Holding On!

Nin at the Haupt Garden

I received an email yesterday from the graduate coordinator at CCI.  Apparently, a graduate (a person like me with a service/companion dog) had his/her dog running off leash and s/he ran into the street and was hit by a car and killed.  Sad story!  All of us have had our dog outside and off leash from time to time, or dropped the leash while the dog sniffed around enjoying the grass.  This story was a bit of an eye opener for me.  Dogs live such short lives as it is but this reminds us that innocently so quickly these crazy little beasts can be taken from us. As well trained as they are, our dogs are not robots, machines, appliances (although I might question if Nin is really a garbage disposal in disguise).  They are dogs with instincts that cannot always be controlled with the command, “Don’t!”.  Just try to put a sandwich in front of Nin and tell her “LEAVE,”, you will quickly know what I mean.  You MAY be able to hold her attention for a few minutes but don’t blink or look away or that sandwich will be gone, at lightning quick speed, speed you’ve never seen before.  Nin is good too, she can return right back to where she was in her original “stay” command looking at you with those eyes that say, “I did not eat that sandwich, you must have imagined it was there.  Let’s go get your head checked!” 

Normally when walking Nin outside she walks with trepidation.  This dog has absolutely no survival skills, her idea of roughing it is when her bowl is not in its raised holder and she has to bend down all the way to the floor and eat as the bowl moves around.  She is always looking around to make sure her “person” is close, flexi lead, 6 foot lead, not really needed because that is a bit far from her person.  Now, I am far from kidding myself to think that person is me, I found out about two days after having her that it did not have to be me, any person who could access the food bowl would serve as her “person”.  She has never been all that particular about who that person is, she does have her favorites though, normally boys (we’ll get into that later).  So, after her independent adventures in the museum, her wondering days have been over.  Her biggest fear in life is that she will get caught somewhere where there is no food, water (in a bowl) and a sofa to sleep on.  So, I have never really worried about her running away or running across the street.  Now, Ivan, my first dog, he was a runner.  I could not open the door for a pizza without him taking off, full speed into the next county.  Nin, sees the pizza and is not going anywhere.  If her life is driven by comforts, food is at the top of her desire list –that’s a Lab! 

That being said, I have never thought of the outside world as a dangerous place for my Nin.  Would she really ever venture more than a few feet from me?  Then I got the email and I began to think.  What if she got a whiff of a turkey sandwich from a passing car?  I have already established that the draw for her is the food and not me.  What if it is a Mercedes or a Lexus, I make her ride the metro, would her thrive for luxury outweigh the love that she receives from me and the excitement of riding the metro each day.  Can you really replace, squishing in a metro car, while cranky people get upset because the dog is taking up valuable floor space, I mean the cursing alone is an education!  How could she give this up? But somewhere inside my brain, I fear that she might, or be tempted to jump into a nice cushy car. 

I think about Nin’s life and wonder why would she ever run?  She gets 2, not 1, meals of kibble each day (main ingredients is chicken, or something like it), she gets to sleep on a 4 foot round bed on the floor, she spends her day picking up dropped pens, pencils and keys, pushing dirty elevator buttons; the words that she hears more than anything is “don’t” and “leave,” occasionally she gets a “touch that and I will break your furry neck,” {please note, no dogs were abused in the course of service }; she has her tail pulled and her eyes poked by small children; she is stepped on in the metro; she is subjected to loud music, bad TV; and boys lots of boys.  Why would she want to leave? 

Well,  come to think of it…maybe I should hold on to her leash a little tighter at least until I finish my letter to President Obama calling for to ban all cars or moving vehicles from the streets (and sandwiches)!  

Creature Comforts!

We all seek creature comforts.  For me it is a few big squishy down pillows, a big soft bed, the best Egyptian cotton sheets, and a puffy down comforter.  Ok, go ahead call me a snob, it isn’t the first time, it won’t be the last and when it comes to my comforts it is a title that I have learned to wear proudly.  Now a dog on the other hand is suppose to be a dog.  Comfort is found in the form of whatever is convenient for them and close by when they feel the need to plop down.  Whether it be the middle of the concrete sidewalk, a stack of papers or books that you are using for work, or the middle of the kitchen floor where you are trying to cook, comfort is not as important as access, access to you, food, a quick pet or just a reminder that you are sharing space with another living being.  At least that was the case until I met the Nin. 

My first hint should have been in training when she immediately took a liking to my miniature twin bed that I was sleeping in at the dorm.  In my opinion, a twin bed is not big enough for one person let alone two, so I was not sure we would survive the training period but I knew we would be ok when we got home because my bed was bigger and she would never come up on the bed unless invited, thus the “jump” command. 

My plan at home, as with all my service dogs is that they could have a place on the  furniture if invited and if on their designated personal blanket.  There is nothing worse than having company over and having them stand up from being on the sofa and have a backside full of dog fur.  Steeler had never really felt the need to be on the sofa and Ivan only wanted to be there if I was on it so no worries, with Nin it should be no different.  Not so.  It took no more than three hours of acclimating herself to my condo before she decided it would do as her comfortable home and she jumped right up on the sofa and made herself comfortable.  Now, I mean comfortable, she pulled down the throw pillow rested her head on it and went to sleep.  As soon as I noticed this I immediately gave her the “off” command, I knew this was not a president I wanted to set for her.  The off lasted all of 10 minutes while I left the room, and she was back – right in the middle of the sofa, stretched out, head on pillow.  Not a care in the world. 

In my bedroom the battle was not too much different.  I got into bed and started getting settled and BAM as graceful as an elephant she jumps on the bed and starts making herself comfortable, on me no less.  A queen size bed and she cannot find enough room without encroaching on my space.  This pattern lasted about a week before she stopped jumping on the bed during my waking hours.  Mostly, she just waited until I fell asleep and then jumped on the bed, very kind of her.  Or she would wait until I got up and then make herself comfortable in my spot with her head on my pillow.  I still cannot break her of that.  We would battle over the bed until she figured out that she could lay on her side of the bed and still touch me.  She has to touch me, to let me know that she is there.  She does not always wait for a command and it is something that I kind of have given up on but not the sofa…the battle continues.              

Two chenille throw pillows and a ruined blanket later and we are still battling over the sofa.  I have tried everything.  “Put the bottom cushions up on the edge,” said my mom.  I came in the room to find her curled up on the base of the sofa, she had pulled one of the cushions down and had her head on that one.  “Put tin foil on the sofa, the dogs don’t like the sound or the feel of it,” said a trainer. “Okay!” I tucked in the corners and had it all the way across the base of the sofa.  It took about 30 minutes (it slowed her down) but she ripped it in half, squished it to the side and laid down on the sofa.  “Try newspaper,” said a puppy raiser.  That lasted all of five minutes as she gently grabbed it with her mouth and took it off the sofa and placed it on the floor.  “Put pillows on the sofa,” offered my mom.  She jumped up and just pushed them off and used one to rest her head.  “UGH!” 

The sofa battle continues, I keep a close eye on her and when we sleep the door is shut so she does not get the opportunity to make her bed on it.  She has taken over the sofa in my office which was for visitors so now I just choose to pick my battles with her.  Don’t ever underestimate the lengths a dog will go to seek her comfort!