Mindful Dog Walking

Today I'd like to talk to you about something of the utmost importance: mindful dog walking. Those of you who live in more rural areas might have a different experience, but here in the city I've had repeated experiences that are just too disturbing to remain silent about. That's right.

It's time we get serious and talk about those of you who walk your dogs in urban areas paying no attention to your surroundings.

On three separate occasions yesterday I was accosted by leashed dogs. Their owners were wandering around in la-la land and allowed their dogs to run right up into my face. On rather frightening beast snarled and exposed his teeth at me. I'm being generous here because at least one of the humans (companion to the snarling beast) was aware of what was happening and didn't do anything to stop the behavior.

How do you feel when a stranger runs up to you and sticks there nose in your face?

You don't like it? Well we dogs don't like it either. There is a certain dance well socialized and well behaved dogs do when they meet each other. We use very loud and obvious non-verbal language to communicate with each other. I let people know I'm submissive, for example. I usually will crouch down and look to the side when I see another dog approaching. My tail will go down between my legs. I'll lick my lips. In doing this, I communicate I am not dangerous, I am a friend, and I will not hurt you. I wait for the other dog to signal their intentions: when they do we will circle each other and sniff. That's how we shake hands. Then and only then we will play.

Back to the nose in the face. Yesterday these three dogs payed no attention to my non-verbals and ran right up into my face. This signifies and attack of my personal space and a potential attack of my human. I will respond. You can expect barking, you can expect teeth to be exposed. I will fight if I must, even though I'm little and very scared. I will protect myself and my human as best I can.

You can also expect that my human will respond very rapidly by placing himself sideways between me and the other dog. It's usually enough to stop the other dog when he blocks, prevents the two dogs from having eye contact, refuses to make eye contact with the dog himself, and provides a stronger non-verbal to the approaching dog.

Knowing that I don't have to protect I will run behind my human and cower. I'm an easily frightened dog.

The human is also known to verbally bite. He's tolerance has run out for these sorts of interactions. Beware as he has not yet had his rabies vaccinations. I'm not sure if you can get rabies from him yelling at you. Be on the safe side thought, okay?

What's my point here?

Too many humans are watching dog trainers on television and think they have it all figured out. You don't have it all figured out. Just like children need to have adults supervise their play on the playground to learn important social skills, dogs need to have adult supervision on a playground so they can learn proper canine interpersonal skills.

The adult humans, by the way, need to have supervised play with their dogs too. This learning, which only can happen with the guidance of an excellent human coach, helps humans become aware of how to safely support their dogs when approaching new dogs.

Chinese Medicine to the Rescue

Many of you know me as a rambunctious, cuddly, and generally outgoing puppy. I've not always been that way--as I puppy I was a rather shy dog. With lots of good socialization I've transformed much of that shy behavior into something generally gregarious.

That's not always the case for me. My anxiety has been creeping back up again over the last few months. First I thought it was because of some bad experiences at the vet. You'd be anxious too if you had those sorts of exams. The human built back up a schedule of socialization and kept on giving me many positive interactions with things that I was scared of (visiting the vet office, going to unfamiliar places, meeting men with facial hair). This was going along well and then my anxiety went back up: driving to work one day we went over a patch of interstate that was being resurfaced. The rumbling got me me and I started shaking. Now I'm prone to trembling every time I get into the car. The 12 hour car ride to Cleveland didn't help.

Things keep on moving in the wrong direction so the human decided to bring in professional help. Yesterday afternoon we headed out for a consult with our friendly veterinarian and holistic health specialist, Dr. Cirnigliaro, also known as Dr. Dan.

I sure did put on a good show for him. I pranced right into the waiting room and put my paws up on the reception desk. Friendly as friendly can be, right? Well as soon as the assistant came out I hid behind my human and started licking my lips trying to calm myself. Two licks was all it took before I decided it was time to panic. I started trembling--softly at first and then my whole body vibrated. I tucked my tail tight between my legs for good measure.

Yes. It's true. I'm a fearful dog. Only in certain circumstances, and not even in those certain circumstances with any degree of regularity.

Still--this is no way to live!

Dr. Dan gave me an exam. I'm perfectly healthy. Despite my shaking and trembling he commented that I have nearly a perfect temperament. I let them examine me--I didn't fight or argue. With a little coaxing I came to them (they had food--like I was going to give that up!). Before I knew it both assistants were on the floor cooing over me. I approached slowly, on my own terms, from the side. They knew not to look straight at me--and I knew to look at them from the side of my eyes. We did this little dance and it let me feel safe. Before we knew it I was rolling over getting my belly pet and kissing the assistants.

That Dr. Dan is a different story--he has facial hair. I'm not so sure about that.

So Dr. Dan did a regular wellness exam. He also felt my various pulses and looked at my tongue. Can you believe that? I'm told this part of the examination is for the traditional Chinese Medicine. I was very cooperative with this part of the examination. I was nervous so I was yawning in an attempt to calm myself down. It just so happens that when I yawn I unfurl my tongue. Volia. Examination complete.

After lots of careful thought and conversation, we've decided I'm going to start on an herbal preparation called Shen Calmer.

Shen what? Depending on where you are, shen means different things. In ancient Egypt a shen ring was a circle with a line at a tangent through it. When objects appeared inside the shen ring, the object was considered to be eternally protected. In Chinese mythology shen (which means large clam monster) is a shape shifting dragon that is known to cause mirages. In this particular case, shen comes from traditional Chinese medicine--and it is associated with the element of fire. From this perspective I have too much shen (fire) and need to cool down a bit so I can be back in balance. The herbal mixture that I'm taking, called Shen Calmer, is designed to calm my shen and cool me down.

I'll report back to you all in three or four weeks. Dr. Dan tells me that it will take about that long to see if this preparation works for me. If it doesn't, or if I need more support, we might consider acupuncture.

The human of course will be upping his behavioral interventions. I'll be doing a lot more structured supervised socialization activities. I'm probably going to be going for a lot of short car rides and be given a steady stream of tasty chicken. Why, you ask? Multiple short exposures to things that frighten me (car rides) paired with pleasurable activities (eating chicken) is an excellent behavioral intervention for anxiety.

I also have the feeling that my daily exercise program is going to increase. The snow has gotten in the way of our hour long walks every morning. That's a wonderful opportunity to use up some of my extra energy and provides a calming tonic effect on my well-being.

If you have similar things going on I strongly invite you to consult with a well qualified veterinarian and dog coach. Some of these interventions seem simple (chicken in the car, for example) but really aren't. When exposure therapy is done wrong, you'll make your anxiety go up. That's not what you want to happen!

On Therapy Dog Examinations, Fear, and Systematic Desensitization

Last Sunday was the big day--it was finally time to take my examination to become a therapy dog. Once my paperwork is processed, I'll officially be a registered pet partner with the Delta Society. The human was excessively worried about the test. There were a few key things that he thought I'd have difficulty with--things that might actually cause me to fail.

His biggest concern was that as a rule, I hate being brushed. The brush comes out and I immediately start mouthing the brush. Part of the exam is being brushed by the examiner and in order to pass said exam I can't be eating the brush. He practiced and practiced brushing me. The general principle was that every time the brush came out he'd bring out food. As he brushed my fur there was a steady stream of little rewards entering into my drooling mouth. He thought for sure this would work. That is, he though for sure it would work until one day he left the brush on a table and I snuck off with it and chewed it.

What did I do during the exam? The brush came out and I rolled over to get my belly brushed.

The next worry of the human was the neutral dog. On a lead, I walk on the outside of the human as he passes another human with a dog on a lead. The humans stop for a few moments, shake hands, and exchange pleasantries. I'm not supposed to lunge, bark, snarl, or otherwise be inappropriate toward the human or the other dog. I'm not an aggressive dog by nature: that wasn't the human's concern. Rather, I'm a playful dog. Each and every dog that I pass is considered a potential best friend. I like to way my tail, do a play bow, and otherwise try to entice the other dog to say hello to me. This is somewhat problematic for the test.

What did I do? Exactly what the human anticipated. He stopped and shook hands with the other human. I went up on my rear feet hoping that I could shake hands with the human too. I passed this portion--while I didn't pass it with flying colors it was okay because the human was in control of me. He made sure I didn't get onto the other human.

The problem I faced--and what almost caused me to fail my exam--was totally unexpected. During the exam I was examined by the examiner. He was supposed to touch my paws, look in my ears, look in my mouth. He then went on to pet me in an exuberant and clumsy way and give me a restraining hug.

These are all things that happen to me on a regular basis. Those of you who meet me in the office know that I love this. We have one particular patient who comes running into the office, sits on the floor, and proceeds to roll me over, pat me vigorousness, squeeze me, and otherwise show me exuberant affection.

What did I do during this portion of the exam? The examiner was wearing a puffy winter vest. He took it off prior to getting down on the floor. I took that as my cue to hide behind my human to do anything I could do to avoid the situation. I displayed just about every sign I could that I was scared and exhibited every one of Turrid Rugaas' calming signals. We repeated that portion of the exam with a female examiner and I did marginally better.

The human first thought that it was the removal of the puffy winter vest. The human doesn't wear puffy winter vests and I've never seen one. In light of me become scared when I saw it being removed, he assumed at first that it was the stimulus that put me into a fear response. I wish I could speak: if I could I would have told the human that he had it all wrong. Thankfully he figured it out on the way home.

To understand why I got so scared the human needed to think about four other pieces of information.

1. The examiner was male
2. The examiner had a scruffy beard
3. Several months ago, for no apparent reason, I became fearful of a patient who has a scruffy beard. Previously I would sit in his arms and nuzzle the side of his neck.
4. Several months ago I became afraid of a homeless man with a scruffy beard that I used to run to greet.

So how does this all fit together? Why did I get scared? The human has been curious about the last two pieces of information for some time now. My behavior change was sudden, unexpected, and very localized. Other than those two situations I am outgoing, friendly, and confident.

Driving home from the examination I could see the light bulb appear over the human's head as he thought of one more piece of information. I was eager and excited to go to the vet as a puppy. I thought it was big fun to be examined, played with, and given attention. I would actually scamper into the vets office with my tail wagging! In a large part, this happened because my human went to the vet with me multiple times as a puppy and just walked in the door. No exams, no shots. He asked everyone to pet me and I learned that this was a good place to be.

As regular readers know, I had some bladder issues in the late summer and fall. No one could figure out what was going on and I needed all sorts of tests. Naturally, I started to become afraid of the vet--and guess what--the vets who did those procedures were men--some of which had scruffy beards.

The worst experience was when they tried to take a sterile urine sample from me. The vet and vet techs took me into the procedure room, strapped me down on my back, and inserted a tube into my bladder. The first time they did this I had just peed so there was nothing for them to take. A week later they did it again and I hadn't peed. I learned here that the vet was a scary place. Now rather than walking into the vet's office I started pulling away from the human at the door, displayed many signs of fear, and generally had an unpleasant time at the vet's office.

For a variety of reasons, the human fired that vet. He felt like he wasn't being treated like an equal partner in my health care and questioned the vet's knowledge. We tried a new vet. This office wanted to do more procedures--this time an x-ray and ultrasound. They needed the human to leave me at the vet's office. He asked if I could be given a tranquilizer--which they refused. Begrudgingly, he left me there as I was trembling. There again I was strapped down to a board and given procedures without any sort of tranquilizer. The human again questioned if this was a good idea and fired that vet because he felt like he wasn't being treated like an equal partner in my health care and questioned the vet's knowledge.

The third time was charm. The new vet had a holistic remedy for my issues and they have completely cleared up. I'm still afraid of the vet but have learned that I can walk into the office without trembling (we are back to random visits for playtime with the office staff).

Anyway, this is all to say that I was not afraid of the puffy winter vest. I was afraid of a man with a scruffy beard attempting to examine me. I learned that when men with scruffy beards examine me they usually restrain me and do very uncomfortable things. I've learned that it's best to avoid these sorts of men because if they restrain me, there isn't anything I can do but to wait it out.

The human feels he has enough data suggesting that I have a trauma response going on. Since I can't talk, I can't tell him if he's right. In the absence of other compelling data, he's going to move forward with a treatment plan that would be appropriate for a traumatized dog.

What's the treatment plan? Systematic desensitization. What's that? It's a procedure that one can do to reduce a trauma response to stimuli. It goes something like this. First off, the human prepared a list of stimuli that are triggering a fear response. He arranged the list in order of least triggering to most triggering. He then is exposing me to these stimuli in order, and pairing them with a pleasurable stimulus.

For example, the patient who I'm now afraid off gets to give me a piece of food every time he comes into the office. The human makes sure that it is successful every time. He keeps me on a lead so I'm in his control, close to him, and feeling safe. The other human will approach me in a positive way and offer me the food. If I take it, great. If I don't, that's great too. My human will praise me and continue to support me in feeling safe and secure. We take things at my own speed and I eventually learn that men with scruffy beards in the office are okay.

The human also makes sure that he encourages my curiosity when we are walking in Cambridge and we come across all sorts of different people. He lets me meet people at my own pace. If I show any signs of fear we slow down and he gives the other person a small bit of food to offer me. Every time this happens, I'm learning two things (a) it's okay to go slow and (b) when my human is interacting with someone they are usually friendly people who offer me food.

That's how systematic desensitization works. It's a slow process that builds successful experiences upon other successful experiences. It's been tested an replicated in scientific literature over and over again. It's effective, safe, and a powerful agent of change.

An alternative is flooding that has been popularized on television by dog trainers such as Caesar Millian. When flooding is used in dogs, humans, and other creatures the individual is held within the context of a fearful stimuli and not released, no matter what the creature does, until the creature gives up. In this case if I was strapped down onto a table by a human and wasn't released from the situation, no matter what I did, until I gave up--that would be flooding.

Keep in mind that most people confusing negative reinforcement with flooding. In negative reinforcement, a creature can exhibit a certain behavior that will cause the stimulus to stop. For example if I was strapped to the table and released only when I was calm, that would be negative reinforcement. If I remained tied to a board after I gave up that would flooding. Remember that with flooding, there is nothing a creature can do to escape a stimulus other than to give up and wait.

In some cases, flooding works. The human does not use it for treating humans, dogs, or any creature. Flooding doesn't provide a creature with useful coping skills to approach novel situations with confidence. It teaches a creature to give up and not respond.

With systematic desensitization a creature is provided with tools (humans can be taught coping skills to reduce levels of anxiety, dogs and other creatures can have their natural coping skills reinforced and enhanced) to meet a fearful situation with success.

Try it out--and be sure to ask your dog trainer or friendly psychologist for help. Any behavioral intervention needs a qualified expert to help you design a program that works.

Pondering the Meaning of Compassion on the Rail Trail

Sunday was just one day shy of longest day of the year--also known as summer solstice. While it wasn't also the hottest day of the year, it certainly seemed like it. The temperature was almost 90 and the humidity was so high my cold nose and panting couldn't keep me cool. As you see over to the right, I spent a great deal of time hiding on it fields of clover. They are a fantastic place to find bumblebees, little morsels of discarded foods, and chipmunks.

Chipmunks? Whoops. Wait just one minute. Did someone say chipmunks? Next to squirrels, I think chipmunks are my favorite thing to chase after. They seem to be slower and pay very little attention to me. I've gotten close to catching them but my lead always seems just a little too short. I wonder how that happens? Anyway, I spent an awful lot of time scampering back and forth across the trail. The humans walked about five miles. I probably did closer to seven. There was so much to look at and see as I scurried back and forth across the rail trail. Do I look blurry in this picture? That's because I was in near constant motion. Chipmunk on the right, bird on the left, field of clover on the right, and well, you get the point. It was a lot of fun.

At the half way point we stopped at a store called Traveling Rhinos and Friends. I was sipping my water when one of the humans went in to purchase something with a little more flavor. A few minutes later the shopkeeper appeared along with two small dogs. We did the usual "nice to meet you dance" (the dogs, not the humans). Before I knew it I was escorted into the nice air conditioned store. What a nice surprise.

Both dogs were rescue dogs. I was rather taken with Buster. His story was a sad one. The story I was told was that Buster never had the opportunity to play and interact with other dogs. His previous owner kept him locked up in a cat carrier for most of the day--every day--for four years. One day Buster finally had enough and didn't want to go into the cat carrier. He apparently bit his owner who then surrendered him to the shelter. Buster was labeled a vicious dog.

In the end, Buster was lucky: he found a new home that took him in, showed him lots of patience and love, and helped him have a life worth living. Buster is also lucky because he seems to have some extraordinary social skills. He approached me carefully and slowly. My human who is generally extremely cautious was extraordinarily so when we met because of Buster's story. Within fifteen seconds he had assessed the situation and relaxed. There were no signs of aggression and many calming signals: yawning, licking, turning head away, play bow, sniffing, walking slowly, and walking in a curve.

It's useful to know about these calming signals. It's even more useful to learn to recognize them in your dog as well as in other dogs. Once humans learn to have some skill at interpreting canine behaviors things go along a lot better. Anyway, for a dog that hasn't played with other dogs, we had an awful lot of fun. We rolled, played, and generally frolicked all around the air conditioned store.

Buster's humans took a leap of faith and demonstrated a great deal of compassion for him. He had been considered a dangerous dog: one that was very likely going to be euthanized. There are dogs out there that are dangerous. It's a serious problem, requiring serious attention. I don't know for sure what made these humans look at Buster differently. Perhaps the humans took the time to look at the facts.  Maybe they saw something deep inside the dog. It's unclear and that's really not all the important.

The humans demonstrated a great deal of compassion for Buster. In hearing his story, they were moved. They had some sort of emotional experience that was caused by the experience that Buster had. On the walk back to the car I got to thinking about the nature of compassion.

Compassion is at the heart of what many companion animals freely offer humans, yet do we ever really stop to wonder what compassion really is? Many comment that animals don't judge, offer unconditional love, and other such things. All that might be true, and all those are wonderful gifts, but none really represent the compassion that companion animals can offer a person. While no one knows for sure what goes on within our minds, a careful observer can notice how many animals respond to the suffering of others.

Over the first year of my life I've shown myself to be a dog that seeks out those who are suffering. Sometimes it's obvious, like when I'm rubbing tears off a face with my nose. Sometimes it is demanding when I'm pulling my human around Cambridge and "stumble" upon a person sitting alone on a park bench or huddled under a bridge.

Compassion is that which makes the heart of the good move at the pain of others. It crushes and destroys the pain of others; thus, it is called compassion. It is called compassion because it shelters and embraces the distressed. --The Buddha

While I'm just a small dog, might I add one thought? Compassion is a word with direction. As quoted above, in the presence of pain experienced by another being, compassion moves the heart to hold and shelter the distressed.  I think the Buddha might have forgotten to say something. Compassion also transports you from where you are to somewhere else. Compassion can shine like the light at the end of the tunnel and draw you to a place you hadn't known existed.

Just ask Buster.