Monday, April 25, 2011

With Games and Good Cheer

April 25, 2011

Lucy and I are learning each other.  
The first day I got her, she would not jump in the car.  I did everything I knew to get her in:  food lures, jolly fun pats on the blanket, encouragement, patience.  Did not work.  She looked so sad.  Sad lab with that fat tail wag.  So finally I lifted her front (at which point she collapsed and turned into dead weight) and walked her on her hind legs to the door, put her front legs on the seat, and then hoisted her up.  
She was hesitant about going up my long flight of stairs to the apartment, and adamant about not going down them.  I cajoled, encouraged, offered treats; all she did was look at me, do the sad lab fat tail wag, and step back.
But with cheer, she will do almost anything.  So I cheer-leadered her down the stairs:  Lucy, come on!  Yes!  YES!  You can do it!  You can do it!  Let’s go, let’s go, yes, yes, good girl, you’re doing it!  Good girl!”
That worked, and now she heads down the stairs without coaxing.  Thing is, I don’t think she ever did stairs before, so she is very cautious going down.  I must get a video of her serious lab face, looking down sadly as her paws slip down step to step, her face almost  obscured by the skin pushed forward in all gravity.
She is definitely a retriever.   I have a basket in my bathroom filled with extra hand towels and toilet rolls, and she methodically and very gently takes them one at at time (no play or killer shake) and deposits them in the family room.  She drags the scatter rugs from the bathroom, again one at  time and methodically, and brings them into the family room.  When she does this, she looks like she is carrying a duck.
So I replaced the towels and toilet rolls with actual dogs toys (which she ignores in the dog toy basket by her bed), and she happily retrieves them to their proper place in the middle of the family room.
I don’t think Lucy was ever allowed to be a dog in her past life.  She was a breeder until she was 5, then surrendered to the shelter.  She must have been a good momma; she is sweet and patient.  She lets me do things to her (ear cleaning, grooming, drying feet and belly) other dogs might resist.  I think she is used to puppies’ demands and rolling with the punches.  
So it’s fun to do dog things with her.  She snoots like a hound when we walk.  I love her taking in her new world with her huge nose.  She smells, looks and listens to everything.  So so curious about her surroundings.
She plays.  She plays in spurts, and when she does, it is a joy to watch.  It has been wet and muddy, but worse, I’ve been so sick, I can’t take her out to the park for play sessions.  She erupts in the house, scooting in circles  in the family room.
But my Lucy is not a confident dog.  She has some fear responses.  It stormed last night, and the thunder bothered her.  She got nervous and started alarm-barking at the top of the stairs.  She came to me when I called her, but I knew I needed to do something that did not reinforce her concern. 
What would Liz say?”   I always think what my friend and trainer Liz would suggest I do when I have a question with dog training.
(“Did you try redirecting her towards something she likes?”  Liz answered in my head.  “Can you distract her and have fun?”)  
I called Lucy over - me a cheerleader again - and started playing with her favorite toy.  “Lucy, get the toy!  Getthetoy!  Getthetoy!  Good girl!  Good girl!”  I threw Pink Pig, she chased and brought it back, again and again, basically distracting her and redirecting her.
Then I gave her her favorite treat:  a bully stick. She settled, chewed happily and ignored the storm.  
Thank you, Liz.
Mental note:  Keep bully sticks handy for Only Important Events.



Friday, April 8, 2011

Rescue

April 8, 2011
Rescued
It’s not been such a good year.  Since the surgery in January, now cancer free, recovery took a long time.  I was in the house mid January through early March, except for doctor appointments.  Steady visits from my wonderful friends kept me from being a recluse.  But as soon as I was strong, in mid March, I started a very nasty chemo, which is worse than the surgery.  Up till then, I didn’t feel sorry for myself, and I am not used to that.
I’d been thinking about getting a dog.  I know a dog will get me out and allow me to give to someone without talking about my chemo, my energy, my hair.  Pets don’t care about that stuff.  Especially if you are pathetic, because they do believe that their needs fully override yours.  
I work in a shelter, so I get first looks at the shelter dogs.  I needed:
  1. An older dog.
  2. A mellow dog.
  3. A trainable dog (not a project).
  4. Issues that I can work with and train (basic obedience, house breaking).
  5. A dog that likes exercise and long naps.
  6. A Labrador retriever.
Now #6 was a wish.  I would never purchase a lab.  All my cats were rescues (or strays) and I wanted a shelter dog.  I had little hope for a dog #1 -5 from the shelter and a lab.
But St. Hubert’s received a bunch of sweet Labs from a breeder.  They were mostly if not all females, all breeders.  One in particular drew me.  Annie, a yellow girl.  I kept her in my office 8am - noon for 2 days, and  I returned her to the kennel to be viewed for adoption at noon.  On Tuesday I knew that I was offered a gift from the gods, and to not take Anne would be a big mistake.  I was in love, the way I saw adopters fall in love when they visit with their potential dogs in the kitchen.
So Annie - now Lucy - is mine.  And she is more than I could have hoped for.  She is sweet, attentive, playful, smart, and very, very trainable.   She likes dogs, cats, and strangers on the street.  She has no fear and is very, very curious.  To me, curiousity is a sign of intelligence.  I’ve already been out with her for long walks.  Today we walked and she played at the dog park.   I would never have been out without her.  Her needs fully override mine.  She is a gift, and for the first time, I feel very, very lucky.  I feel healthy today.
Here’s what I learned:  
  1. For me, getting a dog made me forget that I am in chemo. 
  2. She makes me forget about my hair.  I didn’t want to be seen in a wig or hat.  Now, I don’t care.
  3. Giving love is as good if not better than getting love.  So her belly rubs are symbiotic.
  4. You lose who you are with sickness.  I am not sick, but I feel defined now by being a cancer survivor and a chemo patient.  I have no patience, my humor is strained.  But with Lucy, I am me, and I am the best me; I am defined by my self from before November, and I have little thoughts except of caring for Lucy and myself.
To Becky, Lauren, Drew, Kathy, Kim and Joanne and all the shelter staff at St. H, Thank you for your unwavering support and your faith in me and in Lucy.