Smart Dog

Part 2: Dog Body Language: How to Tell if a Dog is Happy, Frustrated, Scared, Annoyed

Imagine that from the minute you wake in the morning until you lay your head down at night, that someone is bugging you. You've got someone tugging on you, someone talking to you, you can't get a moment to yourself. Not one second to yourself. 

Now imagine that's what happens every day. You've tried to hide from the person, you've tried giving them the slip, you've tried ignoring the person. Nothing. They're still there, still bugging you. Every minute of every day. 

Finally, you've had enough of it. You can't take it anymore. You've got to do something about it. That person missed all your subtle signals, so you politely ask him (her?) to leave you alone. They don't listen. And worse, you get chastized for even asking. How do you feel? Probably hopeless. Maybe frustrated. Possibly sad. 

Do you think the person that politely asks for a little space, a little peace, a little quiet deserves to be chastized?

So why do we hold dogs to higher standards than we do people? Humans can at least talk the same language. We're actually able to speak our minds and get some space. Dogs don't have that ability - they must rely solely on body signals to communicate their needs, their state of mind. 

When we ignore those signals, we're setting the dog up for failure. That was my point in writing the blog post about Mr. Gibbs, the service dog for the three year old girl. I see a lot of "please give me a break" signals from Mr. Gibbs. And no one is either seeing those signals or doing anything to help the dog. 

Remember the Denver news anchor, Kyle Dyer, who was bitten on live tv by a big white dog who had been rescued from a frozen river? That dog was screaming "Please back off!" but no one paid attention to his signals. I've embedded the video below along with my notes about all the communication signals the dog is offering to get a little bit of space. 

 

0:01 - The dog is already licking his lips and flicking his tongue. These are both recognized dog stress signals. There are 8 tongue flicks in seven seconds. This dog is screaming "I'm uncomfortable!"

0:08 - Pause here. Look at how tight the collar and leash are on the dog. You'll also see another tongue flick here. Also notice how the news anchor's hands never leave the dog's head. She's all over him, never giving him any space. 

0:16 - Now we're getting a tongue-flick marathon. There are seven flicks in rapid succession, right before she leans into his face. 

0:21 - With no means of escaping the woman in his face (he's backed up into his owner's legs and the leash and collar are too tight for him to move away), he bites the anchor. 

Both Mr. Gibbs and the dog above were trying to communicate, trying to get people to give them some space. Both of their signals were either missed or ignored. I'm not drawing parallels between the Mr. Gibbs and the dog that bit Kyle Dyer -- other than both of them had their stress signals ignored. 

What I do know for certain, however, is that if Mr. Gibbs signals are ignored (or not understood), at best he's in for a pretty miserable life. At worst, he'll get tired of being laid on, pinched on a prong collar, and hit in the head with a swing. He may start to ignore the 3-year old even more than he's already ignoring her -- and for that he may get labeled stubborn and then forced to interact. And when his signals are again ignored, he may escalate his signaling to something he hopes the humans can understand: a growl. Unfortunately, many growling dogs are punished, effectively taking the very form of communication away from them that worked. 

Ignoring a dog's signals puts the dog in an unacceptable position. They either resign themselves to their fate or they speak up about it. Both are unfortunate options for a dog. 

And both positions are entirely preventable. 

 

Dog Body Language: How to Tell if a Dog is Happy, Frustrated, Scared, Annoyed

I don't have the luxury of watching "feel good" segments or programs that contain dogs. Because I "do dogs" for a living, I see all the little signs, the communication signals a dog is sending, and nothing is ever cute anymore, but rather just filled with warning and distress signals from dogs. 

Take this morning's "feel good" segment on The Today Show for example. It piqued my interest because it was about a service dog for a little girl who is connected to an oxygen tank 24 hours a day. The family procured a service dog to carry the oxygen tank for the three-year old girl. 

The anchors on the show, the parents, and the little girl were oblivious to the many signs from the dog that he wasn't a happy camper. Based on all the publicity Kyle Dyer, NBC anchor in Denver, received when she was bitten on the face by a dog live on the air, I was hopeful that people had started to pay attention to dog body language. 

Sadly, I was wrong. Below is the segment. Watch it once without reading the warning signals I've listed below. Then watch it again, looking at the specific minute and second spots. 

Some things to know before you take a look at the video. The red bandana is used to cover a prong collar on Mr. Gibbs, the service dog. A prong collar is a collar fitted with special barbs or prongs, that lie against the dog's neck. When pressure is put on the collar by pulling on the leash, those prongs dig into the dog's flesh around his neck. The pain from the prongs are supposed to be a correction to the dog so he won't do whatever it was again. 

 

1:24 - Mr. Gibbs ignores the girl. Girl pulls hard on the leash. Those prongs are now digging into the dog's neck. 

2:39 - Girl is pulling Mr. Gibbs with the prong. Pause the video here and you can really see the pulling. 

2:42 - Mr. Gibbs tries to go with the trainer (instead of the girl) and he gets a BIG yank from the girl. Do you wonder why the dog doesn't want to be with the girl?

2:56 - The first sign of stress from the dog: a lip lick and a look-away. These are both classic stress signals from a dog. 

3:13 - "He gets beat in the head," the little girl says. Apparently she likes to swing a lot, and Mr. Gibbs cannot get out of her way. The father repeats the little girl's sentiment and laughs a little sheepishly. 

3:30 - "What do you say to him," the anchor asks. The girl answers "Down!" and "At ease." Both are dog training cues -- not "I love you!" or "Good boy!" 

3:32 - Hit pause here. Is this dog looking to interact with the girl? Does he even acknowledge her?

3:34 - Slight "whale eye" from Mr. Gibbs. The whale eye is another sign of stress. This happens when the girl is laying on the dog. The dog has no escape, no say in whether or not he can get out of the situation. This is a recipe for disaster. 

4:11 - We're now in the live interview with the anchor, parents, child and Mr. Gibbs. Pause the video at this spot. See the girl tugging on the prong collar? Every tug on the collar brings discomfort to Mr. Gibbs. 

4:14 - The girl gives a double-tug on the prong collar, hard. 

4:18 Another tug from the girl. The father finally rescues Mr. Gibbs from the daughter's tugs by placing the dog back onto the couch. I wonder why the dog was trying to get down in the first place?

4:54 - Mr. Gibbs looks to the father for help out of the situation. 

5:01 - There's a big lip lick and a yawn. Two classic signals that the dog is stressed and would like to leave. He keeps trying to get down off the couch. 

5:15 - Another lip lick from Mr. Gibbs. The signals this dog is throwing are increasing.

5:17 - Mr. Gibbs turns his head away from the girl to try to break off contact, but she just gets closer to Mr. Gibbs. He's trying very hard and his patience is admirable. 

5:57 - Mr. Gibbs is resigned to his fate. 

6:15 - Girl squeals, maybe there's a little bit of a squeeze by her, Mr. Gibbs tries again to get up and leave. 

6:20 - Another head turn by Mr. Gibbs -- another attempt to break off contact with the girl, but again she follows.

6:35 - Girl grabs Mr. Gibbs' head, pulls it down, and grabs his eyebrows. 

6:41 - Girl grabs Mr. Gibbs' prong collar and pulls off the bandana covering the prong collar. 

6:45 - Pause it here and just look at the picture. Is the dog happy about his circumstances? 

6:53 - The girl is now pulling the bandana back onto Mr. Gibbs, getting it caught in his mouth. 

7:01 - Mr. Gibbs is nearing the end of his attempts to get out of the situation and/or get some relief from this girl from the other people in the room. Finally he lies on the girl as a last ditch effort. 

It looks very cute, but in reality, Mr. Gibbs lays on her in resignation -- not enjoyment.

There are reasons why most service dog agencies won't let a young child have a service dog. Unfortunately, this segment highlights the many reasons why. The child is far too young to have the responsibility of caring for a dog, her parents haven't taught her how to kindly interact with a dog, and everyone is ignoring (or doesn't recognize) the dog's many pleas to be removed from the situation. 

Happy Dogs, Happy Veterinarians

I took little Miss Caysun to the vet today to get her up-to-date on some vaccines. It was going to be a quick in-and-out visit -- shots and then we'd hit the door. As usual, things don't go as planned. The shots went ok, don't get me wrong. But I mentioned, in passing, "she's got a little bit of mange on her nose," the veterinarian took a look and immediately said "that's not mange."

What? Of course it's mange. Mange is easy. Mange is common. Mange requires little treatment. It's got to be mange. 

Nope, he said, mange isn't raised like that. 

Crud. Which is funny because that's both what I thought and what her nose looks like. 

Because I have the best veterinarians in the world, they made a little time for me in the schedule (I didn't need an appointment to get the vaccinations, since we'd just been in the week before for a wellness check and forgot to get the updated vaccinations...). And they had to do a little needle aspirate in her nose to see what's doin'.

I say that as if it was no big deal: just a little needle aspirate. That's because it wasn't being done to me. What that means is that the vet has to stick a needle into the rough, cruddy part of her nose and draw out some cells to look at them under a microscope. Yes, needle into nose. 

Ouch. 

It looked as painful as I'm sure it felt. I had to turn my head, I'll be honest. Little Miss wasn't a happy camper. After a couple of pokes, she decided she was done with all that nonsense. Thankfully they got enough goop off of and from inside the crud that they didn't have to fool with her too much more. 

The veterinarian and vet technician were terrific. They had some squeeze cheese spread all over a tongue depressor stick to keep Caysun's mind off of the needle in her nose. They went slow and easy, they let me feed her while it was going on. 

But there was a needle going into her nose! She wasn't happy. The moral of this story is: because she wasn't happy with what went on, I need to do some remedial veterinary work with her. I will be taking her back to the veterinary hospital when there isn't anything scheduled for her. I want her to have at least 5 visits that are exceptionally good. Visits where stuff like this happens (and only this):

• the veterinarian and the techs come out and play with her in the lobby
• the veterinarian and the vet techs come out and feed her sirloin (that I bring, of course) in the lobby
• she gets to practice already known (and favorite) behaviors in the exam room and earn delicious salmon, sirloin, etc. 

Why spend time going back to the animal hospital and working on these things? Isn't that a waste of time? 

Because Caysun's just 6 months old. She'll be seeing a veterinarian for another 14 years I hope. I want all of those vet visits to be easy and fun for both the dog and the vet. And if the dog's not happy, ain't nobody happy, especially the vet because it's hard (and dangerous) to examine a dog who doesn't want to be examined! 

So it's well worth those 5 or so "un-vet" visits to help dissolve this one unpleasant one. 15 minutes here and there are invaluable for when she's got an emergency and she needs to be calm while the veterinarians and vet techs make her better. 

My vets and techs are great. They're willing to spend the few minutes playing with and feeding Caysun when I drop by. They know it's a good investment of their time, too. 

Teaching "Take a Bath?!"

I'm raising Caysun for Service Dogs of Virginia. I'm supposed to fill out a weekly progress sheet to document her progress on the many measures of success. I fell behind over the holidays. (Ok, I really fell behind at about Halloween, but that's a holiday. Right?)

So I'm filling in all the blanks about what she's seen, where she's been, what she's done, when along comes a question that threw me for a loop: How does your pup react to a bath?

A bath? BATH?!

"She's a Labrador, she loves the water" is my first response. Yes, she does like the water. But how does she like a B-A-T-H? Uh. Well. She's never really had a bath, you see...

So, guess what we're working on this upcoming week. Bathtime for Caysun. Video to come...

Fits Like A Glove

Sometimes things are just right. Everything falls into place. Nothing's a struggle. 

Caysun fits into our household, into our lives, like she's always been here. Only a couple other dogs have fit so well: Rocky, our very first service dog; and Ivy, Lily's sister who stayed with us when we did a "puppy swap" to give her some more out & about exposure. 

We've had a lot of dogs. I think Caysun's the 11th dog to come through and when it's right, you know it. 

Ike, the Labrador we just turned back over to Hero Dogs for his final training, was a fun-loving and happy dog, but he wasn't the best fit for us. Funny thing is, we didn't realize how much he didn't fit until after he was gone. The week after he left, it was like all our dogs sort of came back to life again. Lily and Nemo played! It had been over a year since Lily and Nemo played together. We didn't notice it because Ike was always in the middle, always deflecting play between the other dogs to himself. He was the main player. If you were going to play in this household, you were going to play with him. He made sure of it. 

With Baby Caysun, the feel is so right. She's not over-the-top, in fact she's the most appropriate puppy I've raised in a long, long time. By appropriate, I mean that she's not bossy, she's not too, she always has the "right answer" to whatever situation she finds herself in. Maybe an example will clarify.

Nemo is used to playing with large, exuberant adolescent males. Talos and Ikey were his playmates for the past two years. You have to be rough and ready if those are your playmates! Naturally, now that Caysun's getting bigger, Nemo's trying his "big dog" play maneuvers with her. She can hang for quite awhile, but sooner or later, Nemo takes it up a notch too far for Caysun. She finds the closest object under which she can scoot herself, and waits out the playstorm. Nemo quickly realizes he's chased away his playmate, lays on the ground (or floor), and re-invites Caysun to play. As soon as she sees that invitation, she leaps out from under her hidey-hole and lands on Nemo's head. That's appropriate: she's not a scaredy, she just knows when the play's gotten a bit more rowdy than she can handle. And she comes right back when the play is reined in. It's nice. 

Another example of Caysun's appropriateness (or dog-savviness). I've described Lily, our almost 10-year old Labrador, as a librarian with her hair up in a super-tight bun. She's very matter-of-fact: no silliness, no foolishness. She colors inside the lines. And she'd like that you do the same, thank you very much. There was just one dog in Lily's 10 years that has been able to get Lily to really let her hair down (Rocky, who helped raise Lily from the moment we brought her home). We can add Caysun to that very short list. I've watched Caysun daintily approach Lily and very softly grab at her ears. She'll watch Lily's reaction to gauge which move to go to next: grab a little harder or move toward Lily's tail. If Lily gives her a "go away, kid, you bother me" look, Caysun heads toward the tail. If Lily merely ignores her, that means grab the ear harder. (Ignoring is Lily's way of saying "maybe I'll play with you; ask me again.")

I remember cringing the first few times I saw Caysun try to entice Lily to play. Lily plays about twice a year, and then for only about 10-minutes before she regains control, smooths her hair, and regains her librarian persona. I figured Caysun had to learn, and there's no better teacher than Lily - she's firm, appropriate, and there's no way to misunderstand her! Imagine my surprise when (1) Lily ignored Caysun (she normally cuts off any invitations immediately) and then (2) when I saw Lily's ears come forward and get "that look" in her eyes. I yelled to my husband to come and look, that's how surprised I was. And giddy.

I've even seen Lily solicit play from Caysun! Now that's something!

What this all means is that I'm setting myself up for another heartbreak in about a year when Caysun's got to go back to Service Dogs of Virginia. <Sigh.> Such is the life of a puppy raiser.

Talos Graduates!

Our boy made it. He graduated. It was a given, he's a genius afterall. Well, not really. He's cute. He's clumsy. But genius isn't really the word that comes to mind when I think "Talos." 

Graduation is a big day for the family that raised the graduating dog. It's the day when it all  becomes officially official. Talos has been with Kathy since last February, but Graduation makes it so. It's a mere formality, but it's an important formality. 

It's emotional. It's funny. It's ridiculously important to us puppy-raisers.

The puppy raisers speak at Graduation. We get to say whatever we want as long as it's 5 minutes or less. When I still had Talos and thought about what I'd say at Graduation, only tears would come forward. Big, fat, salty and warm. And they were a little hard to turn off. So I just quit thinking about it. I'd figure it out as the date got closer, I told myself. 

The date was here before I knew it. I hadn't thought of a single word to say. How do you sum up 15 months of love, laughter, teaching, and heartbreak in five minutes? How do you convey the amount of love you poured into "your" puppy? How every day was planned around him? How even thinking about him leaving was painful?

You don't. Because that's not the focus of Graduation. The focus is on the NOW. The bond between "your" dog (who isn't really yours anymore, and hasn't been yours for almost a year) and his new person. How much their lives are intertwined. 

All I was worried about was getting through the 5 minutes without crying. I winged it. I didn't have one word written down. It wasn't the most articulate speech, but I got through it. And Talos shined bright up there on the stage with Kathy. 

We are very proud of Talos and the work he's doing. Or rather, the life he's living. For him, it's not really work. It's just who he is and what he does. Don't we all wish we had that kind of a job?

Talos: Graduates! Caysun: Puppy Parade!

This is a big weekend for the service dogs and Smart Dog U! On Sunday, we're traveling to Charlottesville, VA to Service Dogs of Virginia for Graduation!

Talos is part of the graduating class of 2011. He partnered with Kathy earlier this year and they've been doing fabulously together. 

Graduation is a proud moment for the puppy raisers. We get to reap the joy of seeing the pup we raised, all grown up and doing what we raised him to do. It makes this girl's heart swell, I tell you. 

For a brief part of the ceremony, each puppy raiser will talk about the experience, the dog, the process. I haven't even thought yet about what I'll say, but I'm sure there will be tears. 

When Rocky, our very first service dog graduated, I became so emotional that I had to stop in the middle of my speech. My panicked husband (I promised him he wouldn't have to say a word, I'd be fine...famous last words) had to jump in until I regained my composure. This year, I'll jot a few words on paper. Just in case. 

In addition to the graduation, there will be a Puppy Parade to show off all the dogs in training. Our little Caysun will be part of those festivities. Seeing all those dogs and pups in one place at one time will be like heaven on earth for this dog lover. 

We'll take plenty of pictures, laugh a lot, and probably shed a few tears. A Graduation Report will be posted next week, so stay tuned!

He's Back!

Just for a short visit, but Talos is back nonetheless. Like a kid on Christmas Eve, I was giddy with anticipation. The first night he was here, I couldn't get to sleep because I couldn't stop smiling. 

He's here while his partner has surgery at Johns Hopkins. While he's here, we're also going to work on cleaning up a few behaviors that have just started to deteriorate: his "get it" behavior is slipping, and he reportedly is quite noisy sometimes when Kathy leaves him in a down-stay. 

We've been working on those behaviors both at home and out in public -- yesterday he attended a meeting with me and I'm proud to report that those who didn't see him weren't even aware a dog was in the same room! Yay T!

Today we were at a taping of Chamber TV in Frederick and he was quiet as a church mouse -- even through the applause! He kept his chin (and drool) off the buffet table and out of my plate of (very delicious) lunch. 

We're heading to the hospital tomorrow so Talos and Kathy can visit -- and maybe even get her up and walking, we'll see -- so another full day ahead for the Big Lug.

For us as puppyraisers, there's nothing more satisfying than having the chance to spend some time with the puppy we raised. Talos was but a wee pup when we brought him into our home Memorial Day weekend 2009. Now at 2 1/2 years old, he's filled out, he's working beautifully, and he and Kathy are genuinely happy together. Makes my heart happy.

We'll enjoy Talos all the way til Thanksgiving Eve, when he and Kathy will head back home together. It's only a short visit, but man-o-man, does it make me happy! 

Caysun will be back with us on Tuesday, meaning she'll have the chance to spend a day (and night) with Talos. I'm looking forward to seeing her reaction to the very large, very tall, very playful Talos!

Caysun: Under the Knife

As I write this, our little Caysun is undergoing JPS surgery and getting spayed at the same time. What is JPS? Here's how a vet explains it: 

Juvenile pubic symphysiodesis (JPS) surgery is a prophylactic procedure performed in puppies 10 to 20 weeks of age that have been diagnosed with hip dysplasia.

That's a fancy way of saying it's an operation that should help Caysun avoid hip dysplasia later in life. When she had her hips evaluated a few weeks ago, her "score" was not great. Not terrible, though, which makes her a great candidate for this JPS surgery. As I was researching JPS surgery, I found a great website that explains PennHIP and JPS clearly for us regular folks (meaning: those of us without a DVM behind our name). 

Because hip dysplasia can be passed onto future generations, spaying (or neutering) is strongly encouraged at the same time as the JPS surgery. So while Caysun's under anasthesia for the JPS surgery, they'll go ahead and spay her as well. No need for more dogs with dysplasia! Especially service dogs who need to be as healthy for as long as possible. 

Service Dogs of Virginia is having the surgery done in Roanoke, VA. I dropped Caysun off with SDV last Saturday -- I won't know any details about how she's doing until I get a call from SDV. Keep your fingers crossed for an easy and uncomplicated day for little Caysun. I'm hoping to pick her up and bring her back home from SDV on Sunday.

Transitions

We've been raising service dogs since 2001. That handsome dog on the left is the very first dog we raised: Rocky. He died earlier this year, sadly. He was loved by two families: ours and the family who needed him as a service dog. It was quite a life. 

We turned Ike in yesterday to Hero Dogs. He's now onto the second leg of his journey in becoming a service dog. He'll stay with Hero Dogs for another six months or so, receiving advanced training, then he'll go onto be paired with a service man or woman who needs Ike's assistance. 

At each turn-in, I think a lot about the dog, naturally. I wonder if we're doing right by the dogs. They didn't sign up to become service dogs. They don't know that when we leave them at the agency, their life changes immediately. It's not like we tell them as puppies "This is just temporary. Don't get used to it. There are big changes for you, buddy."

My husband tried to console me with the thought that NO DOG chooses his home, his people, his environment. Neither do horses. Or cows. Or any animal, really. And he's right. Of course he's right. Transitions are just tough, no matter how you frame them. 

It's a grand job, really, being a service dog. I think it's a much better life than the average pet dog has, to be honest. The service dog has a purpose. He's mentally stimulated every single day. He's more than loved, he's needed. He gets to go everywhere with his person. And that's pretty darn cool. 

But of course, I'm a little melancholy around turn-in time. It makes me want to invent a way to communicate with Caysun so I can tell her that we've got big things planned for her. That in another year, she, too, will move on from our house (and from our dogs) to a brand new life. 

But because I will fail in my quest to invent a new dog-human communication device, I will simply raise Caysun the best I can: give her lots of love, teach her to be flexible, and to enjoy change. 

Ike (left) excels at flexibility. That dog is happy anywhere there are people. Or dogs. Or birds. Or wind. Or food. Or...whatever. He'll be happy wherever he lands, as long as there's a friendly hand to pet him. 

We bid Ike farewell yesterday. We'll see him again - we've been invited to stop by Hero Dogs whenever we need an "Ikey fix." Which makes us feel good and soothes the sting of turn-in just a little bit. 

Like every other service dog we've raised, seeing Ike with his new partner will be the medicine that will cure this melancholy. Rock on, Ikey! We'll see you soon, Boggy Doggy!