Bandit & the big escape

I was sound asleep this morning when I felt something cold on the back of my neck, and then a warm furry head burrowing under my pillow.

That's Bandit's trademark trick - instead of pouncing on me, he tries to burrow under me. But Bandit was in his crate, so it had to be Scout.

Every morning, Scout joins me in bed. He's not normally so excited, but apparently this morning was different. I was completely exhausted, so I barely woke while he rolled on his back and licked my face and generally tried to get me to greet the day. I didn't want to dampen his enthusiasm.

But finally I rolled over and came face to face with ... Bandit!

Wait, Bandit was in the crate. At least, that's where he was when I went to sleep. And I know that I had checked the latch, too, to make sure it was closed.

Did David let him out? How late was it, anyway?

Nope, it was only 7:40 AM. David was still asleep, Scout was curled up in the foyer, Murphy was downstairs.

Somehow, Bandit had let himself out of the crate. I checked around - he hadn't eaten anything (although he did chew on my new glasses the other night, leaving tooth marks on the lenses), he didn't pee or poop anywhere, and he didn't get into anything (and that's saying a lot, because he's recently learned how to shred the toilet paper).

Bandit just wanted his mommy and he found a way to get to me.

I confess that it's wonderful to be loved as much as Bandit loves me (and he loves his mommy), but it's also a little frightening that a 10 month old Border collie has learned how to open his crate.

Now that he can get out, what will he do when we're not home? Get on the computer and order toys from Drs. Foster and Smith? Chat online? Update his Dogbook profile?

I guess when you really want something, sometimes you have to risk everything to get it. How could I be mad at a wiggling ball of fur who just couldn't wait for me to come to him? Even if it was cold, raining, and 7:40 in the morning?

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Dog Training is Cheaper Than Therapy

Last night at dog training, Bob Minchella our trainer said something that hit home with me. He was talking to another dog owner, but earlier he and I had had a long conversation about Scout's anxiety and my guilt in bringing another dog into the house.

Bob said that when you have two dogs, you need to make sure that you do stuff with them separately so they develop their own identities. Otherwise, you end up with dogs that rely on each other too much.

To be honest, I needed to hear that, because it gives me permission to love each dog separately. I've been feeling very guilty if I do something with one dog and not the other. More than that, enjoying doing something more with one than the other.

See, I have a lot of emotion attached to Scout. I got him a week after we put down our 14-year-old Border collie Natasha, an extremely emotional event for our whole family. That our daughter was in Florida at the time, and called me repeatedly to tell me I was a dog murderer, didn't help. Scout had some anxiety issues to begin with, but a month later, just about the time Cassie decided to come home, Scout broke his leg (and it was my fault). So I ended up with a 20-week-old puppy in a cast and a daughter struggling to sort out some of her own growing up stuff (leaving her on a bit of an emotional roller coaster). I was drained, sad, frustrated, distraught, and not a little bit depressed.

My own emotional issues certainly played a big part in amplifying Scout's anxiety issues, to the point that I'm constantly feeling guilty whenever I think he's being slighted. When Bandit takes Scout's toy, I feel guilty. When Bandit bites Scout while they're playing, I feel guilty. When Bandit crawls up on the couch with me while I watch TV, and Scout goes upstairs to lie on the bed, I feel guilty. (Even though Scout never really liked to lie on the couch with me.)

So maybe the problems I'm seeing with the two dogs are really my own problems coming to the surface. That Bob said the dogs need to do things separately actually reminds me that what might feel guilty for me is actually good for the dogs. That's it's not only OK to take them to the park separately, or to crawl on the couch with one and play frisbee with the other, it's good for us all.

Dog training. Cheaper than therapy.

Related posts:
Natasha The Wonder Dog: The Final Update
Posts about Scout

Random musing on having two dogs & one heart

When we decided to add another dog to our family, I knew that there would be some adjustments. I knew Scout would be frustrated with a new puppy, and I knew he and Bandit would have to work things out.

And for the most part, that's what's happening. For the first couple of weeks, there was a lot of wrestling, and Bandit was, for the most part, a big giant pain in the arse 20 out of 24 hours a day. But over time, they've started to settle in. In fact, as I write, they're both sound asleep in different parts of the house; the cat is in my office window, and he hasn't been mauled yet today. All in all, peace is reigning for the moment.

But I have to confess that there are some things that I'm still struggling with. Bandit is a really good dog. He's taking to training very quickly. He walks calmly on a leash. So far, he hasn't really chewed anything of significance (although he has developed a taste for paperback books and the mail).

He is, however, a bit of a bully. Yesterday I gave him and Scout their Kong bones and they settled into their beds - one in the living room, one in the dining room - to chew and relax. But when Bandit was done, he walked over to Scout, gave him the Border collie stare and whined, until Scout got up and surrendered not only his bone but his bed. I pulled Bandit out and gave Scout back his bone, but he kind of looked at me as if to say, "No, that's OK. I'm good." And he went upstairs to lay on the bed.

That's pretty much how they operate. Scout has something Bandit wants, so Bandit stares him down, or chases him down, or bites him until Scout gives it up. Sometimes when they wrestle, Scout fights back, especially when he's done playing, but when it comes to toys, treats and food, he relinquishes his goodies without a fuss.

Scout has always been a bit aloof. We joke often that he'd go home with anyone who had a hamburger, and as long as you were willing to throw a ball for hours on end, he'd stay as long as you'd have him.

But for a while at least he was attached to me. When David had to sleep in the spare bed because of his back problems (our old bed was the worst), or when he stayed in there during hunting season because he got up before dawn and didn't want to wake me, Scout slept with me. Not just slept with me, slept right next to me. When we got our new bed, though, Scout started sleeping in the spare room by himself.

During the day, though, he was still my shadow. He slept under my feet at my desk, was in the kitchen when I was cooking, slept behind David's recliner when we watched TV. (If the TV was too loud, he'd go upstairs; he's noise sensitive.)

Since Bandit's come, Scout kind of become like a ghost in the house. He can't play with any of his toys because Bandit steals them. He doesn't like to come into my office much because he's afraid of the gate I had to put up to keep Bandit out.

And then yesterday, he ran away. It wasn't a "I'm leaving to join the circus" kind of running away. It was more a "I really do not want to go in the car with you so while you put Bandit in, I'm going to the park." He's never done that before.

So I'm feeling guilty for adding another dog. I don't know if Scout has the cognitive reasoning skills to feel abandoned or ticked off or cheated. Maybe I'm feeling like I'm abandoning him or am ticked off when Bandit's a pain or I'm cheating Scout. Either way, I cried today because I just feel bad for Scout.

I suppose we're still in the adjustment phase and Scout will eventually work this all out. Last night, for example, we played water dog - I spray the hose and Scout chases it. Bandit hates the hose, so this was definitely a mommy and Scout time. By the time we were done, both of us were wet and muddy. And today, after separate walks, both dogs seem less competitive.

So probably I'm the one who needs some counseling to sort out my feelings, huh?

Meet the new puppy!

I picked up the new puppy today! Cassie wants final say on the name but right now "Bandit" is the frontrunner. I'll write more later about his first day but wanted to just introduce him! He's a Border collie, a blue merle. He's so stinking cute, and I think after an adjustment period he and Scout are going to get along just fine.

Puppies on the brain Part 2

So I've been thinking a lot about getting another puppy. Not just thinking, but praying, talking to the vet, researching, debating the pros and cons.

I think I've figured out why I want another dog: for a long time I've been in this empty nest limbo. Cassie's grown up, David's always had his own hobbies and passions, and over the last couple of years I've really gotten into the dog. I love training and agility, I love reading and learning about dogs and how they think and how people can be better pet owners. It's becoming a bit of a passion for me, I guess.

Which explains why I was so irritated that David came to agility classes with me. He would talk to the dog while I was working with him, and he would interject his thoughts about what I was doing wrong. I tried to explain to him that it would be like if I went hunting with him and sat in the tree stand explaining why he was holding his bow wrong. He didn't get it.

Until yesterday. When I explained it in terms of passion and hobby and interest, rather than just family pet, he understood. (Of course, he immediately started telling me all of the things I should do about getting a dog, but when I told him to stop being a control freak, he understood. Poor David.)

In any event ... the conversation took place because I found a puppy. It could be another one of those right time, right dog moments. I was talking to a breeder, Kim at Gentle Shepherd Farms, about new born puppies, but we got talking about a 13-week-old male that was supposed to go home this week with someone who ended up not being able to take him. Because he's a bit older, Kim has a good sense of his personality, and she thinks a female may end up being too alpha with Scout and he could end up miserable for the rest of his life. While Scout plays with Dali, she is definitely an assertive dog and he doesn't seem to enjoy time with her. We all (including the vet) agree this puppy might be a good match with Scout. This new puppy has an energetic but non-aggressive personality, the breeder says, and would do well with another mild mannered non aggressive dog like Scout.

David and I were both excited at the prospect, and when Kim sent me the pictures I fell in love. (I mean, look at that face!)

But then last night, Scout was up coughing. His little half day trial run at doggy day camp last week resulted in kennel cough, if you can believe it. Even though he's vaccinated, I guess dogs can still pick up the virus and for the past few days he's been hacking all night like a human with bronchitis does. As I lay with him on the spare bed I thought, I enjoy these Scout and me moments. Will another dog ruin that? Am I being selfish? Do I have the energy for another dog?

So that's where I am. I look at the photo of this dog and see him and Scout romping around the backyard and herding Murphy (and shedding pounds of dog hair and monopolizing the bed) and think about how wonderful it all would be. Then I curl up with Scout and think maybe I'm not being fair to him.

We can't go see this dog for another week because of Scout's virus and I do want to see how he and the puppy interact. And because this breeder is an expert in border collies, I want her to meet Scout. She may have some insight into how he and a new dog will interact, and who knows. She might meet him and think that Scout and I are both neurotic nutcases not worthy of one of her puppies.

Puppies on the brain

I have puppies on the brain. I don't know if my biological clock is ticking and since I don't particularly like children it's manifesting itself this way or what, but ever since I saw an ad for Border collie puppies in the paper I've been thinking about getting another dog. (Let me clarify: I like children. Other people's children. In specific situations. But I don't necessarily want any more in my house.)

I don't need another dog. In fact, I'm not even sure I really want another dog. David is lukewarm (mostly cool) on the idea, and I haven't even asked Scout yet. Murphy might be up for it if we got a dog that stayed out of his way. I'm waiting to hear what our vet thinks.

I think the whole think kind of kicked off when I started surfing around the website for Glen Highland Farm in Morris, NY. The farm is a Border collie rescue facility. You know, people see Border collies on TV and in agility competitions, think they're super cool dogs, get one and then find out they can be a big, giant (albiet loveable) pain in the arse.

You have to really understand a Border collie to own a Border collie. I use the word "own" loosely. When you get a Border collie, you will begin to eat, breathe and sleep Border collie. Eat, meaning that in your house dog hair is considered a condiment. Breathe, meaning that if your face gets too close to the dog's, you will immediately find his tongue in your mouth and up your nose. Sleep, meaning be prepared to surrender the best part of the bed to a furry footwarmer.

You understand that your time is not your own. Your hours are counted soley as free time between bouts of throwing a glow ball or frisbee. Your cat gets herded several times a day.

It takes a special family to welcome that kind of canine dynamo into your house. A Border collie is not a dog for people who aren't home all day. It's not a dog for people who just want a pet. It's not a dog for the impatient or weary, or those who think a veterinarian is someone you see every few years for a rabies shot. It's not a dog for someone who eschews training classes as a waste of good money.

If I'd known back 16 years ago what I know now about Border collies, we might not have gotten our first. Natasha came to us as a puppy, and we got very, very lucky. She was a great dog for 14 years. Her job was to protect Cassie, and Natasha not only knew it she took it very seriously. We never took Natasha to training, but I can see how, after numerous training sessions with Scout, that even a good dog can benefit from classes.

And Scout, for all of his quirkiness, is a great dog. Amiable, albiet anxious; well-behaved, albiet energetic. I feel like he's my shadow. Which makes me wonder why I want another dog.

Like I said, I'm not sure I really do. But when I see those rescue dogs abandoned by people who don't understand Border collies - and I do understand them - it makes me wonder if maybe we have enough love for another one?

David says we don't have enough yard or money. He's probably right.

But on another positive note, Glen Highland Farm has a camp where they take kids from the inner-city and bring them to the camp for a week to work with the dog. I really, really like that idea and have asked for information about volunteering.

Maybe that's what I really need. To be around people and dogs and do some good for someone else.

We're not God's posse

I'm upstairs folding laundry when I heard a thud from the kitchen, followed by a high-pitched "Woof!" from Scout that can only mean one thing: the cat is in the garbage again.

In our house, it's the cat that causes most of the trouble, and Murphy has a penchant for garbage. He's constantly batting at the pail until it tips, and then crawling inside to find a treat.

Scout knows this is bad, because whenever Murphy gets into the garbage, I yell "MURPHY!" and chase the cat out of the kitchen. Being a border collie, Scout has put two and two together and now recognizes any time the cat is doing something he shouldn't - jumping onto the counter, messing around with the hamster cage, and yes, tipping over the garbage. Scout gives a warning "Woof!" and waits for me to yell, "MURPHY", after which he takes off after the cat in his self-proclaimed role as administer of justice.

I don't really need Scout to chase Murphy. I do appreciate the head's up when the cat it getting into trouble. But sometimes Scout goes overboard. Instead of just chasing the cat away, he ends up pinning Murphy down and getting his jaws around the cat's entire head. Before I know it the cat is soaking wet with dog slobber and we've got a wrestling match on our hands. I'm afraid someone is going to get hurt.

The whole thing reminds me of the way some Christians treat non Christians. We see someone doing something we think is wrong, and we're quick to give chase in an attempt to pin them down and show them the error of their ways. It's the "I'll get you saved if I have to hog tie you and hold your feet to the fire" mentality.

It's important to remember that yes, we have a responsibility as Christians to speak the truth. But we don't need to be appoint ourselves God's judge, jury and executioner, figuratively speaking.

That's a lesson Scout is learning. Rather than apprehend Murphy over every infraction, Scout has learned to nudge him away from whatever he's into. When that does't work, Scout gives me the warning "Woof!", then wait for his cue to give chase if needed.

And that's what we need to do. Speak the truth in love and let the Holy Spirit convict the world of its sin.

10 Life Lessons I Learned From My Dog

Life Lessons I Learned From My Dog
By Joanne Brokaw

It’s a national obsession: as we clink our champagne glasses to ring in the New Year most of us are listing our resolutions: Get in shape, get organized, take a dream vacation, get a better job, save money, write a novel, read a novel, decrease our stress levels. These are lofty goals meant to help us live healthier, happier lives but goals that most of us will abandon in frustration before mid-January.

Sure, there are some things I’d like to change about myself but I’ve decided that rather than changing something specific - like filing paperwork instead of leaving it on the desk for the cat to shred, or losing 15 pounds by March - my efforts would be better served by changing my general attitude about life. My inspiration? My quirky Border collie, Scout.

I think if we all approached life with the same attitude that our dogs do we’d be happier and more content and enjoy healthier relationships with our friends, family, and the world at large. I’ve started writing a book on the subject (finish the book proposal, a resolution for 2008), but until then, here are some suggestions to get your new year started on the right foot (or paw). I call it the “Top Ten Life Lessons I’ve Learned From My Dog:”

1) Assume that everyone you meet already likes you and wants to be your friend.

2) Greet the day by showering kisses on whoever happens to be nearest your nose.

3) Assume that the best spot on the couch is meant just for you, and if someone is already sitting there assume they want you to snuggle with them.

4) Realize that sometimes your natural enemy can turn out to be your best friend.

5) When life sends a cold, wet, miserable blizzard make a pile of snowballs and play catch.

6) Just because something looks good enough to eat doesn’t mean it’s good for you.

7) If you’re too scared to leave the yard, you’ll never get to play in the good parks.

8) If you get dirty you’ll need to take a bath sooner or later, and the longer you wait the harder it will be to clean up the mess.

9) A wet kiss covers a multitude of sins.

10) When someone throws a ball, you’ll have more fun if you bring it back and share it than if you horde it for yourself under the kitchen table.

Even if you’re not a dog lover you can learn something from our four-legged friends. Always think the best of other people, forgive, love, and seek adventure. Approaching life with a positive attitude will spill over into everything you do, and you may find that without even realizing it, you’ve achieved your goals (and if you haven’t maybe they weren’t worthy goals to begin with).

May you enjoy a happy, healthy, and prosperous new year and may your days be filled with love, laughter and play!

(This column originally appeared in ByLine Magazine's January 2008 issue. (c) 2008 Joanne Brokaw, all rights reserved.)

Just give me the darn ball!

(Picture from summer 2008, when Scout's fur was wet and my hair was dry, and neither one of us was cold)

I'm standing in the driveway, locked in a stare with Scout. I've just thrown his Glo-ball, and he's retrieved it, bringing it about 5 feet from where I'm standing. He drops the ball, and stares at me with that border collie eye, head crouched, eyes locked.

"Bring it closer," I plead. I'm outside in my sweatpants and a t-shirt, my hair wet from my recent shower. It's cold out, but not the bitter cold of the past few days. Even so, I'm still not interested in a lengthy winter game of fetch with my hyper, under-exercised dog. I want to toss the ball a few times, and then go back in the house and finish working.

"Closer!" I chirp in a happy voice, and Scout nudges the ball with his nose. "One more!" I say and he nudges it again, until the ball is about a foot from where I'm standing. Scout, however, is still several feet away, crouched in anticipation, ready to bolt like lightening when I actually throw the ball.

Or maybe not. Sometimes he's just waiting for me to make a move, so he can snatch the ball before I can get it and run around the yard a few times.

This is all part of a game that I inadvertantly started when I taught him to nudge the ball in the house. He lies down on his dog bed and nudges the ball to me. I roll it back, he nudges it back, and we can play inside with little effort or broken glass.

At some point over the summer, we started playing "nudge" outside, and now that's his favorite way to play fetch.

Scout loves to be outside, and he loves to play catch. I can throw a ball for him to catch all day and he'll never tire. I, however, am freezing this morning and really want this little canine interlude to be over. Now.

What I never understand is why he just doesn't bring me the ball. He likes to run, and the sooner he brings the ball to me, the sooner he'll get what he wants. I don't think he enjoys standing 5 feet away from me with the ball halfway between us, me insisting that he bring it to me, anymore than I insist that if he would just nudge the ball the rest of the way, we could get this show on the road.

I wonder if God ever feels the same way about me. I'm sure that there are (many) times when He's asked me for something simple - my time, a prayer, worship, repentence - and rather than just bring to him what he wants, I toss something approximately close and hope that he'll accept that. And then I wait for him to bless me. Or, as I am continually praying, "Please use me!"

God can't use me unless I'm willing to surrender all and until I'm willing to actually come to his feet with my offering. Instead, I play a game of keep away. "You want it, God? Come get it! Gotcha! Not ready yet!"

I don't think it's fear. I know Scout isn't afraid to come close to me. For him, it's a game and when he gives up the ball, the game could be over. Because I might not throw it again. I might call him into the house. And where's the fun in that?

Maybe that's why I'm so unwilling sometimes to give God everything. He might just keep it. And since I don't know what he has planned next, I just keep nudging my gift closer and snatching it back in the hopes of playing the game just a little longer. Except that maybe God needs me to give up my current game, completely and totally, so he can involve me in something even better, and my inability to see beyond the end of my snout is holding me back.

When I throw the ball for the last time, I yell, "Let's get a BIG treat!" and head for the house. Scout comes barreling towards the door, because he knows that a BIG treat might be peanut butter in a toy, or some chewy turkey jerky, or maybe even a Chew Lotta bone. Or maybe even some treat he hasn't even dreamed of before. He doesn't really know what he's going to get, he just knows it's going to be good.

Because he trusts me, and is willing to give up the game to get the BIG treat.

I wonder today what God is asking me to bring to his feet, and what I'm just tossing to him from a distance? What BIG treat am I missing by not letting go?

Welcome to Our Daily Dog Chow

For a while now I've been writing little faith pieces I call "dogvotionals," short essays and columns that use my experiences with my Border collie Scout to share a message about God or faith.

It's not rocket science, and it's certainly not deep theology. It is just a heartfelt thought or two about my own faith and relationship with the Creator of the Universe.

The idea was born out of a dog training class that we attended on the advice of our vet, Dr. B. Scout was having some anxiety issues after spending 5 weeks in a cast. He was only 20 weeks old, and had only been with us about a month when he took a giant leap in the backyard and landed at my feet with a loud CRACK!

I was feeling guilty, Scout was feeling nervous, and together we were a mess. Dr. B said obedience class would give both of us confidence. I was doubtful, but at my wit's end. I couldn't even take Scout for a walk around the block because any noise or sudden movement - from a train whistle two miles away to a rogue butterfly making a dive for his head - would send him into a panic, making him plant spread eagle on the sidewalk. I'd have to end up carrying him home every time.

Bill the trainer kept emphasising the importance of not dominating your dog, but developing a relationship where he trusts you and knows your voice and responds to your commands because he knows your in charge. He obeys not out of fear, but out of relationship.

Huh. Sound familiar?

See, for most of my life, I was in a fear relationship with God.

But over the past decade, and especially the past two years, I've learned that God isn't some mean ogre waiting to smack my nose with a newspaper for whatever evil I'd done. He's in charge, and for good reason. He has my best interests at heart. He sees the big picture when I can only see the biscuit in front of my nose. In a crisis, he's got a handle on the situation, if only I would listen to his voice and not freak out.

And so for the past two years I've been writing dogvotionals. I'm currently working on a book - but to be honest, sometimes I just need to share a story now, or work through a column idea or get an anecdote down so I'll rememember it later.

So here we are. I use the word "daily" loosely. There's not much I do daily and regularly, without some kind of incentive. Reader feedback is often the "good dog!" I need to keep writing. (Hint, hint.)