The Adventures of Living with Whisper, the Fearful Pup may
have seemed to have come to a screeching halt, but they have not. However,
since he hurt his leg a few weeks ago, the formal
work had pretty much stopped. “Keep him still for two weeks.”
Excuse me? Keep a young border collie still—for two weeks.
And, while you are at it, cure climate ills and bring peace
to the world.
I am not above a little elemental aid, and did use the
storm-fear medicine--at the vet's urging--to help “take the edge off." It sounds like
I am the ultimate dog druggy, but truly that is not the case. This poor baby
was carrying his back leg and begging me to throw a tennis ball as he did it. I
also do not live alone, and someone I
shall not name continued to take the dogs for walks when I was not home until
it demonstrably became evident that true INACTION and rest was required.
Finally after twice as long as it should have, and just as we
were headed back for an x-ray to see if something had happened beyond a strain
or sprain needing more intervention than mere rest, Whisper’s leg has started working normally,
no limping, no carrying, even after longer and longer walks, more and more
ball throws-and-returns.
And, boy howdy, as we would say in Arkansas, I am grateful for it. This poor, happy, fearful boy
has dealt with so much in his short life; he reaches the milestone two-year
birthday on December 1. Sparing him the trauma of anesthesia for an x-ray is truly a good thing.
So, today we returned for our second behavioral appointment
at the vet school. Whisper, after two visits, trotted to the front door like Old Home Week. He is still taking puppy Prozac, and again in interaction
today with the trainer the influence of that drug displayed itself. He wiggled,
he slithered to her, begging for treats, he even raised his big self into her
lap, begging.
He displayed normal doggy behavior.
However, it is not all sunshine and lollipop, er lollipup(?)
news. Smart boy knows the ‘trick’ of putting his nose into the muzzle that we have
worked on, and he knew in that setting with the muzzle on the floor that,
indeed, putting his nose in that muzzle was what was wanted. He would sometimes
reach with his nose to the muzzle, wait for the clicker sound, and get his
cheese treat (ah, the wonder of cheese). But it was also obvious that he was
anxious, worried, about. . . .
something.
Perhaps he worried he would get it wrong; perhaps the
trainer, certainly friendly to him, and, as I said, he to her, caused him
concern just by being an unknown factor. They had met in the previous session,
but she is not one of ‘his’ people. The pupils in his eyes were huge; he could
not sit still, going from me to her, back and forth, unable to calm himself.
His manner was one of ingratiating himself, afraid to perform the task he knows
how to do, whether because he fears doing it wrong or fears. . . . what?
So, back to the pharmaceutical people. Sigh. . . . When I
asked if she believed he might need more of the medicine, she answered, “More,
maybe. Or different.”
Well, of course.
Our homework is to get him to put his beautiful black nose
at the end of his beautiful white snout into the muzzle as I hold the muzzle in
my hand off the floor (click and treat). I must make an appointment to have the
meds checked.
But, though he is anxious, and there is no denying he was
worried at the session today, he also was interacting with the trainer much as
he did with the vet at our last vet visit—he was being cute, acting wiggly
happy to see her, he was asking for attention. The Cujo factor was nowhere to
be found. I want him to not be afraid; I want him to know he can trust me to
take him to happy places (we are going to work sheep on Saturday—where he has
ALWAYS behaved well) and safe places. I want to see improvement even from here.
But I do not miss the improvement we have already seen—I still see in my mind
this beautiful, sweet dog that I love trying to attack another dog and warning
off people, making the vet tech so nervous (and me, for that matter) that we
needed a muzzle.
We will keep working and he will keep improving. I cannot
ever, ever express my thankfulness for how far we have come. He is still a puppy--a big ole gallumping border collie puppy. Just growing up a little more will help (probably) with some of the adolescent behavior. And with the work with the Behavior Clinic and continued training--and sheep--I so hope and pray this dog I love will have a full, happy, productive life.
