order to get to Ruby's crate when I'm sitting in my chair, Baby has to pass between my feet and the puppy pen, and there's only a couple of feet between the pen and my chair. She was a little hesitant at first, but now she passes by fairly confidently.
There have been a number of benefits to this new pattern. First, when Baby's in the crate with Ruby, she's toward the front of the crate and that puts her just a couple feet away from me, instead of across the room and halfway behind the dog chair. She has ample opportunity to observe me interacting with the other dogs, and sees that they all want, and like to have, my attention. She is also spending a lot of time physically close to me, and is learning it is safe to do so.
Second, it has given me the opportunity to touch her without it being something scary.
(Speaking of touching and scary, I couldn't stand her dreadlocks any more, so I spent three hours with her on my lap the other night, scissoring her down. She was not happy and kept struggling to get away, I had to hold her collar with one hand and scissor with the other. She struggled hard enough that I pulled a muscle in my chest and worked my left bicep enough that it was sore the next day. She also pooped on me three times. But I was determined to get it done in one shot, so I wouldn't have to catch her each time if I did it in stages. I know she feels better, and I think she's realized that I scared her so she would feel better.)
As she passes my feet, I occasionally reach out and let my fingertips brush her topline as she crosses in front of me. I keep my touch passive and very light, as non-threatening as I can make it. The first time I did it, it was like I'd pushed a turbo boost button on her behind. She exploded forward and away from me. But I've continued to do it occasionally, and she has reacted with less fear each time until she barely indicated that she even felt it when I did it earlier tonight. It's becoming part of the new pattern. From such acceptance of tiny changes in pattern come huge leaps in trust.
I think Baby's ready for a very gradual acceleration of forced interaction. In just a few days she's recovered enough from the haircut to pass by me without fear, and has stopped flinching when I touch her as she does so. Bibi - who has also been braver with me since her haircut - sat on my lap for a while tonight. When I put her back on the floor, Baby sniffed her up one side and down the other, as if to say, "I can't believe she touched you all over, and you weren't afraid, and nothing bad happened to you!" I'll be giving Bibi some regular lap time, and Ruby extra lap time, and hope that piques Baby's curiosity and opens the door to more interaction.
Earlier this week I needed to move a litter of 5-week old puppies into a new setup with more room. This necessitated rearranging the crates in the living room. The final configuration put Ruby's crate about 2 feet to the left of my chair. It was more of a space consideration than a conscious decision, but it has been a serendipitous move.
Ruby has always liked to hang out in her crate with the door open, if she's not there she likes to be in the tunnel on the bottom of the cat tree. (The tunnel is about 2 feet to the right and behind me when I sit in my computer chair, it's always been a favorite hang-out for small dogs.) Since I relocated Ruby's crate, she hangs out in there when I'm sitting in my chair, and in the tunnel when I'm on the computer.
Baby wants to be where Ruby is. So much so, in fact, that when Ruby is in her crate, Baby will often crawl in after her and snuggle up. Ruby - sweet, silly Ruby - is just fine with that. In order to get to Ruby's crate when I'm sitting in my chair, Baby has to pass between my feet and the puppy pen, and there's only a couple of feet between the pen and my chair. She was a little hesitant at first, but now she passes by fairly confidently.
There have been a number of benefits to this new pattern. First, when Baby's in the crate with Ruby, she's toward the front of the crate and that puts her just a couple feet away from me, instead of across the room and halfway behind the dog chair. She has ample opportunity to observe me interacting with the other dogs, and sees that they all want, and like to have, my attention. She is also spending a lot of time physically close to me, and is learning it is safe to do so.
Second, it has given me the opportunity to touch her without it being something scary.
(Speaking of touching and scary, I couldn't stand her dreadlocks any more, so I spent three hours with her on my lap the other night, scissoring her down. She was not happy and kept struggling to get away, I had to hold her collar with one hand and scissor with the other. She struggled hard enough that I pulled a muscle in my chest and worked my left bicep enough that it was sore the next day. She also pooped on me three times. But I was determined to get it done in one shot, so I wouldn't have to catch her each time if I did it in stages. I know she feels better, and I think she's realized that I scared her so she would feel better.)
As she passes my feet, I occasionally reach out and let my fingertips brush her topline as she crosses in front of me. I keep my touch passive and very light, as non-threatening as I can make it. The first time I did it, it was like I'd pushed a turbo boost button on her behind. She exploded forward and away from me. But I've continued to do it occasionally, and she has reacted with less fear each time until she barely indicated that she even felt it when I did it earlier tonight. It's becoming part of the new pattern. From such acceptance of tiny changes in pattern come huge leaps in trust.
I think Baby's ready for a very gradual acceleration of forced interaction. In just a few days she's recovered enough from the haircut to pass by me without fear, and has stopped flinching when I touch her as she does so. Bibi - who has also been braver with me since her haircut - sat on my lap for a while tonight. When I put her back on the floor, Baby sniffed her up one side and down the other, as if to say, "I can't believe she touched you all over, and you weren't afraid, and nothing bad happened to you!" I'll be giving Bibi some regular lap time, and Ruby extra lap time, and hope that piques Baby's curiosity and opens the door to more interaction.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Relationships
Ruby is an approximately 5-year old Cavalier King Charles spaniel. She's a discarded puppymill breeder dog; in addition to the usual physical issues common with puppymill dogs, Ruby has a perineal hernia from carrying and bearing too many litters of puppies. When Ruby's bladder is full it pushes through the hole in her perineum, when she's in short coat it is obvious when Ruby needs to go outside.
The danger with this condition is that her bladder could come completely through the hole and twist (strangulate), and she would need immediate surgery to save her life. The problem is that I got a quote of $3,000 to fix it. Even if I could come up with that kind of money, $3K would provide all the routine veterinary care for 20 other dogs. I couldn't justify spending it on one middle-aged dog. She's unadoptable with this condition, so Ruby's a permanent foster.
I don't mind. Ruby's a sweetheart. She's silly, happy, easy-going, an easy-keeper, and a bit of a space cadet, although she's smart enough to pick up the routine all on her own and follow it with enthusiasm. Ruby's enthusiastic about nearly everything.
Baby is an approximately 2-year old cocker spaniel/poodle mix, also a discarded puppymill dog. She is probably the most psychologically damaged mill dog I've ever worked with. Baby has been with me 8 months, and I'm still not able to touch her. I do everything I can to avoid picking her up, but sometimes I have no other option. When I pick her up, Baby loses control of her bowels - I literally scare the crap out of her.
I don't crate Baby. I haven't figured out how to get her into one without picking her up and putting her there, so she has the "run" of the house. Except she rarely leaves her hidden observation spot - on the bottom shelf of the bookcase, behind the dogs' recliner. From there, or peeking around the back of the recliner, she can see everything going on in the living room and yet still feel safe.
Baby is happiest when she's outside with other dogs. With them, she's playful and uninhibited. I love to watch her with them, but I have to be inside watching through a window to see it. If I go out in the yard she freezes the instant she sees me and, though she'll go back to playing with the other dogs - more guardedly than before she saw me - she always keeps one eye on me and gives me a wide berth.
In just the last week or so, Baby has responded to her name when I speak to her. The first time, she was at the back of the little pack as they came in. She usually tries to be right in the middle, so I don't notice her and would have difficulty catching her if I intended to. At the back of the pack she felt vulnerable and backed away from the door. "C'mon, Baby, come on in, I'm not going to bother you." Her ears perked up, and she came in. She moved quickly past me, but it wasn't the terrified dash I'm so used to. Several times since then we've run into a similar situation, either going through an interior doorway or going outside and coming back in, and she's accepted my invitation each time.
The last few days she has been gradually moving closer to all the action. She's spent more time out in the main space in the living room, and in the evenings she's been hanging out in the toy basket (a peach bushel) on top of the toys, or in Bibi's open crate, which is the crate closest to the open space and thus, with the best view of it. I think she's decided she's done being a wallflower and it's time to join the dance. I've gotten a kick out of watching her. She looks a bit like a Rastafarian and I was planning on scissoring off some of her coat this weekend, but now I'm afraid she'll regress if I put any pressure on her, so I'm going to have to be patient and wait a week or two before I do anything about grooming her.
I let some dogs, including Baby and Ruby, out in the "big" yard this afternoon to play in the snow for a little while. I came back to the door but didn't come in, and stood there watching them. There was the usual leaping, running around in big circles, rolling and shaking. And then I saw Baby with Ruby. Baby was pouncing and bouncing at Ruby playfully, clearly trying to engage Ruby in some doggie game. I've never seen Baby so silly and lighthearted. I wanted to laugh out loud at her antics, but bit my tongue so I didn't scare her.
I watched Baby and Ruby together when they came back inside; wherever Ruby went, Baby followed. It seems Baby has taken a shine to Ruby. I'm so glad she's got a friend, especially one that's going to be here as long as she will be. I'm happy not only for Baby, but also because I'll be able to use that friendship to help her continue to emerge from her fear and her self-imposed isolation. It's always easier to face your fears when you've got a buddy to hold your hand.
The danger with this condition is that her bladder could come completely through the hole and twist (strangulate), and she would need immediate surgery to save her life. The problem is that I got a quote of $3,000 to fix it. Even if I could come up with that kind of money, $3K would provide all the routine veterinary care for 20 other dogs. I couldn't justify spending it on one middle-aged dog. She's unadoptable with this condition, so Ruby's a permanent foster.
I don't mind. Ruby's a sweetheart. She's silly, happy, easy-going, an easy-keeper, and a bit of a space cadet, although she's smart enough to pick up the routine all on her own and follow it with enthusiasm. Ruby's enthusiastic about nearly everything.
Baby is an approximately 2-year old cocker spaniel/poodle mix, also a discarded puppymill dog. She is probably the most psychologically damaged mill dog I've ever worked with. Baby has been with me 8 months, and I'm still not able to touch her. I do everything I can to avoid picking her up, but sometimes I have no other option. When I pick her up, Baby loses control of her bowels - I literally scare the crap out of her.
I don't crate Baby. I haven't figured out how to get her into one without picking her up and putting her there, so she has the "run" of the house. Except she rarely leaves her hidden observation spot - on the bottom shelf of the bookcase, behind the dogs' recliner. From there, or peeking around the back of the recliner, she can see everything going on in the living room and yet still feel safe.
Baby is happiest when she's outside with other dogs. With them, she's playful and uninhibited. I love to watch her with them, but I have to be inside watching through a window to see it. If I go out in the yard she freezes the instant she sees me and, though she'll go back to playing with the other dogs - more guardedly than before she saw me - she always keeps one eye on me and gives me a wide berth.
In just the last week or so, Baby has responded to her name when I speak to her. The first time, she was at the back of the little pack as they came in. She usually tries to be right in the middle, so I don't notice her and would have difficulty catching her if I intended to. At the back of the pack she felt vulnerable and backed away from the door. "C'mon, Baby, come on in, I'm not going to bother you." Her ears perked up, and she came in. She moved quickly past me, but it wasn't the terrified dash I'm so used to. Several times since then we've run into a similar situation, either going through an interior doorway or going outside and coming back in, and she's accepted my invitation each time.
The last few days she has been gradually moving closer to all the action. She's spent more time out in the main space in the living room, and in the evenings she's been hanging out in the toy basket (a peach bushel) on top of the toys, or in Bibi's open crate, which is the crate closest to the open space and thus, with the best view of it. I think she's decided she's done being a wallflower and it's time to join the dance. I've gotten a kick out of watching her. She looks a bit like a Rastafarian and I was planning on scissoring off some of her coat this weekend, but now I'm afraid she'll regress if I put any pressure on her, so I'm going to have to be patient and wait a week or two before I do anything about grooming her.
I let some dogs, including Baby and Ruby, out in the "big" yard this afternoon to play in the snow for a little while. I came back to the door but didn't come in, and stood there watching them. There was the usual leaping, running around in big circles, rolling and shaking. And then I saw Baby with Ruby. Baby was pouncing and bouncing at Ruby playfully, clearly trying to engage Ruby in some doggie game. I've never seen Baby so silly and lighthearted. I wanted to laugh out loud at her antics, but bit my tongue so I didn't scare her.
I watched Baby and Ruby together when they came back inside; wherever Ruby went, Baby followed. It seems Baby has taken a shine to Ruby. I'm so glad she's got a friend, especially one that's going to be here as long as she will be. I'm happy not only for Baby, but also because I'll be able to use that friendship to help her continue to emerge from her fear and her self-imposed isolation. It's always easier to face your fears when you've got a buddy to hold your hand.
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