Can I be of Assistance?

I climbed up the concrete stairs above the Hidden Chicken restaurant in Santa Fe, New Mexico en route to the second story home of the Assistance Dogs of the West, a non-profit devoted to the rearing and education of assistance dogs. It is my second week in training to learn how to best support dogs in training on long weekend stays at my home.

I am met by my instructor Sue Barnes and the founder and Program Director of this commendable organization one Jill Felice. Jill founded the organization some fifteen years ago and plays an active roll in the training of the 30 dogs who live in either Santa Fe or Albuquerque.

Jill bends over and speaks to Trevor, a four month old Chocolate lab, who even at this young age is engaged and attentive to Jill and who sits in a most composed fashion.

Sue Barnes greets us with a broad smile and brings the class to order. And then........she provides us with a piece of paper which doubles as a pop quiz. My classmate Peggy and I sail through the questions... what is the dog's strongest sense? (answer smell). What foods are toxic to dogs? (raisins, grapes, chocolate, macadamia nuts, etc)

We both pass the test admirably and are asked to choose a dog we would like to train with. I have been eyeing Jackson, a handsome yellow lab, with intelligent and mature eyes. I secure my bait bag around my waist in preparation for "encouragement" as I learn to deliver oral commands to Jackson.

I can not rely on the visual cues I typically use when training "regular dogs". Assistance dogs are not trained to abide by such luxuries. Disabled people can not be expected to move their bodies and arms as most of us are able. And so, with Sue's clear direction we work through the commands: Leave it, get dressed, give, stay, closer, down, careful, and get your leash. And Jackson does.

I feel like a human pez, delivering three calories treats quickly and effectively. Jackson puts his head through his collar to "get dressed", drops whatever he is doing when I ask him to leave it, give me his leash when I say "give", shimmies up next to me when I say closer, moves his teeth more carefully when extracting a treat from my hand when I whisper "careful", and he gets his leash when I ask him to. What's more, Jackson looks up into my eyes and elicits more positive behavior than any dog I have ever met.

I know that what has brought Jackson to become such a polished pup of perfection has taken true devotion, education, time, and money. And it's all worth it because someone will be seated in their wheelchair and Jackson will pick up their keys, open their refrigerator, and help this person get through the day in a way, no one else could possibly do. The most exciting part of all of this for me, is that I am being given an opportunity to become a part of this all too fantastic process, I can be of assistance too.

Scooby Found a Home

It's been a week of endings. My dear friend, Michael Hyde died of lung cancer this week. A special man, he introduced me to my husband and was an angel in my life. Today, I received word that Gwyn Savage, a New Mexico Casting agent who I had met working on three films in New Mexico was given up to two months to live. Gwyn had suddenly discovered over the Christmas holidays that she was facing a struggle with lung and brain cancer. Gwyn is a remarkable woman of great fortitude and compassion. She has a dog Scooby that is in desparate need of a home. He is big beautiful and lovable.
The following morning Thursday January 21st, I recieved the following email in response to the Scooby blog entry :
hello all. I wanted to give you an update on Scooby.
Gwyn adopted Scooby from us (Second Chance Animal rescue) about 2 years ago after he was rescued in Los Lunas with a choke chain collar embedded in his neck. His rescuer had the surgery performed to remove the chain and then contacted Second Chance for help in finding him a new home. We took him into our foster care while he recovered from the surgery and then Gwyn contacted us after seeing him on our website. If you look at the home page on www.filmsavage.com you will see Scooby's picture and the info about Second Chance and a link to our website. Gwyn was nice enough to post all that info to help us adopt out other dogs. Tonight one of our volunteers went to .... Gwyn's mother's house and picked up Scooby. It was becoming increasingly difficult for Gywn to manage Scooby while caring for Gwyn. We will be working closely to find the right home for Scooby....I think Gwyn is at peace knowing that he is back with us, as she knows we will make sure he finds a home as wonderful and as loving as Gywn gave to him. This is so heart breaking, and I'm so thankful so many people care about Gwyn and about Scooby. He had a horrible start in life, and Gwyn healed the wounds in his heart. I believe they brought each other much joy.

Susan Renick
Volunteer
Second Chance Animal Rescue, Inc., a 501(c)(3) non-profit organization
Albuquerque / Rio Rancho, New Mexico
www.secondchancenm.petfinder.com


Later on Thursday January 21st, Gwyn passed away at 3:00 PM. I sent word to Second Chances, hoping to alert them to Gwyn's demise. I immediately received the following email in response to mine.

Hi Candy,
I was actually out in front of the house when Gwyn passed away... One of Gwyn's friends/coworkers, Georgina, was there.... she wanted Scooby; she loves Scooby and he knows her well from hanging out in the office. Georgina hadn't realized that I had picked him up last night. So Georgina has Scooby now and promises to take good care of him and give him a great home; she said she loves him and "wants to keep him in the family". Scooby was so happy to see Georgina when she walked out of the house; he got so excited. We had just put Scooby and his toys, etc. in Georgina's truck when Adam came out and told us Gwyn had passed. I really think she knew that Scooby was safe and she could rest. I didn't know Gwyn real well; just through Scooby's adoption but she was always so nice and helpful. She put our group's link on her site and helped us promote our dogs. We were so happy when she adopted Scooby. He had been through so much before we had taken him in and she loved him and made him very happy. I will keep in touch with Georgina to make sure all is well and that Scooby is settling in with her and her family.

Thank you.
Debbie
Second Chance Animal Rescue, Inc.


What a remarkable series of events! The dog community, Gwyn's freinds and family all worked in concert to find Scooby a home, a home he now has.

White on White

I awoke to an insulated sky of gray and large white flakes descending steadily and quietly. It was if an enormous baker was sifting confectioner sugar through a wire mess strainer onto Mexican Wedding cookies below. There was not a breeze in sight, but the snowfall had reached 4 1/2 inches as light grew.

This is the weather that Great Pyrenees Covet and I currently have three in my life. This afternoon, my two Pyrenees Gabriel(2) and Dakota(15) took to the snow, galloping and careening across the fields of snow, giving merit to their dew claws, lying on their backsides and making "Dog Angels" in the snow. Their DNA seems to be activated in the presence of the white fluff. It's a sea and symphony of white on white.

Earlier in the day, I had picked up a friend of mine and her delightful one year old Great Pyrenees Monty for a field trip to a large enclosed field brimming with snow. His beautiful agile body gathered ground in gazelle like motions. His joy was expressed in his giant sized bounding steps. After minutes, he would gaze around at me and his "mother" Sabine.

Sabine Lucas has done a remarkable job with Monty. A dog clearly suffering from abuse, Sabine used her knowledge as a healer (she is a Jungian analyst by training having studied in Zurich many years ago see her website at www.pastlifedreams.com) and considerable patience to win Monty's trust. Less than a year ago Monty shook in the corner of the room at the very sight of a leash. Today, through desensitization techniques, exercise, sound and light therapy, exceptional home made diet, patience and a lot of love, Monty walks outside with the best of them, running to his owner at the very sight of a leash in anticipation of a hike outdoors. Today was his virgin voyage across fields of snow. I feel privileged to have witnessed it.

Houndin Round in Bosque Farms

This Sunday I took a sojourn down I-25 from Santa Fe, exiting just south of Albuquerque some fifteen minutes. It is there, along the sleepy dusty banks of the Rio Grande, that tall stands of Cotton Wood Trees abound that form an oasis. In this high and dry Northern New Mexico region the Bosque is where life is celebrated in narrow strips of green on either side of the Rio Grande River.

It is now winter, but life still congregates along this waterway. I stop my car to take in the enormous flock of snow geese who have chosen Huck's winter fields to congregate. There are hundred of white birds, some swirling and diving to the congregation below, some simply resting and sunning themselves. I notice a couple of taller more muted gray birds, the sand hill cranes whose numbers have diminished while the snow geese have grown since my last visit a few weeks ago.

I am en route to my friend Karen's ranch, a special artists celebration of life along our "Nile", our Nile---The Rio Grande. Karen Kuehn is a photographer of note (see photographs on this blog) and has goats, chickens, geese, 1 donkey, 2 tortoises, two horses, and seven adopted shelter dogs. That's right, seven. All well fed, exercised, loved, groomed, and excessively happy critters.

Despite the animal load, the farm is fantastic, in its lyrical themes, gardens, a resting boat resting on the ground with large painted Tibetan Buddha eyes, and airstream trailer where visiting photography students stay in week long photography workshops with Karen, several out buildings, two raised pools, and Karen who greets me with her large bright smile and warm arms.

That is not all that greets me. There is Taco the tiny and genuflecting chihauha, there is Chewy a Chihuahua/beagle or is it
Jack Russel whose short white paws rest on my lower shin, Ike (as in Eisenhower) a bird dog with large brown spots and freckles looks lovingly up to me in his yellow eyed gaze, There is the leader of the pack, Miss Luanne a true hound dog who seems ill placed in a state devoid of fox hunting, Shadow, who as her name implies lies back from the group low to the ground in her sweet and retiring dachshund fashion, and my favorite Tank, a large gentle yellow and cream colored Pit Bull whose warmth and intelligence makes him seem so very present. Lastly, there is the least greetable and smallest member of the group, Lucy, an elderly and spunky black Chihuahua, whose socialization has improved remarkably from her first days here roughly a year and a half a go. I sit and stroke their coats, trading Chihuahuas in my lap, reaching over them to the larger dogs and extending greetings and kind words. I feel welcomed by this Mediterranean styled greeting. There is no sense of embartassment in expressing enthusiasm or love amongst these creatures. No one needs to tell them to tell others thatn they love them before its too late. They embrace the here in now in all its fullness.

Karen and I sit down to a cup of tea to catch up before we head out to ride the horses. The dogs settle down, a couple of cats on the periphery make there way above the dogs. We speak of friends and the economy, an upcoming night at the Lensic with Annie Liebowitz, plans for the summer, and review a picture of a dog on Craig's List named Tank who looks almost identical to her Tank, only his ears have been trimmed, something neither of us is terribly in favor of.

We head outside with the hounds in toe, Karen to her boy, I to the ever handsome and richly brown gelding, Twist. Both horses are frisky this sunny winter morning. Brushing, picking feet, lugging saddles, pads, and bridles, we settle on our feisty mounts with a dog audience outside the corals perimeters. They loyally await our return, politely moving out of our large human movements, awaiting our free arms and embraces.

What I garnered from this dance with Karen's dogs was the true joy of cohabitation with canines. The essential ingredient here was that Karen's dogs communicated well amongst themselves and with me and Karen. It was clear that they felt safe and complete and loved by Karen. If only we humans could draw from this knowledge of understanding the importance of respecting others boundaries while appreciating our specialness, the world could get a glimpse of the harmony I found with Karen's hounds along the Bosque's banks.

It was a Dog day after all

There was a calm in the clear blue sunny skies in Santa Fe today. With temperatures hovering at the fifty degree mark, humans and canines were out in greater numbers, muscles relaxing, noses revelling in their canine colleagues passing by.

I started off walking one young large Herding dog through his neighborhood, clicker training to impress upon him, the importance of heeling to my left and to discourage the lunge and smell method that a hundred pound dog can so easily demonstrate by destabilizing you! My charge met more neighborhood dogs than he had in recent days as more owners had elected to allow their dogs out into their now warmer front yards. Greetings were fairly cordial with the exception of a boisterous and older chihuahua whose implied vocation was that of serious territorialist! Fort Knox must truly lie within his owners compound based upon the voraciousness of his growls and barks! We wandered round a neighborhood school yard, observed basketballs bantering along the black pavement neighborhood court, walked off to the side as a bicyclist glided by and came within twenty feet to the cutest baby beagle. My canine companion bounded forward to smell more of the pure bred puppy now lying under his enormous muzzle! Not even Snoopie could ever have been this cute!

Beagles it has been empirically noted are sight dogs, in that they respond almost exclusively to visual cues and movement. If you have ever met a beagle owner, they will tell you that beagles have a mind of their own. Certainly they have their agendas, one being a commitment to following the scent, which is why they have been used as hunting dogs for low these many years. Employing body language cues when communicating with a beagle and certainly when introducing a new cue or command is well worth the body motion. The baby beagles owner indicated that she was looking for an obedience class and I encouraged her to do so recommending positive training methods with a trainer commited to employing visual cues.

I left town and headed out to my second client for the day for a one hour hike with the most adorable terrier mix I have had the great privilege to team up with. This terrier prodigy in one months time has gone from nipping at fingers in search of a treat to patiently awaiting the release of a treat, from pulling to heeling, from strutting in his own private Idaho, to consistently looking up at me to gauge his speed and direction. He sits as directed with the passage of traffic and distractions and has now taken to lying completely down in a similar fashion. God love the quick and jolly and intelligent eyes of the terrier!

My last client of the day brought her cream colored canine to meet me in a public parking lot. The young dog has consistently demonstrated strong territorial behavior at home and it was felt a neutral spot would prove the kinder and more civilized approach. And so it was. I was met by an enormously attractive and intelligent female dog. I gave her a moment to smell me and walk round me. Her body registered I had passed the sniff test. So often people do not let dogs assess us. A few minutes of allowing our canine friends the space and time to politely take us in can mean the difference between confrontation and the formation of meaningful bonds between canine and human. I asked her to sit, she did and took my organic low call treat. We walked and dicussed our strategy in Improving upon her quality of life and communication with strangers, friends, and potential challenges. We set out on a hour hour hike, trading leashes and stories, good dog theories, and dog literature, the latest thinking on canine behavior and the very definite differences between dogs and wolfs, pack animals vs. scavenger, canine sense of vision, sound, and scent...which brought us back to the parking lot we had originated from. A calmer canine, tail wagging, treats digesting, and plans for greater walks with more distractions on the horizon.

Dog Park Delight

As the child of a mother whose formative years were surrounded by the reality of Polio and the accompanying fears of public places, I had resisted Dog Parks for many years. My thinking was that it was a place of potentially festering disease and canine folly and fights. I chose to lug around my 250 pounds of two Great Pyrenees by a series of fancy halters, gentle leaders, bungee cord styled leash accoutrement a safe distance from the plebeian strolls of less astute dogs and their owners.

And then last week's Arctic chill descended upon Northern New Mexico. The thought of walking the dogs in the frigidity was daunting. Somehow the thought of the dogs exercising themselves with me near by bound in a floor length down parka with my hood drawn tightly around my visage like the hooded character on South Park (Kenny) with my fluffy white Pyrenees darting to and fro unattached seemed appealing. What's more, I reasoned, what bacteria could survive such temperatures? And so, we strayed to the Dog Park, a large tree adorned area, with beautiful views of the mountains, pleasant and not to many dogs and well maintained dirt paths. Within a week my dogs exuberance became palpable. My 15 year old jogged merrily behind me. Both dogs drew in the scents of those dogs who had merrily passed by before them. They drew in the scents much like we tarry over our emails. Yes, my dogs stopped and sniffed for their Dogie Emails, and in so doing their batteries seemed to charge. If soaring spirits wards off disease, then whatever viruses abound in public dog parks seem to have a built in vaccination, the vaccination of sheer unbridled and unleashed canine joy.