Surviving Bloat

Brutus after surgery, with breathing tube still in, and a foot-long incision you can't really see here.

Bloat. It’s a word that inspires fear in the hearts of crazy dog ladies everywhere. No one really knows what causes it, and it can move from zero symptoms (or ones you don’t notice) to fatal in a matter of minutes. The stomach twists on itself and once the stomach and intestines die, there is nothing you can do.

On Tuesday, Brutus had emergency surgery for bloat, and so far is doing ok. It’s very scary that if I had not been working from home that day, by the time we got home from work he probably either would have been dead or past veterinary medicine’s ability to save him. After the surgery, the owner of the veterinary hospital passed by and said he didn’t know whether to say it was our unlucky day, or our lucky day.  I replied that I’d put it squarely in the “lucky” column.

To spread the good karma around, the rest of this post is sharing my experience with bloat in the hope that it could save another dog’s life.  Pay special attention if you have a deep-chested or large breed of dog.  It’s also a harrowing tale with a happy ending, and even a bit of dark humor at the end.

Basically, Brutus’s stomach spun all the way around so that it was pinched shut and cutting off the blood supply to all parts of the digestive system south of the stomach. It also wrapped around his spleen, which had to be removed. His distressed system began filling with gasses that had no means to escape his body. The big risk is the dog going into shock and the blood-deprived tissues and organs dying. Dogs can’t live without functioning intestines.

The trigger to rush Brutus to the vet was a single stretch. He had vomited earlier, but it was the stretch that sent me to the vet for possible bloat. 20 minutes later, it would be apparent to anyone that he was in terrible distress, but thankfully we were already pulling up to the vet at that point because minutes count.

Here’s how it went down: Brutus was fine Monday night and Tuesday morning. He ate breakfast in a joyous but relatively relaxed manner with nothing out of the ordinary. A few hours later, he vomited, and there was a bunch of grass and a scrap of green vinyl I couldn’t identify in there, which may or may not have caused some gastric upset that contributed to the bloat, who knows. He drank some water I offered him, and took a treat - my first “tests” for how sick he is, which he passed with flying colors. Next test, check gums for capillary refill and color – A-ok. I gave him a Pepcid, which we normally give him for his acid reflux (he’s kinda fragile for a giant dog) and proceeded to my conference call. A bit later, he retched and belched a couple of times then seemed to recover (thank you “mute” function on my phone.) OK, time for closer observation. Then, lying down next to me, he did a big stretch, stretching his back legs way out. Uh oh. Maybe he is trying to relieve some discomfort in his belly/bowels? I decided to embrace my crazy dog lady-ness and drop my conference call on the rare chance it was bloat, and not just him stretching for the heck of it.

When I got the keys and crated the other dogs, he was ecstatic about going on a trip. I thought for the umpteenth time how I was overreacting, but thought at least I’d be able to pick up some milk while I was out. During the drive, on which I was favoring speed over smoothness of ride, he began retching repeatedly and couldn’t sit still (also thank you to my cargo liner, though I wasn’t caring about that at the time.) When I opened the back hatch about 20 minutes later, panic began to set in. There was foamy drool all over the cargo area. He had to stop several times between the car and the office to retch. From the car to the exam room, I watched his belly start to blow up like a balloon. At this point, I figured it was either an obstruction or bloat, but either way an emergency. He was x-rayed and put on IV fluids, which he would need to complete before surgery to guard against shock. Two bags took a while to drip in, and in the meantime his belly now felt and looked like a 9-month pregnancy. He spent some time pacing with his legs set wide apart, groaning, drooling, and trying to pass gas to try to relieve the pressure he was feeling (which did succeed in expressing his anal glands quite a bit), holding his tail high over his body. He spent other time lying down, still groaning and drooling.  His tongue and gums became pale white.

The x-ray had shown what looked like an intestinal torsion, which is more rare (i.e. vets have less experience performing these kinds of surgeries successfully.) After the x-ray and starting the IV, our wonderful, caring, and skilled vet - whom I am so glad happened to be in that office branch on that day - informed me that if she opened him up and saw that his intestines were dead, she would be asking us to make the merciful decision not to wake him up.  I knew already that bloat was often fatal, but hearing it out loud is something else entirely.  Of course I lost it at that point, but had to quickly recover so that I could get Paul on the road toward us and hopefully not so erratically to provoke a crash. Paul did make it prior to the 2 IV bags being done, and Brutus was happy to see him of course. Throughout, Brutus still summoned a little tail wag for every visitor to the exam room.

A bit into the surgery, we were informed that it was his stomach that had turned, not the intestine, which was the first bit of good news. It was also apparent at that point that the vet had seen inside him and it wasn’t a total unsalvageable mess.

Some hours later, our vet emerged looking absolutely exhausted, to tell us we could see him as soon as he was moved from surgery into an exam room, and that everything went ok. Part of the surgery is to tack his stomach against his body to prevent recurrence. He’ll stay at the vet the rest of the week, because it is possible he’ll need a second surgery to remove part of his stomach, but this seems to be a contingency they are prepared to deal with if it happens. Then a week of feeding tiny meals every few hours, and six weeks of leash-restricted walking and crate rest, and he’s back to full duty.

We stayed with Brutus quite a while, until we were officially kicked out so that he could go in the back and rest. Here’s the only humorous portion of the story. He was pretty much out of it, sort of aware of his surroundings but just lying there sleepy. Then a vet who we normally don’t see, but who was the one to come out to our house last July to put Louie to sleep, stopped by to see how we were doing. As soon as Brutus heard that voice, he came alive and tried to get up, and we had to work to keep him lying down and still. Apparently he was saying, “Whoa there! No, hey, I’m ok, see? Look I’m standing up! No need for the grim reaper here. Good as new!” Apparently he wanted to be VERY clear, that today was not his day to go.  And thank heaven for that.

Audubon's failure at naming, and the miracle of inter-species communication

Announcing Seelie Court Withun, DSA! After realizing that “Piper” was completely wrong for her, I started looking at bird names since she is so light, joyful, and merry. But, as it turns out, birds got the short end of the stick in the naming department… Not one suitable name in the entire Audubon Field Guide to North American Birds. I fared no better with the Field Guide to North American Wildflowers. After going 0 for 2 with Audubon and a brief unfruitful look at North American Trees, I knew better than to crack open Reptiles & Amphibians or Insects & Spiders.  Seriously Audubon, wasn't taxonomy your "thing?!"  Is it just North America, or is humankind really this bad at naming flora and fauna?  I guess waiting two weeks to name my dog is not so bad then.  So the search moved to new areas.

In Scottish folklore, the fey – fairies and such – are divided into the Seelie and Unseelie courts. Generally, the Seelie Court fey are the more benevolent toward humankind; though they are still mischievous and have their moments, they have good intentions. I think it fits, because while she is lovely and sweet, she does have her own ideas about things (and I think she’s got about the perfect combination of biddable and independent.) Some see the Seelie Court as the “aristocracy” of the fey, and hey if you’re going to be a fairy, you may as well be in the ruling class. Paul also came up with the name Seelie completely independently. Long before we started watching the TV show Bones, he nicknamed Rowdy Bones – and Seeley Booth is Bones’ counterpart on one of our favorite shows (tough gun-toting FBI guy and nerdy forensic scientist – gee I wonder why we both like it.) So there you go.

Seelie has been quite busy, enrolled in two classes a week, going to Dog Scout camp for the retreat, and we just went out to work sheep again yesterday. I am anxious to build a good working relationship, and not that great at practicing on my own, so there we are in class. I knew that getting a new dog might have its frustrations, starting over in many ways with training while I am used to Rowdy pretty much knowing everything already or at least picking it up in under 5 minutes. But what struck me in the first week was that I wasn’t bothered by her not knowing how to retrieve, or having a perfect recall – it was that I had no way of communicating with her. It was as if I were hosting a foreign exchange student that knows nothing but Japanese. What struck me next is that – good heavens – this is how most people live their whole LIVES with their dogs! What a shame, when life can be so much more enjoyable, and your “friendship” with your dog so much richer, if you just take a few minutes a day to discover the wonders of inter-species communication. 

With both Brutus and Rowdy, it seems I can always communicate with them, and know generally what they are wanting as well. Most of the time it just feels like we have ESP and is totally effortless, but really it’s a combination of having taught them pretty many words, and them learning my body language and tones of voice (and me being consistent with them), added to a healthy dose of just paying attention to one another enough to figure each other out.  I do spend some time trying not to be hopelessly confusing, but I have to say this has paid off in my human relationships as well.  For either of us, it pays dividends. Whether they decide to cooperate is another thing entirely, but I’m never left without a way to let them know what it is that I want. If Rowdy is thirsty at the training building, he looks at corner with the water bowl and looks at me, and I’m usually paying enough attention and don’t mind walking him over there. Because he knows how to politely ask for things, and is granted that thing often enough, he doesn’t become a nuisance demanding stuff or throwing tantrums.  I like to think he’s happier being able to ask, and I like the idea that he’s not just a prisoner who has every moment decided for him, down to when he can execute the most basic bodily functions.  Incidentally, this is why I find it hard to believe so many people think their dogs are "taking over" and dominating their relationship - use your TOOLS, people!  That's the hallmark of homo sapiens for God's sake! 

ANYway...  Occasionally, he “asks” to be let out back to do joyful zoomies around the woods when HE feels like it, and occasionally I oblige. And I can ask him to bring me the squeaker he has just liberated from a savaged stuffed toy so that he doesn’t swallow it (and I don’t even have to leave my chair) or to walk more slowly over the dogwalk please, or please don’t make a noisy scene about the over-exuberant retriever coming at you, yes I see that he needs some manners but can we leave that to his owner this time?  Thanks, and you're right that is indeed cookie-worthy.  What a gift it is to be able to communicate with another species, and what a gift to your dog to bother. It makes life so much more enjoyable. And slowly, Seelie and I are getting on the same page, though I wonder what she’s thinking and worry that for now she’s living inside that Far Side cartoon “blah, blah, blah, Seelie, blah, blah, blah” wondering what the heck this crazy lady wants, anyway.

Adventures with New Red Dog

   Well, for simplicity's sake, I'll keep referring to little girl as "Piper" though we are currently testing several other choices.  Too many puh's or something, but Piper just does't work for her or for me, although I really liked Pi - 'irrational, yet well-rounded' for my fellow geeks.  Unfortunately, we already have a Pie in our circle of friends, so that adds fuel to the new name search fire.  And when I say "Piper, Down" I think of Mike Myers in the movie "So I Married an Axe Murderer," speaking in a heavy Scottish accent about the bagpiper that passed out drunk at his wedding - "Piper dowwwenn, we've go' a Piper dowwwenn."  On top of that, the whole Rowdy Roddy Piper thing, and it's just all too much.  (Little girl, tell me your name!!!!) 

   Some ideas on the current short list: Sesame (Sam for short), Cyder, Nutmeg (Meg), and Kaizen (Kai for short, pronouced just like it looks: kai - zen) which is a Japanese term for continuous improvement that loosely refers to working together to get a little better every day, though it means more to me than that.  I like the sentiment, and Kaizen is one of my favorite things about my work.  Just don't tell me if you *don't* like one, because that will make *me* not like it too, and then I'll never decide.  But feel free to show support for your favorite.

   So little girl came home with us for good on May 23rd, after a brief stay with Aunt Lori and her jack russell terriers.  Then right off to Intro to Rally-O class on Monday, and Basic Obedience class on Thursday.  Of course she is a superstar in class, and a quick learner, though she is a "breed snob" and has no interest in non herding dogs approaching her, with all their crazy bounciness (though she LOVES Brutus, and he loves her.)  I'm pretty sure she was using the canine version of the F-bomb on the nutty Dachshund sitting next to us who was only loosely under the control of its owner.  Then, on Friday morning we were straight off to the Dog Scouts of America Leader Retreat on Memorial Day Weekend with little girl, Rowdy, Aunt Lori, Sadie and Howie!  The Withun dogs keep a busy calendar.

   Highlights of the retreat: little girl earned the Dog Scout title (now her name will be "to-be-determined, DSA"), as well as the Overnight Camping and Backpacking merit badges, and Rowdy earned the Earthdog badge.  We had an awesome time camping out in a tent with our friends Lori and Lonnie - 3 people and 5 dogs in a tent, plus 3 more tents of great friends.  Rowdy carried the water in his backpack, and I carried the Chardonnay, while little girl took it easy for her first backpacking trip.  [Man, camping is fun, but also MUCH improved by a little wine.  Take the bag out of the box and you have yourself a drunken-camelback.]  Both dogs were fabulous, and made it seem like we camp out all the time.  Earning the Backpacking merit badge entailed hiking 6 total miles in Michigan's beautiful North Woods with the dogs wearing their backpacks containing: water, water bowl, spare collar and leash, poop cleanup bags, flashlight, first aid kit, matches, owner's ID, compass, pocketknife, and signalling device.  It's come in handy more than once that they are always carrying this stuff (and it leaves room in my pack for less serious but still important items, like wine and glasses, and bug spray.)

   It is so great to have dogs that you can take anyplace and do lots of fun stuff with, and it's worth all of the work to get there.  And/or it's worth all of the Donovans' work in little girl's case, since she arrived as a pretty easy companion, thank you very much Donovan family.  :)  She has quickly worked her way into Paul's heart too, even though she still barks at him when he emerges "suddenly" from the Man Cave (basement).

   I wondered how I would deal with a more timid type of dog, as little girl is.  I am used to Rowdy's all-in kind of personality.  For better or worse, he's always up for whatever I throw at him, enjoys any activity, and seems to excel at everything.  With relatively little training/encouragement, he was an Earthdog.  Down into the tunnel, crawling about ten feet to a left turn in the dark, then 8 more feet to where the rat was (safely contained), and "working the rat" for 15 seconds to earn the badge.  His version of "working" was furiously digging and whining at the bars that separated him from the rat.  I think when he realized I *wanted* him to dig and try to get the rodent, I got yet another shade cooler in his eyes - first sheep, now rats!  What a mom!  She's finally "getting it" about how much more fun that is than always "leaving it!"

   Little girl would not have been so interested, I think.  And as it turns out, I'm OK with that.  I think it would have been a little scary for her at first, and while we could have worked through it, she had a nap in the lodge instead.  I mean really, what more could I ask from her in that weekend that she had not already offered?  Between Brutus, Rowdy, and little girl, I think we have a great family of dogs with very different and interesting personalities.

   This weekend, I got brave enough - at Paul's encouragement - to let little girl off leash outside.  We had a great little hike around the property, and while I won't claim she's got a "lightning-fast recall," she didn't have any interest in straying out of our sight, and at this point, I'll take it.  Being able to just open the back door and walk out unleashed into the woods is wonderful.

Simon Cowell and Basic Obedience Class: the examined life

   Piper came home today, forever!  She is a wonderful little creature, and it's as if she has always been a part of our family.  More about her as she gets settled in, and I see if I am up to sticking to the training plan (yes, plan!) I've made for us.  The clicker and a dream, and a dear sweet little bird, my Piper.

   Oddly, why I love American Idol is the same reason why Piper will attend a Basic Obedience and Manners class. 

   The reality TV I've seen can be divided into two categories: 1) infomercial, and 2) learning experience.  Take the Dog Whisperer for instance.  Which I watch occasionally, out of curiosity.  The performer = the narrator = the judge of how the performance goes.  Highly edited.  Cesar Millan tells you what needs to be done, does it, and then tells you how well it was done.  He chooses canine body language that his training methods elicit, and he holds these up as the standard ("Calm Submissive" and/or "intimidated into non-action" depending on your interpretation, but viewers are only given Cesar's interpretation....if you want another opinion, you're going to have to find it elsewhere.)  Not a surprise that each "solution" he provides is a grand triumph...when he's writing the test questions and the score sheets, and any clips that don't fit end up on the cutting room floor.  Some of his work on the show is great, some is OK, and some is absolutely revolting - but in the show, all are gospel.  And it will remain as-is, static, status quo, show after show.  Message: he's fabulous, what's to improve?  Remove Cesar Millan, replace with ShamWow, and you have yourself an infomercial complete with (only) glowing testimonials.  Though I hate to cast dispersions on the ShamWow, which by all accounts is a lovely product.  Plus no one's hiding the fact that they're trying to SELL you the ShamWow. 

   Contrast with American Idol, or any of the reality shows where there is a panel of evaluators, that are filmed live.  This is the kind I'm addicted to, now that Tivo allows me to follow the story without being a slave to the TV Guide.  You get to watch someone do something, then get to hear several differing, objective evaluations by experts in the field.  No editing, no time for everyone to get on the same page.  FAR more interesting, seeing the whole picture.  There may not be any REASON for me to be able to tell a fabulous Tango from a mediocre one, or to know if a singer was "pitchy" but hey, I like learning, and I enjoy honing my observation skills.  And if I'm going to learn, I'm not going to take the actor's/ singer's/ dancer's/ trainer's word for it.  Nor should I.  It really doesn't matter how great a performer Cesar Millan is, or not - but the life left unexamined is lacking in richness, and lacking in learning.  It is unidimensional and boring.  Now, add Dr. Sophia Yin's commentary on Dog Whisperer video clips, and now you've got something - http://www.askdryin.com/dominance.php  - performance AND objective evaluation!  Pros and cons, things to look for as an informed viewer.  If you aren't interested in all this, just stick to NCIS, because fiction gets to do whatever it wants, and NCIS is great fiction.

   Which leads me to two truths (in my view):  First - The examined life is a better life.  That is, if you're interested at all in being a better, smarter, and more capable person tomorrow than you are today.  Objective observation and feedback are absolutely crucial to learning how to do something, or how to do it better.  While I have taught the curriculum of the Basic class to many students, I will still benefit greatly from having the wonderful Sue lead us in our exercises, encourage us, observe Piper and I with an educated eye, and provide vital feedback.  One just CANNOT be both doer and observer/evaluator and expect to expand one's horizons.  I've come to believe that those that solicit and act on feedback are in a very separate category than those who do not - and are capable of so much more.  Individuals who take on mentors and solicit feedback from their employees, coworkers, and bosses are consistently better at their jobs.

Piper, doing some examination of her own...

   Second truth:  It's good to see real and genuine emotion in others.  Fear, trepidation, gratitude, enjoyment, bitterness, triumph.  These are so apparent on the faces of the Idol contestants, as they make their larger-than-life journeys.  Sometimes their expressions and words do not flatter them, but as real-time (or DVRed) viewers we are not shielded from this humanity.  And... I LOVE this part - jerks get voted out.  As it turns out, people don't like those who are petty, spiteful, and ungrateful.  And we get to see these kids free of the repackaging and merchandising of more established celebrities.  Season after season, we raise up those that are gracious, humble, and worthy in all their uncut glory.  If only the rest of life were so fair.  Possibly, if we had more panel discussions and took on more mentors...

Hell is a Pampered Chef party where you don't know anyone

   It's interesting how studying canine behavior makes you more tuned-in to human behavior.  The "dog-people" I know are also some of the most self-aware and empathetic.  There are studies that show that as you learn canine body language and facial expressions, you are better able to interpret people's emotions based on expressions and body language (and vice-versa, but oddly I think more people start with dogs) - and that with both, once you are able to see it, you cannot "un-see" it.  You learn to tune in, and you train yourself to stop looking past it.  For better or worse, this skill is yours forever.  It's why I have a hard time watching The Dog Whisperer on TV, and enduring "come to Jesus" meetings at work, but that's another post...

   Here is an always-in-progress study on me, appropriate for my journal, and I guess for you too since I've had two glasses of Shiraz: 
   I always thought of myself as more of a cattle dog - secure in the world, no fears, no baggage, confronting the world with a "Yes! Let's do that!  The whole world is awesome, and I can deal with whatever comes!" attitude.  And to an extent, this is true.  However, as I contemplate my pending border collie ownership, it seems I have a little BC as well, in the form of weird phobias.  I hope that like the border collie, I remain lovable in my weirdness, somehow still not fragile for my faults, and have other gifts that make hanging out with me worthwhile.  I'd better not get a Anatolian Shepherd, because that's way outside of my wheelhouse.

   I am easygoing, tolerant, affiliative, and calm in the face of adversity.  In fact, I am so calm in the face of adversity, I now recognize shades of the shutting down and super-slow-mo that dogs go into when they are over the threshold at which they can effectively cope with a situation.  Strangely, I think people mis-interpret it the same way as with dogs that have shut down (usually from constant punishment) - lovely behavior, with no indication of an issue.  Polite.  Reserved.  Good for me most of the time - it's generally nice for people to think you are unflappable.  I can't recall that last time I was "flapped," if that's even a word.  To strangers I am generally quite kind, and - like many of you, whether you wish to admit it or not - I reserve my least kind behavior for my family and close friends, who will love me no matter what.  I am an unapologetic, unbridled optimist.  This makes me want to leave the house on a Saturday with no plan, knowing an adventure awaits.  I truly enjoy other people's successes and happiness, and I don't think I've felt anything like envy in a long, long time.

   Here's the thing.  As it turns out, I am WAY weird.  (And you're either saying "and, what's the news..." or "what?! You're supposed to be the solid person in our friendship!"  Sorry to break it to you, if you're in the latter category.)   I HATE the dentist.  This is actually where this started, I finally went to the dentist after I'm not going to share how long.  I don't think it's accurate to say it's fear, because I know I will be OK, but I HATE the dentist, and it causes me serious, palpable anxiety - enough to keep me away when I fully recognize the value of preventative healthcare, enough to keep my heart rate raised an hour after I left the office.  I think I may have to blame the Army healthcare system, if you really want to know the truth - a culture of "suck it up and drive on" in the face of pain does not make for a good dental visit.  I now have two more appointments (Scrape-O-Rama I and II) and "dread" about sums it up.  If the hygienist I saw at the first time wasn't surprisingly skilled at behavior modification through positive reinforcement (I'm guessing this is a fortunate accident, being praised for each bite plate), I do not think I would be keeping my next two appointments with her.  I also think that if I wasn't open to seeing my own anxiety, I could not deal with it as effectively (at least enough so that I'll actually go back.)  And revealing my anxiety just might have made the difference, in that my lovely hygienist was able to bring her A-game - and make sure I didn't leave the premises without making a follow-up appointment.  If you think you don't have something like this, I encourage you to really do some soul searching- because until I actually WENT to the dentist, I was able to avoid the whole thing and pretend it wasn't an issue.  I feel the same way about great white sharks, and being that I don't spend a lot of time in the ocean, and am well aware of the statistical improbability I will ever encounter one, I find this one pretty odd too.  Even though they DO have really, really big teeth, if there isn't one around, one should probably not be concerned.  Particularly when I kind of like snakes, and they are right in my backyard and potentially more dangerous - well mostly harmless, but more dangerous than nonexistent great white sharks.

   I am also SHY and totally uncomfortable in crowds of new people.  But I find human contact and interaction so rewarding that I do it anyway - I teach dog training classes with tons of new people, and seek out other people's company.  The classroom is MY place, where I feel comfortable, either as student or as teacher.   But try taking me to a Pampered Chef party where I don't know anyone and then heading to the bathroom and leaving me alone - if I go to hell it will be a Pampered Chef party where I don't know anyone.  And I don't need a spatula.  Oh wait, you won't notice anything because I will just be in slow-mo and looking totally polite like I'm enthralled with someone's conversations about their children (really? you're not noticing something odd there?)

    I also see it more when people are uncomfortable now.  And when they're quietly joyful, which is cool.  But mostly, dogs and people seem to spend more than their share of time being uncomfortable.  We should do something about that, but we'd have to all notice it first.  I recommend a dog training class.

Where does wisdom come from?

Where does wisdom come from? From age? Experience? Or, as in the pages of a Richard Bach book, is it already inside of us, waiting for us to realize and embrace it? It does seem like the most important life lessons I’ve learned, I’ve known all along deep down.

**Here are my earliest pictures of Rowdy, from his foster home.**

Reading back my last entry, I can’t help but think that Rowdy is not just changing, getting older, but he’s getting *better.* Wiser maybe. When given the choice, he’s choosing to do more of what brings him joy, and taking more joy in whatever he’s doing. He’s letting things bother him less, and it seems like he feels slightly less responsible for keeping the whole world in order. Sometimes he flows like a stream around the rock, rather than taking a sledgehammer to it. (If you know Rowdy, you know that a sledgehammer has always been his tool of choice.)

His constant motion has been replaced not simply by a lack of motion, but by something richer. While I doubt he is lying in the sun reflecting on his life, I do think he has discovered that motion for motion’s sake isn’t necessary, and sometimes while you’re calm, you notice interesting things that you might otherwise have missed. Along with subtle physical changes of age, there’s been a more marked change in his outlook. He is a happier and more easygoing dog today than when I met him 5 years ago, a happier dog than just last year. Though I still would not describe him as “easygoing” overall.

For people, and for dogs, there is a difference between enjoying something and doing something joyful. There’s something very work-like about the seriousness with which we go about some of our hobbies, working toward goals, planning our progress. It’s good, but it’s different from the joyful abandon we find in other things. I think we benefit from having both in our lives, along with a complement of peaceful calm. It seems that Rowdy has reached a place where all three pieces are beginning to fall into balance, with work taking a more modest role than in previous years.

Rowdy considers agility to be work, I think, and does not have the same joyful celebration in his runs many other dogs have. He is obviously having a great time doing something he wants to do, but he is also very serious about it, about getting it done, accomplishing the task. (I must admit, he is far more serious about it than I am, which I think has always been somewhat frustrating to him. We’ve been on a bit of a break from agility, and I’m anxious to get back into it – when I do, do I embrace his passionate work ethic, or try to help him share my view of it as a lighter, more playful enterprise?) Being a demo dog while I teach class is most certainly work, and boring at that. On the other end of the spectrum is hiking – there you can see Rowdy’s unbridled joy, every miniscule discovery part of a grand adventure, look mom, look what’s over here! No responsibilities, no agenda, no expectations, just joyfully living in the moment. Now add the third element – peace. Small things – a moment of looking at one another from across the room, sharing a smile, neither spurring the other into action (replacing a zoom across the room toward no actual end). Continuing his enjoyment of rolling upside down in a patch of sunshine on the floor, undisturbed by a bark heard in the distance. Watching, observing, enjoying togetherness. Taking a moment to enjoy What Is, instead of frantically searching for What’s Next.

Rowdy and I both share a preference for an active life, but more than a change in the volume of activity, I see a change is in order in the quality and nature of the activities we do together. More joy. Less requirements.

Is it possible that I have helped him make this journey? I hope so. He has taught me to communicate more clearly; to be an active observer; to exercise patience; to more often choose more enlightened and effective options than meeting fire with fire; and when his canine Machiavellian opportunism leaves him unwilling/unable to abide by my human morality, to accept and love him for the dog he is (the toughest lesson of all.) Have I taught him something, something more than tricks? Dog Scouts and Clicker training (among other things) have opened up a world to both of us full of options, where Making More Thoughtful Choices Brings Improved Results. We play games, attend classes, engage in activities where we practice this truism over and over again, with me striving to make more thoughtful choices as a trainer, and him making more thoughtful choices about his behavior and responses to cues. Maybe this has had more impact on both of us than I thought. Maybe our inner wisdom is revealed through practice.

A Pirate Looks at 50.

or, a Rowdy Bones looks at 7.  Since early this year, it has become apparent that I have been ignoring some subtle signs of aging in my indestructible, tireless cattle dog.  Either a graying muzzle is easy to miss on a red speckle coat, or I've been in denial.  Probably both.

     Don't get me wrong, Rowdy is in great shape, and I am fully expecting at least another 7 years from my little red Bones, given that the oldest dog on record is a blue heeler that made it to nearly 30.  But I think Rowdy has been moving into a different stage of his life, while I've been largely oblivious.  Time for me to evolve along with my dog, I think. 

     We want different things out of life at different stages, so why wouldn't our dogs?  Rowdy has always been a workaholic, thirsty for truly amazing amounts of mental and physical challenge.  My efforts to provide those challenges have taken us on a journey full of new knowledge, new friends, new sports, and we have a busy schedule of activities.  But in recent months (once I opened my eyes to see it) I think he has moved into a place where he'd prefer a sort of active semi-retirement.  We're not anywhere close to sitting in front of the TV at the nursing home doing crossword puzzles - but he's ready to quit his rat race corporate job and open a little bait and tackle shop by the lake, per se.  Maybe even spend a little less effort controlling other dogs' behavior even, hell let's go ahead and let the grandkids run ragged all over the park.  Some other dog can take over as the fun police.  Rowdy is taking much more interest in napping together on the couch, and sleeping in, where in past years he has not been able to lie still long enough to make it through one press of the snooze button.  He seems to be enjoying just being together with me, without doing anything in particular, which is gratifying.  So far this year, while I'm doing yard chores, after a few quick zooms, he seems to have taken over Louie's old job of pruning back plants and weeds, lying in the grass, and generally monitoring the quality of my work.  Apparently he has done such a diligent job with the chipmunks that they are now self-policing.

     For all of Rowdy's hard work, I think he deserves the kind of middle-age-into-retirement he'd like best.  I have a lot of dog activities, between attending classes and workshops as a student, demo dog while I'm instructing, Rally-O, hiking, Agility, Dog Scouts, etc. and Rowdy is my main workhorse.  Long before Rowdy decides that sometimes he'd rather stay home, I want to be able to say OK without there being any pressure to force him to attend the 4th dog event that week.  And that's going to take some doing, to get a dog ready to even begin to shoulder some of the awesome things Rowdy does.  Enter Piper, Rowdy's new apprentice...