K9 Clicker Blog

 

I couldn't resist  including this short essay by Jim Willis on my new blog. It still manages to upset me each time I read it.

The sad fact is that over 1000 dogs are put to sleep every week in the UK.

Rescue centres are increasing space and unscrupulous breeders are helping to  fill them with unstable, badly bred and poorly raised specimans.

On top of that, we live in a throw away society, littered with people who are selfish and uncaring.  

People ask me why I do what I do - I hope this post answers their question.

If you're thinking about giving your dog up please read this essay ...... Don't hesitate to contact me - I'll help if I can.

HOW COULD YOU? - By Jim Willis 2001

When I was a puppy, I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You called me your child, and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend. Whenever I was "bad,"you'd shake your finger at me and ask "How could you?" - but then you'd relent, and roll me over for a bellyrub.

My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed and listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more perfect. We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only got the cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs," you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day.

Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your home comings, and when you fell in love. She, now your wife, is not a "dog person" -still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her.

I was happy because you were happy. Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate. Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a "prisoner of love."

As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears, and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them and their touch - because your touch was now so infrequent - and I would have defended them with my life if need be. I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams, and together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway.

There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you just answered "yes" and changed the subject. I had gone from being "your dog" to "just a dog," and you resented every expenditure on my behalf.

Now, you have a new career opportunity in another city, and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You've made the right decision for your "family," but there was a time when I was your only family.

I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said "I know you will find a good home for her." They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog, even one with "papers."

You had to pry your son's fingers loose from my collar as he screamed "No, Daddy! Please don't let them take my dog!" And I worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life. You gave me a good-bye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you.

You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too. After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked.... "How could you?"

They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you - that you had changed your mind - that this was all a bad dream... or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared..... anyone who might save me.

When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited. I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day, and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table and rubbed my ears, and told me not to worry.

My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. The "prisoner of love" had run out of days. As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her, and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood.

She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured "How could you?"

Perhaps because she understood my dogspeak, she said "I'm so sorry." She hugged me, and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself - a place of love and light so very different from this earthly place.

With my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my "How could you?" was not directed at her. It was you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of. I will think of you and wait for you forever. May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty.

The End - Jim Willis

 My line of work delivers a very mixed bag of emotions. I get enormous pleasure out of helping dogs and owners co-exist with each other.

I meet all sorts of people from the extremely wealthy to the OAPs who are living on the breadline. Most of them share the same problems and seek the same goals.
Unfortunately it is not always a bed of roses. Here's an example of the dark side of my work.

I received a call from a woman asking for help with her newly adopted Collie. The wee dog was a perfect gentleman indoors. Unfortunately, he was getting very stressed when he ventured outside. He was getting so wound up that he was barking and snarling and performing crocodile death roles whenever he saw other dogs. This was deeply distressing for the owner.

I could tell by the owner's voice that she was not one to be crossed and would not suffer fools gladly. She told me that she had owned dogs for years and that she knew how to train a dog. I got the impression that she had trained dogs in the past with a heavy hand and a course voice. I used to frown on this type of treatment and stay clear of people who handled dogs in this way. I now look on it in a different light. My view is that I can make a difference by educating these owners how to achieve results using humane methods.Seeing is believing. Running away or turning your nose up at these people will solve nothing.

Anyway, I said that I would visit the owner and assess the dog. These situations are never easy because some owners do not like being told the truth.

I entered the house and performed some basic clicker training with the dog. He was very amicable and gentle. I then placed a gentle leader on him and clicked and treated him for remaining calm. After a few minutes, I attached a 6-foot lead and gave him time to settle before I walked him quietly outside.

I walked around the streets with the owner and attempted to settle the dog down whenever he got upset. I managed to keep him fairly calm but he was a handful and it took all my handling abilities to stop him from going over the edge.

We returned home and I had to give my assessment of the dog's behaviour.

This was a handsome, intelligent little collie.The owner had attempted to amend his behaviour using the traditional methods that had worked with her previous dogs but this guy requires a different skillset. I was in no doubt that he required some extreme socialisation and expert handling if he was to overcome his hang-ups. The town where he lived was highly charged with criminal activity and drug abuse. There were dogs being kennelled in every other garden and the negative atmosphere was electric on the streets. The town is renowned for having packs of dogs running wild in the streets and it's certainly not the environment for socialising a stressed out collie.
The owner was getting older and was not fit by any means. On top of that the birth of her grandchild was imminent. The dog had already attacked a few of the neighbour's dogs and had bitten the owner's son twice in the last few weeks.

I always say I'm in this for the dogs and I stick by that statement. I took account of the overall situation and my recommendation was that it would be best if the wee dog was returned to the rescue centre and re-homed into a more suitable environment. This dog needs a home where he can be socialised and stimulated. This wee guy needs loads of free running and plenty of jobs to do to keep him occupied. In a perfect world I would have adopted him myself and brought him on but this is not a reality at the moment.

My decision broke the owner's heart and I'm not proud of it. The owner had formed a bond with this wee guy and she doted on him even though he had put her through the mill. The woman stayed by herself and he was her only companion. I found this decision easy to make but very difficult to implement. I know in my heart it's the best course of action. I would feel responsible if anything happened to the owner or the new baby because I had lacked the bottle to make an unpopular decision. I must stress that this was a recommendation not an ultimatum and I was not enforcing the separation. However, the owner agreed with me that it was the best course of action. The owner she said she just needed closure from another person.

Unfortunately, common sense and best practices don't count for much when your losing your best friend. I feel deeply saddened at the pain and anguish that this poor old woman is going through. I would have preferred to make a more popular decision and guard her from this suffering but I had to act in the best interests of the dog.

I genuinely hope my decision pays off for both dog and owner.

I would like to offer the owner my sincere sympathy and wish her all the best for the future.

This situation "doesn't make me feel that good".

I often see dogs that have apparently "gone off the rails".

A typical scenario is "He's just started ripping things up in the house when he's left. He doesn't need to be left for long - he's just so destructive now"

Another example is "He will not stop barking - As soon as he's left in the garden he just stands at the back door or the fence and barks his head off"

This usually results in the owner chastising the dog for his "unruly" behaviour. This can range from harsh words to unnecessary punishment

Here's my viewpoint on this. In my crazy assed mind I see the relationship between dog and owner as an unwritten contract. This is a contract where the owner/leader agrees to be consistent and fair. The leader displays protection and guidance and always rewards loyalty and obedience. The dog and owner create a routine that is adhered to and in return, the dog looks forward to the good times and accepts the bad times with patience and diligence.This is the foundation of a solid relationship between dog and owner.

I honestly believe that things go wrong when a dog feels this contract has been broken. The owner displays a lack of consistency and the dog recognises the negative pattern with no "good bits". This is where all negative, unwanted behaviour is rooted.

People call me thinking I can waive a magic wand and cure these issues with no input or work on their part. I'm truthful with them. I can't change a dog's opinion of their owner without the owner reviewing and adhering to their side of the contract. The dog's opinion has been based on broken promises and inconsistent routines where the dog has continuously lost out.

 Basically, the relationship has broken down and the only way I see these situations being resolved is when the owner changes his ways and lives up to their part of the contract. Trust and respect is earned and cannot be blagged or bluffed. Most dogs will happily tolerate the dull times if the good times are enjoyable, especially if they occur at regular intervals.

If your dog is displaying inconsistent, destructive or noisy behaviour you should review the contract from the dog's view point. Consistent daily routines that incorporate obedience training and fun with help in solving most of these issues

I must admit I have a low tolerance of owners that will not keep their side of the bargain. These people just don't deserve to own dogs.

Treat a human partner in this manner and you'll end up out of pocket in a divorce court. Treat a dog like this and HE ends up in a rescue centre at someone else's mercy.  Think about it ...........