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? . . . "

A Lightning Strike

A few weeks ago, on a leisurely evening stroll around our neighborhood, Cadence suddenly began walking funny on his right rear leg.  It didn't go away.

For a few weeks, we chased a series of red herrings, trying to figure out what was causing his gait abnormality.  Chiropractors, radiology specialists, rehab vets all weighed in, and were all rather perplexed. Finally we found ourselves at a veterinary neurology clinic last Friday having an MRI performed.

He has been diagnosed with a "very mild" fibrocartilaginous embolism (FCE).  Similar to a stroke, some spinal fluid has found its way into a blood vessel and blocked it, causing some rear limb dysfunction.  Most dogs with this condition experience some degree of paralysis.  For Cadence, his symptoms are at least only a gait abnormality when he walks, and some lack of coordination in the rear.  The neurologist thought that your average pet dog owner would not even notice it.  It seems more significant than that to me.

We're told this is about as predictable as being hit by lightning.  It isn't genetic.  It wasn't caused by trauma.  Having x-rayed and imaged just about every bone in his body now, we have confirmed that structually he is fit and sound.  Oddly enough, FCE tends to happen in younger dogs, often aged 3 to 6, who are active, healthy, and athletic.  Like Cadence.

The good news is that he is not in pain, and he will not get worse.  What remains to be seen though is how much functioning he will regain.

He had his first of what will be ongoing weekly visits to a veterinary rehab facility yesterday.  We have an assortment of exercises to work on daily to improve his body awareness and coordination.  We are going to do everything we can to get him in as good shape as possible.  We aren't giving up.

So this isn't what we expected, but this is our journey now.

Don't Stop Believin'

One year ago, after a miserably failed attempt to attend CPE Nationals in New York, I accepted with some sadness the fact that Django and I had probably competed in our last major agility event.  He is definitely in the double digits now (we assume about 11), and though he has had no issues, I know that eventually he will be nearing the end of his agility days.  I had decided to not even try to qualify for 2013, but continued to run him in the trials we entered with Maebe as she worked towards getting her necessary Q's.  Suddenly in December I realized that a) he was still running well, and b) he was getting close to qualifying.  So, we entered a flurry of end-of-the-year trials, during which he even unexpectedly got his CATCH-3 title, and in March, I decided to fill out a second entry form with his name on it.

A few months later, we were on our way to our fifth CPE National event in Springfield, Ohio, and I couldn't have been more grateful.  We spent three days playing together, and every run was like a joyful dance with a dear loved one.  I could talk about Q rates, course times, etc. but all I cared about every time we stepped to the line was his happy face.

I had concerns about running him for three days, but he only improved with each and every run.  I don't know that Django is one of those dogs that loves agility.  He likes it fine, but I know he loves me and is happy to do anything I ask.  He asks for so little, and having three days that were just about him and me was a great gift for both of us.

As we walked our final Snooker course, Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'" was playing on the stereo in the neighboring ring.  The song continued to ring through my head as we ran the course - his best run of the entire weekend - and when we ran to the table to end the course, I took a second to kiss my teammate with tears in my eyes.

Maybe this was our last Nationals.  Time has to catch up eventually.  But I've thought that for about four years now.  Who knows.  What I know is we were given another chance to let go, celebrate, and enjoy the dance, which is what we did - what Django always does.

Sick Days

I've been home sick on the couch for the last three days with an annoying cold bug.  As all of us are usually on the go all day long, this forced down time has taken some adjustment.  People often talk of their pets' skills of empathy, and how they take care of them and watch over them at times of injury or illness.  Here is what I've learned about my furry nurses' caretaking styles:

Fate: "You aren't feeling well?  Then you just lay down and I will lay down COMPLETELY on top of you and not move for hours to make sure that you don't get up and overdo it.  You just lay there and get some rest."  Like everything she does, Fate throws her entire heart and soul into nap time on the couch and does it with great enthusiasm, something I didn't realize was possible.

Cadence: "I can see that you are sick, and I'm worried about you and so I need comforting.  Could you pet me and make me feel better?  Don't stop - it upsets me.  Did you just cough?!?  Hold me closer."  He is a sensitive guy, if a bit needy.

Jade is the pro, curling up alongside me and there for the long haul.  Of course, 13-year old Jade doesn't care to move for much these days, so this pace suits him well.

Tristan (not surprisingly) and Django (surprisingly) just sort of look at me like "Well, let us know when you are ready to do something again" and go off on their own.  They at least have the courtesy to not be too demanding for attention in the meantime.

All are better than Maebe, whose caretaking strategy is to sit on my head and try incessantly to lick my face.

Meanwhile the cats figure that since I'm home from work anyway, perhaps I could start serving lunch in addition to their morning and evening meals.

Fortunately for me, my human counterpart has better nursing skills than all of them.  Hoping we all get out for a nice spring walk soon before we all go stir crazy.

Twist of Fate

Early this fall, we were talking with a friend who was contemplating a third dog, and she asked if we thought we'd ever get a sixth dog.  Our answer was a simple "no."  It seemed pretty clear.  Sure, there would be the logistics - we'd need to get another crate in the van and the house, need to buy more food, dog supplies, heart worm medications, etc.  But mostly, I told her, we have such a nice balance with our five.  I couldn't imagine finding a sixth dog that could fit in seamlessly with our combination, who were all coexisting well, and who we were able to balance our time with according to all their needs.

Then in early October I got an e-mail.  Due to a variety of unfortunate circumstances, none of which were her fault, Cadence's littermate was needing a new home.  Would we be interested?  As anyone who knows me or reads my blog is well aware, I adore Cadence - am hopelessly smitten over him - and the thought of having his sister was appealing.  Especially when I looked at her photos, with the same bright eyes and happy expression that melt my heart daily - it was tempting, but we responded, thank you, but we just can't right now.

To make a long story short, about a month or so later we were driving to Canada to bring her home.  It is hard to explain what changed, but we came to believe that she was meant to be with us.  We've never gone wrong following our hearts, and we've come to trust the way our pets have all found us, whether we were looking for them at the time or not.  And so we settled on her new name:  Fate.

She settled into our household like she had been there all along.  We have never had such an easy transition introducing a new pet to the family.  Within an hour of arriving home, she was crashed on "her" spot on the couch and everyone was out and relaxed together.

Fate truly loves life, and is the happiest thing we've ever seen.  No matter what we are going to do, it is her favorite thing ever, whether we are going for a run, doing some training, taking a walk, or curling up with a book on the couch.  Her enthusiasm is infectious, if a bit loud at times.  (We were thinking of naming her Aria originally, which also would have been a fitting name given her impressive "singing" ability.)

Having two littermates now, it is fun to see their similarities and differences.  Both are incredible cuddlers, and are on either side of your lap as soon as you sit down, each nudging an arm for some petting.  Both have a lot of drive, but are sensitive at the same time.  Both love snow and make synchronized "snow angel dogs" in the yard after every snowfall.  And, if her one splash in the pond during a November run is any indication, both will be obsessed water dogs.

They also complement each other nicely in training.  Cadence is like the "head" of the two - he is smart, thoughtful, and a problem solver.  He picks things up quickly, thinks things through, and is a blast to clicker-train as he is so operant and clever and offers behaviors readily.  Fate, on the other hand, is all "heart."  She is full of joy and never gives up and would work and work and work all day doing anything you asked of her.  They are very fun, and I am loving the different things they teach me about training every day.

So, we are looking forward to many adventures ahead with our newest addition.  Funny how the right thing finds you when you didn't even know you were looking for it.  Welcome home, Fate.

"No"

"All that we are arises with our thoughts.
With our thoughts we make the world."
-The Buddha

Pretty much anyone who uses any amount of positive reinforcement in dog training regularly uses a reward marker to indicate when the dog has performed a desired behavior.  Often this marker is a click from a clicker, or a verbal "yes!"  Many of us were also taught in our early classes to also use a "no reward marker" (NRM) to indicate that the behavior that was offered was not correct and will not be earning a reward.  Most people use "no" or "wrong" or perhaps that familiar "ah AH!!" sound that seems to pierce through all sounds at a training facility.

It seems logical enough, right?  And certainly much better than jerking on a choke chain to convey disapproval with the dog's action.  But are they necessary?

I decided to stop intentionally using NRMs about three years ago, after attending my first ClickerExpo where I learned that there wasn't necessarily strong scientific evidence supporting that they promoted faster learning.  After all, the absence of reinforcement is indication in itself that the behavior is not correct.  By preventing reinforcement for behaviors we don't want, and only rewarding those that we do want, we can effectively communicate the important information to facilitate learning.  Why bother with all the extra words?  In fact, I find that when I cut out most talking and focus that energy on observing and getting timing and mechanics right, my dogs progress much faster than if I am yammering at them.

In addition, I think many people's use of NRMs is more accurately described as positive punishment.  The neutral, calm "no" that our puppy class instructor demonstrated is quickly replaced by an emphatic, shouted "NO!!!"  And frankly I find that ubiquitous "ah AH!!" sound to be so aurally offensive and aversive that I wish I could banish it right along with all shock collars.  These utterances are not trying to provide information; they are meant to stop behavior.

But the real reason I stopped using NRMs is related to the quote above - our thoughts create our world, as do our words.  I strongly believe that the words and language we use shapes our realities, our perceptions, our thoughts, and our emotions as well.  And I absolutely hate the word "No."  I want to live my life with "Yes!"

The thing about negative speech, is that it frames how you begin to perceive and feel about the situation.  If I start telling a dog "no," I can feel my perceptions shift.  I start noticing the "bad" behavior, and not recognizing the good.  I see the dog only as misbehaving.  I get annoyed and frustrated and find myself losing patience.  And I stop being able to effectively teach anything.

Sure, there are alternate NRMs to use that don't sound as bad.  I briefly used "oops" or "uh-oh," but too often my husband would hear that and think something was actually wrong.  Nowadays, if I do let an NRM slip, it is more along the lines of "try again" or "I think you can do that better."  But really, I don't believe that conveys any useful information to the dog - those are simply examples of me being true to my very verbal species and not being able to shut up completely.

So what is a better response?  Recently I watched video of a well-known positive dog trainer working on proofing her dog's performance of a difficult, but silly, trick.  Every time he made a mistake, she cracked up in pure joyous laughter.  And, really, the attempts were pretty funny, but I also thought, what a perfect reaction.  Failure in training is a good thing!  As good as it feels to do things perfect, I am learning to be glad when my dog makes a mistake as it provides an opportunity to better clarify what it is I do want.

Certainly I don't think NRMs are abusive or coercive or unethical - I am hardly going to get on my soapbox about that.  But I do encourage others to see what happens if you don't use them, because when you aren't looking for "no" I suspect you will start to see a lot more "yes."