Honestly, I'm not sure I'd want to know right now. Thankfully, he's finally crashed out by my desk, laid out on his side, rope bone clasped between his front teeth with the other end laid between outstretched paws. It's the first time this evening he's really relaxed because he's worn out, and he's barely touched dinner.
Truth be told, I feel for the little guy. Our house is in upheaval as the move nears (we pack the truck day after tomorrow), and I'm restless and anxious, as I am just before every move. I'm sure Freedom's picking up on that, and it's not helping the anxiety that every animal feels when their family and home goes through this process. He's been whiny and restless himself, and has been off his feed, despite a play date with Sparky and Bella (two actually) this past weekend. While he enjoyed the playtime, he's been more aggressive than usual, and isn't eating as well as he normally does.
Don't worry, he's still gaining weight (he's at over 6 pounds now, give or take a few ounces from day to day), plays for short bursts, drinks, eats, pees and poos as he should). He's just not his normal happy-go-lucky self. He can't stand for me to leave his sight, and even if I am in sight, if I'm packing a box, he's whining and carrying on like the world's coming to an end.
So, it's pack a box, get him to settle down on the floor, then pick him up and love on him for 20 minutes or so, play for a few with him, let him rest for a bit under my desk, sneak off to pack another box (lather, rinse, repeat). Tomorrow, will be the hardest. It'll be the last of the boxes, taking apart the bedroom furniture, and getting things lined up for a speedy exit to the truck. Wednesday is an extremely busy day for us. Our schedule looks something like this:
Wake up, feed entire pack (2 humans plus 1 dog), shower and groom dog. Be out of house no later than 8 a.m.
Hit the bank, get checks for Apartment and breeder.
Drive up to the apartment, drop off deposit, then go to vet's for Freedom's shots and checkup.
Drive back down to old neighborhood, get Uhaul truck and pizza for friends helping with move.
Start loading truck. Do as much as possible, as quickly as possible.
Go to my doctor appointment in the afternoon around 3:30 while hubby finishes with truck.
Finish apartment cleaning, head north to unload truck at storage unit and meet Mom, so we can go back down south to get our car and the groceries and the stuff that goes to Mom's house for the next 2 weeks.
Turn in keys and head to Mom's.
It makes for a long day, but it'll be worth it to be in a place where Freedom has space to walk safely on a leash, play with other dogs, and be a dog. In addition, we got the great news that Tardis, Brian's diabetic service puppy, will be ready to come home on Friday! We've talked to Mom, and she's okay with having an additional pup in the house, so, here we go!
We were able to pick up some additional supplies for the second puppy this week, so we've got the leash and collar, and a few additional toys and chews for the youngest member of the pack as soon as he arrives. Freedom and Sparky will be heading up with us, and we'll get family photos of the puppies with their moms and dads, and Tardis will have a crate buddy to ride home with.
In mid-August, we'll be looking at putting Freedom into his first puppy class, and working more intensively with him. Our new place has lots of sidewalks to take the pups on, and once they have their rabies shots, and are cleared by the vet, our complex backs up to the trailhead of a state beach. Lots of walking for these guys for strong bodies and strong minds to endure the work that's been laid out for them.
In the meanwhile, we're enduring Freedom's willful attempts to deal with the turmoil in our house. Biting and snarling his way around naptimes has become the norm. Not that he's become aggressive, he's just frustrated and unsure of what's going on, and there's no real way to tell him that it's going to be okay. We just engage him when we can outside with his ball or his rubber bone/barbell and get him worn out the best we can, and try to relax him as well as possible in between box packing sessions. Tomorrow will be difficult, but maybe with some calm energy and calm music, we'll survive.
It'll most likely be a few days before I write again. Thank you to all who are reading and recommending this to friends. Your support is very much appreciated.
Freedom
5 Weeks old
Monday, July 18, 2011
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Things I've Learned From the Dogs....
We may train dogs to do what we would like them to do, but more often than not, they can teach us valuable lessons in life and love. Here's just a few of the lessons the dogs in my life have taught me:
Even when you're grumpy, a bunch of babies around you, can make your day.
A good run in the park makes everything better...
Only eat when you're hungry, and when you're full, walk away from your dish.
Cuddles cure loneliness.
Sometimes, you just have to chew on a problem for a bit, until it's solved.
Or, just sleep on it a bit...
Go for a walk, or just lay in the grass when inside is just too boring.
Nothing beats a good belly rub.
Wag your tail, bark less, growl only when you truly mean it, and lick liberally. Love unconditionally.
What happened in the past means nothing in the present. Live in the NOW.
If it doesn't love you and you can't eat it or play with it... piss on it and walk away.
Check everyone out. If they don't feel right, move away quickly without a fuss.
Dogs don't gossip. They take everyone at face value in the here and now. If someone isn't in the right frame of mind right now, they give that someone the opportunity to get there, and then they walk away. Think about how much less drama we'd have in our lives if we lived like that.
The pack sticks together, always. There is no stronger bond than that of a balanced, bonded pack.
Move when you have energy, or you'll get frustrated. Sleep when you're tired, or you'll get grumpy. Play often, have a purpose, love much, know who's in charge.
Start and end every day with a kiss and a ritual.
Even when you're grumpy, a bunch of babies around you, can make your day.
A good run in the park makes everything better...
Only eat when you're hungry, and when you're full, walk away from your dish.
Cuddles cure loneliness.
Sometimes, you just have to chew on a problem for a bit, until it's solved.
Or, just sleep on it a bit...
Go for a walk, or just lay in the grass when inside is just too boring.
Nothing beats a good belly rub.
Wag your tail, bark less, growl only when you truly mean it, and lick liberally. Love unconditionally.
What happened in the past means nothing in the present. Live in the NOW.
If it doesn't love you and you can't eat it or play with it... piss on it and walk away.
Check everyone out. If they don't feel right, move away quickly without a fuss.
Dogs don't gossip. They take everyone at face value in the here and now. If someone isn't in the right frame of mind right now, they give that someone the opportunity to get there, and then they walk away. Think about how much less drama we'd have in our lives if we lived like that.
The pack sticks together, always. There is no stronger bond than that of a balanced, bonded pack.
Move when you have energy, or you'll get frustrated. Sleep when you're tired, or you'll get grumpy. Play often, have a purpose, love much, know who's in charge.
Start and end every day with a kiss and a ritual.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
So, Why a Psychiatric Service Dog? (and) Why a Cocker Spaniel?
Admittedly, some days are bigger than others in a puppy's life. And while every day is an adventure and a huge growth step, not every day is really worth blogging about. Our last few days have been busy with packing in readiness for the move, and fighting with the owner and manager of our current apartment complex about rent, our written notice to vacate, and the dog. I won't bore you with the details, but it's not a pleasant situation, and my anxiety has been riding high the last several days.
So, since we're taking an afternoon break from training and I haven't written in a few days, I'd take some time to write about what a PSD is, why I decided on having on, and how in the world I came to choose a Cocker Spaniel. I'll keep the first section short, since I explained quite a bit about that in my first entry.
Why a PSD (psychiatric service dog)?
Until about a year and a half ago, I didn't even know such things existed. Working in a military hospital, however, and dealing with soldiers who were returning with PTSD, and seeing more and more cases of patients with emotional support and assistance animals of various species got me thinking, and me thinking leads to me reading.
If you've read my blog to the current entry, you know that we started thinking about a service dog for my husband, who has ADD and type 1 diabetes. But the more I researched PSD's, and the worse my own depression and anxiety got, the more we began to consider a PSD as a potential option for me. It was still a huge question, though, until my mom moved up from California with her older dog, Bella, who began my real conversion.
Bella is usually a sweet old girl, but at 13, she can be a cranky old woman at times, too (we lovingly call her Maxine in those moments). Like any gracefully aging elderly woman, she's loosing her hearing, her eyesight, and sometimes, control of her bladder. But she loves to be cuddled like a baby, wrapped under the blankets with you on the couch, as you watch tv. And she would come and sit with me when I was feeling particularly anxious at night, she would make a point of cuddling extra close to me until I'd calmed down, and still does the same in the car.
By February, we were convinced it was time to start seriously pursuing a PSD, although exactly how was yet to be determined. With that decided, we moved forward, slowly and cautiously.
How we did it...
We started by reviewing our options. Purebred or rescued mutt? As much as my heart is all for rescues, this is a working partner for life, and a lot of time, money and training goes into the partnership. A rescue is a huge question mark of temperment, issues, and health. A purebred dog is pricey, but you can research the breed, breeder and get your puppy at a very early age, if you choose to train it yourself (or pay to work with a trainer). Hello! New question. Do I have the time and energy to train this dog myself, or do I want to hire a professional to do the work for me? Or, do I put in for a program dog and wait potentially years and save up the thousands of dollars for a match?
Ruling out the rescue was easy. I fell in love with all the faces on Petfinders, but realized that a single paragraph wouldn't tell me what I needed to know, and I couldn't possibly learn all that dog's possible issues in a short get-to-know-you meeting. So, I started spending time on the American Kennel Club's website, checking out various breeds. Virtually any dog can be a PSD, so long as they are socialized, can do the tasks they are assigned to do, and fit within your lifestyle. Below, I've listed the traits I initially wanted in my PSD, and brought to the table while looking for just the right breed:
Size: over 20 inches at the shoulder-I don't want this dog stepped on in a crowd, and would like a dog that people will steer away from in a busy area.
Intelligence: easily trainable, willing to work, and just as willing to lay down and rest with me when I need to. Not stubborn, can figure out a solution and trouble shoot on it's own.
Coat: Not long or heavily shedding, needs to be soft-no wire-coat breeds.
Loyalty: needs to be a family dog, not a dog that will only tolerate one person. I live in a family with one young child full-time, and five others that come and go. Can be wary of strangers, but not overly protective or standoffish.
Energy level: Must be able to tolerate life in an apartment while able to tolerate long walks (no runs), settle quickly and not yap or dig. Can this dog tolerate a long car ride followed by a long hike, without bolting out of the car and pulling my arm out of the socket? Can it tolerate a long play session at the dog park, without getting into a fight with 5 other dogs?
I spent weeks reviewing my options. I looked at Mastiffs (have owned one, and absolutely loved her), Leonbergers, Newfoundlands, Labradors, Golden Retrievers, Border Collies, Australian Shepherds, Rottweilers, English Shepherds, and several others. Early this spring, there was an AKC sponsored show in Seattle, which Mom and I went to (hell on the anxiety, but a great chance to meet breeders and dogs alike!). I met several breeds, got great info on some that I'd considered, and could now take off the list, added others to the list that I hadn't considered, and met some folks that owned these breeds that could give me insight into daily life and personalities that show breeders couldn't give me. I also got to meet a service dog and her human partner, and got some insight into training, a service dog organization in the area that meets and provides support, training and social opportunities, and some suggestions about sources of dogs and trainers.
I came away from the show a little overwhelmed, but with firm goals for getting my PSD into my life. I walked away wanting a Leonberger as the dog for me, not having done my homework just yet. I've owned a 175 pound dog... You don't go out and get a dog like that without a little bit of research first, starting with finding a good breeder. Move forward 2 weeks, and about 75 hours of internet searching later, and the Leon, magnificent as it is, was off the list. With an 8 year average life span, it's just not a realistic service dog-- Not after you figure 2 years for training and take off 1-2 years at the end for old age, arthritis and giving an old dog a break. We'd barely be done with training and out in the real world before we'd be training the next generation of dog.
So, back to the drawing board, and setting aside breed issues, I'd reset my PDS goal for June of 2012, and focused on working with Mom on finding a suitable pup to round out her pack. Bella's getting on in years, and while she has great days where she's bouncy and full of life, she also has many days that remind us that she won't be around forever. We went back to Petfinders, checked the classifieds, looked at pet stores, visited local animal shelters, you name it. For about 2-3 months, we looked.
The week before Mother's Day, she found it. The dog she wanted. Well, actually, the ad for the dog she wanted. She called on Mother's Day, found out that the breeder had one tri-color boy left, it fit everything she wanted, and we were off. Bella and Sparky hit it off immediately, and Sparky rode home with us that afternoon. A Cocker Spaniel hadn't been anywhere in my thoughts for a service dog because of it's size and energy level, but Sparky sold me on his intelligence and easy trainability.
Three weeks later, I called the breeder back, to find out that she had two more litters (one born the day we'd gotten Sparky), and that there was a little black boy who'd been unclaimed so far. I don't know how I knew, or what drew me to him, but when she mentioned the black male, I knew that it was mine. I'd picked out a name for my service dog long before I'd settled on breed or sex, and I knew that the little black male, was Freedom. After talking to Brian and Mom, and thinking for a few days, we went up and visited the pups.
Let me tell you, there's nothing like holding a 3 week old puppy in your hands. It didn't take very long to tell that this little guy and I had bonded. He snuggled up, and fell asleep (not that 3 week old puppies do anything else) with a happy little grunt. I held a few of the other little pups, mostly girls, that were unclaimed, but he was the only one that felt right.
It's been a few months since that first meeting, but Freedom is home now, and my life has been blessed because of this little fuzzy partner. It's not all peaches and roses. He irritates me at times and there are times he reminds me of a reticent toddler. But the cuddly naps, the play times, the times that he alerts to my oncoming anxiety attacks and sticks by my side until the worst is over, make it all worth it.
Freedom is becoming a partner for life. I don't know how much he was aware of at 3 weeks old, but he showed a good deal of connection with each of our weekly visits before he came home, and is still very much attached to both Brian and I (he's showing signs of alerting to Brian's blood sugars at times, as well). Now, if I can just get him to stop chewing on my couch!
So, since we're taking an afternoon break from training and I haven't written in a few days, I'd take some time to write about what a PSD is, why I decided on having on, and how in the world I came to choose a Cocker Spaniel. I'll keep the first section short, since I explained quite a bit about that in my first entry.
Why a PSD (psychiatric service dog)?
Until about a year and a half ago, I didn't even know such things existed. Working in a military hospital, however, and dealing with soldiers who were returning with PTSD, and seeing more and more cases of patients with emotional support and assistance animals of various species got me thinking, and me thinking leads to me reading.
If you've read my blog to the current entry, you know that we started thinking about a service dog for my husband, who has ADD and type 1 diabetes. But the more I researched PSD's, and the worse my own depression and anxiety got, the more we began to consider a PSD as a potential option for me. It was still a huge question, though, until my mom moved up from California with her older dog, Bella, who began my real conversion.
Bella is usually a sweet old girl, but at 13, she can be a cranky old woman at times, too (we lovingly call her Maxine in those moments). Like any gracefully aging elderly woman, she's loosing her hearing, her eyesight, and sometimes, control of her bladder. But she loves to be cuddled like a baby, wrapped under the blankets with you on the couch, as you watch tv. And she would come and sit with me when I was feeling particularly anxious at night, she would make a point of cuddling extra close to me until I'd calmed down, and still does the same in the car.
By February, we were convinced it was time to start seriously pursuing a PSD, although exactly how was yet to be determined. With that decided, we moved forward, slowly and cautiously.
How we did it...
We started by reviewing our options. Purebred or rescued mutt? As much as my heart is all for rescues, this is a working partner for life, and a lot of time, money and training goes into the partnership. A rescue is a huge question mark of temperment, issues, and health. A purebred dog is pricey, but you can research the breed, breeder and get your puppy at a very early age, if you choose to train it yourself (or pay to work with a trainer). Hello! New question. Do I have the time and energy to train this dog myself, or do I want to hire a professional to do the work for me? Or, do I put in for a program dog and wait potentially years and save up the thousands of dollars for a match?
Ruling out the rescue was easy. I fell in love with all the faces on Petfinders, but realized that a single paragraph wouldn't tell me what I needed to know, and I couldn't possibly learn all that dog's possible issues in a short get-to-know-you meeting. So, I started spending time on the American Kennel Club's website, checking out various breeds. Virtually any dog can be a PSD, so long as they are socialized, can do the tasks they are assigned to do, and fit within your lifestyle. Below, I've listed the traits I initially wanted in my PSD, and brought to the table while looking for just the right breed:
Size: over 20 inches at the shoulder-I don't want this dog stepped on in a crowd, and would like a dog that people will steer away from in a busy area.
Intelligence: easily trainable, willing to work, and just as willing to lay down and rest with me when I need to. Not stubborn, can figure out a solution and trouble shoot on it's own.
Coat: Not long or heavily shedding, needs to be soft-no wire-coat breeds.
Loyalty: needs to be a family dog, not a dog that will only tolerate one person. I live in a family with one young child full-time, and five others that come and go. Can be wary of strangers, but not overly protective or standoffish.
Energy level: Must be able to tolerate life in an apartment while able to tolerate long walks (no runs), settle quickly and not yap or dig. Can this dog tolerate a long car ride followed by a long hike, without bolting out of the car and pulling my arm out of the socket? Can it tolerate a long play session at the dog park, without getting into a fight with 5 other dogs?
I spent weeks reviewing my options. I looked at Mastiffs (have owned one, and absolutely loved her), Leonbergers, Newfoundlands, Labradors, Golden Retrievers, Border Collies, Australian Shepherds, Rottweilers, English Shepherds, and several others. Early this spring, there was an AKC sponsored show in Seattle, which Mom and I went to (hell on the anxiety, but a great chance to meet breeders and dogs alike!). I met several breeds, got great info on some that I'd considered, and could now take off the list, added others to the list that I hadn't considered, and met some folks that owned these breeds that could give me insight into daily life and personalities that show breeders couldn't give me. I also got to meet a service dog and her human partner, and got some insight into training, a service dog organization in the area that meets and provides support, training and social opportunities, and some suggestions about sources of dogs and trainers.
I came away from the show a little overwhelmed, but with firm goals for getting my PSD into my life. I walked away wanting a Leonberger as the dog for me, not having done my homework just yet. I've owned a 175 pound dog... You don't go out and get a dog like that without a little bit of research first, starting with finding a good breeder. Move forward 2 weeks, and about 75 hours of internet searching later, and the Leon, magnificent as it is, was off the list. With an 8 year average life span, it's just not a realistic service dog-- Not after you figure 2 years for training and take off 1-2 years at the end for old age, arthritis and giving an old dog a break. We'd barely be done with training and out in the real world before we'd be training the next generation of dog.
So, back to the drawing board, and setting aside breed issues, I'd reset my PDS goal for June of 2012, and focused on working with Mom on finding a suitable pup to round out her pack. Bella's getting on in years, and while she has great days where she's bouncy and full of life, she also has many days that remind us that she won't be around forever. We went back to Petfinders, checked the classifieds, looked at pet stores, visited local animal shelters, you name it. For about 2-3 months, we looked.
The week before Mother's Day, she found it. The dog she wanted. Well, actually, the ad for the dog she wanted. She called on Mother's Day, found out that the breeder had one tri-color boy left, it fit everything she wanted, and we were off. Bella and Sparky hit it off immediately, and Sparky rode home with us that afternoon. A Cocker Spaniel hadn't been anywhere in my thoughts for a service dog because of it's size and energy level, but Sparky sold me on his intelligence and easy trainability.
Three weeks later, I called the breeder back, to find out that she had two more litters (one born the day we'd gotten Sparky), and that there was a little black boy who'd been unclaimed so far. I don't know how I knew, or what drew me to him, but when she mentioned the black male, I knew that it was mine. I'd picked out a name for my service dog long before I'd settled on breed or sex, and I knew that the little black male, was Freedom. After talking to Brian and Mom, and thinking for a few days, we went up and visited the pups.
Let me tell you, there's nothing like holding a 3 week old puppy in your hands. It didn't take very long to tell that this little guy and I had bonded. He snuggled up, and fell asleep (not that 3 week old puppies do anything else) with a happy little grunt. I held a few of the other little pups, mostly girls, that were unclaimed, but he was the only one that felt right.
It's been a few months since that first meeting, but Freedom is home now, and my life has been blessed because of this little fuzzy partner. It's not all peaches and roses. He irritates me at times and there are times he reminds me of a reticent toddler. But the cuddly naps, the play times, the times that he alerts to my oncoming anxiety attacks and sticks by my side until the worst is over, make it all worth it.
Freedom is becoming a partner for life. I don't know how much he was aware of at 3 weeks old, but he showed a good deal of connection with each of our weekly visits before he came home, and is still very much attached to both Brian and I (he's showing signs of alerting to Brian's blood sugars at times, as well). Now, if I can just get him to stop chewing on my couch!
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Brave New Worlds...
So, we had to venture to the grocery store this evening. Pretty mundane task, right? Sure! If you're not hauling along a worn out eight and a half week old puppy with energy to burn. It's going on 7:30 this evening, and Freedom is currently tethered to my desk as I type, though why he's still tethered is beyond me, as he's crashed out, beyond moving another inch because he's so tired from his evening adventures in puppy-hood.
I've said this before, and I'll say it again this evening... Freedom is an amazingly well-behaved 8 week old pup. He's housebroken, more or less, with a few mistakes, barks and whines very little, and usually only when I'm nearing an anxiety attack, or he's really gotta go. Chewing, we're working on. Let's face it: Puppy teeth hurt like heck when they're coming in, and anything feels good to chew on when the pain strikes. Bully sticks work great for this purpose, and Freedom agrees wholeheartedly. But, I digress. As amazingly well-behaved as our little guy is, he's still not ready to be a service dog in training, let alone a full-fledged service dog. And it is a Federal crime to represent your dog as a service dog, if it isn't one.
Freedom is still just a pup, still in the early stages of training, and still an Emotional Support Animal. I mention all of this because of a discussion that Brian and I had while heading into the grocery store, leaving Freedom behind in his crate (in the well ventilated car, as it's nice and breezy and cool here today--wouldn't have attempted this yesterday for the world). I started having an attack while entering the store, and Brian wondered aloud why we couldn't bring the dog in with us, because he calms me down while I'm dealing with attacks. Simply put, while he does calm me down, according the the ADA, that doesn't constitute a working function to assist with my disability. Alerting to my attack, does; however, he doesn't do that consistently, he isn't labeled a service dog, he hasn't passed his CGCT (canine good citizen test), or his public access test yet. There is NO way I can legitimately bring him into a grocery store at this point. After he's finished his vaccines, and his good citizen test, and he's qualified as a service-dog-in-training, perhaps. But mid-anxiety-attack certainly didn't feel like a good time to challenge a gate-keeper in a store at any rate.
So, grocery shopping completed in record time while shaking, hanging on to hubby and cart for dear life and forgetting what we needed (despite the list right in front of me), we made it out of the store and to the car. I got Freedom out to go potty--he peed, and sat down, staring at me, waiting for the next fun adventure... Water the dog, put him in his crate, expect to hit the highway home... and what a racket from the crate in the back seat. I tell you, it's like having a 3 month old baby all over again!
We got Freedom out, I sat him in my lap (he'd had food and water, and peed, didn't seem to need to do anything else... figured he was hot, and reacting to my anxiety attack), and let the cool air hit him while we drove down the highway the 10 minutes or so home. Wouldn't normally let him do this, but figured it would help him calm down and cool off. Eight minutes into the drive, he couldn't sit still, kept wriggling to get down, and I knew how much cooler the foot area was, so (duh!) I let him down on the floor to cool off some more. This, is where the trip went horribly, and hilariously wrong...
Within seconds, Brian and I looked at each other, and simultaneously reached for the window button. Freedom was neither hot, nor reacting to my anxiety. Mom simply didn't wait long enough for him to finish his business at the grocery store parking lot. And boy-howdy, did he ever stink up our car in a hurry!
Needless to say, I did penance when we got home by cleaning up the floor in both the front and back seat on my side while hubby took the groceries in, and Freedom did time in the bathroom until I could put him in the tub to wash off his feet. I made sure that bath got double duty as a swimming lesson while he was there, so he'd be good and tuckered out after dinner, which he thoroughly demolished once dried off.
As I said, he's now sleeping soundly by my desk chair, hasn't moved a muscle since I started writing, and probably won't for another hour or so. He's been all work today; he's even turned his play sessions into training sessions on his own (he's gone looking for my clicker at least once so I can work with him). I think it'll be a quiet day tomorrow.
I've said this before, and I'll say it again this evening... Freedom is an amazingly well-behaved 8 week old pup. He's housebroken, more or less, with a few mistakes, barks and whines very little, and usually only when I'm nearing an anxiety attack, or he's really gotta go. Chewing, we're working on. Let's face it: Puppy teeth hurt like heck when they're coming in, and anything feels good to chew on when the pain strikes. Bully sticks work great for this purpose, and Freedom agrees wholeheartedly. But, I digress. As amazingly well-behaved as our little guy is, he's still not ready to be a service dog in training, let alone a full-fledged service dog. And it is a Federal crime to represent your dog as a service dog, if it isn't one.
Freedom is still just a pup, still in the early stages of training, and still an Emotional Support Animal. I mention all of this because of a discussion that Brian and I had while heading into the grocery store, leaving Freedom behind in his crate (in the well ventilated car, as it's nice and breezy and cool here today--wouldn't have attempted this yesterday for the world). I started having an attack while entering the store, and Brian wondered aloud why we couldn't bring the dog in with us, because he calms me down while I'm dealing with attacks. Simply put, while he does calm me down, according the the ADA, that doesn't constitute a working function to assist with my disability. Alerting to my attack, does; however, he doesn't do that consistently, he isn't labeled a service dog, he hasn't passed his CGCT (canine good citizen test), or his public access test yet. There is NO way I can legitimately bring him into a grocery store at this point. After he's finished his vaccines, and his good citizen test, and he's qualified as a service-dog-in-training, perhaps. But mid-anxiety-attack certainly didn't feel like a good time to challenge a gate-keeper in a store at any rate.
So, grocery shopping completed in record time while shaking, hanging on to hubby and cart for dear life and forgetting what we needed (despite the list right in front of me), we made it out of the store and to the car. I got Freedom out to go potty--he peed, and sat down, staring at me, waiting for the next fun adventure... Water the dog, put him in his crate, expect to hit the highway home... and what a racket from the crate in the back seat. I tell you, it's like having a 3 month old baby all over again!
We got Freedom out, I sat him in my lap (he'd had food and water, and peed, didn't seem to need to do anything else... figured he was hot, and reacting to my anxiety attack), and let the cool air hit him while we drove down the highway the 10 minutes or so home. Wouldn't normally let him do this, but figured it would help him calm down and cool off. Eight minutes into the drive, he couldn't sit still, kept wriggling to get down, and I knew how much cooler the foot area was, so (duh!) I let him down on the floor to cool off some more. This, is where the trip went horribly, and hilariously wrong...
Within seconds, Brian and I looked at each other, and simultaneously reached for the window button. Freedom was neither hot, nor reacting to my anxiety. Mom simply didn't wait long enough for him to finish his business at the grocery store parking lot. And boy-howdy, did he ever stink up our car in a hurry!
Needless to say, I did penance when we got home by cleaning up the floor in both the front and back seat on my side while hubby took the groceries in, and Freedom did time in the bathroom until I could put him in the tub to wash off his feet. I made sure that bath got double duty as a swimming lesson while he was there, so he'd be good and tuckered out after dinner, which he thoroughly demolished once dried off.
As I said, he's now sleeping soundly by my desk chair, hasn't moved a muscle since I started writing, and probably won't for another hour or so. He's been all work today; he's even turned his play sessions into training sessions on his own (he's gone looking for my clicker at least once so I can work with him). I think it'll be a quiet day tomorrow.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Let Freedom Ring... (or in this case, howl)
Our big news of the day is that we've found a new apartment, about 20 miles closer to my mom's place, which cuts our trip time in half, not to mention the cost of gas for our frequent trips up there. Looks like we'll be moving at the end of the month, in increments, as the new place doesn't open up until the 5th of August, and we're hoping to be out of this place by the end of July. Anyway I look at it, I'll just be glad to be out of this place. Even though the management here cannot deny me the dog because he's medically prescribed, they let me know in no uncertain terms that the dog is unwelcome here. I'm somehow supposed to make him "invisible"... How exactly I'm supposed to train a service dog while doing this, is beyond me, and to do so simply for the convenience of the manager, is rather a put off to me. Not to mention, it sent my anxiety through the roof, as I now worry every time we take Freedom out who's outside, who's watching, how fast I can get him in the car, etc. Rather counter-productive to the whole purpose of the dog...
So, the move we'd planned for September, has been pushed up to this month instead. By the way... I hate moving. But our daughter is in California, enjoying a much deserved break with her grandparents, cousins and brothers and sister down there for the rest of the summer, so there's one less thing to stress about!
Freedom's been making progress in more than just his physical size. He's been proving his mental growth as well. We've been doing short clicker training sessions as well, working with "heel", "come", "sit", "down", and "leave it", hitting about a 75% success rate. He loves his treats! He also had his first water play time last night... an experience that he could have passed on, if you'd asked him, but he tolerated it, and my holding him just above the water, with only his paws under the surface so that he could paddle. It's good exercise, and it helps cool him off when the weather is like it is again today. Up here in the Northwest, most places don't have A/C, so it gets warm and stuffy inside rather quickly.
He's also learning to toss his bully spring around. For those who aren't familiar with these dog chews, they are a variation of the bully stick, a long strip of beef tendon that's been sterilized and dried, and in the case of the spring, it's been dried in a long, loose coil that the dog can chew, and toss around. It goes everywhere with our little guy... he chews it, falls asleep with it, entertains himself with it when I'm reading or on the computer. It's the next best thing to Mom when his teeth are hurting (not that I generally allow him chewing on me -- he likes to sneak up on toes and earlobes when I'm asleep on the couch!).
He's also started alerting to my anxiety attacks. He has taken to whining, scratching, and howling when he's kept away from me and can't get to me, roughly 5 minutes before an attack strikes. The pattern started becoming noticeable today in the car on our way up to talk to the management at the new apartment. Freedom is generally pretty quiet in the car, sleeping in his crate for the entire ride. But today, about half-way there, he pitched a fit, making us think perhaps he had to go potty, and that we'd arrive to find a mess in his crate. Within 5 minutes, I had the awful tightness in my chest, and all the other lovely symptoms (said with utmost sarcasm, here) that attend an attack, and Freedom's crate was dry when we arrived. He's gone through these motions at least 3 other times just before my having an attack, leading us to think that perhaps he's already picked up on the changes. This is part of what having a PSD is about.
We've also started kicking around the idea of training Freedom to navigate me out of a crowd or store via pulling harness. Yes, he'll only be about 25-30 pounds at most, but when my attacks are at their worst in a crowd, my mind shuts down, and I will follow gentle pressure. Brian (my hubby) agrees that this might not be a bad thing, as Freedom will most likely be able to find the shortest way out faster than he could. It's a big maybe right now, but it's not ruled out just yet.
For now, I have a floppy-eared, goofy black puppy that's smart and talented, and has grown very bonded to me, and reads my signals better than anyone else I've ever known. I can't say that I regret bringing this little guy into my life for even one moment.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
The Journey Begins...
Let me introduce our "pack" before diving into the journey itself. Our human pack is made up of myself (Jenn), my husband (Brian), our 6 year old daughter (Sam), and my mom (Mormor). We also have my mom's two dogs, Bella (a 13 year old cockapoo) and Sparky (a 5 month old Cocker Spaniel boy). Mom lives about 40 miles away presently, but we're working on shortening that gap in the next few weeks.
I've always suffered with anxiety and depression with varying degrees of severity, but the past 2 years, it's gotten progressively worse, to the point of being classified as disabled. My husband is a type 1 diabetic, and about 2 years ago, I'd started reading about diabetic alert dogs/diabetic service dogs, and we became interested in getting and training one for him. When my anxiety and depression got to the breaking point last year, I stumbled across Psychiatric Service Dogs as both therapy and assistance for those who suffer with debilitating mental illnesses, and began researching this for myself.
Still a bit dubious as to the viability of a PSD for myself, my mom moved to Washington in October of last year with Bella, and we began to notice things right away, such as how much calmer I was when I spent time at Mom's house, and how Bella would react to my impending attacks by climbing into my lap, or pressing up against me in the car when I'd get nervous (also known as "alerting"). I had fewer severe migraines (which generally followed my panic attacks, and lasted for days) as well, when around the dog.
Fast forward a few months, and around March, we decided to ramp up our schedule on my obtaining a puppy for the purposes of training as a PSD. I read everything I could find on the subject, and am still doing my research, even now that my puppy has come home. I read on all my potential breed choices, went to the local AKC dog show, and talked to breeders, and met some of the breeds I was considering. Oddly enough, it was a breed I had not considered -- the American Cocker Spaniel -- that I ended up buying for my pup. Mom had bought from an experienced breeder, and the puppy she got was lively, healthy, smart, and very trainable. He also alerts when I'm beginning to have an attack, and gets me out of the house for the exercise I desperately need to control my depression.
Freedom, my little black Am. Cocker Spaniel pup, was born on Mother's Day, 2011, the day my mom bought her little guy, so there is exactly 11 weeks difference in age between the two boys. I went to meet my boy three weeks later, when we also met a hapless girl Cocker who'd been returned to the breeder for reasons unknown, the former owners swearing she couldn't possibly be pregnant (her bulging belly and swollen nipples telling a very different story).
Freedom and I bonded instantly, and we made the weekly 90 minute (one way!) trek up to see Freedom until last Friday when the breeder said he was finally old enough to come home. The Friday before my birthday, however, we were talking to our now-dear friend, Peggy, who breeds these wonderful animals, about what Brian is looking for as far as color, sex and temperament in his dog, and she mentioned that the lovely returned girl had her pups (half Cocker, half Cavalier King Charles Spaniel). One of the boys is the perfect color, will be a perfect size, and should have the perfect blend for the right personality. Bingo! My darling hubby, being a Dr. Who fan, has named his little bundle Tardis. More on him in another post... *grins*
Freedom has been home for a week and a half now, and is moving along beautifully. He's already progressing on the leash, learning to sit on command, working on "down", crate trained, mostly potty trained (he gets excited, he's 8 weeks old... mistakes do happen!), and we've been taking him to see apartments with us, with great success. He's loving the car rides, and is starting to try to get into the car, but with 4 inch long legs, it's mostly Momma lifting him up, after an unsuccessful attempt.
Last night was his first real trial by fire, pardon the pun. The 4th of July is about the worst possible night for me in the whole year. Freedom, poor thing, couldn't keep his eyes open any longer, despite his best efforts, and stayed perfectly calm through all the bangs, whistles, booms and cracks that had me cringing and crying on the couch. This morning, however, he's refusing to leave my side, my feet, or anywhere close to me. Even his favorite breakfast has barely been touched. He'll train with me, play with me, potty and poo, so I know he's not sick, he's just starting to show he's a working dog, something he's known he was going to be since he was 3 weeks old. Even now, he's laid out on his back, sleeping like a log. But I know that if I move and get up, he'll be on his feet, and right behind me every step of the way. That is how he is, and has been, since I brought him home 10 days ago.
I've always suffered with anxiety and depression with varying degrees of severity, but the past 2 years, it's gotten progressively worse, to the point of being classified as disabled. My husband is a type 1 diabetic, and about 2 years ago, I'd started reading about diabetic alert dogs/diabetic service dogs, and we became interested in getting and training one for him. When my anxiety and depression got to the breaking point last year, I stumbled across Psychiatric Service Dogs as both therapy and assistance for those who suffer with debilitating mental illnesses, and began researching this for myself.
Still a bit dubious as to the viability of a PSD for myself, my mom moved to Washington in October of last year with Bella, and we began to notice things right away, such as how much calmer I was when I spent time at Mom's house, and how Bella would react to my impending attacks by climbing into my lap, or pressing up against me in the car when I'd get nervous (also known as "alerting"). I had fewer severe migraines (which generally followed my panic attacks, and lasted for days) as well, when around the dog.
Fast forward a few months, and around March, we decided to ramp up our schedule on my obtaining a puppy for the purposes of training as a PSD. I read everything I could find on the subject, and am still doing my research, even now that my puppy has come home. I read on all my potential breed choices, went to the local AKC dog show, and talked to breeders, and met some of the breeds I was considering. Oddly enough, it was a breed I had not considered -- the American Cocker Spaniel -- that I ended up buying for my pup. Mom had bought from an experienced breeder, and the puppy she got was lively, healthy, smart, and very trainable. He also alerts when I'm beginning to have an attack, and gets me out of the house for the exercise I desperately need to control my depression.
Freedom, my little black Am. Cocker Spaniel pup, was born on Mother's Day, 2011, the day my mom bought her little guy, so there is exactly 11 weeks difference in age between the two boys. I went to meet my boy three weeks later, when we also met a hapless girl Cocker who'd been returned to the breeder for reasons unknown, the former owners swearing she couldn't possibly be pregnant (her bulging belly and swollen nipples telling a very different story).
Freedom and I bonded instantly, and we made the weekly 90 minute (one way!) trek up to see Freedom until last Friday when the breeder said he was finally old enough to come home. The Friday before my birthday, however, we were talking to our now-dear friend, Peggy, who breeds these wonderful animals, about what Brian is looking for as far as color, sex and temperament in his dog, and she mentioned that the lovely returned girl had her pups (half Cocker, half Cavalier King Charles Spaniel). One of the boys is the perfect color, will be a perfect size, and should have the perfect blend for the right personality. Bingo! My darling hubby, being a Dr. Who fan, has named his little bundle Tardis. More on him in another post... *grins*
Freedom has been home for a week and a half now, and is moving along beautifully. He's already progressing on the leash, learning to sit on command, working on "down", crate trained, mostly potty trained (he gets excited, he's 8 weeks old... mistakes do happen!), and we've been taking him to see apartments with us, with great success. He's loving the car rides, and is starting to try to get into the car, but with 4 inch long legs, it's mostly Momma lifting him up, after an unsuccessful attempt.
Last night was his first real trial by fire, pardon the pun. The 4th of July is about the worst possible night for me in the whole year. Freedom, poor thing, couldn't keep his eyes open any longer, despite his best efforts, and stayed perfectly calm through all the bangs, whistles, booms and cracks that had me cringing and crying on the couch. This morning, however, he's refusing to leave my side, my feet, or anywhere close to me. Even his favorite breakfast has barely been touched. He'll train with me, play with me, potty and poo, so I know he's not sick, he's just starting to show he's a working dog, something he's known he was going to be since he was 3 weeks old. Even now, he's laid out on his back, sleeping like a log. But I know that if I move and get up, he'll be on his feet, and right behind me every step of the way. That is how he is, and has been, since I brought him home 10 days ago.
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