Day 12 of 30DR

P dog seems to be barking more than she did the first week of the 30DR. This might mean she's not getting enough exercise. Or that she's more comfortable with the at-home logistics (she was unusually quiet the first week). I dunno.

Today we continued to pretty much stick to the 30DR. I might have missed a "settle" here or there. The thing about the settles is that the dogs don't seem to notice them. As I've mentioned before, the dogs are accustomed to sitting at my feet while I read. And of course when we do the settle I pick up a book and read. If we settle late in the evening they just fall asleep. When we settle earlier in the day they often remain awake but just sort of hang out. P might tug a little but not much.

I might need to make the settle into a settle-down (which is the version I was taught a few years ago by another trainer) instead of the settle anywhere (i.e., the leash anchored to my foot but the dog is allowed to adjust her position as she desires). But that seems sort of extreme. I dunno. I might try it with P after the meeting with the trainer this Wed.

* * *

Other stuff: Not much to report, really. That seems like a good thing.

P-dog:

* Is barking an awful lot when I let her be on the side of the house facing the street. I can tell she's barking at other neighborhood dogs that are barking. None of this is directed at B and probably not at me either.

* Was super good tonight when I took her to campus for a big cookout with lots of students and parents. She accepted all sorts of petting--this is pretty normal for her but sometimes she snaps when men lean over her and tonight she did not. I was relieved about that. I realize I need to TRUST MY DOG more than I do. I'm uptight. But I'm hoping to get that trust back.

* Doesn't seem to want to drink or eat if her bowls are in a line of vision with B across the babygate. That's been true throughout the 30DR so far. I tend to rotate between having the bowls near the babygate and around the corner from it, just to see how it goes. But she usually won't eat if the bowl is near the gate.

* Might have had a little episode with me this morning as I was preparing to leave for church. I gave her her kong in her crate then remembered I needed to refill her little water bowl and when I went to the sink she'd taken her kong under the bed and refused to get out. The second time I swept my hand toward her she gave me a warning bark. I responded with a gruff voice. Instead of making it a confrontation I went outside and splashed water in the pool, hoping it would be irresistible to her (she loves to play with the water). She came outside immediately, so I played the splash game as a reward and then led her to her crate peacefully. Does this mean I just rewarded her for her bad behavior beneath the bed? I tried to think it through. I could have squirted her with the water bottle but that would have made her remain beneath the bed. I could have ignored her--either by standing still for as long as it took (missing church) or by leaving the house, which would have enabled her to remain under the bed as long as she wanted. I could have removed the mattress and boxspring and in that way frightened her out from under the bed. But just walking away and starting over seemed like the best route. Maybe my mistake wasn't splashing the water but by then playing the game. Oy.

* * *

B-dog:

* Is now barking also (not all the time, just at this moment), apparently to echo P. I'm sort of OK with that. It's something they can do together. (Am I an idiot?)

* Is still being mild and good around the house. Which is normal for him.

* * *

I:

* Went for my ride today.

* Walked both dogs, doing more training with B on the walk.

* Did the turkey-training thing with both dogs again--still trying to give them positive experiences within eyesight of each other and relatively close to one another (still separated by the gate).

* Did the cream-cheese and cookie in the muzzle thing with both dogs but no muzzle-attachment (again--sigh).

* Am just now noticing that I seem to be doing a little more training with B than with P even though P is the one who probably needs it more.

* Am still feeling tense about keeping the dogs separated--both the logistics of it and the worry that it might make them less likely to be comfortable with one another in the long run.

* Am feeling good, still, about the clicker approach. Part of why I like it is its OCD-fitness. Clicker training involves breaking down desired-behaviors into teeny-tiny steps--some trainers recommend making detailed checklists so you can chart your progress with the dog as you click toward the end goal. In this way it gives the dog-handler lots of positive reinforcement and hope that progress is being made. I need this sort of positive reinforcement. Regardless of how much the dogs need it, I definitely need LOTS of it.

* My state of being overall: tense. I'm trying to notice my own tension and to relieve it through external means (e.g., by riding my bike, walking with a dog) as well as by prayer and breathing/meditation. I need more of the latter.

Day 11 of 30DR

I'm too exhausted from a very full day to write at length.

(Frankly, I put all my dog-blog energy into an email to a friend.)

Instead, let me summarize with:

* P just put herself to bed, in her crate, with no treat.

* B is waiting for me to close the lid on the laptop so we can call it a day.

* Both dogs were especially good today. Still separated but no growling at D. (She did snarl at Oliver, the baker's poodle, but that always happens and we'll deal with that after my "click-to-calm" training.

* P & I played brilliant frisbee but did not get around to the muzzle practice.

* B wore his new muzzle for about a minute. Then I removed it. We're taking this s-l-o-w.

* I felt better about everything today.

* I rode my bike.

Day 10 of 30DR & Envisioning Canine TriZenalon

By mid-day today I was a complete mess.

I hadn't heard from the trainer (she was going to call last week to "check in" on the dogs' progress but never did) so I called and left messages on her cell phone around 8 a.m. and on her office phone around 2 p.m., wanting to get her advice on re-introducing the dogs to one another while wearing their muzzles and also to see what she thought about my accepting a friend's invitation to immerse one of my dogs in their pack of three for a little while to see how he'd do just being a "regular dog" for a while.

The latter (a kind invitation, thoughtfully given) had been eating away at me for hours and hours for reasons I still can't quite articulate but much of it had to do with my feeling like I would be throwing B-dog to the wolves simply to prove to myself that he was still normal.

So I finally declined the invitation because my heart wasn't in it and my heart is way more trustworthy and stable than my brain right now.

As I listened to myself leaving the message on the trainer's machine I detested myself--I sounded whiney and helpless and pathetic and was trying to somehow guilt the trainer into returning my call. What I sounded like (I later realized) was my ex-husband in the final months of our separation, when he seemed to be trying to use helplessness as a weapon. I believe he did that partially unconsciously; he felt defeated and his only apparent way to communicate with me was as a wretched, weak person. Our interactions left me feeling pummeled by weakness--it was an awful feeling. (Sort of like the fish-slapping sketch in Monty Python, only not a bit funny.) And now I felt like I'd become that person.

Meanwhile, my kitchen's a mess; my whole house is a mess; I've been complaining to my friends for hours and days about the dog thing, wallowing in it further here on the dog-blog. I just couldn't bear myself anymore.

* * *

So I took a bike ride around the lake.

Within minutes I felt like a better person. By the 8th mile I was inventing a new sport--I called it a tri-Zen-a-thon: it would involve maximizing pleasure by bicycling, kayaking, and photographing a scenic route on a lovely day. Participants wouldn't "compete" so much as "share" the experience: waving at one another (as we do riding around the lake), helping one another port our kayaks, finding nice spots to observe nature.

Then I thought an even nicer version would be the Canine TriZenalon: a trio of dog-walking, kayaking (with the dog), and bicycling (still possible with smaller dogs in a basket or kiddie trailer or with any size dog on a leash but only on shorter rides in mild weather).

These are the thoughts I have on my rides.


* * *

And I made a decision during the ride: to stop sending negative energy into the universe about my dogs. They're such good dogs. And I am not the worst yuppie dog owner in the world, either. When I tell my story to strangers (yes, I know . . .), I often get lots of irrelevant advice that assumes I don't have any rules at all, that I've learned absolutely nothing from my (many, many) training classes, and that they are totally untrained and vicious to everyone. When in fact I have dogs that do most of the things I ask them to do 85% of the time, that get into their crates voluntarily when they see I'm dressing for work, that tenderly attach themselves to my quite tall but perpetually falling-down, elderly step-father, that never rush the door when my petite mother wanders in for a visit and almost never rush out the door when she neglects to close it behind her. They play gently with the one-eyed pug-doxie mix around the corner. These are fine dogs that have become confused as a result of living with someone who meant well but didn't get it right the first few times on the training train but even today, even in my pit of despair, I took them out separately for walks and did our "settle" exercises and obeyed the feeding rules. I'm so ready to condemn myself, especially to others. (is this masochism? why am I so ready to invite others to view me as ridiculous and inept? what's that about? don't want to get into the childhood stuff again.) But it's nuts. And it's unproductive. Damaging, even.

So I'm going to stop narrating this situation like it's American Beauty and shut up and deal with it. And be grateful for all the good I keep neglecting to think about.

I'll keep recording potentially pertinent details here. But no more whining.

* * *

Today's status:

We're going to bed early. We still haven't done the full-blown muzzle experience. I have misgivings about reintroducing the dogs right after putting them in muzzles because it seems like a way to negatively reinforce their time in the same space. I know both will hate their muzzles. So I need a way to have them wear the muzzle for a while in a fairly pleasant scenario, like with me reading nearby or giving them some positive attention. Playing ball with P, perhaps.

Today they each licked cream cheese and a cookie out of their muzzles. Tomorrow I'll do a little one-on-one time with the muzzles.

So far both dogs have been really good. P still isn't eating much, B is. B-dog seems to really miss P. He seemed really disappointed when I refused to let him outside with her and again when I put the gate between them. Of course I could be reading everything into that but what else is new?

P seemed a little more comfortable with B on the other side of the gate today.

We did a little clicker training. Back to the beginning: click and treat. Using the extra special turkey.

That was because my old trainer finally returned last week's phone message (said she was out of town) and suggested I read Click to Calm.

I like the idea of trying clickers. it's something to do, at any rate. My 30DR is compatible with clickers and I'm sick of negative stuff like spritzing P for growling. It doesn't feel right to me. I'll keep doing it but I need another long-term solution.

I guess that's it for today.

Day 8 of 30DR

I rode my bicycle again this morning.

Last night, as I rode around the lake, I spent the entire hour reciting things I loved about riding my bike around the lake--how it makes my calves feel strong, how it opens my mind and liberates me from the anxieties of my day, . . . I feel certain that the bicycle hour helps me be more calm at home.

But today by the time I returned home it was already too hot to walk the dogs. So I neglected that today but was pretty steady with everything else.

Behavior-wise:

* I crated them twice today. The first time P-dog quietly tackled her kong while B-dog entered his crate. The second time (even though all other conditions were, as far as I could tell, identical, right down to the kong) P-dog barked and growled at B as he entered his crate. He retreated to the bedroom doorway, then obeyed me when I insisted he come to me and enter his crate, with P barking and growling. I spritzed P with the water-filled spray bottle that I now keep there. I haven't yet rotated their crates. I'll do that tomorrow.

* Again today P seems tense when I put her in the living room and B in the dining room. She hides behind a chair to block his view of her. This morning she wouldn't eat her food. She did eat tonight's helping, though. I switch the dogs between those spaces throughout the day, trying to give them equal access to me and to the backyard. My gut tells me I need to get them un-separated soon or else the gates will reinforce the antagonism somehow. It keeps them from playing together. Not that they frolic much, really, but still a little frolicking is important. But they mainly frolic by chasing squirrels and I worry that muzzling them on hot days outside will be too hard on them. So again we hit the early-morning scenario.

Speaking of muzzles. They arrived this afternoon. They're still in the box. I just couldn't bring myself to open the box today. Tomorrow I'll start the business of gently introducing them to the muzzles--putting treats inside them on the floor and so forth. I hate this.

* As for B's behavior, he's still docile but seems a little tense and unhappy. Hard to explain. It's just his demeanor. He seems to believe he's in trouble with me.

I hate this.

30-Day Regimen

I'm going to keep a more-detailed journal about our experience trying to overcome the fighting.

Here's the list we received from the trainer last week:

Feed dogs twice a day, during a consistent time frame (ex: 7-7:10 a.m. and 4-4:15 p.m.) and move bowls to a different location each time, removing food even if untouched.

Give dogs zero people food except as training treats.

Require dogs to Sit or Down before every treat.

Walk each dog at heel but pause many times to allow her/him to wander around and smell interesting things while you remain stationary.

Lead two training sessions per day, 5 to 10 minutes with no physical petting.

Lead two eye contact sessions per day (5 times per session, OK while walking).

Conduct a thirty-minute settle (foot on leash; ignore the dog; down-stay not required).

Each dog has access to only one toy at a time.

Avoid playing tug-of-war or any game you do not initiate yourself. (Pause and walk away before initiating the play.)

Avoid walking around the dog; gently nudge out of the way.

Restrict dogs from beds, chairs, sofa (put empty boxes on them).

Before leaving home, put dogs in their crates (TV/radio on).

Do a surprise down once a week..

Remain calmly vigilant for problem behavior and interrupt it however possible.

Require sit-ups (Sit then Free; repeat) after problem behavior.

Sing the dog’s special jingle (including her name) twice a day for 7 seconds.

At bedtime, both dogs sleep in their crates.

Re-home

"Muzzle" was the most awful word and image to me . . . until the trainer used the word "re-home."

Her actual sentence was something like, "You may need to consider rehoming one of them."

I said, "Consider what?"

That word re-home is dogworld jargon.I hadn't heard it or used it before. As soon as its meaning clicked I felt Lost. Like I'd already lost the battle to re-make our life.

The thought I didn't have at that moment but recognize now is how much my shattered-feeling is related to the divorce-and-rebuilding narrative of the past 3 or so years. Ending my marriage was a good decision. Then my forced-remodeling and home-ownership scenario: more upheaval, stressful as hell, but a necessary part of moving on. And throughout all this the dogs were my real life. They were my source of all rightness.

At the heart of everything was my belief that my purpose in life was to live as well as I could right now, to stay sane and strong, and to take good care of these dogs. I was starting over from scratch with everything but the dogs. The dogs were my family, my nucleus. I consoled myself night after night--beyond lawyers and disturbing handymen and mounting debt, and termites, and nightmarish phone calls from my ex--no matter how I'd handled or mishandled everything else that day I consoled myself that I was OK because I'd taken good care of these dear dogs.

I had already "re-homed" us all: spent the last year making it possible for us to live in a beautiful place with birds and a garden and everything we needed to be safe and peaceful together.

I don't have children. I have two dogs that were abandoned by other people and came into my world and made me feel whole.

But it seems probable that my way of caring for them was wrong for them, or at least not right enough to prevent the trouble they're having right now. Despite all my best intentions, despite all the books I read and classes we took--puppy school, basic obedience, agility, freestyle dance ( ! ), flyball--despite the dog park and the vanilla infused cowcheeks and the singing and the love--I blew it.

To make this less of a pity party I'll acknowledge that some of the problem is nature rather than nurture. But still I can see so clearly that most of what I've done "for them" were all the things I wanted to do, not necessarily the things they needed. They needed more walks, they needed more obedience practice, they needed reinforcement of the lessons we learned at school--lessons about home manners and responding appropriately to strangers, they needed a calm, assertive leader. I didn't give them enough of any of that.

The things I wanted them to need--affection, quiet times on the sofa, training as a feel-good hobby--these were not the things they needed most.

My point is that I knew better all along but I ultimately copped out and did whatever was most comfortable for me.

So here I am, on Day 7 of the emergency training. Praying to God we can all fix this. So I can keep my family intact.

(Some would say that my persistence in calling my dogs "family" indicates I'm still not doing what they need: I'm still treating them like humans rather than like dogs, still burdening them with my emotions. Yeah. Bite Me.)

Ignoring my dog for another 25 minutes

I'm sitting on the soft with B-dog's leash beneath my left foot. Mom is here visiting and we had a late supper so I feel guilty about restricting his mobility after a long evening of crate time.

But I must do this. a 30-minute "settle" with each dog on the floor, my foot on the leash, while I pay absolutely no attention to them. Poor buddy.

And poor me, really. I'm sleepy from the beer at dinner and must repeat this routine with P-dog as well before going to bed. And since both dogs must now sleep in their crates (instead of on my bed with me, which I love) I'm trying to give them a little liberty time before hitting the hay. Sheesh.

* * *

The last few days I've been following the trainer's "emergency" regimen in an effort to fix us all. Since I've been too worn out to blog about it I'll paste one of my emails describing this saga to a friend, following my 1 or 2 hour meeting with the dog trainer regarding or problems at home . . .

* * *

. . . After the meeting I sat in the car and
sobbed. For so many reasons. For being such a poor dog-mom despite my
fine intentions. For being such an incompetent leader to animals who
need leadership more than anything. For not doing my best
for these sweet creatures. For smothering them instead of attending to
what I knew they needed.

I mentioned my willingness to do the big time crack-of-dawn dog walks.
The trainer said European research has shown that dogs don't need
intensive Dog Whisperer style exercise because that raises their
adrenaline and can actually make them more aggressive; instead what
they need is lots of mental stimulation. She said what I need to do is
take them for a walk for the purpose of stimulating them, not
exhausting them. She said their nose is their most important organ. I
dunno. Seems like exhausting them is a good idea. But I'm going to
follow her prescription and let them walk and smell things instead of
forcing them to zoom along for an hour. In this hot
weather it's a bad idea to push a long walk anyway.

She was kind and a terrier-lover and gave me lots of advice and a printed sheet
summarizing a 30-day
plan for restructuring your dog lifestyle. I turned that into a
checklist and will follow it faithfully for 30 days, starting
tomorrow. (Though I'm starting some things tonight--perhaps including
not letting the dogs sleep with me.)

The trainer didn't say I could never sleep with them or cuddle with
them on the couch again, but she did say I'd need to stick to the plan
until things changed.

She helped me see how I've always let P-dog be in charge: from the
very first day of B-dogs arrival when I mistakenly let her decide
when he was permitted in certain parts of the house--that should
have been my decision, not hers.

She also said there really isn't any such thing as Beta and
Delta--that whole hierarchy thing. She said packs have a leader and
then everyone else, the others' roles change depending on what the
pack needs at any time. The problem in our house isn't that P or
B want to be Top Dog so much as the fact that I'm not Top Dog.
Once again (as with every other trainer I've worked with) she
explained that the dogs don't believe I'm in charge. Right now they
seem to see me as a possession. Part of the territory they're fighting
over. If I were clearly their leader they wouldn't see the need to
fight over territory anymore. It would be my territory. And so on.

So my job for the next 30 days is to (1) protect the dogs from hurting
each other, and (2) make myself their leader.

The saddest thing in the world is that (1) involves making B-dog wear
a muzzle. The trainer said it's a bad idea to keep the dogs separated
all the time because it will ultimately reinforce the problem rather
than dilute it. They need to be in the same space now and then. But
the only way I can feel confident P is safe (today's bite BTW was
near her eye--I discovered it only later) is by muzzling the bigger dog. This
won't necessarily stop them from fighting but it will reduce the odds
of a horrifying injury and it will make ME feel less nervous which is
a huge part of the problem. I'm now terrified for P-dog and I'm no
good at pretending not to be tense in front of them.

So tomorrow is muzzle shopping. She recommended a metal basket-type
model and said that the Greyhound rescue people routinely use them and
give one to every adopter because Greyhounds are so prey-driven
they're a natural threat to cats and such. The image of B-dog as
Hannibal Lecter horrifies me. Makes me cry. But I just need to get
over it. Me being comfortable is partly what led to this awful
situation.

And becoming a leader is next. Lord. The trainer at first described
how her own mother was one of those people who you just obeyed as a
kid no matter what. I knew what she was trying to suggest and found I
had absolutely no parental analogue. Not one of my four parents was a
calm-assertive leader. My mother was animated but weak and
hyperreactive; my father obtuse and unconcerned; my stepfather
unpredictable and sometimes abusive; my
stepmother an uncompassionate alien.

Explains a lot, actually.

During my drive home I reflected on all those Dog Whisperer podcasts I
watched this afternoon and it occurred to me that I'm the red-line
dog. I'm the one who needs the hour-long exercise to expend my nervous
energy before starting my day with the dogs. I'm the one whose energy
is weak or anxious to the dogs. I'm the one who needs to be balanced
and predictable.

So for 30 days I'll do all the things the trainer prescribed plus an
hour of exercise, probably on my bike. An hour is about two rides
around the lake. I can do that. I won't be in the mood for it but I'll
do it.

It's so difficult to change who we are inside. Is it even possible?
I've felt vulnerable for so long that I don't know how to feel
otherwise. But I believe it will require a physical change--something
very deep--because faking it doesn't make it.

And I keep going back to my ex-husband's (EE's) role in all this. He was alpha. Always.
To all of us. And in retrospect I believe that when EE lived here my
weakness and frustration was already well established in the
perceptions of my dogs. I've always said their behavior change was
about protecting me after EE left. Actually, I believe the foundation
was forming even while he was here. I wasn't second-in-command. I was
just another member of the pack who happened to take them to obedience
school and to the vet but wasn't really in charge of anything.

My persistent exhaustion emotionally and physically, my sense of
debilitation, all this weakness comes from years and years of tension
and frustration that began long before I adopted these dogs. They've
always known me as this fundamentally weary person.

The training I will do. Every last thing on the long list. Every day.
Twice. But I realize the dog thing is unlikely to be truly resolved
until I change. Really change. For good.