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!