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Blu - Weimaraner pup on a walk
One of my clients recently had a “Salsa Party”. Not a party with just salsa dip, a Salsa dancing party. She had me come over and stay with her pup Blu while she was getting set up and while the party was going on.
For the two hours before the party even started, I wore Blu out. We first played in the yard for about half an hour. Blu has lots and lots of energy and LOVES to play fetch! She doesn’t always want to drop the toy, so I make sure I have another one ready to throw when she brings the first one back. I won’t throw it unless she drops the first toy; an exchange. She is getting better about dropping because she really, really, really wants to play and if she manages to get both toys, I refuse to play until she gives me at least one. (Also, I won’t chase her… which she really wants me to do.)
Blu after a walk, BIG tongue!
Then we went for an hour long walk. Since I’ve been learning training techniques from Blu’s trainer, Charmaine with Collins Canines, I worked on some of those with Blu. Blu’s a very clever and curious girl with the attention span of a gnat so getting her to focus is quite a challenge! She has some fear, so we worked on making the world a much less fearful place with lots of praise and hotdog pieces as rewards. We also worked on her pulling. We did the “stop & start” method, which is just like it sounds. As soon as she starts pulling, I stop. Once she stops pulling, I start walking. This makes for a very slow walk. But since she wasn’t quite as hyper because we started with romping in the yard, she only pulled for a short while then decided to walk with me. She was still sniffing everything along the way, but beside me instead of trying to get to things miles ahead of us.
Once we got back to Blu’s house, her mom was all decked out and looking lovely. I took Blu in for some water, but we still had some more time as the DJ had just arrived and things were still being set up. Since I didn’t want to take her on another walk and the backyard was getting all ready for the party, I got the long leash out and we played for another half hour in the driveway and the front yard. I could tell that Blu, the pup with endless amounts of energy, was getting tired. We went inside & up to her mom’s room where we were going to be hanging out during the majority of the party. We played a tiny game of fetch with a toy that was up there, but she fell asleep almost immediately.
Blu cuddling her toy
She did have a few moments of waking up to a sudden noise downstairs a bit panicked, but I calmed her down and she fell back asleep. (And I got to work on some writing!) After about two hours, she woke on her own and needed to go out. Now her mom’s room is on the second floor, and while she has no problem getting up there, the stairs are steep and her mom usually carries her down. I decided to work on making the stairs less scary. I set hotdog bits on each stair and coaxed her down. It took about 15 minutes to get her to even start going down the stairs, but once she did, she made it all the way down.
We went out, she did her business and, since most everyone was sitting and talking, I decided it was a good time for her to meet the guests. Since part of her fears have to do with strangers, I led her around slowly while praising and let the party goers, who were willing, give her bits of hot dog. I continued to feed her treats too. She did so well!! By the last person, her tail was wagging and she was giving the offered hands lots of slobbery kisses. What a good girl!
Blu looking at butterflies
But where the heck is Southport?
This last weekend was nuts. Filling in for a sick walker, I forsook my own beloved dogosphere for a whole new pack of pups in a whole new part of the city. Things started out poorly as I rode around on my bike looking for a street that I knew existed, had seen and traveled on before, but for some reason just couldn’t find. After many confounded miles riding back and forth, swearing under my breath that when I finally found Southport Boulevard I was going to kick it in the shins, I finally asked a bus driver stopped next to me at a red light for directions. He told me there was noSouthporthere. South of Clyborn it changes its name to Noble. Ah of course, silly me.
Streets disappeared on me all weekend, and I started to wonder what good a grid system is if it only applies sometimes. When I came upon streets that had no street signs, I began to wonder if the whole idea of a city wasn’t a total failure. I made silent ultimatums in my head: either send an emergency sign crew to name this intersection immediately, or I’m moving to the woods. The city ignored me, and it called my bluff. Oh well, at least I’m not walking dogs inVeniceorShanghai. Venetian dog walkers would probably kill forChicago’s imperfect grid. But whatever, they’re inVenice.
Once I found the dogs, things got much better. Without fail, whatever the stress or anxiety that is besieging my skull, it all disappears in a puff when I meet the dogs, dispelled by the mighty wind from a wagging tail. Sometimes if poor directions or bad drivers get me riled up, I pause by the front door to take a breath and put on a happy face for the dog that awaits me on the other side. This ritual is totally unnecessary, because the dogs themselves are instant antidote to the travails of urban living. One look at a big-toothed smile and I am convinced that all the world is roses. I can offer no debate. Should the puppy also be bouncing or doing the whole-butt wag, I turn to putty in his paws.
The first dogs I walked were sweet. Hard to find and a bit shy, but no problems. The next dog was an Australian Shepherd, which is to say, totally energetic. Aussies are wonderful dogs; one could even argue that they are the most wonderful breed of all, being generally handsome, healthy, friendly and crazy wicked smart. It’s this last trait that can lead to trouble though, since some Aussies don’t have sufficient stimulation for their massive intellects, and as a result, go just a wee bit nuts. I’ve seen it many times, in about a third of the Aussies I’ve come across. This dog I walked was hilarious. We walked about ten, maybe twenty feet down the street before he flopped over on his side, refusing to budge. Curious as to the strength of his conviction not to walk, I tried to keep walking to see if he’d let himself be dragged. He did. So I didn’t. Most dogs, as in every dog I’ve ever met, will give up this silly display of spoiled petulance if you pull them up onto their feet. But since I was clearly up against a great and determined mind, we turned around and walked the other way. We got about ten, maybe twenty feet to the other side of his front door and he did the same thing. Flop and sprawl. Okay…how about we cross the street? Sure, no problem. Once we reach the other side however, flop sprawl. No go. This Australian was determined not to venture more than a treat’s toss away from his home, and was prepared to go to any length of non-violent resistance to have his way. Fortunately, he quickly did his business, and we got on to the business of playing fetch inside. It was a test of wills and I lost. I’ll just say that had it been my dog, I’d have dragged him until he had it very clear that I, the giant shaved monkey thing, was totally in charge and that he, the tail-less quasi wolf-thing, was not at all. But it wasn’t my dog. It’s not professional to drag him. And it looks bad.
The next dog was Max, an old lab (31 years old according to the typo on his notes, and doing pretty good I must say), which is another way of saying he’s a friendly, courteous and all together delightful walking companion. So far so descent: 2 for 3. But then the next two visits, oh help. That’s what I called to say to the office: “Oh help.” First was Jack who was a Pomapoo or some such thing, and he was sweet and adorable and just smart enough to know how to avoid all my attempts to lure or trick him into going back into his crate. For 40 minutes. I resorted to begging him, but pity and cuteness don’t necessarily go together like you might think; besides, Jack was having too much fun watching me suffer. But in he went eventually, and on I went to the next trial.
This one was a twofer. They were Boston Terrier sibling named Emma and Ollie, both adorable and both so terrified of me that they were shaking at 1000 bpm. I’ve mentioned before that I tend to scare little dogs at first. I won’t go into it now beyond reiterating that I don’t blame them for being scared, and it only hurts my feelings a lot. So when I managed to get one to come to me to get harnessed up, I was feeling pretty good. Until I looked around for the other. And kept looking. All over the house. Finally I found him upstairs under the bed, out of reach and clearly not coming out for treats, baby talk, belly rubs or anything at all so long as I was involved in the equation. I’ll make this very long and very painful story short: I eventually managed to get close enough to hook a leash on him, and we went for a walk. A 25 minute visit had, again, turned into an hour. Which is ironic, because apparently, no one wanted it to go on at all. They sure were cute though.
The next visit was much easier. A long haired Dachshund named Chloe who loved to cuddle, and a “Sheepoo” named Dylan whose jealousy for my attention made me feel absolutely Royal. We had a great time until Chloe tried to poop and found she couldn’t finish the job, so to speak, which required my bagged hand to reach in and help things along, to everyone’s embarrassment, including all the many passers by. Then Dylan took her turn and had the opposite problem. Which makes it impossible to pick up, and since it was in the middle of the sidewalk, makes me the enemy of all civilization in the eyes of everyone who saw us.
The final walk of this day (yes I know this is long and dragging, but it’s an accurate account for that) was another pair of black and white Boston Terrier siblings (what are the odds) named Frankie and Beansie. In contrast to Emma and Ollie, these two were not afraid of me one iota. In fact one chewed on my hand while the other repeatedly hopped up and bit my nose. In a friendly sort of way. Anyway, the walk was fine, the dogs were great, no problems whatsoever.
Maybe the heat is getting to people. People like me. Maybe it’s even getting to dogs. Occasionally I try to remember what it was like in the winter, when there was this stuff called snow and ice everywhere, and the air hurt you but in a different way that’s kind of hard to recall. I vaguely remember longing for summer, dreaming of it, trying to remember its smells, imagining what it was like when you could go outside any time of day, when girls wore dresses, and the sun was not just another star in a frigid sky, but a huge floating space heater that made your eyes hide and your skin leak. Now that summer is here, I’m pleased to find it was everything I hoped for and more. I certainly don’t long for the winter, but I would appreciate a little of its calm, its crystal in clarity. In other words, I wish everyone could just chill out for a minute. Take a collective deep breath. Then, let’s name our streets, name our dogs, and calmly, collectively, kickSouthport Boulevardin the shins. Or do what you want, it doesn’t matter to me: I’m heading back to my regular dogs.
Over the Fourth of July Holiday, I was scheduled to visit with two dogs I had never met, Molly and Clementine.
Molly - Boxer mix
I’d been told that Molly, the Boxer Mix, could be a little wary of strangers and skittish with sudden movement or loud noises. Good to know.
That first visit, as I got out of my car, I could hear thunder in the distance. *Bada-Boom!* I walked up the steps to the apartment feeling the heaviness of the air. About halfway up, the barking started.
In an attempt to soothe the barking dog, as I unlocked the door, I sang in a soft yet high pitched voice. “Hello Ms. Molly and Ms. Clementine! I’m here to walk you and feed you and we’re gonna be good friends.”
The snarling, barking face that greeted me as I pushed the door open, did NOT want to be my friend. But, just beyond Molly was Clementine.
Clementine - Mt. Feist
It was a strange juxtaposition! Clementine was practically dancing in place, she was so excited to see me. She ran to my other side and there she was – ears forward, running up to me and trying to lick my hand. On the other side was Molly – ears back, hackles up, teeth bared, snarling, barking and backing away.
I put my hands in my pocket, averted my eyes from Molly and kept singing. “Nothing to be scared of. I want to be your new friend. Let me give you a treat!”
Since Molly wasn’t rushing me, I moved very slowly to the kitchen table where the treats were. (Of all the times… I forget to have an emergency treat in my pocket like I usually do!) They both sat, though Molly still looked freaked out. While they were distracted with the treats, I fed them their dinners and read over the notes the pet parents left me. Then I took Clementine for a walk, hoping Molly would see how much fun Clementine was having and be okay with me.
While we were outside, I noticed that the weather had gotten worse. It hadn’t yet started to rain, but it is pretty dark and I could see lightening in the distance. Clementine didn’t seem to mind.
I gave them treats when I got back in and, since Molly seemed to be chilling out, I moved very slowly to put her leash on. Two things happened almost simultaneously: I heard a loud *Bada-Boom!* and Molly bit!
Fortunately, she only got my shirt.
Time to call for backup. (One thing I really like about Out-U-Go! is that if something goes wrong, I’m not alone.) Amanda, the Top Dog, was on a visit herself. We discussed the situation. She was baffled. She’d met Molly and had never seen her behave like that. But just talking to Amanda helped me think clearly. As we talked, I continued to give the girls little treats. Molly was no longer barking or snarling, but she was still fearful, stress panting and, every few seconds, her body would jerk… as if something was startling her.
That’s when it hit me. Though I couldn’t hear it, I realized there were fireworks going off in the distance. That combined with the thunder and this strange person in her house was terrifying her! I understood the situation. But what to do…
Thinking back to my work with not so friendly dogs in the shelter, I decided to try to lasso her with the leash. I pulled the leash through the handle end and looped it over her head. It worked!
We managed to walk and, even though it was sprinkling, the thunder was closer and I heard more fireworks, she did well. She finished up her business and we got back inside. While walking, the leash managed to get caught under her collar so I couldn’t just drop it to let her slip out of it. But I wasn’t taking a chance and putting my hand anywhere near her mouth. I found a long wooden spoon in a drawer and slid it under the lasso. It came right off. Phew!
The next morning, I come in with treats. Molly barked, but then settled down quickly. No snarling at all. Over the next few visits, she got more and more comfortable with me until I was able to cuddle with her in the living room. She even put her head in my lap while I wrote notes!
Just goes to show, you can’t judge a dog by the first meeting. Especially when Big-Bada-Booms are involved!
Dog lovers everywhere—unite! Neglected and abandoned dogs need our help—and all we have to do to help them is vote for the Buddy Foundation in an online contest! The Buddy Foundation is a Chicago area no-kill animal shelter that provides food, shelter and medical care for homeless dogs (and cats) until they can be placed in their “forever homes.” If Buddy is one of the top 4 vote getters in EMCs 100 Ways of Giving contest, they will win $25,000! That amount of money will help save hundreds of precious animals!
Please see the link below and take one second out of your day EVERY DAY THRU OCTOBER 8th to vote for The Buddy Foundation. On behalf of Albert, the Husky with the hazel eyes, Copper, the sweet, lumbering Bloodhound, and all of the other Buddy dogs, thank you for your help. ARF ARF and WOOF WOOF!
http://thebuddyfoundation.sc102.info
Well…..maybe not Hollywood, but WGN Chicago is pretty close! 🙂
Out-U-Go! Central’s General Manager (and former Oak Park Top Dog), Sara Lorenzo, will be representing Chicago Canine Rescue on WGN’s Adopt-A-Pet segment at approximately 11:10 AM Central Time on Friday, August 19. She will be highlighting Flora & Kitty, two super-cute pups that are looking for forever homes.
Flora would love a forever home!
Flora is quite the little social butterfly, and absolutely loves meeting new people. She is a 3-month old Australian Cattle Dog/Collie mix. This outgoing little lady has a lick and a tail wag for everyone, and also loves to run and play. Flora is being treated for a skin condition and is already on the road to recovery. She would make an excellent addition to any family.
This Kitty says "Woof!"
Kitty is an approximately 3 year old female border collie mix who came all the way from Chatsworth, Georgia. Like any Southern belle, Kitty is polite and demure, and has very nice manners. She is a bit timid sometimes, and is very sweet — she will crawl into your lap for some pats and scratches, and gives the most gentle little licks. Kitty is living in a foster home with her lab sister, and beagle mix brother. She gets along great with other dogs and loves to meet new people. Kitty is also currently being treated for heartworm disease. While it is extremely rare for there to be any lasting effects, she will need to be kept calm and quiet during her recovery.
Sara is a volunteer member of the Board of Directors of Chicago Canine Rescue, a local animal shelter that helps find homes for the most vulnerable in the city – the sick, injured and special needs dogs.
Set your DVR’s (or don’t……she is really, really nervous about being on TV!).
Biscuit says "awoahwooor"
I have always talked to my own dogs in a highly idiomatic and probably unintelligible way, and yet I have consistently been impressed by their ability to not only understand me, but indeed contribute to a meaningful exchange of sentiments. Not to take anything away from my own dog’s abilities, but since starting as a dog walker, I have come to the conclusion that most dogs are, in fact, remarkable conversationalists. Provided, of course, you know how to talk to them. Though there are a number or viable approaches to dog-diction, I would like to share my own, which have brought me considerable success.
First, it is important to keep in mind that dogs are excellent listeners. Even Dudley the Boxer, who seems to grow progressively deafer by the day, will listen attentively throughout a full 20-minute visit as you talk about the weather, your day, your worries and concerns, or anything else that might be on your mind. Other humans you pass on the street might look at you sideways, but that is simply because they aren’t good listeners. Unlike Sally the Australian Shepherd, who could make quite a lot of money as a therapist and yet offers her patient floppy ear on a strictly pro-bono basis. She will listen discreetly as you talk things out, and then turn and give you a slight approving nod as you come to an appropriate conclusion. It’s very professional, and guaranteed to be held in the strictest confidence.
If you ask a dog a question, they will immediately consider it. If you say “hey, what’s that?” they will look at you with an expression that says, “why, I don’t know. Please allow me to investigate on your behalf.” I did this with Sam the Yellow Lab today, and the “that” I was referring to was a large deer. Sam was very eager to go ask the deer what he was, and though this was unadvisable, I appreciated his enthusiasm and open-mindedness.
If you say “whose there?” when you enter a house or when there is a knock at the door, all nearby dogs will begin to bark maniacally, like my Morgan and Barley. Though their barking might seem a somewhat brash conversational mode, it must be interpreted in light of what the dogs are saying with each bark, which is typically “hello? State your business please. If you are nice, than you are welcome to enter and begin to pet me immediately, and if you are not nice then you should perhaps depart the premises lest I should be obliged to masticate on your limbs.” Nothing could be more polite.
If you ask Biscuit the Lab “where you going?” he’ll look and say “oh nowhere in particular. Where do you think we ought to go?” If you ask “whose a good boy?” he will wag his tail and reveal a grin that translates as “I think I know the answer; yet I eagerly await your pronouncement.” If you ask him “what’s the big idea?” he will respond with a look that says “the big idea? I’m afraid I don’t know. Would you care to elaborate on your question?” While waiting for me to lock the door so we can begin our walk, Biscuit always says “awoahwooor,” which is an ancient canine prayer for a safe and prosperous walk. It is polite to chant along with him when he does this.
If you walk into a room in which something has recently been chewed, knocked over, or otherwise disassembled, you can ask “who did this?” and be immediately answered by an abashed countenance indicating the guilty party. You need not stop there however. Though possessing the foreknowledge that Poncho, for example, is prone to obstreperous caprices, upon seeing his self-incriminating posture you can proceed to ask “Poncho, did you do this?” He will tell you “yes I’m afraid so, and I am deeply ashamed.” Also add some “how could you?” and “don’t you know better?” and don’t limit the disappointed tone in your voice. The more deeply shocked and hurt you sound, the more the guilty party will visibly repent (in some cases even trying to hide, or crawl into another universe where they are not so oppressed by guilt) and the more confidently you can report your conclusions to the proper authorities on the report card.
Also a few notes on pronunciation: Boy should be pronounced as “Bouyee” and girl should be pronounced as “Guroh”. The word dog should come at the close of any and every sentence, and is best communicated as “Dewg” or even “Dewgadewg” if you’re not in a hurry. Definite articles and possessive pronouns are to be used constantly. For example, a paltry ‘hello how are you Bailey’ would become ‘hello the Bailey dog, how is my doggy dog’. The end of a sentence should either rise as in a question or fall dramatically as in the final inarguable pronouncement of a great sage.
Most dog languages do not feature consonants, so avoid them in your own speech whenever possible. This can be readily accomplished by paralyzing the tongue and speaking with the back of the throat. The lips should be held soft, thick and inert, like velvet curtains that open for your word play.
There have been a number of high profile dog philologists who have lately achieved great fame and fortune on the lecture circuit promoting their new theories. Chief among these is the so called “L to W” theory, which holds that any time you are conversing with a canine, you shouwd tawk wike this and empwoy a widdwe baby voice. I feel that not only does this approach not enhance inter-species communication, but in fact has led to a sharp increase in biting incidents. I would further add that these bites are all well justified in that they come as a response to an indecent, gratuitous and audibly reprehensible practice.
I contend that the L should not be abandoned. In some cases it should even be enhanced, such as in the word “hello.” In this case, I find it advantageous (and highly gratifying) to make as rich and luxuriant and “L” sound as possible. Use the whole of the tongue, hold it a few extra beats, and then use this tongue position as a sort of morphological spring board, as it were, to fling the final “O” in hello into the sound-space of your new dog friend. The O will find itself rising and falling like a kite in the air, much to the delight of all around. Think of Whitney Houston were she a champion yodeler. If your vocal explorations should lead you into the higher registers, you might be lucky enough to hear your dogs join in a cappella. You needn’t wait for a full moon to harmonize in this way.
Finally, a word on dog whispering. While this subtle and powerful practice has enjoyed a vogue of late, I recommend talking in a full-volume voice. Whispering is just fine, but now that you know the proper way to talk to a dog, you may as well let them hear you. You know they’ll be listening.
The Top Dogs of Out-U-Go! Tallahassee have been working ’round the clock to get ready for our August 15th Grand Opening. With help from the Top Dog husbands, family, and friends we have equipped an Out-U-Go! office that is ready to roll out AWESOME pet care like the Capital City has never seen!
After much searching, we found a pawsitively purrfect location to be homebase for our top notch pet sitters, a totally secure location for our Pet Parent’s keys, and a home away from home for the Top Dog Dogs.
Bruce making himself at home at the OUG! Tally office...
Speaking of the Top Dog Dogs – they are completely pooped! Bruce, rat terrier in charge of Chicken Chip Quality Assurance, has spent the past week going to work with his favorite person! It’s about time, he thinks. Jingbo, labrador retriever trained in Milk Bone Disposal, has been on the scene with his faithful sidekick, Delta. Delta, lab mix extraordinaire, concentrated on Dog Toy Demolition – while Grace, our dalmatian designer, gave the dog beds that lived in look. 😉
So, as you can see, Out-U-Go! Tallahassee is ready to kickoff our premier dog, kitty, and critter care for your furry family just in time for college football season! Go Seminoles!!
Peace – Love – & Belly Rubs! 🙂
~ Out-U-Go! Tallahassee Gang
One thing I have come to realize is the effectiveness of a strong “No.” It is useful in so many different situations. From “No, leave that alone” to “No, stop barking at that squirrel,” the word “No” seems to work like a charm.
One example happened a couple days ago when I was walking Tigra, a German Shepherd who loves Frisbee but does not like other dogs. Just like when we are walking any of our 
pups, I was on high alert to stay clear of people and dogs. We were a couple steps away from returning to the house when, from the corner of my eye, I saw a dog run out of one of the houses we had just walked past. Tigra didn’t notice so I picked up the pace to get back to the house quicker. The dog saw us and started running towards us. At this point Tigra saw the dog and started to get upset. We were a couple steps away from the door when the dog ran around the corner of the house. I turned around, looked the dog in the eye and gave a stern “No.” The dog immediately turned around and ran the other way. It wanted to play but quickly realized Tigra wasn’t all for fun and games. I was so happy the pup got my message loud and clear!
Now wouldn't this be nice?
Every dog walker, be they professional or recreational, has been there: watching in horror as your dog struggles into that familiar squat while you check your pockets for a bag that you already know isn’t there.
Folks without dogs will almost always, at this point, assume the worst of you. Yet folks with dogs know that dogs enjoy counting beforehand the number of bags you’ve brought with you and then pooping that number of times plus one.
So, what are you going to do? Since litter and public trash containers abound, dog walkers usually have options. The next time you’re without bag, try one of these: