Although yesterday started off fine, with a long walk during which My Good Dog was mostly perfectly behaved (except when she wasn't), she went on to have a bit of a rough day. Mondays, you know: trash day. All day long, we hear the slow rumbling of garbage trucks. Then the yard waste trucks make their rounds. By the time the mail carrier arrives in the late afternoon, Sophie's limited store of patience has been exhausted. Still, I see progress. Even though she launched a full offensive at the mail carrier's approach, I intervened swiftly and she recovered her equanimity quickly.
This morning, we left for our walk a bit later than usual. A mail carrier truck was parked to the left of us as we neared the trailer park on Telegraph. I made sure I was breathing and walking normally. Sometimes I catch myself tightening up when I see a mail truck, or a FedEx or UPS truck: my shoulders tighten and rise, my breathing gets faster, my heart beat becomes noticeable. I react this way even if I'm out driving by myself.
So I've been learning to pay attention to that and correct my posture. This morning, I held the leash loosely in my left hand, which is in itself progress; I used to begin our walks by wrapping the end of the leash around my hand several times.
We kept walking, with Sophie trotting at a sedate heel. Then she glanced at the mail truck briefly, returned her gaze forward, and kept walking as if she had never once in her life ever even growled at a mail carrier, as if she bore no grudge against mail carriers in general, as if she'd never been the spectacle of 70 pounds of barking, whirling, ferociously lunging fury that interrupted a middle school P.E. class because all the students and the teacher ran to the chain-link fence to stare at her while she let a mail carrier know what was up.
Several blocks later, we'd turned down Ashwood toward the park, and Sophie caught sight of a large, long-haired cat of the striped variety. The cat looked at Sophie calmly, and then approached--not as a Halloween cat would do, but as if she thought she'd like to say hello. Sophie and the cat touched noses and sniffed each other thoroughly. The cat didn't run, Sophie didn't pounce at her, they just looked at each other for a moment, and then Sophie and I went on our way.
This is how it would be in my dream world every day.
Today's Report Card
# of mail trucks sighted (parked): 1
reactivity: 0
# of cats sighted (in motion): 2
reactivity: -5, 0
Showing posts with label one fearless cat. Show all posts
Showing posts with label one fearless cat. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Thursday, February 7, 2013
The Trouble with Fun
There's always a price tag, isn't there.
No more jumping for My Bad Dog. Wouldn't you know it, the athletics aggravated that hip problem to which dogs of a shepherd persuasion are prone, and she's been limping. She's been resting, not comfortably, and we've administering the anti-inflammatories.
Now she's depressed because she had two days of no walks, followed by a few days of only a short walk, rather than the daily hour to hour and a half to which she is accustomed.
My Bad Dog has a powerful presence in a room. When she's subdued, you can feel it. We all wish we could do something to cheer her up, but the only remedy is a good long walk (or a cat or squirrel to chase, or a gopher hole to dig in). To a person who says that dogs can't get depressed, I offer these signs of depression from the National Institute of Mental Health:
1. Persistent sad, anxious, or "empty" feelings
She doesn't speak English, so we can't verify her feelings, but she appears to be sad, with bouts of moping punctuated by bursts of short-lived ferocity toward the neighbor or the mail carrier.
2. Feelings of hopelessness or pessimism
Ditto previous.
3. Feelings of guilt, worthlessness, or helplessness
Makes sense. Not so much the guilt or worthlessness, but she's helpless to get out the door by herself, that's for sure.
4. Irritability, restlessness
Not so much the former, but definitely the latter. There's been more barking, and she's been click click clicking around the house in the middle of the night and whimpering to go out to chase--what? A possum? Maybe a raccoon?
5. Loss of interest in activities or hobbies once pleasurable...
My Bad Dog has no interest in her rope toy, refuses to play tug-of-war, won't chase a stick, and isn't even interested in chewing a ball.
6. Fatigue and decreased energy
Absolutely. All that moping is exhausting.
7. Difficulty concentrating, remembering details, and making decisions
Hard to tell, her schedule isn't exactly demanding.
8. Insomnia, early-morning wakefulness, or excessive sleeping
As described previously.
9.Overeating, or appetite loss
The latter. In fact, when I held out a treat, she sniffed it and then click click clicked away to lie down heavily on a rug and then sigh. She sighs a heartbreaking sigh.
10. Thoughts of suicide, suicide attempts
I hope not.
11. Aches or pains, headaches, cramps, or digestive problems that do not ease even with treatment.
Can't say on this one.
On the bright side, a few days ago, My Bad Dog and I encountered a young cat--just out of kittenhood, but not grown, sort of a gawky teen-ager. This cat had the supreme and utter fearlessness of one to whom nothing bad had ever happened. The cat approached us. I told My Bad Dog to sit, and she did, just barely, almost jumping out of her skin with the effort of restraining herself from giving chase. Not that the cat looked as if it would run.
The cat actually touched noses with My Bad Dog, but then, sensing the unseemly avidity of My Bad Dog's interest, the cat dashed into a hedge.
About a month ago, we had a similar meeting with a mouse. I'd decided that the mouse was either mentally deficient (God bless it, but if humans exhibit of range of intelligence, it makes sense animals would, too) or visually impaired, as the mouse emerged from an ivy patch, appeared to look directly at My Bad Dog, and then scampered toward us. The only thing that kept this from being My Bad Dog's Best Day Ever, Except for the Time She Chased the Cows was that I wouldn't let her chase the mouse when it realized its mistake and hurried back into the ivy.
No more jumping for My Bad Dog. Wouldn't you know it, the athletics aggravated that hip problem to which dogs of a shepherd persuasion are prone, and she's been limping. She's been resting, not comfortably, and we've administering the anti-inflammatories.
Now she's depressed because she had two days of no walks, followed by a few days of only a short walk, rather than the daily hour to hour and a half to which she is accustomed.
My Bad Dog has a powerful presence in a room. When she's subdued, you can feel it. We all wish we could do something to cheer her up, but the only remedy is a good long walk (or a cat or squirrel to chase, or a gopher hole to dig in). To a person who says that dogs can't get depressed, I offer these signs of depression from the National Institute of Mental Health:
1. Persistent sad, anxious, or "empty" feelings
She doesn't speak English, so we can't verify her feelings, but she appears to be sad, with bouts of moping punctuated by bursts of short-lived ferocity toward the neighbor or the mail carrier.
2. Feelings of hopelessness or pessimism
Ditto previous.
3. Feelings of guilt, worthlessness, or helplessness
Makes sense. Not so much the guilt or worthlessness, but she's helpless to get out the door by herself, that's for sure.
4. Irritability, restlessness
Not so much the former, but definitely the latter. There's been more barking, and she's been click click clicking around the house in the middle of the night and whimpering to go out to chase--what? A possum? Maybe a raccoon?
5. Loss of interest in activities or hobbies once pleasurable...
My Bad Dog has no interest in her rope toy, refuses to play tug-of-war, won't chase a stick, and isn't even interested in chewing a ball.
6. Fatigue and decreased energy
Absolutely. All that moping is exhausting.
7. Difficulty concentrating, remembering details, and making decisions
Hard to tell, her schedule isn't exactly demanding.
8. Insomnia, early-morning wakefulness, or excessive sleeping
As described previously.
9.Overeating, or appetite loss
The latter. In fact, when I held out a treat, she sniffed it and then click click clicked away to lie down heavily on a rug and then sigh. She sighs a heartbreaking sigh.
10. Thoughts of suicide, suicide attempts
I hope not.
11. Aches or pains, headaches, cramps, or digestive problems that do not ease even with treatment.
Can't say on this one.
On the bright side, a few days ago, My Bad Dog and I encountered a young cat--just out of kittenhood, but not grown, sort of a gawky teen-ager. This cat had the supreme and utter fearlessness of one to whom nothing bad had ever happened. The cat approached us. I told My Bad Dog to sit, and she did, just barely, almost jumping out of her skin with the effort of restraining herself from giving chase. Not that the cat looked as if it would run.
The cat actually touched noses with My Bad Dog, but then, sensing the unseemly avidity of My Bad Dog's interest, the cat dashed into a hedge.
About a month ago, we had a similar meeting with a mouse. I'd decided that the mouse was either mentally deficient (God bless it, but if humans exhibit of range of intelligence, it makes sense animals would, too) or visually impaired, as the mouse emerged from an ivy patch, appeared to look directly at My Bad Dog, and then scampered toward us. The only thing that kept this from being My Bad Dog's Best Day Ever, Except for the Time She Chased the Cows was that I wouldn't let her chase the mouse when it realized its mistake and hurried back into the ivy.
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