dogs

57 posts

Training Corner: Appetite for Destruction

Welcome to EthologyNerd’s Training Corner. Each week I’m going to take a look at the most common behavior problems pet owners deal with and offer some solutions. This week: Destructive behavior.

It’s important to first understand why dogs chew. Basically, it’s in their genes: from an instinctual standpoint, chewing is the canine version of sucking. Wolves, hyenas and other canids do it too. When a human sucks, endorphins are released in the brain; when a dog chews, it gets the same endorphin high.

From an evolutionary standpoint, it started with bones. Bones are filled with marrow and therefore high in nutritional value. Chewing also helps promote healthy teeth and gums. Consequently, canines that were able to procure bones not only got more nutrition, but had stronger teeth, ensuring they were more adept at hunting. Those dogs were also more likely to survive and breed.

The domestic dog has a couple more reasons to chew. Puppies, like babies, explore the world around them with their mouths. As a puppy grows, they, of course, begin to lose their puppy teeth and begin teething. Teething typically occurs between 3 and 10 months of age; if your dog is older than that, there are other factors at play.

Some dogs are specifically bred to put stuff in their mouths. I’m looking at you, retrievers. Dogs like this typically have what’s called a “soft mouth,” meaning that, while they’ll walk around all day with a tennis ball in their mouth, they aren’t as likely to destroy things (although some still will). Those dogs were originally used to retrieve hunted game without mangling the carcass. Terriers, however, are born to seek and destroy. Any terrier breed, be it Jack Russell, pit bull, or Schnauzer, was originally used

IRL, he would have destroyed those ruby slippers.

to catch game and kill them. So they will delight in ripping up any toy they can; it’s pleasurable for them because it mimics the hunt.

So…neato. You have a dog that’s genetically predisposed to eating your Uggs. All well and good, but unless you have some kind of Ugg tree in the backyard, you want to stop it, huh? Well, it’s a good thing I’m here.

Put it away if you don’t want it in your dog’s mouth.

This is the number-one rule. You’re a biped with opposable thumbs, so you can open/close doors and reach high shelves. You may need to get inventive, and it may ruin your living room’s aesthetic to live for a while without those cute throw pillows, but you’ll lose them for good if you leave them lying around.

On that note, supervise your dog when you’re home. If you have to, clip a leash to your belt, or just keep them in the same room with you, door closed. This will prevent them from finding something before you can stop them.

A tired dog is a good dog.

All dogs need mental and physical stimulation. The above mentioned terriers and retrievers are full of energy. If you own a dog that is bouncing around the house and getting into all kinds of trouble, that dog is basically begging for exercise.

Aim for aerobic-level exercise for at least 30 minutes a day. If you own a Chihuahua, less; if you own a Border Collie, much, much more. Dogs also need human interaction. If your dog is alone twelve hours a day, consider a doggy day-care or a dog walker so you don’t release the Kraken when you walk in the door.

Get your dog some things he’s allowed to chew on.

Invest in some good chew toys. Puzzle toys, of which Kongs are the gold standard, are sturdy and also provide mental stimulation if stuffed with good treats like peanut butter or frozen wet food. Make sure that you never leave your dog alone with a toy that can be ripped apart and eaten, and remove any toys the dog has begun to tear up, as it can be a choking hazard or lead to intestinal blockage.

If you find little Jezebel with a knife in her mouth, gnawing blissfully on the handle (true story), don’t chase her around the house, yelling wildly. Your dog thinks this is the greatest game ever and will start to grab stuff just to play tag. Instead, find one of “her” toys and lure her into taking that; once she’s happily chomping away, praise her. This will teach her that, when she chews on the appropriate objects, mommy or daddy loves her. Also, sleep with one eye open.

Don’t expect perfection. Your dog is incapable of reading human minds (probably).

When you come home to a house that looks like meth-heads burglarized it, sigh dramatically, clean it up, and have a glass of wine. You only have a window of about two seconds to reward or redirect a dog’s behavior. So if they chewed up something an hour ago, they have no idea why you’re crying.

Many dogs chew things when they’re alone out of anxiety or boredom. Separation anxiety is a huge issue, and will be addressed in another article. Regarding boredom: if you don’t provide your dog with something to do, he’ll find something to do, and guaranteed it won’t be balancing your checkbook.

Crating with a good puzzle toy when you’re not home is the best way to ensure that your dog doesn’t get into trouble. Crating, when done properly and for appropriate amounts of time, is comforting to dogs as it mimics a den-like atmosphere for them.

Ultimately, channeling destructive behavior into a lovely evening with a Nylabone takes time and patience; if you have a young dog, I promise it gets better.

Please, feel free to share your ugliest destruction stories in the comments. If you show me yours, I’ll show you mine.

 

The Spirit of Animals

“May all beings everywhere plagued with sufferings of body and mind quickly be freed from their pain. May those frightened cease to be afraid, and may those bound be free. May the powerless find power, and may people befriend all life. May those of all species who find themselves lost, the young, the aged, the unprotected, be guarded by beneficent celestials, and may they swiftly attain Buddhahood.”

—Buddhist Prayer for Peace

 

I received an email from a dear friend this week informing me that six weeks ago, she had to have her precious 9-year-old Silky terrier – a joyful little girl named named Mattie – euthanized, due to multiple health problems. Although it had been years since I’d seen Mattie, I wept for half an hour straight. They were tears that hadn’t come that forcefully since I had to have my rescued Schnauzer Lucky euthanized at the age of 2, also due to multiple, unresolvable health problems, last August.

 

When I finally thought I had composed myself enough to call my friend Bobbie, I found that I was reduced to tears again at the sound of her voice. Then she cried, as she recounted the excruciatingly difficult journey of losing her beloved and devoted pet child. Through the tears and commiserating, I came to an insight that has stayed with me: the only reason I can think of that precious animals should have such short lifetimes is so that we may be able to love more of them: to provide uniquely loving homes for the animals who are meant to be our companions. In my case, I have a passion for supporting animal rescue, since so many are unwanted, but no matter where an animal comes from, the important thing is that he or she is adored and cared for throughout whatever time it has on this earth.

 

So I invite each of you who are present or past pet-parents to join with me in a timeless prayer for the spirit of animals, in memory of all beloved animals who are no longer physically present with us. Rest in peace, precious Mattie (12/20/01-1/10/11).

 

“Hear our humble prayer, o God, for our friends the animals who are suffering; for any that are hunted or lost or deserted or frightened or hungry…. We entreat for them all Thy mercy and pity, and for those who deal with them we ask a heart of compassion and gentle hands and kindly words. Make us, ourselves, to be true friends to animals and so to share the blessings of the merciful.”

– Albert Schweitzer


(pic of Mattie courtesy my friend Bobbie’s Facebook page)

Doggie Love!

Earlier today in the comments, I shared a video clip (link below) – Wendy Francisco’s beautiful song “God and Dog.” Since it was so enthusiastically received, I am writing a whole post around it.

First, I’d like to address the word “God” – as there was some debate in a recent post when the word came up. I invite those who do not believe in God to just substitute whatever word works for you. I would hate to have the pure beauty of this song and the point of this post to be lost in semantic disagreement.

Many Crasstalk readers are familiar with my profound passion for dogs – my dogs; dogs I’ve rescued who have moved on to new owners or passed on; every dog I have ever known. I feel a deep affinity for dogs that is sometimes echoed in my relationships with people. (My favorite people, of course, are dog lovers.)

Often, I mourn for the millions of dogs who are euthanized in shelters in America alone each year for want of caring owners. But even more, I celebrate my small victories, in caring for my dogs well, in helping to rescue dogs who are living on the street here in Mexico, in online activism for many animal rights groups.

Dogs aren’t referred to as “man’s best friend” by accident. The bond between dog and owner – I call myself a dog-parent, but admittedly, I am a little weird – can be a profound one for both participants. The relatively short life span of dogs makes the bond even more bittersweet. So cherish your doggies while you can, and adopt a shelter dog if you’re able.

I’d like to mention two organizations that you can help out just by internet clicks:

Freekibble (www.freekibble.com) and The Animal Rescue Site (www.theanimalrescuesite.com) both give food to homeless dogs across the country.

God and Dog

Saturday News: Taxes, gas, and LOLbears

I refuse to give up image macros
Picture is not related
  • A new “DNA spray” is being used in Amsterdam to catch thieves by covering them with a non-washable mist in the event of a hold-up, which is filled with chemical that correspond to a specific time and place. Invisible to the naked eye, it can be seen under a UV light, and can also be used on objects.
  • A new study by the Congressional Budget Office shows federal taxes are for the third year in a row lower than under the Bush administration, and are actually at their lowest level since the Truman administration.
  • Gas prices are at a record high for this time of year.
  • Are you ready for this one, dog lovers? Inmates at a Missouri prison taught a deaf dachshund to respond to sign language, and then gave him to a school for deaf children.

Happy Saturday, crasstalkers.

Rompies with Ruby

Ruby is very excited to bring to the world her occasional column, “Rompies with Ruby.”  She will highlight stellar rompies, exciting rompies, remarkable rompies, or just regular rompies.

This picture is from yesterday’s rompies along the Merced River.  It was hot and gorgeous.  She met two dogs, barked at mountain bikers, lollygagged in the river for coolin’s and generally had a good time.

Remember folks, treats are for doggies!

PS – Shout out to the War Dog!!  Woof woof Dawg!

The Wonder Dog

Kona at left, and Astro
Kona at left, and Astro

I took my dog Casey to the vet today — nothing too serious, just a persistent infection. While I was there, I couldn’t help thinking about other dogs, other trips to the vet, other Thanksgivings.

Let me tell you about Kona the Wonder Dog, the dog who’s faster than a speeding squirrel, who can climb sheer hillsides with a single bound, the scourge of cats from coast to coast. The same Kona who steals my dinner off the grill as it cooks, then hops onto the sofa and naps at my feet. The same Kona who bares her belly shamelessly, begging for tummy rubs. And the same one who lets me wrap my arms around her and cry into her fur, who lets me know that she’ll always be there for me.

A chunky, 70-lb shepherd mix, black and tan, with a big smile and a floppy ear, Kona is nearly 14. She’s slowing down some, but she remains as wondrous as ever.

Remains.
Remains.
Remains.

They are on the dining room table in a tin canister. Her tags, collar and leash are in a bag.

The night before Thanksgiving Kona’s back legs gave out. She needed to get to a pet hospital but I couldn’t handle it. I want to say I held her through the night, that I kissed her and told her I loved her, but the truth is, I don’t remember.

I do remember spending Thanksgiving Day at the hospital. Pneumonia. Possibly cancer. Tests and more tests. I couldn’t breathe: Friday morning I was supposed to get on a plane to California to see my father, who recently told me has cancer, a type of melanoma that doesn’t respond well to treatment, that is said to act quickly.

Couldn’t I postpone my visit a couple of days? Some friends — who know more about parents? who know less about dogs? — ripped me apart. It got too late to change plans, I was too tired. So that night, Thanksgiving night, I stayed with Kona for hours, telling her her life’s story — how she came to live with me and my ex. How we got her a sister dog. How she, Astro and I left their dad and moved to Washington, D.C.

A few hours’ break, clothes in a suitcase, hugs and kisses for Astro. Back at the hospital, Kona was too weak to walk to a private room. So I lay down on my belly on the floor in front of her cage, rested my head on her rear and continued with her story. Ten minutes into it, she turned around so we could be face to face, eye to eye, nose to nose. She was so beautiful, but so tired, so pale, so old. I cried more as departure time approached. I hadn’t finished her story. I told her I was saving the rest for my return, so she would have to wait for me.

She didn’t. She couldn’t.

Four vets worked fiercely that weekend but cancer had spread through her body. The only question was which would kill her first — cancer or pneumonia.
Then Saturday they thought she’d stabilized! She might even be able to come home with me. But Sunday she was worse. They made a last attempt while my family took me out for dinner. It was my birthday.

The plasma transplant failed. Late that night I had to make the decision. It was easy, really: Everything we’d done so far had been to prolong her life; anything more would only prolong her death.

A sweet veterinarian cried on the telephone with me, then said something lovely: We don’t put her down, we don’t put her to sleep. We let her go.

I wasn’t there and when I got home Tuesday night, she wasn’t here. Only Astro, scared and skittish and lost. She needed me so I gave her enough love for two dogs.

Death is new to me. I’d expected a constant, crushing agony. Instead it is a numbness broken by brief but painful crying jags. It’s a feeling I’m afraid I’ll come to know very well: Dad is noticeably thinner and paler than he was six weeks ago.

Kona’s presence can be felt throughout the house, as can feel her absence. Both make me ache.

Astro and I are going to take a trip to North Carolina’s Outer Banks. The three of us once spent a week there. Kona charmed all the beach boys into throwing tennis balls into the ocean for her to chase. I begged them not to throw so far. I was sure she would end up in England or France.

Who knows, when we scatter her ashes, maybe she will end up in France. Where she will eat baguette and pate while Astro and I grieve.

In memory of the Wonder Dog and Baby Astro, please hug your animals tonight.