Ryder: A Story of Contrasts

It's funny.  As a kid I hated puzzles.  Any and all puzzles.  Now, as an adult I can't stand not having all the pieces fit.  Having odds or ends that seem incongruent make me nuts.  I have no qualms researching to the point of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

Ryder is a puzzle I haven't been able to put together.  He is, in so many ways, a story of contrasts.

He was the 6th pup out of an expected 4...

Born August 15, 2010

When he was born he was adorable.  While lower on the fight for food spectrum than his brothers he would have been middle of the pack.  As a baby he was higher energy but more reserved than some of his really outgoing siblings.

He drove me nuts running out to the corrals with Diva.  Rattling the wire along the bottom of the gate and barking madly at anything that moved.  It was an epic feat to keep him in the yard for "free play."

I was actually relieved to sell him.  Thinking to myself there goes the toughest pup out of the litter.  At this point in time he wasn't interested in interactive play with a toy and human.

When he came back, I took a deep breathe and prepared to work my arse off training.  What I got was a dog prone to accidents in the house.  A dog who flipped out when I hollered at his mom.  He leapt over the baby gate, ran up the stairs and jumped into my mother's lap.  A dog who lost his everliving marbles if you held a stock stick in your hand near him.  A dog who was supposed to be crate trained but who woke me crying each night.  I eventually caved and let him sleep with me.  He would push his body against mine.  If I moved, he'd shift so he was once again touching me.  For months he would only sleep if he was touching me.

Because he was having accidents from being left at home I looked into Doggy Daycare.  Found a new one and tried it out.  It was a failure in the sense that I think they let him down.  I think they allowed other dogs to beat him up and destroyed his confidence around other canines.

I had quite a few offers from people interested in purchasing him.  I couldn't sell him in good conscience.

I began coaxing him to work.  He struggled with any amounts of pressure.  Progress was slow.  But progress was made.

I put him into agility classes.  This bolstered his confidence and he demonstrated a keen enjoyment of the activities.

Between the sheep work and agility exercises he had plenty to keep his brain working.

Yet things were not always perfect.  In fact, at times they were downright awful.  And this is where I began to gnaw on the puzzle that is this dog.

In the beginning he was horribly reactive to men.  He was good with other dogs but that changed.  I neutered him thinking this would help reduce his reactivity.

Here is the puzzle.

1) Sometimes he is beyond awesome with other dogs.  He used to clean Tessa's bum and ears as she neared the twilight of her life.

Walking in the grazing reserve, Tessa is behind him.

He happily and wonderfully played with the Boston Terrier I was dog sitting.  He did not have a prior relationship with this dog.

Other times, he reacts and freaks out at any and all dogs.  It does not matter the size, breed or sex.  He does tend to do this more than anything at all.  We've been working very, very hard on this and have definitely made progress.  But he is most definitely not "cured".  

2) He is the biggest wimp out there.  He is scared of grocery bags, blankets flapping, noises, thunder, doesn't travel well anymore, and so on, so on.  He is so bad that when Honey fart's, Ryder runs out of the room!  True story!  It leaves me baffled because his mother wasn't like that.  His sister isn't like that.  It has taken forever to get him to accept the 12 year old child that's now part of our lives.  He still doesn't like him and mostly tolerates or avoids him.  This is not good.  He really is a horribly anxious dog.  

In his ThunderShirt.

It's funny, as a pup he showed no interest in playing fetch.  He would watch me play with Tessa until one day he joined in.  Now he is inseparable with the ball.  

He even sleeps with a ball.  We jokingly call it his soother.

Even though he no longer sleeps with me, he will always be my sensitive cuddle buddy.  

If dogs could talk, I wonder what he would say?

My question for him: why are you so good in so many ways and such a challenge in others? 

Fall Back, Bounce Forward

Fall back.  Bounce forward.  This seems to be the story of my life.  It is most definitely the story of the dogs lives.  One thing I have learned over the years is that you can't change the past.  Make your peace with it and move on.  Quite literally, it is what it is.

One thing I've been pondering is how to improve.  The quality of my life.  The quality of the dogs lives.  The quality of the horses lives.

Soooo.....

In 2015:

Me:

• Go to Yoga.  Regularly.  
• Investigate a course or two to pick up.  Ideas I'm tossing around are Canine Massage Therapy, or even another Masters.  Maybe even a PhD.  Something to stretch my mind.  I've gotten obsessive compulsive with investigating peer reviewed research regarding dog nutrition.  
• Ride.  Run.  Work Dogs.  Do things I love.  These things make me happy.

Dogs:

• Make regular trips to different places to work the dogs.  Ken and I talked about Diva and her not listening to me.  He raised a good point.  Tessa had had way more consistent work at his place before her first trial.  I need to get back into that groove.
• Continue with the agility "cross-training".  It makes the dogs happy and gives me something to do on long dark evenings.  
• Commit to entering trials and clinics.

Horses:

• Continue to ride Marnie.  Refine her skills to turn her into a killer arena horse.  
• Maybe, just maybe horsey babies?  We shall see.  
• Whiskey - help her over the rainbow bridge before winter 2015.  On this I won't budge.  

Progress? Or Lack Thereof?

It's been a long, busy month.  The weather here has actually been reasonable.  When Dad returned from his vacation from Mexico he dug in heels regarding Whiskey.  He has decided that she should not be put down.  I get his point.  Her eye remains soft and relaxed.  While she is most definitely lame, she is NOT as lame as she was last winter.  Dad has put out round straw bales for her to set up housekeeping at.  He's also created a straw path to the waterer.  This seems to have helped her as she's no longer drinking when he carries a bucket of water out to her so she must be drinking from the auto waterer.  The goal this winter is to keep her off the hard ground on soft footing.  To keep her weight at a healthy level.

I tried and tried to explain to him that she will NOT get better.  That there is permanent damage.  I may end up doing x-rays in the spring just to show him.  I've decided for the time being that we'll continue on - status quo.  Until she seems to not be able to manage we'll leave things be.  In spring I'll reassess her.  Things always seem so much easier in the spring and summer.

One never knows what the future will bring.

Love

I've always believed that love is not enough.  You can love as much as you want but you still need to be reasonable, thoughtful and respectful.  I'm someone who loves animals with a capital L.  They feed my soul and bring serenity and balance to my life.

Today, love is not enough.  I can love Whiskey to the moon and back.  I do love her to the moon and back.  The simple truth is there is not enough love in the world to fix what is wrong with her.  On this cold and blustery day, Sam - the vet came out.  She wanted to rule out an easy fix.  Something like an abscess.  We stood in the cold wind and talked.  I'm not going to lie.  I've been around horses for a long time.  I know, deeply and intrinsically, when something is wrong.  And something is wrong with my beloved mare.  The vet thinks it's likely a broken bone in her foot or a torn suspensory.  We can do x-rays.  We can "de-nerve" her.  We can put on corrective shoeing.  But to what end?  I asked if x-rays would help.  Sam shrugged helplessly.  She said they would just tell us definitively what's wrong, not fix her.  Basically there is no fix.  I trust my vet.  She is skilled, experienced and maintains up to date practice.  She is a life long learner.  I trust my vet with my horses life.  All of the options presented don't change the outcome.  They just change the timeline.

We are looking at quality of life here.  My hope had been that she could manage to be a companion for Marnie.  The reality is that's not going to happen.  We're going to hobble through the next couple of weeks.  Feeding her bute, carrying her water, and leaving her snuggled up to a round straw bale.

I need the time to line up things.  My first choice is to get a back hoe in to dig a hole so Whiskey can rest at the farm.  The back hoe will be significantly more expensive but will bring me peace of mind.  Less desirable but possibly necessary will be to "book" the rendering truck.  Once I have the after care in place, I'll make an appointment to have Sam come put her down.

I love her enough to do the right thing, even though it's the hard thing for us humans.  Some days it sucks being responsible.  

Setbacks??

As I opened up Blogger and scrolled down through my reading list I saw Liz's Setback post.  It was perfect timing for me to read and for the thoughts swirling around my head.

My dad called tonight.

This has been the first week of winter.  No one is acclimatized.  Not me.  Not the dogs.  Not the horses.  Dad called to tell me he's been taking buckets of water out to Whiskey who is now refusing to enter the corral area.  He said she's having a hard time walking.

Dad can be funny about stuff.  The neighbour never did water his horses.  Snow is fine and all that hooey.  He also never did feed unless it was a particularly deep snow winter.  I won't comment on what I think of his horse care practices... Anyhow, said neighbour and dad are buddies.

Big sigh.

Our conversation tonight centred around why water is necessary to maintain a healthy horse.  (There is an automatic waterer the horses have access to - Whiskey is just not walking to it.)  It then shifted to my dad telling me that Whiskey needs shoes.

Huge sigh.

Go figure.  They guy who wonders if it's necessary to provide fresh water wants to put $120+ shoes on a pasture horse.  That's plain shoes and pads, without the necessary borium for winter traction.

This thought led me to Liz's post.  Which was perfectly aligned with what I was thinking.

The horse shoes.  Are they for the horse?  Or for my father?

I won't lie.  I'm really worried.  Is this just a blip?  A rough transition to our frozen world?  Or a forecast of the future?  Can Whiskey realistically handle our rough winters?

What I do know is I'll be driving out tomorrow to see how she's doing.  I'll bring another can of Venice Turpentine.  We'll start there and see if it helps her tender toes.  I've also placed the farrier "on alert".  Bottom line - is the right call to the vet or the farrier?  Because if I can't keep her sound enough to survive then I'll do what's right.  Regardless of how it'll hurt my father who loves this horse with every fibre.

Win Some, Lose Some.

On Tuesday and Wednesday we competed at FarmFair International.  There were a total of 42 dogs entered in the competition.  On Tuesday I kept both dogs with me in the waiting area.  I wanted them to get used to the noises of people, announcers and to realize that there were sheep and herding to be had.  Diva was up first at the 12th dog in the running order.

Diva, apparently, is deaf.  Who knew?

What a little rotter.  It was the longest four minutes of my life.  Little shit refused to take any of her commands.  She was there for a good time, not a long time.  So, on the Wednesday and second day of competition, I ran down the arena the moment she showed me she was going to ignore me.  I sent her on her flanks, and made her lie down.  I needed to show her that working somewhere different did not mean she could do what she wanted.

Ryder was a surprise.

I fully and completely expected him to melt down.  He is such a wimpy soul.  He freaks out all the time over sounds and strange stimuli.

But he didn't.  Who knew?

His first "go" was ok.  He was a bit sticky which isn't like him.  He got a bit stuck on the sheep at the top of the arena.  He did come around and was moving the very heavy and tough to move sheep.  However, he got in too close and made some chasing and "gripped" or bit the sheep.  The second day I don't think he bit but we still got called off for biting.  Such is the game.  It's a lot of skill, and a bit of luck.

Overall, I'm happy with the experience.  I wanted to know how the dogs would perform.  Now I know exactly what I need to work on to help them reach competition levels.  Quite frankly, Diva may not be the calibre needed.  I'll work with her over the winter and try again in the spring.

Sorry, no pictures or video.  I was a bit distracted with nerves to set anything up.

One Down, Two to Go

Today I was up at what felt like the crack of dawn.  It wasn't but I hate time change and was a bit jacked about the upcoming day.  I loaded the truck with dog crates, and other dog things.  Like toys.  I'm weird in that I never travel without toys.  It was a two hour drive to the arena that the stock dog trial was being held.  The whole time leading up to this trial I had done a lot of self talk.  I have approached the dogs first trial as a learning experience.  I will learn.  They will learn.  It's all I can ask.  After all, the dogs have not had the most optimal training experiences.  It's sporadic.  It's taken me three years to do something that should have taken 3-6 months.  My dogs are four. (!!)

The first thing I did when I pulled in was look for the washroom.  I looked.  I looked some more.  It was to my dismay that there was only an outhouse.  Annnnd....

No. Running. Water.  Ick.

I reevaluated my strategy and began operation liquid intake limitation.  You can imagine the relief I felt - literally - at stopping for diesel.

The thing with stock dog trials is it's a hurry up and wait kinda situation.  So I hurried.  And then I waited.  And waited.  And waited some more.  I ended up scribing (marking down scores and timing) for the open runs - all 42 of them.

Finally our turn arrived.  Even though I was committed to this being a learning enterprise, I was still nervous.  Funny how that works.

Diva was up first.  She was the dog I was confident in.  The dog I thought would be my "chance".  Ooops....  not so much.  The little bugger wouldn't take her flanks, got stuck on the sheep.  I ended up leaving the post and helping her get moving.  Her second run showed improvements but also major areas I need to work on.  She may end up having too much "eye" to make a good trial dog.  Time will tell.

Ryder was the second of my dogs to run.  After Diva, my nerves were ramped right up.  Legs tremoring I walked him to the post.  He started a little rough but settled down and worked pretty good.  He was a bit sticky on his flanks but started smoothing out as the run went on.  I was stunned to find out he was the fast time of the first go.  His second run I went into with more confidence.  And then the sheep wouldn't move.  They faced him.  Stomped their feet.  Shook their heads.  And he bit them.  An automatic disqualification.  Ryder is not a "gripper".  He never does it at home.  In fact, I've been encouraging him to engage the sheep.  He is not very interested in it.  I guess he does bite.

All in all, an interesting day was had.