Some Days, I Wish I Were My Dog

These pictures don't show any great adventure, just a middle-aged red dog on a very old gold couch taking a nap in the sunshine. He just looked so content. Watching him nap makes me feel content, too. And a little jealous. It reminds me of this song I heard in Germany by a singer/ guitarist named Reinhard Mey. In translation, "There are days, I just wish, I were my dog."

Some Nostalgic Pictures...

As Urban Adventure Dog (and Ace and I) adjust to our new suburban home, I haven't found much time to post blog entries. Just for the sake of nostalgia, here are two of Urban Adventure Dog back when he still considered a roll of paper towels one of the greatest adventures the world had to offer. Enjoy!

Protector

Ace and I are planning to move in together this summer and just found an apartment we love in Mystic, Connecticut. And, yes, of course, the apartment allows dogs.... although this does mean that Shamus's reign as "Urban" Adventure Dog will be a bit short lived. Maybe I can call him Suburban Adventure Dog from now on, but somehow that is not quite so edgy. (Was Urban Adventure Dog edgy sounding to begin with, or more cartoon-y?)

Anyway, anyone who knows Shamus knows he's not cartoon-y at all. In fact, he can come across as quite ferocious, especially when a dog or human that he perceives as scary walks beneath my apartment windows. He jumps at the glass, barks, and growls. It's really his only vice (okay, other than the occasional leg hump to visitors or thieved paper towel). But it is definitely a vice. He's done damage to the window sill of my apartment, though thankfully hasn't hurt himself or the glass window. It's also annoying. You're right at the good part of a movie or something and there goes Shamus - viciously guarding the house against an innocent bystander walking two floors below. Over the years, I've kind of accepted this as just part of his personality, something I had to put up with.

And, the truth is, I like the fact that occasionally when I'm out walking him around my neighborhood late at night and a large or intimidating person walks by us, Shamus will growl or bark. Twice he's even pulled at the leash as if to get at the person... and the funny thing is, both times it was someone who I actually was terribly afraid of in the moment. Shamus's protective side made me feel less vulnerable.

Okay, here's the thing.... our dream apartment is in a historic home that has wide low windows that face a popular dog walking street in Mystic. And, ummm, it also has (according to our sweet but slightly neurotic new landlord) the original windowsills that the original owner designed in 1902. They're this beautiful wood, with a unique (and clearly irreplaceable) design. And, ummm, I don't think Shamus can be allowed to jump on them, EVER.

Ace says (lovingly), "He's just going to have to accept that he won't be your protector anymore. Except when I'm away."

I have been mulling that over.

I even started working on breaking Shamus's fixation at the window by calling him to me with treats and making him sit, which worked some of the time. When it didn't work, I was dragging him off into a spare room and punishing him with isolation.

Then, by coincidence, I picked Cesar's Way off my sister's bookshelf last weekend and read it in a couple of days. (Let me be clear, I'm not a big fan of most animal showmanship, which I consider Cesar Millan to kind of take part in. He has this reputation as a dog guru with miracle methods, but most people struggle with those methods because they don't have the instinct, time, strength, confidence, will power, or experience to make them work. The problem is that the showman then presents a book or TV show that makes it look soooooooo easy and people feel like idiots if they can't do it and give up on their animals.) However, Millan makes some great points in this book, and his philosophy/ technique has really helped me in training Shamus to stop protecting me. The points are these:

• Your energy influences your dog. (i.e. Shamus protects me from the people I'm afraid of, not because he senses something bad about the people, but because he senses my anxiety and feels he has to be the leader and take care of me. And no doubt about it, Shamus does sense my anxiety - when I have insomnia, he stretches his body alongside mine to help me calm down.)
• Your dog doesn't really want to be the leader. (I've read this before. But Millan made it clearer to me. My dog is not in a natural state of mind and is actually unhappy when he's barking at the window or protecting my from strangers or sprawling his body alongside mine when I can't sleep. This is causing him frustration and anxiety. What he wants is a leader with calm-assertive energy.)
• Lessons need to be repeated again and again and again. It requires patience to change habits. Ideally, I would have stopped Shamus from doing this when it first began, but now that it's ingrained in his behavior, I have to put real effort into changing it. (This is great advice and is working!)
• Finally, your dog needs "exercise, discipline, and affection" in that order. Millan suggests a long walk to start the day, before breakfast. This is so working for Shamus. I have always done a long walk with him daily but have been inconsistent about when in the day. This morning walk ritual has left me with such a manageable, happy dog. It's amazing.

So, I've always been skeptical about Cesar (and I have seen some dog owners, especially guys, use his claims about leadership as an excuse to dominate their dogs in ignorant ways), but his book reminded me of some good principles of dog ownership and really made me think about the fact that expecting Shamus to protect me is kind of selfish. He should not be "on duty" as a guard dog - he should be able to relax and enjoy his life. So, Ace or no Ace, I'm forcing Urban Adventure Dog into an early retirement when it comes to his protective role. It's time for him to just enjoy.

Birthday in Katonah

Over the weekend, Mom, Shamus and I headed to Katonah, New York (home of craft gurus Martha Stewart and Kristen White) to celebrate Krissy's 29th birthday. Shamus had his spring shots early that morning at North Kingstown Animal Hospital, and then had a three hour car ride, so he might have been a little under the weather by the time we reached Katonah. Significantly, in Katonah, Shamus's cousin Ranger, a six year-old Viszla was waiting for play and exercise.



Shamus and Ranger have an interesting relationship. They are both red dogs. They both love to play tug (with everything from a piece of rope to lacy panties). They both love to walk, hike, visit dog parks, take car rides, and run through fields. While playing tug, Shamus and Ranger have different styles, and these styles kind of highlight their personalities. Shamus (who is about 20 pounds heavier than Ranger) is a stoic tug player - he clenches the object and settles back into a bowing position and just holds on. Ranger, on the other hand, uses his intellect to try to outsmart Shamus into yielding his grip. It's fun to watch them and interesting to see their strategies.



Anyway, on this trip we took a five mile walk on a dirt path the leads right past Martha Stewart's country home and past the Katonah reservoir. I liked seeing Martha's Fresians poke their heads over their stable doors. Along the way, Krissy told Mom and I some Katonah lore - apparently Martha once tried to trademark the name "Katonah" but angry locals formed a campaign to stop her from doing so. Despite this, her property there is magnificent, and Kris tells me that's where the greenhouses are that supply plants and flowers for Martha's TV show and demos. The next day, we also visited the Katonah Dog Park.



Unfortunately, I neglected my camera over the weekend and don't have pictures of these two rambunctious dogs enjoying one another's company, but I will try to post a picture of them soon.

Reading Lynne Hugo's Where the Trail Grows Faint

In between adventures with Shamus (more Chase Farm and a hike through the North Kingstown Town Forest over the weekend), I've been doing some dog-related reading and just finished Lynne Hugo's Where the Trail Grows Faint: A Year in the Life of a Therapy Dog Team (University of Nebraska Press, 2005). This memoir renders Hugo's experiences visiting nursing home residents with her certified therapy dog Hannah, a one year-old chocolate lab. Hugo's book won the 2008 River Teeth Literary Nonfiction Book Award. A lovely piece of literary non-fiction that is very dog focused... this book is to me what a can of Canidae dog food is for Shamus: cause for salivating!

I loved every page of Hugo's book, which is more about aging and what connects us to our own humanity, to each other, and to our own sense of hope and being alive than it is about, say, training a therapy dog. It touched my emotions on almost every page. For one, Hugo is an ardent hiker and describes her adventures on the trail with Hannah using exquisite prose (the author is also a poet and her language use reflects this). For example, Hugo writes:


An ache of blue sky over yellow woods. The nose and throat tang of leaf-fall. My Hannah, leaping like a stag, bounding her zigzag trail revisions, exuberant, running as high and fast as her blood, chasing everything, chasing nothing. October (p. 96).



Short prose poems like these open most chapters, and serve to connect Hugo and Hannah's forest to the lives of the residents at the nursing home through the prevailing metaphor in the book, that of the ever-changing trail.

But for me, the best element of Hugo's story is the way she embraces, perhaps reluctantly, the uncertainties and disappointments of growing old, indeed of just living, and then shows how, anyway, hope is necessary; hope is possible. The story is in many ways a hard look at nursing homes and the way they deplete, unforgivably, hope and empowerment from the residents. The reader sees how Hannah, her warm body, her Labrador enthusiasm, her responsiveness, can restore (momentarily anyway) a sense of connection for the residents. Hugo also shows herself as a compassionate listener who interacts authentically with the residents, reminding the reader gently that everyone would want such a listener should he or she end up in a nursing home!

This book has won literary acclaim and rightly so; however, I also want to point out that it is probably a valuable reference book/ professional text for anyone who participates in or performs any kind of animal-facilitated therapy work. Hugo records in such detail her work with the residents, and also reflects on her own observations about how Hannah's presence benefits the health of those who interact with the dog. I've read many books about animal-facilitated therapy but never one quite like this, which is really a profound record rather than a testimony meant to convince people that animal therapy would work for everyone or to attend a therapeutic workshop/ lecture led by the author. (Many animal-therapy books do drift slightly towards those forms, though I still like reading them!) One of my favorite passages is when Hugo describes Hannah helping at home. Hugo writes:

Delta Society training material suggests direct physical contact with an animal can lower blood pressure and reduce pain, so when Alan finally gave in and laid down, I used treats to coax Hannah up beside him. [Alan is Hugo's husband and he has been suffering excruciating headaches.] Several hours later he got up having slept deeply and without pain. Alan was amazed and if I hadn't already believed the Delta Society and Therapy Dogs International, I did then (p. 122).

Part of the reason that this passage interests me so much is that I have had, believe it or not, similar experiences with Urban Adventure Dog seeking me out when I am sick and/or anxious. He lies down beside me and seems to stretch his body alongside mine in a way that he doesn't at other times. It's like he tries to comfort me with his presence, but also like he knows somehow that it will work! That it's what he should be doing. Just last week, I had a really restless night. It was after 2 in the morning and I didn't know how I would wake up and teach back to back classes the next morning. I felt a sense of dread and panic. Then Shamus appeared at the foot of my bed... he'd gotten up from where he was sleeping in the other room. He climbed into my bed, and stretched out alongside me. He slept there and I scratched his ears and back until I fell asleep. I wonder if other dog owners have had experiences like this. It's strange because in many situations animals will avoid people who seem anxious or sick... that's a survival instinct... but dogs seem to be different?

Hugo's story makes me question more than it brings me comfort... I just finished reading it, so I'm not exactly sure yet what my specific questions are... I just feel slightly unsettled, especially by reading about the lonely, heart-wrenching situations of so many elderly people. However, there is a strong sense of hope and comfort in the story, in Hannah providing a kind of connection and healing for the residents. Certainly, it reminds me in some ways of my experiences volunteering at High Hopes Therapeutic Riding... and confirms for me the idea that animal-human therapies are beneficial for all involved, even those who are only lucky enough to read about the experience.

Thaw

I intended my next blog entry to be titled "Depression, Aggression, Regression" - all of which have been recurring themes in the life of Urban Adventure Dog and Olivia Sage over the past two wintry weeks. But then, I decided on "Thaw."

The inspiration for this change was a hike we took this morning at Chase Farm in Lincoln, Rhode Island. It's a place we go often. Especially this winter, it has served as a source of inspiration. It's a public place, but you can tell that a long time ago it was someone's farm. Shamus and I walk the perimeter, and I imagine that it's my farm - that it's our responsibility to walk that fence line as a farmer of old might have done. In the winter, the farm was splendid - rolling hills covered with whiteness, pine trees decorated with more of the same. And it was often abandoned, or almost so, except for a fellow dog walker. It was more beautiful than it was today.

Today, Chase Farm's dominant color was murky brownish-green, and mud came up nearly to my ankles in places. And it smelled like spring, but also like marsh. And there were more people and more dogs. And the pond was melting around its edges. Thaw.

The thaw seemed to bring scents alive for Urban Adventure Dog, and reminded me that spring is coming.

Famous Shamus and his February Adventures

This month, I owe the Urban Adventure Dog some gratitude. This is the worst winter I can remember, at least in the last five years or so, and it can be a struggle to get up and go teach classes or tutor my students or even to go to the movies with Ace.

Despite the bitter cold and slippery streets, Urban Adventure Dog (Shamus) still wants to be out and about, patrolling his block. In fact, I've noticed that the colder it is, the more Shamus seems to want to be out there - enjoying what I imagine are fresh scents augmented by the cold air. And, good dog though he is, he is simply restless inside my apartment at this point in the winter, for example leaping OVER the couch when I call him to dinner instead of running around it.

Since I started this blog, I've noticed what an effect Shamus has on people. He walks down the block smiling, his body shaking with the excitement of being out. People glance from cars and smile at him. Pedestrians ask me if they can pet him. They look out from under umbrellas and ask, "What's his name?" There have even been diners at Broadway Bistro who have seen him through the window and come outside to pet him - a family of three getting up and leaving their gourmet dishes to cool at the table, just so they could pet Shamus. His super-dog vibe must really be shining through these days. (The Bistro, by the way, is one of my favorite neighborhood restaurants, and their amazing website features a black lab, who in real life, is one of Urban Adventure Dog's neighborhood pals. Check it out! The website and the restaurant!)

Just yesterday, I was walking around the block and a heavy set, dread-locked woman who I've never met or seen before, took a step backwards when she saw Shamus, looked at me, and said loudly, "He walkin' like he the man." It's almost as if this dog knows I'm writing about him, knows that he's accruing fame and fans. His attitude reflects it!

Often, the old men who walk up and down Atwells in literally any weather, and sit outside the store fronts on nicer days, will comment on how cute Shamus is or try to talk to him. Sample conversation:

Old man: He looks like a good dog. Hey, doggie.

Olivia Sage: Oh, yes, he's the best dog.

Shamus: (pees on a trash can)

Olivia Sage: (nods towards peeing dog) He thinks this whole neighborhood is his territory.

Old man: (first appears stunned that we are talking about pee before recovering to make witty comment) I know some guys like that. Heh. Heh. Heh.

So, I owe Urban Adventure Dog some gratitude, partly because he gets me out and moving around even in the worst weather, and partly because being out and about all the time makes me interact with my neighbors in a more positive and frequent manner.

Side note: The beachy picture of Shamus above was taken on Valentine's Day at Watch Hill in Westerly, Rhode Island. This is one of the best dog hikes that I know in RI. I always walk down the rocky bay side of the peninsula, and then back on the sandy beach side. It's just about three miles and Shamus and I have been going there since he was a pup. The crazy dog was in the water on Valentine's Day.

Side note #2: I didn't know much about blogging, and I didn't realize you were supposed to write frequently. So, check back often, much more Urban Adventure Dog is on the way, much more often.