Dogs of My Life - Part 2 - KAZBEK

KAZBEK, THE KING

Kazbek was born in 1998, and came into my life when he was 9 weeks old. Although he was born in the good old U.S. of A., his sire was from Hungary and his dam was from Georgia (the Asian country, not the state). He was an old-fashioned type of dog, very athletic, very peppery in character, noble, violent, devoted, of high intelligence and an even higher intuition. He also spoke to me, not only with his body language, his eyes, his signals, but also heart-to-heart. Straight across - like an arrow.

Kazbek was in my life at a time of great change for me, more mental than physical. I had moved to the high desert at the northeastern tip of greater Los Angeles County - an area then of few people, and much wildlife - coyotes, snakes of all types including about five kinds of rattlesnake, many small desert creatures on endangered lists. There were great deep canyons and miles of hills where the only human you might see would be an occasional horseback rider, a wandering sheepherder, an off-road motorcyclist (though they were only permitted in certain areas), and a very occasional hiker.

It was wonderful to have the big dog to wander with, night or day, under the sun and under the moon, a bodyguard, a friend, a faithful companion in adventures and in peace. At that time, my sister and I were roommates. She had her own pack, two dogs and a cat, and I had mine, which at times numbered 8, 9, 10 dogs and several cats. Due to road traffic and coyotes, the cats remained indoors at all times. The dogs had a huge fenced yard and a barn. Kazbek was part of all this noise, fun, and fur.

But some of our best times were spent alone, or with one of the two top females in our pack: Zoe, my German Shepherd, and Raksha, a second C.O., young and female.

ZOE & KAZBEK - night time

RAKSHA (fore)
KAZBEK (back)

During my years with Kazbek, I wrote many little stories - diary entries really - about our days and nights together. All  my dogs have been my teachers - they have taught patience, humanity, responsibility, acceptance, and what unconditional love means. But they also taught me about one of my favorite subjects in the world: dogs.

Below I offer one of my older Kaz Tales.

KAZBEK at freedom's gate

A Walk on the Wild Side

The van shudders along the muddy, rutted track that leads to our secluded hiking area.
Few enter this isolated area of California national forest, and today it is completely deserted. Low scrub and sage roll west and north, where mist partially obscures the snow-ridged mountain peaks. The air, damp from the rain that has been our constant companion for weeks, is fresh and fragrant - sometimes so chill it makes the ears and nose sting.

We park off-track on a frozen, red mud shoulder. I release the German Shepherd, Zoe, from the confines of the van, sure that she will stay close and come when called. The Russian Sheepdog, Kazbek, eagerly awaits his own invitation to fly from the van side door. I give the nod, and, free at last, the two friends dash up a crumbling fire trail and out of sight. Zoe gallops in long, liquid bounds, easily outdistancing the bigger dog. But Kazbek flattens out to run down his smaller companion who, feeling him closing in, leaps lightly aside at the last moment to avoid collision.

Coyote, rabbit, deer and squirrel wander these hills under cover of darkness, as does the occasional bobcat or mountain lion; but the wild creatures have learned to remain hidden during daylight. Only their scat betrays their presence. The caw of a wheeling raven taps the sky like a crystal bell. Below, the silence of the land is broken only by a dancing wind that plays across these canyons like a harp.

Our hiking trail falls away on either side where barely visible game trails meander amid the blue, green and gray of new growth. For a hiker, the descent is treacherous in gravel soaked mud, so I call Kazbek to me. He returns to patiently pace beside me and I lean on him to navigate the steep and deeply eroded trail. We eventually arrive at Bat Rock where white guano stripes the ledges and caverns dot the stony face. The bats that ride warm summer updrafts, chirping and swooping in the June twilight, live here. They are at rest now, and, although lovely to watch in the scented evenings to come, the idea of their leathery little bodies hanging upside down asleep is not attractive. I won t go in the caves. The dogs, of course, have different ideas and dash forward noses to the ground, to the rock, to the sky, and back again.

I call out to them, but my voice echoes, careening off the rock and the dogs cock their heads, listening to the sound bounce back and forth. Zoe is overcome with curiosity and takes off into the black holes that riddle the granite. Kazbek quickly follows.

I shout and wave my arms to catch their attention, to call them back. But my voice continues to bounce and they move outward, the wrong way. They can no longer hear me so I start away, up the path, confident that my back will call to them in a way my voice cannot. Zoe dashes toward then past me, always leading out and then rushing back to herd us forward. The Ovcharka waits until the last minute, then with deceptive speed, sprints toward us, leaping over 2-foot high brush as if it wasn t there. He is beautiful in a collected trot, and suddenly aware of a deep cleft in the road, he hurdles it and descends at last to a huge granite outcrop. Despite the inclement weather, we hike down. The dogs slake their eager thirst in potholes, which gleam with fresh rainwater.

Our ascent back is steep and I decide to take a rest halfway up to enjoy the view while the dogs reconnoiter. The rubbery outer shell of my rain gear makes a great ground cover and I lie back on it, the well drained gravel beneath is not uncomfortable on my back. I cross my arms beneath my head, and fall upwards into the gray clouds that skitter across the tumultuous spring sky. The dogs, concerned to see me down, gallop over to check on me. I hear the thud of their paws and cover my face while dirt kicks up around me. Zoe gives me a sniff, realizes I am fine, and wanders back into the brush to explore. But Kazbek, vigilant and quiet, sits upright beside me where I rest. Eventually, he becomes restive and I get up, using his collar and back as a kind of safety railing; then he totes me back up the hill, making the rough terrain easy to negotiate.

Zoe follows immediately, then dashes in advance of us, then falls behind again. Kazbek remains at my side, a kind of large, furry hiking stick. When we are safely back on the high trail, I release him to play and he finds a fresh ground squirrel hole, which he begins to dig into furiously. For the squirrels'  peace of mind, I tell him to leave it and he does, trotting after Zoe instead. The two dogs jog down the path before me. I let them go. When they realize they have let me fall behind, they will return.

Soon our van becomes visible in the distance. The sun has now sunk deep in the west, where bright pink clouds fade. We hike on down to the car and climb in, tired, happy, content. For once, Zoe is quiet, relaxing into a cat-tight curl on the sheepskins that line her little crate. Kazbek's head is visible in the rear view mirror. He has taken up his back seat vigil over us all and will remain on duty  until we are home.

The key turns in the ignition, the engine fires, and three travelers leave these darkening purple hills to the tender embrace of the new moon.


by Deborah O Brien
©2014

Cesar Live - An evening with Cesar Millan

In April 2014, I went to see the Cesar Millan show in Thousand Oaks.

The first half of the show revolved around explanations of dog behavior and around Cesar himself, where he came from, how he developed his handling skills, and how and why he uses the techniques he does use. Having watched every TV show he's done (most of them more than once) I was familiar with the information in the first part of the show - a spritely monologue about the origins of Cesar's "best trainer in the world" dreams. His sense of humor and fun is evident on TV, but I was surprised at how funny he really is - especially so if you are a dog fancier, since his rap is naturally dog related.

When he first stepped onstage, he was accompanied by his take-everywhere dog pack: the blue pit bull, Junior, the brown Chihuahua - Cocoa, and one or two assorted small fluffers. They all tumbled onto the dais behind him, playing and wrestling gently. After a few minutes, Cesar asked the helpers to take the dogs off, which they did by calling them; but - while Junior left with the others - he soon returned and made himself at home on the sofa that stood at stage-rear. So while Cesar talked, Junior was behind him, rolling on the sofa, sticking his head under the pillows, lying back with his legs in the air. Eventually, Cesar released him from the boards as the dog was upstaging the man.

It was funny; but, later on, I began to realize maybe this was "a bit" and the dogs were doing what they had been conditioned to do. Either way: nature or nurture - it was adorable.

Second half of show, post intermission, the problem dogs were brought out.  I believe they were all from one adoption center, but they were definitely all rescues. Each dog had its new owner in tow (really - in tow!)  And each owner stated the one problem about their new pal which either bugged or confounded them.  Not surprisingly, 3 of the 4 dogs were pits or pit mixes. Cesar is working to reshape the image of pit bulls, as you probably know. But they are also the dogs that most often line shelters today due to overbreeding, lack of understanding of what you are getting into when you adopt a pit, and all the large and small irresponsibilities of a small number of pet owners.

The behavior problems included: too focussed on food; pulling on leash; jumping; and over-protective of owner.

It was interesting watching the change as Cesar took one dog at a time, removing the weird gear people get their dogs into (harnesses, flexies, giant prongs on little dogs, etc.) He used his usual "$ store" cotton leash (as he said, "Mexican guys with their rope leashes").

I know the owners were nervous for many reasons: concern for their dogs, yes, but being on stage in front of a packed audience, seeing Cesar have no problem with their dogs (which might make them feel foolish collaterally), and so forth. But it was interesting to see Cesar show and explain the easy changes he  made which immediately accomplished a general improvement in the dogs' behavior - and noting that, when he handed back the leash, none of his suggestions were complied with until he repeated and re-demonstrated each activity at least 3 times! The perils of being a "trainer of people"!

In fact, it was watching Cesar's first TV show, "the Dog Whisperer" that  made me realize why I stopped group training with dogs. People don't seem to listen. Perhaps they believe the problem is "the bad dog," but we know better: 99% of the time, dog problems are people problems. But Cesar seems to have the understanding, patience and tolerance for this peculiarity of human understanding and behavior that many of us lack.

Also, it is apparent that English is Cesar's third language - Spanish being first, Dog being second! Dogs speak in many ways, mostly via body language and signals. When we learn the rudiments of "Dog" we realize that all dogs are making the same or similar signals, breed aside, and that they have been signaling us, the dog lovers, our entire lives. We say: COME SIT STAY DOWN, but seldom notice their rhythms, never hearing their music. Cesar hears that music, and the boy can tango!

The controversy:

If you want to know about the trainer, look at the dog. When you watch Cesar handling dogs, it is obvious that the rumors about "abusive methods" are unfounded. I have seen too many dogs being trained by inept or brutal trainers, with the resulting timidity and lack of confidence engendered in the dog, or, conversely, the unpredictable jumping and savaging that results. When Cesar handles, you can see that look on the dog's face - the expression in the eyes - as the dog relaxes from the inside out and says: I get it. I know where I am now. All that stress and consequent negative behavior just washes off the dog. Cruelty and abuse cannot accomplish this - ever.

A second controversy is this idea that Cesar "kicks" dogs. He does not. However, he occasionally utilizes a foot tap to get the dog's attention.  It is just a light tap, given with the insole of the foot (not the toe or heel).

The foot tap works especially well with dogs that are inured to the collar or dogs that are overstimulated in the moment. The essence of the foot tap is to create a startle response allowing the handler to recapture the dog's focus. It occurs in the "tickle space" right below the short rib and is a sensation dogs are not accustomed to, which makes it quite effective. During the show, we saw it used once or twice and, as a technique, it is significantly less aversive than a leash yank.

Each of the rescue dogs in the show entered stage left, out of control in the hands of their new owners. Within seconds, literally seconds, the dogs behavior altered in Cesar's hands. He took the leash, seemed to settle for a moment, then took each animal through a redirection phase, then let them relax into understanding and acceptance of the new order. Consequently, the dogs acted as if they had been to obedience school and passed with flying colors. It was a real pleasure to watch someone work an animal with such patience and precision.

I enjoyed the show very much and found it well worth the money spent. I would love to add a class with Cesar to my CV, but for now, this small window into his world will have to do.

Take a bow - wow!

Dogs of my Life - Sir Bounce-a-Lot of La Mirada (aka Shark) and Winnie the stray

Sir Bounce-a-Lot of La Mirada: aka Sharky

Our family kept Springer Spaniels until my dad passed away.  After his death, our family moved from the east to the west coast, and when the remaining spaniel passed away, we kept no more dogs. This was in the 1950's, when owners of rental property could deny housing to people with children, people of different nationalities, and, certainly, people with pets!

When I was 18, I decided it was time to get my own dog. I wanted a collie, but the boyfriend wanted a terrier, and thus came Sharky - sir Bounce-a-Lot of La Mirada - the white bull terrier. A bull terrier is a fun-loving dog, always ready, as the saying goes, "for a fight or a frolic." We named him "Shark" because, as a pup, he had a habit of biting anything that moved and would climb up an object (even if it was your arm) with his sharp little teeth. I didn't know much then about puppy rearing or dog training, and a Bull Terrier is not an easy starter dog! However, Sharky taught me book loads about managing and training dogs, and - as dogs are wont to do - about myself.

Folks didn't neuter male dogs in the '50's and '60's unless there was a medical reason to do it. So Sharky was a handful. I tried to train him using the popular methods of the day, which, unfortunately, were very coercive (choke chains, leash jerks, loud commands, etc.). Most dogs have mixed reactions to coercive training methods, but I imagine that of all dogs, terriers are least likely to develop consistent positive behaviors when forceful training methods are used. And bull-and-terrier breeds are probably even less likely to follow that kind of malarkey than another dog. It's also true that Sharky would have had a more comfortable life as a neutered male as he was very -- hmmm, how shall I say it? He was very ROMANTIC. Fortunately, we were young and active, and that did suit him. He got out to see the world, had lots and lots of walks, playing ball, fetch sticks, happy car rides - the whole nine yards.

Somehow that sweet and funny boy survived our well-intentioned stupidities, and, as I look back, I recall how well-behaved he was as an adult. The memory of Sharky and how patiently he waited in the world for me to learn how to be a leader eventually sent me down a long road of trial, error, and discovery, in search of methods whereby a dog could learn good manners in a human world and could develop reliable responses to cues, without harming the dog or creating distrust or fear.

Sharky taught me that we can and should condition the dog - and the relationship - with soul.

Shark loved to fetch anything. He even tried to fetch truck tires at the beach. He was one of those dogs that would pick up something way bigger than his head and try to get it through a door straight on, then get stuck there. Bullys typically go straight forward, not around, and they expect their power to get them through.

One day, a friend and I were walking Shark in the woods, tossing a stick for him to chase. This "stick" was actually a tree branch about four inches thick and at least a yard long. As we ambled along, the path began to narrow and the elevation mounted above a dry creek bed that ran beside the trail. Sharky fetched his branch and my friend gave it a mighty toss, but misjudged the distance and the stick flew over the side. Without a thought, the mighty bull terrier dove after it. Fortunately, my friend, fast on his feet, grabbed the dog by the tail before it could toss itself blindly into the ravine below.

Sharky White Knees, we called him. A brave boy, a funny boy, a true "party animal." A dog I have always wanted to call back from the paradise where he waits for us, and tell him, "Thank you for being patient with me, for teaching me, for letting me live with you, and remember you." I see him there, right across the bridge, waiting for those who loved him to join him and toss those golden sticks.

Winnie

Winnie was a mixed breed dog I found at the beach, a stray. She was very beautiful, possibly a German Shepherd/Australian Shepherd cross with her slim legs and plush coat of black-merle, white, buff and tan. Although I didn't keep Winnie, she was a part of my life for many years.

I already had a dog when I found Winnie, and with my mom, my sister, and a bull terrier sharing our apartment, there was no room for another pup. I offered the young stray to my married sister and her two little girls, but Winnie was a natural herder and chased the little girls all around the house, nipping their feet. As luck would have it, my boyfriend did not have a dog of his own and he was delighted to keep her. She was brilliant, sensitive, beautiful and totally bonded and faithful to the boy who took her in and kept her all her life. She was also the love of our bull terrier's life. She was neutered, so that doggy love affair involved only running, playing and snuggling - no puppies. Winnie lived a long and happy life and lived to be about 14 years old.

Older Dogs - Keeping it Golden: Part 2

Beauty is as beauty does: Grooming

to groom or not to groom, that is the question

Most of us have attended a dog show or two and been wowed by the appearance of the dogs there. While it is true that some of them go through a lot of tape-and-feather to achieve super long coats, the majority do not require this type of overachievement in order to look just wonderful. Rather than rubber bands and curl papers, most show dogs undergo a daily brushing, a weekly trim of nails and a cleaning of ears, and are bathed regularly.

Although in the natural world, canids (dogs, foxes, wolves, coyotes and others) live happily without formal grooming, all social animals groom one another to some extent. At the same time, their fur sheds annually, gets pulled out by brush, enters and exits water, and falls out due to changes in light and heat.

Your dog is not likely to have access to a wilderness that allows a natural trim of the coat, and if he is, then bringing the wilderness back in the house with him as mud and brambles probably won't be welcome. He may expect his pack to groom him, however, and - tag, Pack Leader! - you are it.

For many of us just the idea of setting out the shampoo, towels, and water source (don't even mention the toothbrush), and having the dog stay put rather than take off for the farthest reaches of the property, is agony enough. Then to grab Rover up, hold him down, pull out the mats, and dunk him and shampoo him requires a raincoat, a chain, and a pair of scissors at the least. Sounds like something from "Saw II," doesn't it.

But grooming a dog can be easy, fun, and profitable. I am not talking about making money (that is for professional groomers), I am talking about the more valuable but less visible profit of enhancing your relationship with your dog while fulfilling one of his needs.

Everything we do or have to do with a dog is an opportunity to create a bonding experience; therefore, the first consideration in dog grooming is to develop trust between handler and animal. Avoid all harshness and impatience when introducing a dog to any grooming tool. Introductions require patience, patience, patience. (sometimes more patience than that). But the end result, a dog that sits quietly for grooming, or falls asleep while you are primping toenails, or snuggles up to have its head piece brushed out, is so worth the effort.

When grooming dogs, we seek three primary responses: first, that the dog relax to hand, loosening its muscles; second, that the dog becomes so relaxed that it rolls to its side or its back, awaiting the next touch; third, that the dog leave the situation looking good and feeling well.

A number of grooming tools feel harsh and look scary (e.g., dematters, guillotine nail clippers) so we like to start with a simple, gentle brush. Depending on the coat, a boar-bristle (or other  natural bristle) brush and/or a curry brush for horses work wonders. A curry brush has wide teeth and is excellent on a thick coat or a hair coat, without giving discomfort to the animal. Even if there are mats underlying, the curry will run over the top of the coat and allow the animal to get used to the way it feels to be brushed without any pain.  

When developing a grooming habit in yourself and acceptance in the dog, it is essential to go slow. Try to feel what the animal is feeling by observing its responses. You are seeking relaxation of the musculature, especially around the  shoulders, head and neck. The dog should become MORE relaxed as you work with it. If Pal is becoming tense, stop and review what you are doing. Are you being and feeling patient? Do you have time to do this or just a little time (in which case, just plan to do "a little" grooming). Small increments of grooming mount up to a groomed dog in the end, so no worries!

With a boar bristle brush you can do the whole body, cause no discomfort, and get the head piece, especially around the eyes, ears and jowls, without any negative response from the dog. Natural bristle brushes are effective and typically well tolerated by short haired and long haired dogs, as well as many cats.

Again, YOU and how you feel about what you are doing are the most important part of the grooming equation. This is one of those, "it's not where you are going but how you get there" situations. Hands-on time with your dog is an opportune time for you to practice relaxation for yourself as well as the dog. You might want to practice yoga breathing, or just breathing slowly and deeply while you work. If you like to, you can sing softly or hum under your breath, listen to pleasant music (not loud or raucous) or even an audio book while you work. I have noticed that both dogs and cats love a good "OOOOOMMMMMM" (ohm sound) and find it relaxing.

As you develop this grooming habit with your dog, the introduction of the dematting comb, scissors, and any other items that may feel a little less comfortable to the dog, is accomplished in the same way: slowly, patiently, with lots of gentle hands-on. Always allow the mind-body to achieve relaxation before the next step begins. 

When you and your dog unwind together while sharing an activity, the opportunity for your spirits to blend and a deeper understanding to develop is open to you. Pay attention to yourself (you are calm, you are content, you are breathing) and pay attention to the dog! 

Living in the Moment: Dogs as Gurus

LIVING IN THE MOMENT: DOG AS GURU

Dogs live now. For dogs it is always now. "Time," as we understand it, is a fiction of the human brain; it does not exist for dogs or other animals. Dogs do not experience themselves as living short lives, nor do they perceive us as living long lives. They live every day maximally, for better or worse (therefore, pity those that survive in grievous conditions, as they live that fully as well). A dog's day might be said to be a week, while a man's day might be said to be 16 hours, plus the unconsciousness of sleep. A man's life might be seen as the race of a rat in a wheel, while a dog's life is a slow breeze on a tranquil pond. These differences actually work for us both, man and dog, adding value to the partnership. You cannot sit quietly, contented, with a dog at your side, without feeling your own heart beat a little less fast, your own mind becoming more still. 

Dogs are truly Zen - always in the moment and aware. Changes in air pressure have meaning to them; changes in your heart rate, the smell of your perspiration, have  meaning to them. Sounds you cannot hear, they can. Light and movement you do not notice, they do. Vibrations in the earth, they are aware of them. 

Take note of your dog's eyes and expression, the way he holds his body, the set of the ears, the twitch of the nose and the set of the muzzle. When you pay attention to their signals, you can learn from them and perhaps apply some of their fine understanding to your own way of seeing the world.

Older Dogs - Keeping it Golden

#1

Older Dogs - Freedom from Hunger, Pain and Fear

Rather than run the usual gamut of pup thru adolescent thru training thru basic vet care thru senior years, let's review a life with dogs in reverse, and tenderly.

One of the wonderful things about dog management is that in having a dog, we are giving ourselves the gift of caring for another life; and we therefore can guarantee, to a greater extent than a human can guarantee another human, that the life in our hands need experience only happiness, contentment, tranquility, and joy. We can really make sure that our older dogs enjoy their "golden years" free from hunger, pain and fear.

Dogs experience aging differently than we do, as they do not view their own processes in an emotional context. A dog, for example does not worry about its own aging. It never looks in the mirror and whispers, "Geez, what happened?" Our dogs don't sit around worrying about how long they will be able to see or hear, nor do they mourn impairments as they occur. In this way, our dogs experience less of the pain of aging than we do. Equally, when an old dog is seated or lying comfortably, it is comfortable. It does not worry about how stiff it may be when it arises. Your dog's ability to think about one thing at a time and not create a negative future in its mind, allows us good options in managing quality of life.