What do you do when your beloved pet begins to exhibit antisocial and unacceptable behavior?  One of my clients is experiencing this now.  Her wonderful, sweet Labrador rescue has become increasingly agitated by life in the city and has, in recent weeks, begun lunging at people

If you’ve read the excerpt I posted from UNLEASHED, then you’ve already met Lilly.  She’s the yellow Lab with a love of the tennis ball and leash aggression–the one who attacked Cujo in the park.  Shortly after that incident, Lilly was injured by a dog whom she’d been barking at for months.  She needed stitches and after much debate and heartache, her owner and I determined that Lilly could no longer handle the dog run.  I had been defending Lilly, and trying to avert any possible altercations over the preceding months.  Having a rescue myself, I know how hard it is for a dog who has been abused to feel safe and confident.  But unlike my  experience with Cinder, Lilly didn’t improve even with all of the love, attention and exercise she was getting.  She required constant supervision when she’d walked with her Pink Ladies group, and I mentioned to her owner that I thought Lilly seemed to be getting more antisocial.  If she was just with her friends, she was a doll.  If a dog looked at her cross-eyed, she went nuts.

Since Lilly’s dog run departure, I’ve been doing an individual walk for her and then letting her spend a little social time with Feather, a golden retriever from her old group.  She gets a brief outing with me, and then a few brief outings with her owner during the day.

Unfortunately, a dog with such anxiety needs much more exercise.  But what do you do when you live in a city and can’t trust a dog around others?  As the months have worn on, I’ve noticed Lilly growing increasingly agitated, hair raised at even the slightest odd sound, aggressive toward almost every dog she encounters.  At home, she’s sweet and wonderful with her people, but she seems much more needy than she used to be.  A few weeks ago, when I was taking her home, she lunged at a man on the street and if I hadn’t reacted, she would have bitten him on the arm.  I was shocked as I would never have thought Lilly would hurt a person.  And this guy had no obvious signs that were “off” about him.  He wasn’t wearing a funny hat, or acting in a threatening manner.  In short, I have no idea what set her off.

Since that incident, Lilly has had a few more close calls.  She now wears a muzzle with her owner and is seeing a behaviorist veterinarian to see what can be done.  My client is obviously devastated as none of the options are wonderful.  Putting the dog down was actually suggested by the doctor, but thankfully my client would never entertain that idea.  So now the question becomes what else can be done?  Drug her with some sort of puppy Prozac?  Give her up to someone who has room in the country to let her run and be a dog?  Or do nothing, keep her here in the city, and live with a dog who is obviously in distress?  Finding a solution that’s the best for Lilly is the overriding concern.  I think Lilly’s owner is going to try the medication and see if this will ease Lilly’s anxiety some without turning her into a zombie.  If that doesn’t work, then she’ll have to explore the other options.  If anyone has experienced something similar, or has suggestions for helping Lilly, please let me know.  She’s a wonderful dog and I want her story to have a happy ending.

Lilly waiting for the ball

When new dog owners come into the run, they will sometimes bring a fancy toy in for their puppy or dog to play with.  They are obviously excited to be interacting with their dog, so sometimes no one will say anything to the owner.  Everyone wants the dog to have a great experience at the run.  At the same time, we are all cognizant of the potential dangers posed by a squeaky toy at the run.  Stage whispered rumblings of  “Somebody needs to tell him,”  or “There’s going to be a fight,” can be heard around the dog run.

The problem is this.  You have a dog run full of dogs who are used to playing with beat up tennis balls and thinking they are pretty fantastic, and then a brightly colored, brand new stuffed animal or squeaky toy is brought into the run, and all of sudden everyone wants that toy.  The squeaky toys are my least favorite because as soon as one dog squeaks it (and it’s usually not the dog who came in with it because it was stolen in less than a minute), everyone wants it.

You might think, “Oh well, they’ll just get some exercise as they run after the dog with the toy.”  Unfortunately, that usually doesn’t happen.  It’s like toddlers on the playground:  One kid wants the shovel for the sandbox and when he doesn’t get it, he snatches it away and bangs the other kid on the head.  Well, in the dog run, the fights caused by squeaky toys are legendary.

Because the rules at the gate a) don’t adequately address this issue and b) are never read by anyone, it falls upon those of us who use the run most often to try and maintain some semblance of order.  I’ve been called upon to play “Sheriff” on more than one occasion.  I don’t mind being the appointed bad guy.  If it means that none of the dogs in my care are going to get bloodied, it’s worth it to intervene.   My approach is to try and head off any problems as soon as I see a hand reaching into a pocket for the toy.  If I had a dollar for every conversation I’ve had about the possessiveness of dogs and their toys, I’d be moving to Italy in a much grander style than what is actually in the works.  Sometimes you’ll explain the issue to an owner over and over again and still they insist on bringing in the toy.  “My dog doesn’t like tennis balls,” is the most befuddling response.  Really?  Well I’m guessing the rest of the dogs, if they had a choice, might enjoy a toy other than the where-tennis-balls-go-to-die, dirt-encrusted offerings of the dog run as well, but that’s not the point.

Today I found myself in this role once more.   The crazy part of it was that the guy who brought in the squeaky toy is a regular dog run user.  We’ve chatted tons of times, and he’s been coming with his Wheaten for over a year, so I can’t believe he hasn’t seen a fight or three over a special toy.  “That’s not a good idea,” I tell him as he takes it out of his pocket.  I then add a winning smile since my friend Will tells me I am scary when I’m angry.  “I have a few possessive dogs who might take it and I don’t want it to cause a fight.”  Sasha is the only one of the Pink Ladies that would take the toy, and she wouldn’t fight to keep it, but I figured laying the blame on my group would put him less on the defensive.  He put the toy away and we went on with our morning, but I could see he was chafing at being told what to do.  I tried to smooth things over with him a little later, but he was having none of it.  I knew as soon as I left the squeaky toy would be pulled back out.   I was also sure he’d be back with the toy another day…but I was pretty confident it wouldn’t be on my watch.

Earlier this week, I ran into a new dog walker who was experiencing her first winter.  “Is it always like this?” she asked, sounding as if she might cry at any moment.   We were  standing on the sheet of ice that was supposed to be the dog run with a cold wind whipping off the Hudson.  The dogs were slipping and sliding around us.  I evaded a little so as not to freak her out.  “I’ve been doing this six years,” I told her.   “The good news is once you’ve made it through your first winter, you can officially call yourself a dog walker.  Most new walkers don’t make it past January.”  This seemed to cheer her sufficiently.

Dog walking in winter can be onerous.  It’s  definitely my least favorite time of the year and I’ve sworn each winter for the past two years that this one would be my last.  It’s months and months of freezing temperatures, icy terrain, putting on dog sweaters, wiping off icy salty paws, wearing so many layers that you can’t remember what your actual shape looks like and, of course, the de rigueur bitching about the weather.

But then the forecasters call for snow and all is forgotten.  I become a little kid, gleeful with anticipation.  It’s not that dog walking will be easier; it’s not.  It’s actually the worst time to schlep around when there is a lot of heavy snow to contend with.  But like the woman who has another child even after experiencing the pains of labor, as soon as I know snow is coming, I get giddy.

There is only one reason for this.  THE DOGS LOVE IT!  From the youngest puppy experiencing her first snowfall to my Weimaraner Cinder who forgets all her aches and pains and kicks up her heels, dogs just can’t get enough of the snow.

Today the snow started early.  There was only a dusting in the run with my Pink Ladies group, but it was enough to have everyone running like mad.  Dash, my little dachshund, took advantage of the snow-covered ice to run a few feet then slide on her back, using her sweater as a sled.  She did this over and over for the entire time we were there.  Sasha, Bella, and Feather used their time to wrestle and run nonstop.

Then it was time for the puppy group.  There was by now almost 1/2 inch of snow to play in and the puppies took full advantage.  Ace and Lilly (a shitzpoo and cockapoo) who are six and seven months old both went nuts.  They spent their time running and leaping around with their best friend Bitsy.  The older kids, Maisy and Jason, not to be outdone did plenty of winter activities as well.  Jason dug a hole for his nose in the snow, followed by a good spin on his back.  Maisy, my singing standard poodle, entertained us all with her happy chant of “WOOO Wooo”  as she raced back and forth across the run.

By the time my late afternoon group reached the park, we had some decent accumulation.  Cinder and her friends Sasha, Bella and Lilly all careened crazily in the snow.  Lilly used her head as a plow, delighting in moving the snow back and forth.  Sasha and Bella did what they do best: wrestled.   Cinder supervised all the young kids and, when she thought no one was looking, even tossed a stick in the air.

We’ll have more snow by morning and although the sidewalk snow will be dirty and gross, the forecast for the park is another great SNOW DAY!

Puppy Pile-up

Snowy Sniff

Pink Ladies at Play

I’ve had more than my share of embarrassing moments over the past six years of walking dogs.  My slips, falls and sprained ankles alone could make an award-winning blooper reel.  And then there is Cinder who, whenever I try to make her sit in an elevator, will let our a very noisy fart.  That’s mortifying.  But there is probably nothing more embarrassing than walking in on a client who is naked.

And I don’t just mean skimpy pajamas, boxer shorts or a robe.  Those are fine.  I mean tighty whiteys, thongs, or, in some cases, sporting nothing more than a birthday suit.  That initial deer-caught-in-the-headlights moment is the worst.  Then it’s a scramble as I avert my eyes and they make a mad dash back to safety.

How does this happen?  Well, for starters I have their keys.  So I come in and out each day without knocking or ringing a bell.  But in my defense, I come in at the same time every day.  And I’m expected.  I’m walking their dog, after all.  But that doesn’t seem to matter.  Because I’ve walked in on MANY.  Some have been exposed while grabbing a cup of coffee, and some just while walking across their living room naked.  And as discomfited as my clients have been when this has happened, it is equally, if not more embarrassing to be the one walking in.  In other words…AWKWARD!

It happened again today.  But instead of being a client, it was the client’s house guest.  I entered the apartment to pick up the dog and standing a feet away from the door was a woman blow drying her hair.  Completely naked.  In this case, I have to say she was the one who was more embarrassed.  After all, I didn’t know her.  She didn’t leave my payments, or chat with me about her kids, or discuss wine vintages.  She was a complete stranger.

I simply leashed up the dog and made a hasty exit.  When I returned after the walk, the woman was fully dressed and sitting on the couch.  We made small talk about the snow.  And I went about my day.  Although, I confess, I may have greeted the next dogs in a slightly louder voice…just in case.

I’ve tried keeping my own counsel on this matter, but I can stay silent no longer.   I’m a pretty easy-going girl, an eleven year old Weimaraner who was rescued from the mean streets of Palm Beach.  Now I enjoy a comfortable existence with my mom and my friends in New York.  I’m not quite the diva my mom makes me out to be.

But recent events have caused me some distress.  I used to eat Evo.  It’s a very delicious high protein dog food.  I’ve been eating it for the past two years and I didn’t even mind that I was eating the same thing every day.  That’s how good it was.  I’d see the shiny yellow bag coming into the house and my heart would fill with happiness.  Then about two weeks ago, something happened.  The yellow bag didn’t come in.  I don’t remember what color the bag was that did arrive, all I know is that it said “Senior” dog food.  And it tastes like crap!

My mom explained to me that my kidney values were slightly raised from my arthritis medication so she wanted to put me on a lower protein and lower phosphorous diet so my kidneys wouldn’t suffer, but I have to say this just isn’t right.  Sure, I’m old, but I’m still me.  I sleep, eat, play, lunge at obnoxious dogs and, excuse my indelicacy, poop, just like I did two weeks ago.  And I deserve a tasty Senior food.  This one by Innova may be good for me, but I don’t like it.  And until things improve around here, I’m not biting.  If anyone has a recommendation for a tastier food, please let my mom know. Until then I’m on a hunger strike.  Okay fine, I’m eating it, but I’m not happy about it…

I'm not a diva...I just dress like one