Tashi delek, 1996-2011

Tashi delek, Dingo, Little Big Dog, Madame Grumplit passed away yesterday under an azalea bush. Her last days were not comfortable, but the vast majority of her 15 years on this planet were filled with adventure and enjoyment.

When I adopted Tashi from Taos Animal Shelter, I had been coming to the shelter for weeks, noticing this quiet, shy little dog with the satellite dish triangle ears. On this day, I asked where the little brown dog was and was told she was outside in her pen. It had just snowed the night before and the little brown dog was up on a mound of snow, barking at something in the distance. I came into her pen, kneeled down in the snow, and this little dog came around behind me and put her front paws up on my back in a playful hug.  

The shelter folk said that there was a connection between our spirits, and I do believe there was.

Those first years, she was a little spitfire, growling at everything that moved, getting into scraps everywhere we went. She was also a free spirit, and when we went on hikes I'd sometimes have to get back in the car and drive without her so she would run after me and tire out, before I could catch her and get her to go with me.  




Unfortunately, I didn't know anything about training and the popular "wisdom" at the time was all about dominance and alpha rolls. 

So she had to endure some of that, those first few years in New Mexico. I'm sure it did nothing but make her a more angry and a more rebellious young woman. Fortunately, by nature I am not very good at displays of "dominance" so Tashi never got much more than the light version.

I think Tashi enjoyed the four months we spent in New York, after Taos and before Santa Fe. 

She always loved her grandparents, and she enjoyed going to Riverside Park and running with the pack. Those were the days that she used to tear across a big field, up and down a huge hill, leading a racing team of dogs in a happy chase. Where did all her aggression go? She did just fine with those New York pups.  I would come home from the park with bruises on my calves from her nipping at me like I was one of her bovine charges.   

She did mellow out with time, or maybe it was the addition of Lamar that allowed her to relax and enjoy more. I will always remember that first night I brought Lamar home, how he was lying on the brick floor of my little studio in Santa Fe, and Tashi came right over and stood on him, just put her little front paw on his shoulder. 

They have been a happy couple ever since. 


 












By the time we moved to Portland, Tashi was more well-adjusted and Lamar was more the problem child.

Tashi did well in the Pacific Northwest, running around the National Forests, connecting with our hippie friends, watching the sunset over the beach, checking out hot springs.

What a wonderful road trip companion she was, sticking that head with those antenna ears out the window, snuffing in the fresh breeze, always eager to check out the next place.













Loved the water, loved the desert, loved the forest.  Swam in the ocean, swam in lakes and rivers.

Ran around those big parks in Portland and got her face all scratched up in blackberry bushes, loving every minute.










Adored the ocean, though unlike her friend Lamar, was smart enough not to drink it.














Accompanied her mom back and forth on road trips 













to Santa Fe and all the way back to New York before I left for the summer in Guatemala

After Portland, Tashi had no problem adjusting to city life while her mom went to graduate school. A couple years of good food, cuddling with Grandma and Grandpa, and hanging out with the NYC dogs again. Summers upstate with the grandparents, long days lying in the sun

Then Mom got a job in DC, so it was off to the "Berkeley of the East Coast"--Takoma Park, MD and the house that Florian and I have worked on over the years to make it the ideal place for dogs.

 
More hikes, camping trips in the Shenandoahs and on the beach and in Berkeley Springs and in Fredericksburg.

Daily walks to our favorite unofficially off-leash wooded parks and streams that make this area even better for dogs than all those places we lived in the wild west--who would have thought?

Those summer days by Aunt Nancy's pool. Tashi's been just more and more mellow, but still with that spunky grumpy spark she's always had.

Right up until her last few weeks, wagging and romping a bit with Lamar,  

wagging and wiggling when her people come home, sniffing, wagging, and touching noses when we returned from a walk with the other dogs, that she could no longer go on.

She's been so patient with all the foster dogs--grumping and growling at them when necessary, but wagging a lot too.



When we got the diagnosis that she was not long for this world back in January, my hope was that she would make it until the spring so she could enjoy some days of lying in the warm sun outside like she loved. Yesterday was the first really warm day of the year, the sun was out and the birds were singing and flowers are in bloom. How auspicious that she got to die on such a day.

When I found her, her face was at peace, more at peace than it had been her last few days. 

Tashi delek, may you and all the Buddhas light up the Pure Land with the magnificent radiance of auspiciousness! Go easy on the squirrel bodhisattvas! We miss you my piglet but we'll always be together.

Tashi delectable

Tashi's full name is Tashi delek, which means auspicious blessings in Tibetan. I named her a few days after I adopted her in Taos, NM, where I was studying Tibetan Buddhism. Her name is used as a greeting and farewell among Tibetan Buddhist practitioners and I wanted to give her a name that would be a bell of mindfulness for her whenever she heard it...and a name that would help her achieve an auspicious rebirth when it was her time to leave this world.

In January, I took Tashi to the vet after a few weeks of coughing that was first diagnosed as kennel cough. The diagnosis this time was a grossly enlarged heart and a recommendation to euthanize as soon as possible.

We've had an extra two months of lying in the sun and going for nice hikes on the Potomac and along our favorite trails. Most importantly, we've had time to cuddle, connect, say the Amitabha mantra together, make peace with what lies beyond. 

Tashi along the Potomac in February

I disagree with the advice of that vet, and of many of my dog-loving friends who say that its better to end a dog's life too soon than too late. Tashi has no doubt endured some suffering these two months, but she has also experienced joy and comfort. She's gotten to do her favorite things, eat her favorite foods. Who knows what goes on in a dog's mind? Who knows what spiritual projects she is trying to complete in this lifetime?

Of course some of my reasons are selfish. After 14 years, how could I put myself in the position of ending this dog's life? It wouldn't ever be easy, but after these weeks at least I know I've packed as much joy into her life as possible. And I know that if I do assist her passing from this world, it won't feel quite so premature.

I don't know what this week will bring. Maybe she will pass peacefully on her own, or maybe I'll feel ready to make that decision for her. Until then, we are going to fill her life with the auspicious blessings that I hoped would adorn her years on this planet when I named her 14 years ago.

Found

That was about the quickest turnaround time I've ever experienced in response to a request to the universe/Spirit /Buddha/Earthmother/a nonhuman animal. Lars was found, the day after I asked him to be! He is happily snoozing at home with Gigi. Thank you for listening, young man! You have made a lot of people very happy.

Born to be Wild

It has been some time since I posted, largely because this blog is for me a place to chronicle my successes and provide a boost--to myself and other dog trainers and dog fanatics--when we sorely need them. When the news is not so encouraging, the inspiration leaves me. Which is all a way of saying that Lars' adoption did not work out, Lars moved to another foster home, Lars escaped from that foster home, and Lars has been on the run in Rosedale, MD ever since--for a month now!

The good news is that his most recent foster, Gigi, has shown a heroic level of dedication to getting him back, and that we continue to get calls and emails from people who say they've seen him. The sightings are concentrated along Route 7 near 695 in Rosedale, and he is apparently eating the deer carcasses left near the salt dome by transportation workers and the food we've left in the area. The entire town of Rosedale seems to be involved in the search and concerned. Both Gigi and I have seen him, or at least what we think is him--but he didn't come to us, just kept running.

We are hoping that at some point he'll get tired, or he'll fall in love with another dog like he did with Fozzie and stick around.

The situation depressed the crap out of me for a while. I felt I had failed him. This scared dog who needed protection from an unfriendly world was all alone, fending for himself again. All those months of stress, the fights with Lamar, the endless anxiety over whether there was any human in the world with the patience and the lovingkindness to be able to stick with Lars for the long haul, see in him what I saw in him, but have the space and the calmness of temperament and the right amount of other dogs to be really at peace with who Lars was.....all that, only for Lars to end up on the street again.

What was the point of it all?

Well, we have learned a lot about tracking lost dogs.

The most important thing is to put up signs in the area where the dog was last seen. Harness volunteers and put up as many as possible, focusing on highly visible intersections.  Put down food where he's last been seen.

Leave scraps of clothing that smell like the people and dogs he loves.
As others recommended to us, hire a tracking dog. The scent tracking dog can verify sightings, show you where the dog has been, help you concentrate more sign-posting efforts. If the dog is moving slowly enough and hunkers down somewhere, the tracking dog can lead you right to him.

Mallory, who is now in a forever home

But what if the dog doesn't want to be found? What if the dog is already semi-feral, is skilled at surviving on the streets, has always had mixed feelings about humans, and is a fast little devil on top of it? In the case of Mallory, my foster dog who got lost years ago, the tracker dog led us clear to the opposite side of town from where she was eventually found; Mallory was recovered because diligent sign-posting led to calls which led to a feeding station and volunteer presence that were in the right place at the right time. In the case of Lars, the tracker folk gave up on getting us anywhere close to him because he is covering so much ground.

Next steps, we will try to pinpoint a location to place a live trap with really good food in it. Will Lars go into a trap? Good question!

Lars, please remember how you once enjoyed your crate

Can we get a sharp-shooter with a tranquilizer gun to the right place at the right time? Maybe we'll try!

These questions remain, but despite them, I am relatively at peace with Lars now. My heart still longs for him and prays for him but part of me has surrendered. It happened on the last day that I went up to Rosedale to help with the search.

This was the fourth time I had spent all day driving around, putting up signs, leaving scraps of my clothing and piles of food, hiking through streets, streams, woods, and people's yards to leave my scent for him, urinating wherever I could get away with it, and encouraging Fozzie to do the same. This was the time that I went to the salt dome where the carcasses are, was walking with Fozzie along the utility line, coming up a hill, when ahead of us a large....white....dog ran up the hill and in the opposite direction, barely stopping to look.

Fozzie and I followed those pawprints in the fresh snow for the next 3 hours along heavily traveled trails and through silent, pristine woods, watching, in heavily trafficked areas, for the pawprints that were heavier and darker in the snow, and spaced out in a line rather than plotted in a rough trapezoid like those of dogs on a relaxed leashed stroll with their owners. I kept thinking, maybe he'll get cornered in a yard or on a porch, then he'll see me and stop running. Maybe he'll remember life with humans has its perks.

When that failed to happen--when bone tiredness set in and I realized it was time to buy Fozzie some pepperoni and call it a day--I found myself for the first time in a state of peace. Lars--in both appearance and temperament--is so close to his lupine forebears. Far closer than someone like Fozzie, with his floppy ears and his addiction to human contact, or Lamar, who is never more content than when he is sprawled across his humans' queen-sized bed and getting an ear rub. Lars is getting the exercise, the mental stimulation, the challenge and excitement of finding his own food that come naturally to wild dogs. And he is surviving.

Which is not to say that if given the chance, I wouldn't wrap his fuzzy body in my arms and kiss his nose for the rest of eternity. Come home young man!

Construction craziness and Lars well-being

Dizzy and Mom

Imagine, if you will, a <900 square foot 2-bedroom house with 4 dogs, 2 budgies, an anxious talkative Swiss ballet dancer, 4 days of construction work with all kitchen appliances in the living room and 3 very gregarious, non-English speaking contractors (by the names of Jose, Mauricio, and Oscar, in case that helps the imagination) carrying large objects around, and an anxiety-prone late 30-something dog trainer nonprofit worker confronting the reality of still not having adoptive homes for 2 of the said 4 beasts many months after they joined this bizarre family. 

Imagine two of said 4 dogs engage in snarling fits whenever one looks cross-eyed at the other, that another of the 4 is 75 pounds of ecstatic muscle and unrestrained jubilance, and that the fourth is a beloved senior dog who wants nothing more than to lie in the sun and growl at passersby.

Dizzy, after a grooming

Now imagine that all this takes place during the week before Christmas, when the parents of said dog trainer are leaving their ill-tempered dreadlocked Bergamasco, Dizzy, to stay for a few days, concurrently with a visit from said Swiss guy's non-English-speaking Swiss friends, one of whom is terrified of dogs, who will stay for a week. You now have a fairly complete picture of why said dog trainer has been a gibbering mass of nerves, anticipation, guilt, and dread.

A visit from a potential adopter tonight brings hope of a saner world to come. Lars put his best foot forward, quite literally, when he came right over and put his paw on the man's knee. Once the cheesy snacks started coming, Lars did not leave his new friend's side but happily offered sits, downs, rollovers, and numerous paws, then just sprawled out on his side at the man's feet and relaxed. 

The experience reminded me how we all, dogs included, have a potential for peace and well-being inside us that we often just need the right helpers to realize. This holiday I'll be toasting to us all finding the right helpers. 

T-Touch and anxiety wraps

A couple of weekends ago Tashi and I had the privilege of attending a T-Touch seminar by Pam Wanveer of Woodside T Touch. Tashi is normally a jumpy young woman, one who hates having her paws touched, won't let you pull out a tick or a thorn without a lot of wiggling and hollering, and for the last few years, one who doesn't even seem to like to be cuddled very much. In her younger days, though, she was a very affectionate little dog who loved to cuddle with her humans.

Lamar in an anxiety wrap, still pretty anxious

In class, she was a complete disaster--I touched her and she jumped a mile, squeaked, and got as far away from me as her leash would allow. 


Pam suggested an anxiety wrap. Take an Ace Bandage, place the center of it flat against the dog's chest. Cross behind dog's shoulders, then wrap again under the dog's armpits. Tie on the dog's side. 


The effect is like swaddling a baby: gentle pressure, evenly applied, is comforting, grounding, and relaxing. 


A few minutes in her wrap, and Tashi allowed me to touch her all over. For the rest of the class we did little circles all over her ears and head.

Cosmo would only let me clip his nails with an anxiety wrap on

Since then, she's been much more like the Tashi of old--she lets me do little circles all over her, she rolls over contentedly instead of trying to get away, she seems happier to see her humans and spend time with us. I think that one session in class broke through to her and reminded her how pleasant contact can be.

The anxiety wrap is such a great tool--I'm going to bring one to class with me and use it for dogs who can't settle down. 

Tashi's orthopedic bed also seems to help her anxiety

Another calming trick: yawning

Like many dogs, Maize was uneasy with the camera  

I think this is my favorite one yet, picked up from reading Turid Rugaas' Calming Signals: On Talking Terms with Dogs. For dogs who are stressed by other dogs, thunderstorms, the sound of approaching trains, we can use the signals that dogs use to calm each other down.

When dogs do something that seems out of context--shaking when they're dry, licking their lips when they're not eating, yawning when they're not tired--often they are displaying a calming signal. When two dogs meet each other for the first time and are not sure of each other, they do a lot of these. 

I see this all the time in my own house.

• I bring home a new foster, foster comes into yard, Lamar is allowed to see foster, Lamar turns sideways: calming signal. 
• New dog licks his lips: calming signal.
• Lamar sniffs the ground: calming signal.
• New dog approaches slowly, in an arc: calming signal 
• Dogs greet, sniff, decide they like each other, new dog goes into a play bow: calming signal
• Dogs romp and play for a few minutes, Lamar yawns: calming signal
• I get out the camera to capture these fabulous moments on film, both dogs look away: calming signal
• Dogs start roughhousing again, knock into my legs, I yell Ouch! with some irritation in my voice, both dogs stop playing and shake: calming signal.

What all these signals are saying is chill out! With these communications, dogs are trying to convey that they are a bit uncomfortable with a situation. To another dog, they are saying Remain calm, I'm not a threat. To a person with a camera or a yelling person, they are trying to get us to calm down and remove the camera from their faces or stop yelling at them. 

The most fascinating thing Rugaas relates is the value of these signals in training. She worked with a family that lived by the train tracks, whose dog was terrified, howling, trembling, hiding with every passing train. To get the dog to relax, she tried getting the whole family to yawn when that train went by. Within a few weeks, the dog was transformed--sleeping calmly as the train blew its horn and chugged on by.

I think this is a wonderful tool to be used in conjunction with desensitization and counterconditioning. I tried it last night with Lars and Lamar, who still get stressed and excited about each others' entries in the front door. As Lamar tried to enter, and Lars stood inside, hackles up, I gave them both bits of hot dog as usual while I stood there yawning. And I swear Lamar's hackles relaxed a bit and both of them smiled a bit wider, a bit less tensely, as they chewed their hot dogs and watched me yawn and yawn.