More Than Reading and Writing

Since I lost my job in late December and now have some free time on my hands, Shae and I have been able to go to school every week to help the kids learn and to work on other areas, like behavior, that sometimes give them problems. (Please see my blog post 'YAY We Graduated!' from December for more information on animal assisted therapy.) One of our 'regulars,' or kids that we meet with as a part of their scheduled classes, can use help with his spelling, so that is one of the places that we focus. See, in the pic above we're playing Scrabble! The game is a fun way to work on spelling and for us to get a little bit more acquainted, too. Shae lends plenty of moral support, just hanging around, going from person to person to see if she can get a treat or a belly rub, and nobody seems to be bothered when her large feet get messed up with the tiles and scramble all the words that we've spelled out.

Another of our regular boys has difficulty with sitting quietly, sharing, and other things along those lines. He's what you might call the class clown. Great personality, outgoing, smart -- but a bit over the top sometimes. He is learning how to teach Shae a trick using treats and positive reinforcement (he chose rollover) and in order to accomplish this task he has to focus and be calm. He is beginning to understand that how he behaves influences Shae and her ability to comprehend and learn, and he gets so tickled when they are successful that it is a HUGE reinforcer for him to remember that he needs to be aware of his own actions.

We arrive each Tuesday at our designated time, and the kids come down to greet us, as we are their guests. One of them walks Shae up to the room where we meet for about an hour. When we get to the room, they are responsible for putting out and filling Shae's bowl of water, making sure that it never runs dry, and then dumping the excess water when its time for us to leave. I usually hand Shae's brush to one of the kids as I unpack, and they often take turns brushing her throughout out visit. One of the students unhooks her leash from her collar, since we have already established that Shae can be loose in this room because it is secure. It's interesting to see what the kids notice about Shae when they first meet her: her tags, her trimmed toenails, the way she tilts her head when they talk to her. And the questions! I love answering all those questions from new students. At the end of the hour we always have some pure fun time when the students put Shae through her paces of sit, stay, etc., again using positive reinforcement techniques. When its time to go and everything is packed up and put away, a student walks Shae back down to the office where we then go around and say hi to all of the office staff.

The watering, the brushing, the direct working with the dog -- those are my personal contributions to this program. I want the kids to get a taste of the responsibility that goes along with the joy of dogs. I want them to understand that they are responsible for keeping Shae safe from fast-closing doors and from kids who run up to her too fast in the hallway. I want them to truly realize that Shae relies on them to care for her basic needs. I want them to touch Shae, and interact with her, so that they have the opportunity to experience that she is a warm, living, breathing creature with a brain, a personality, and feelings. I want them to come away from their time with Shae as better all-around, more compassionate human beings who will be less likely in the future to neglect or abuse an animal or another person.

And I want more of us to help, through programs such as this one and many others in humane education, to break the cycle of animal overpopulation and neglect, rather than to continue forever to deal with the results, post abuse, post-neglect. That's too late. Let us educate. Education equals prevention. I know the answer to these problems, and I'm working to be part of the solution. How about you?

"Thank you for my dog."

On Christmas Eve day, 2008, I started out on my regular Christmastime drive up I-71 from southwest Ohio, where I live now, to western New York, where I grew up and where much of my family still lives.

This year the drive was going to be a little different. This year I was going to deviate from my usual plan of 'just drive.' This year I was going to make a stop in middle Ohio to visit a pair who are very special to me.

*********************************************************************************************

This is Nissa. When I met her, she didn't have a name. She was just a number in an overcrowded animal shelter in southeast Ohio. I was made aware of her situation through the rescue for which I was fostering, Almost Home Dog Rescue of Ohio. They emailed me the photo of this nameless little girl because she looked to be part smooth Collie, and smoothies are my thing.

Within two days, and complete now with a name, a beautiful name, this girl was transported to the Columbus area and overnighted. The next day in a downpour, I went to an exit off I-70 near Springfield, to pick her up from the transport. Nissa was very shy and tried to make herself as small as possible as we moved her from the other vehicle to my Element. But the word from others up the line in her journey was that she was a real lover -- extremely sweet and cuddly -- oh, and also, by the way, she has kennel cough. My lasting memory from that first meeting was the softness of her coat. I've petted a lot of dogs and she is the softest ever, hands down.

When we arrived at my house, I opened the door for her and out hopped a different dog! She was wiggly and excited and not at all the cringing girl I had loaded up just a bit ago. I can't confirm it, but I swear that this change was due to the humming and singing of a variety of Bruce Springsteen songs that I serenaded her with all the way home.

Her new house, a cozy, covered crate, was awaiting her in the garage where she would be warm and comfy and at the same time she would be separate from my own dogs while she got over the kennel cough. She went right into the crate, curled up, and there began her very short stay of only 16 days with us.

************************************************************************

Vicki had been interested in adopting Nissa from the start, and they did seem to be a perfect match. Vicki waited as patiently as she could for the day that she could come to meet Nissa. We were both pretty sure that Vicki wouldn't be going home from that visit alone, and she didn't. I have learned, though, that even when adoptions feel so right, it is still, as a foster dog mom, really hard to say goodbye.

************************************************************************

Vicki and Nissa drove away together on that spring day, and they have been a pair ever since. They have taken positive reinforcement obedience and agility classes, and they are set to take an advanced obedience class soon. Madison, the resident cat at Vicki's, welcomed Nissa into the family without much fuss at all. With some practice, Nissa has gotten comfortable about riding in the car, and with Vicki's loving care she has made tremendous progress with her socialization. Nis goes to work with Vicki most days, and that is where I stopped to visit with them on this Christmas Eve.

It gave me a lump in my throat as I pulled up and immediately saw Nissa right at the door (above), waiting to greet me. I knew that she was doing well in her new home, but to see her and then to touch that super-soft coat again gave me a feeling that I can't even begin to describe. The pride that Vicki has in Nissa overflows, and I knew that this visit would mean as much to Vicki as it would to me. While I am always in a hurry to reach my destination once I hit the road for a long drive, I knew that I would be really happy that I had taken the time to make this stop. And I am.

After spending an hour or so chatting and drinking coffee, it was time for me to leave. This time it wasn't hard to say goodbye. Vicki hugged me as I thanked her for adopting Nissa. "And thank you," she said to me. "Thank you for my dog." No sweeter words could be spoken to a foster dog mom.

Christmas Baking

I enjoy baking, especially for the dogs, because you don't have to be very careful with the measuring when making dog cookies. My Girls get only homemade treats; that's not due to ambition on my part but rather because Caelan can't tolerate processed foods. This year, Pepper, my parents' border collie mix, and Cinder and Shadow, my brother's family's girls, will be snacking on Christmas morning on the treats I baked this past weekend. All of the pooches in our family are beloved rescues or shelter dogs who are living enviable lives in my dog-loving family.

Pictured above (left to right), you see sardine sticks, sunflower bites, breakfast bars, liver brownies, and salmon squares. They're made from whole ingredients and they all keep well in the refrigerator and can be stored for quite a long time in the freezer. I like to bake a bunch of batches at once and store them.

All of these are easy to make, but the salmon squares are easiest of all:

1 can of salmon, including juice
1 tsp. baking powder
whole wheat flour for consistency

Spread into pan and score. Bake for about 30 minutes at 350. When they are done, leave the pan in the cooling oven to dry the squares. Upon cooling, snap apart.

I usually double this recipe and spread onto a cookie sheet for baking.

These cookies can be scored into strips, too, which are easy and neat to carry and can be broken into small pieces for training treats.


Pictured below, you see my helpers.


Merry Christmas to all our friends and family, both canine and human.

YAY! We Graduated!

(This "news" is getting posted later than I'd like -- I was waiting for pics from the graduation party to include, but the guy who took the pics has dropped out of site, apparently.)

HI! For those of you who don't know me yet, I'm Shae, a smooth Collie, a rescue dog, and now also a certified Animal Assisted Therapy girl! Woof!

I am about five years old, enjoy chasing squirrels, eating, and sneaking up onto the sofa to sleep when Mom isn't looking. I have lived with my Mom and Sister Caelan (KiKi) since I was about nine months old when Mom adopted me from Tri State Collie Rescue. Then I was all skinny and chewed everything up. (OK, sometimes I still chew up stuff.) But when Mom saw me on Petfinder, she knew right then that I was the one. I'm a Collie through and through -- gentle, smart, talky, and beeeutiful!

Anyway, Mom and me graduated from Dogtors University in November, so now I have an official job! Mom said that it was about time, too, since no matter how often she asked me and KiKi to cut the grass or run the vacuum, we never, ever did. She says that now I'm earning my keep.


Every Sunday evening for 10 weeks, we went to school. There were about 15 teams in our class, and all different kinds of dogs. I was pretty good most of the time, except that Mom kept shushing me for talking too much in class. I did definitely talk more in class than anybody else but, hey, I had stuff to say! I'm a Collie and Collies like to speak what's on their mind. Woof!

We did stuff every week like have our feet touched, get approached by people wearing hospital masks and using walkers, ride in the elevator. Nothing much fazed me. The first week I was a little nervous and excited, but after that I would either fall asleep, flat on my side, during the part of class when Mom had to listen to Bob the teacher guy talk, or I would get out as far as I could into the middle of the classroom and wiggle around on my back, hoping for a belly rub. Sometimes I got one too! Relaxing is not a problem for me. All during the classes me and Mom were observed to see how we behaved in a variety of circumstances, and our relationship was watched too, because that's a very important part of a successful AAT team.


Mom had to pass a written test (phew! she made it!), and then we had to pass a team test in order to become certified. Piece of cake for me. All I had to to was walk loose on a leash, let a crowd pet me, walk through a crowd, stay at 20 feet for 30 seconds, come when called, take a treat nicely, meet and greet a passer-by person and dog, ignore treats and toys that were there to tempt me, and stuff like that. Seriously, I aced it. I love working and learning with Mom because she teaches me things using only positive training, which means lots and lots of yummy treats for me. Score!


Mom's main role when we're working is to keep me safe so that our trusting relationship remains strong. She can't let people accidentally step on my tail or hug me too hard or run over me with a wheelchair. If I get hurt or scared I might not like my job anymore, and Mom needs to make sure that doesn't happen. Mom makes me feel safe so that I can do my job, which is to help and make happy people who need me. Oh, and Mom's other job is to drive us to the place where we're going to work, too, although I'm pretty sure I could drive if I could reach the pedals.

We had a very nice Dogtors graduation ceremony, although I spent most of it behind my Mom's chair, with my friend Maizy, who was graduating too. Each team went to the front of the packed house to accept their certificate, and then there was cake for the people and pupcakes for us dogs. You can see the remains of my pupcake, above. Mom made me bring some of my cake home to share with KiKi. Huh? What's up with THAT!? KiKi was home sleeping! No fair!!

Dog Walking

(this post has been moved over from another blog site on 12/2/08 @ 3:11 PM)

Today was the first true icky-weather day of this fall, and I was anxious to get home from work to enjoy it. We had rain on and off all day, and the clouds hung low and dark. It was chilly, upper 40s, and the wind gave the air an extra nip. Perfect.

After getting home and grabbing a quick bite to eat, I dig out my official cold weather dog-walking coat. It’s a red LL Bean barn coat with the removable lining, and if you’ve ever had one of these coats, then you will understand how I feel about mine. The roll-back brown corduroy cuffs are about to fall off from wear, and the red is pale, but there is nothing quite like slipping that coat on, and slipping on memories of all the dog walks that have come before. Check the pocket — yep, poop bags still there from spring, when I last put this coat on.

Somewhere . . . where did I put them . . . ?? Oh, here they are — my not-yet-worn muck boots. No foul weather dog walker can be without muck boots, and these arrived in the mail just in time. The boots are a little too big, but it’s nothing that an extra pair of socks won’t fix.

Gather The Girls into the Element, and we’re off.

It’s a short drive to our destination, the series of fishing ponds, seated back from the road in a secluded area of a local country park. We approach the sign with the rough outline of a dog on it. Beneath the dog, it says “LEASH ONLY.” We drive on by.

I pull into a parking place at the back of an empty lot. The pavilion that is straight ahead is shadowy and uninviting, but that doesn’t bother us because we’re not here to sit. We’re here to walk. Dog walk.

The park is as deserted as I had hoped and expected it would be. Nobody is fishing today. The fair-weather fishermen are holed up, chased away from the ponds by the chill, the drizzle. Nice.

The air is amazingly fresh and crisp. Clean. It feels and smells clean. I open the back half of the clam shell door of the Element and Shae is right there, leaning out as far as she can, waiting for me to release her to jump down. “Waaaait,” I say quietly. “Wait, Shae Poluka.” I unsnap her leash, and lean in to get Caelan’s unhooked too. Stepping aside, I wave them out. A mad flurry of sniffing, run over here, sniff, over there, sniff, and back again, sniff, ensues. We haven’t left the parking lot.

We head toward a large field that is off to one side. This year, for the first time, the park people mowed a wide and curving path through field, all the way around the ponds and over to the river. Perfect for dog walking.

Once we get onto that path, we’re in our own world, a world made for us by the chill and the damp. A world of solitude and freedom. The chill and damp kept the fishermen home. The chill and damp gave us the perfect end to our day. Dog walking, with nobody around to spoil our fun.

Shae heads right into the tall grass. She runs down the bank and steps into the pond, then races back up and leaps through the grass like a deer. For a time here and there, Shae disappears on her hunt. KiKi and I walk on together. Shortly, Shae comes tearing around the curve of the path to find us. She runs off after a critter and KiKi chases her, but quickly returns.

Water birds splash down. Squawk. Squawk. Splash. The sound of wings flapping. The only sounds are that of the ducks and geese and of The Girls, panting. Nobody is talking, or revving the motor on a fishing boat. Peace. Nature. Solitude. A quiet mind. Dog walking.

Caelan stays with me. A little ahead, a little behind, but she mostly stays with me. If I get out of KiKi's sight, she will come tearing after me , her head held high. Beginning when she was a baby, I would give her treats for checking in with me when off leash. Is that why she stays close by? Or would she be near my side regardless, because that’s simply where she belongs?

We walk on for longer than we should, really, but who wants to leave this world? We go across the back of the park and head up a sort of jetty that is in the middle. It’s getting dark. The ducks make V-shaped wakes on the water which are illuminated by the remains of the daylight. Shae rousts a blue heron and it takes to flight with a scary, wild screeching. Once it clears the trees, the heron’s giant, flapping silhouette appears against the sky.

The darkness finally herds us back to the parking lot. Shae is soaked from nose to tail from running through the wet, tall grass. Just KiKi’s feet are wet. Shae has all varieties of burdocks and stick-tights stuck in her short Smooth Collie coat. KiKi has none.

Back home, The Girls have supper and then mill around me for awhile as I do dishes and then sit at the computer. Soon they disappear, and I peek into the other room to see them both sleeping. Shae stretched out across my bed, KiKi curled on a blanket. I imagine that they feel content, as I do, and that they are dreaming of the joy of dog walking.