Hard Learned Lessons: On Goals, Fairness, and What It Means to "Quit"

"Being realistic about what a dog can and cannot do is an act of love." - Suzanne Clothier

Five years ago, I had big dreams and big goals.  I had been bitten hard by the agility bug, and I wanted to start a dog as a puppy and do everything right and one day have a world-level competitor.  I immersed myself in DVDs, seminars, on-line courses, books, you name it.  And I researched and researched and felt ecstatic when I put a deposit down on the puppy of my dreams.  When he was born, I knew the second I saw his photo that he was the one I'd have.  I picked him up in May five years ago, and haven't been apart from him for a single night since.  We fell madly in love with each other.  He and I are the same. Soul mates. We get each other, and we are a lot alike.  We set out with big expectations and big dreams.

That puppy was Cadence, of course.

Cadence is brilliant, clever, resourceful, passionate, energetic, determined, affectionate, funny, and charming.  He is also cautious, sensitive, particular, emotional, opinionated, and prone to worry.

Cadence loves long hikes on remote forest trails, swimming, running, camping, campfires, frisbee, soccer balls, chest rubs, playing with Maebe, and car rides.  He loves to learn, loves to do tricks, loves to problem-solve, loves to use his nose, loves to get as close to me as physically possible, and loves to play agility.  

He does not love chaos.  He does not love out of control motion.  And he does not love being at your average agility class or trial.

For all the genius, drive, and physical ability that Cadence showed from an early age, I struggled for four years to get him to feel comfortable in a group class or trial setting.  When I walked him into a building or a ring, what I saw was a dog who was stressed.  How could he possibly do agility (something he did love) when there was so much noise, so much motion, so many other dogs he didn't know, so much out of control?

Many times I questioned whether my goals were fair.  Whether they were realistic.  Whether they were worth it.  I saw a dog trying as hard as he could to ignore his discomfort all for my sake, and questioned how important something like agility was.

I was told not to give up. That I was doing such a great job.  That he showed such promise on the agility course.  

And I know what others who only saw him in that context must have thought.  That he was "reactive."  That I should medicate him.  Neuter him.  Get tougher on him.  Start punishing him.  These things all were said to me.  People all had their interpretations of his behavior, and what I should do, yet nobody acknowledged his (to me) obvious stress.  Maybe they also thought I should stop, but nobody ever said that.

To his amazing credit, he tried hard.  Harder than most of us would have.  If a dearly beloved friend or family member asked me to get up and sing at a public event, I couldn't, no matter how happy it would make them.  In fact, I'd probably actually resent being asked to do something so outside my comfort level.  But I was asking the same thing of Cadence.  And he did it, without resentment.  We entered some trials, got some beginning-level titles, earned a few ribbons.  I entered him for a full day at an outdoor trial in June last year, his first time at a venue other than where we normally train and trial, and he did a good job.  A few seconds here and there of distraction, but he ran each and every course with me and picked up a few more Q's.  I felt he was actually going to do this.

Two days later, life told me again what I had refused to hear for four years, but now in a way I couldn't ignore.  Agility was not going to be our thing together.  I have written here before that Cadence experienced a fibro-cartilaginous embolism which left him with some coordination problems in his rear legs.  In many ways we are lucky.  FCE is not painful, and he is not paralyzed.  He can hike, run, play, fetch, swim, and mess around on agility equipment in the yard.  What he can't do is safely perform competition-height equipment, especially in a state of arousal or stress.  At least that isn't a risk I'm willing to take.

I've spent the last year feeling sorry for him, feeling sorry for myself, and mostly feeling mad at myself that it took this to get me to accept things as they were.  He is so much more, so who cares about the agility? I've felt guilty, like this was the last desperate measure the universe had to take to get me to do the right thing.  And quit.  Quit those aspirations, those dreams, those expectations.  Quit trying to mold the dog I adored, who I never would trade or change for anything, who has given and taught me more than any other dog or teacher, and who has shaped my current life and future in amazing ways . . . quit trying to mold that dog into something else.  He can't be everything, but he sure as hell tried for me.

My regret is not having accepted this lesson before.  Rationally I know I did not cause his FCE.  But now that his physical condition has forced us to shift course, I regret not doing that for him sooner.

And this has me wondering about goals - the ones we create for our dogs and ourselves.  How do we decide what is reasonable? Realistic? Fair? Humane?  Just because enough training might get you to a certain point, is it right to keep on trying?  Should performance goals be the only ones we have?  Do we risk compromising more important ones in the process - goals for our relationships, our comfort, our happiness?  Yes, I believe that training would have continued to increase Cadence's comfort in the ring over time.  But who was I doing this for?

If I had changed course two years ago, and decided that all the many fun things Cadence and I do together are enough, would that have been quitting?  

Needless to say, it has been a year of changing goals and priorities.  Of changing my thinking about what is most important in my life with my dogs.  And in realizing that the path I ended up on, while not the one I expected to take, has landed me in an unexpected and exciting place. Agility continues to be a big part of my life, but now my primary dog training goals involve helping others understand and support their own sensitive, cautious canine friends.  And I like to think I'm better at that anyway.  

They say you don't get the dog you want, you get the dog you need, and while I always say our first dog Jade changed our lives, Cadence definitely changed it again.  Now he and I will write a different future for ourselves, and I'm learning to accept this.  I still grieve what might have been, but I am beginning to value the lessons learned.

What about you?  How have you made decisions about what is right for your dog?

New Adventures

Cadence is now well past the 12-week point after his fibrocartilaginous embolism - past the point where the neurologist told us to expect the most improvement to happen.

So how is he?

He walks kind of funny.  We've finally put our finger on what he's doing - it seems like he would prefer not to trot (he CAN trot, and actually looks quite normal doing it, but it must be harder for him to get those neurons firing the right way to trot).  So, in order to compensate, he takes an exaggerated step with his rear legs, often swinging them out to avoid interfering with his front.  I think that is causing him to walk at a "pace" (both legs on one side moving forward at the same time), and creates the impression that his hip sort of "dips" with each step.  It looks weird, but so far he is able to maintain it no matter the distance or terrain, and doesn't worsen.

He is a bit clumsy at times.  It seems like he can do just about anything I've thrown at him - dog walk planks, standing on various-sized platforms, foot targeting, spinning, weaving, jumping.  But sometimes he falls walking across the linoleum floor in the kitchen.

The toughest, and most surprising, thing though has been the blow this has all had to his confidence.  He has always been a careful guy who sometimes needed to check things out before feeling comfortable, but he has always been one to recover quickly and to not give up.  But since his FCE, he has had occasional episodes of anxiety when out in the world.  Sometimes on a walk, he will put on the brakes, flatten, tuck his tail between his legs, and turn away.  Not all the time.  Not predictably.  And not paired with anything I can identify going on with him or the environment.  This kills me to watch.

This shouldn't be directly caused by the FCE, but clearly they are linked.  His rehab vet thinks that maybe it worries him that he isn't as comfortable in his own body right now.  Things work differently and take more effort, and some times maybe that just stresses him out.  We hope if he continues to get more comfortable learning how to move again, that this anxiety will pass as well.  We hope it is temporary.

So, I find places where he can run off leash with the other dogs (legally and safely) and let him practice negotiating the terrain on his own.  I schedule hiking dates with his favorite doggie-friends.  I let him pick a different route on the trail if one feels better to him.  I sit down on the trail with him until he feels OK again.  I hide treats among the grass and leaves and let him use his nose to track him down.  I ask him to do his favorite tricks.  We bring his best friend Maebe along for support.  I give him some natural supplements that are supposed to calm, and spray his walking harness with a "calming" spray.

He'll go weeks with no episodes and I will think he's gotten his courage back, then out of nowhere will have a little meltdown in the middle of the block.  I like to think we're making progress.  I hope we are.

At home, he is still my happy little lap dog who just can never get close enough to me or get enough chest rubs, and who makes me smile every time I look at him.  He swims, wrestles and plays chase with Maebe, and loves learning.  We do mini agility courses with low jumps, low contacts, and spread-apart weaves in the back yard.  He's working on some freestyle moves, even though I don't know that I will be putting dancing shoes on anytime soon.  He loves shaping exercises and figures the new tricks out as fast as always.  We're planning on taking a nose work class this winter.  And we're still going to physical therapy weekly, and hoping for some more progress.

We are no longer doing therapy dog visits, on account of the slippery wood floors and stairs at the facility we visited.  I also don't want to add stress on top of whatever is triggering his sudden bouts of anxiety.

Fate is coming with me to his agility class now.  I admit, that was bittersweet at first for me.  I adore her, love training her, and can't wait to compete with her, but at the same time it was hard to get used to not being there with him.

I want so much for him, but I am realizing that is about me - that he is actually happy with this quieter world.  He has all he has ever asked for.

And he is still the most handsome, charming man ever.  Maybe I am the only one who is wildly entertained by watching him stand in a glass box filled with water, but to see what a character he is, watch video of him waiting for the underwater treadmill to fill.  He loves water, and likes his treadmill sessions, but he does not enjoy the sensation of water slowly creeping up on him, and does his best to keep his tail and feet dry as long as possible.  It has become a regular source of entertainment for us and the staff.  I swear he is not doing what it looks like he is doing!

Cadence's Re-Check

Cadence had his re-check with his rehabilitation vet last night.  It looks like he is definitely making some progress.  He performed much better on his neurological exam, especially the proprioceptive positioning test (or "foot flipping" test).  A month ago, when his right rear foot was turned over so he was standing on the top of his foot, my stomach sunk as I watched him continue to stand for what seemed like an eternity before realizing his foot was upside down.  Last night, he righted it instantly.  She also was able to elicit some spinal reflexes, which we couldn't before (though that may have been due to his high level of stress at the first visit).  Now that he equates rehab with peanut butter, he is a more compliant patient there.

His right leg muscles are still needing to develop more, but they have made improvement and are getting closer to being in symmetry with his left leg again.

For now the plan is continued rehab exercises at home, and we will continue with the underwater treadmill weekly and swimming when we can.

Functionally, he is doing pretty well.  Trotting at a slow speed seems to be mentally taxing for him right now and we believe this why he starts pacing, but we have some new ideas to work on that.  I'm trying to accept that he may always look slightly "goofy" when he walks, swinging that right leg out, but I'm gaining optimism that it won't really be limiting.

A few seconds of treadmill fun:

I've Got This . . .

Today I took Cadence outside to do some variations on our post-FCE rehab exercises.  I had some fitness discs set up to do some body awareness work with him.  As I had just been doing some contact training with Fate, I still had the teeter plank set up between two raised tables out in the yard.  Cadence had been doing OK walking along a plank on the ground, so we decided that if he was doing well with his exercises, we would see if he could walk across the elevated plank.  Of course, Lowell and I would be on either side of him, he would be on leash, have his assistive harness on, and would do it in a controlled manner. 

Cadence had other ideas.  Apparently bored with his exercise discs, this is what he did to my surprise, then horror, then delight . . .



After that excitement, we continued with the original plan.  Gave him a little bit of a new challenge with the discs today but he handled it pretty well:


Afterwards we did some post-FCE agility rehab:


It was a good day.

Here Comes a Comeback . . .

At CPE Nationals in June, I bought myself a silver bracelet with pawprints and the words "Overcome Every Obstacle" inscribed on it.  I thought of the training obstacles we all face, whether it is getting reliable contacts, combatting ring nerves (ours or our dog's), or keeping jump bars up.  At the time, Cadence was at a point where I was starting to enter him in trials regularly - not just one run here or there at a random trial - and I was so proud of the progress we had made as a team.  We had overcome so many of our training obstacles and in the process had formed a special relationship that I can't really describe.

Before the month was out, he had his "spinal stroke," and suddenly there was a new obstacle to overcome.  I wear that bracelet every day.

The neurologist told me Cadence could continue to play agility.  Right now, I disagree.  He doesn't have the coordination in his rear leg to safely do a dogwalk, teeter, or probably a tire safely.  But the rehab vet told us there was no reason we couldn't start to play around to see what he can do.  So we did . . .

Cadence Week 1 FCE Rehab: Don't Stop . . .

Now that Cadence has been diagnosed with a fibrocartilaginous embolism, we've been able to start him on some physical therapy, with hopes of restoring as much function as possible.  What has at least been nice is being able to return him to some activity.  As we initially assumed it was an injury, he was being rested at first, which wasn't making any of us happy at all.  This week, in addition to his rehab exercises, we have him up to walking over a mile at a time, and he has been able to run and play in the yard with Maebe again.  He even had a play date with one of his favorite girlfriends, Scarlett, and was able to play chase around the yard with her with no problem.

It's hard to say whether his gait is improving yet, but I think he has shown some improvement in his coordination.  Last week, when I asked him to walk across a dog walk plank (flat on the ground), he had trouble keeping his feet on it, but now he can walk across and even turn around. 

One thing this experience has driven home to me is the importance of doing body awareness and strengthening exercises even/especially with our healthy dogs.  All the exercises given to us by the rehab place were ones that I have done with Cadence regularly for years anyway.  So, I'm not having to train a new behavior in order to do the rehab, and I have a pretty good idea what his baseline pre-FCE was. 

Here is a video of what Cadence looks like walking today.  The very clinical term that one of our vets used to describe it is "wonky":


More interesting though, I think, is watching his progress over the last week with his exercises.  The determination on his face at about 1:57 of the video makes me smile every time:


"Why not think about times to come? . . . "