Queen of the Universe

Tessa, also known as "Queen of the Universe", has always been a high maintenance dog. My first indication was when I was crate training her. Having poured over the books and training manuals I had been meticulously following the crate plan. First I made her crate a welcoming cozy place complete with wool blanket. Then I put toys and treats inside of it as an added incentive for her to hang out in her "den". I allowed her to come and go from her crate as she wished. I was a bit stymied when she showed no interest in this luxury of caves. But I persisted. I'd say the word "kennel", gently pull her by the collar and put her in the crate. I'd shut the door, give her a treat and tell her what a good girl she was. If she put up a fuss, I ignored her until she was quiet. I'd then open the door and release her. I thought things were going pretty good.

Tessa travelled with me everywhere from day one. I had to go to a conference and a friend offered to take care of her while I was gone. After our arrival at Antoinette's place, we played and pottied. While Antoinette and I went out for supper the plan was to place Tessa in her crate and leave. We would only be gone for a short time and felt it would be a good transition for when she had to be crated while I worked.

Upon our return to Antoinette's house the first indication something was horribly wrong was the hideous, stomach turning stench that fumigated us when the door opened. Antoinette, a house dog veteran immediately knew what that stink was. Tessa had clearly become upset. We knew this because she had not only defecated in her crate but vomited repeatedly. I had the queasy pleasure of cleaning her crate, while Antoinette bathed her in the kitchen sink.

Now some people say there is no such thing as dog anxiety - it is something created by people. I'm not entirely sure about that. This dog in addition to needing an extra large crate - which to this day she doesn't like (she appears to be claustrophobic), has an intense fear of storms, wind, microwaves, toasters, cameras and anything that beeps. She is also afraid of baby gates (which is handy for me) but that's likely because my brother and I thought it was rather funny to chase her with them when she was a puppy. Ooops...

Tessa, my little high maintenance dog does best when she gets to work. It seems to help her burn some of her nervous energy off better than playing or going for runs.

Right now she truly is "Queen of the Universe" and I her lowly servant.
To Be Continued...

Trainers - The Rant!

I had made a nasty discovery about Reba... she was NOT nice! Reba who seemed so loving and friendly at home with my dogs was an evil wench out in public. To say this trait in my otherwise fabulous puppy was undesirable was an understatement. After she attempted to eat my aunt's Miniature Daschund, drastic steps needed to be taken. So I enrolled in a puppy socialization and obedience class. While the obedience end of things wasn't something I felt particularly passionate or unskilled about I thought it would be a great opportunity to see a different trainer in action. I'm at session 3 in a set of 7 sessions from hell.

My personal training beliefs are there are many methods that can be effective and not all animals or people are the same - hence not everything will work for all animals. My instructor's philosophy seems to be that her way is the only way, and she is the only person who knows anything about training. I fully realized going into this that I would need to do things her way. I also had the courtesy prior to classes starting to inform the instructor about my purpose in attending and that my dog is a stock dog and our commands and training are different. At that time she had no issues with this. Now that she has my money, I'm an incompetent idiot.

Things I hate about this trainer:

1. She has a closed mind and a limited training tool box.
2. She belittles her clients. (Not just me - everybody!)
3. She is not consistent in what she preaches and models.
4. She repeatedly tells the class how good and skilled she is. (Really!? Lady - if you were that good you wouldn't have to tell us!!)
5. The final straw for me - she caused a submissive dog to pee then blamed the owner (who wasn't handling the dog at the time.)

What frustrates me about the situation is people are going to her to seek help. They want to do the right thing! And many of her strategies are good, sound strategies. However, her way of delivering the message is brutal and her ability to see the reason behind the animal's behavior is nonexistent. I am a teacher. I am really, really good at helping people see different ways of doing things WITHOUT making them feel bad about themselves or skill level. Isn't that what training is about? Helping people make the most of their abilities? Helping animals make the most of their abilities? Shaping behavior into desirable behavior?

Going to this puppy class is like stabbing shards of glass under my finger nails - positively painful! I'm also very stubborn and I bloody well paid to give Reba the opportunity to socialize with a variety of dogs in a safe environment. So I'm not quitting. I am going to bite my tongue and do my best to keep and open mind and try things her way. Even if it kills me... And it just might.

In the picture: Reba and Tessa enjoying a swim after a play on a warm summer evening.

Sheepish Escapades

Bapper, Rambo and Chevy were Ken's dog broke sheep. They were easy to work with and handle. Unfortunately, too easy to handle. I had discovered when I went to dog trials the sheep there behaved differently! They were NOT interested in running towards me irregardless of what my dog was doing. This was a serious impediment to my training. Decision made Ken's sheep went to a new home and I went sheep shopping.

After much debate and angst, I bit the bullet and purchased 6 cull ewes. This meant they were cheap. I knew I'd have my work cut out for me as I "dog" broke them. What I know now - I wish I knew then. Much to my surprise these sheep had no, as in zip, zero, nada, interest in hanging out in the corral. These sheep were bound and determined to run away. And run they did. First running into the brushy back forty. I managed to get 4 of them back down to the corral. Putting my exhausted dog away I went looking for the other 2. The old owner had assured me that they came nicely to "Here, sheep, sheep!" accompanied by the rattle of a grain bucket.

Carrying my bucket of grain and calling like a lunatic I began the trek through the scrub to look for the sheep. Fighting mosquitoes, prickly bush and my fear of the neighborhood cougar, I spotted one in the distance. Trying to act nonchalant, I began a stealthy circle around the sheep. (These sheep had no interest in coming to my grain call.) My thinking being if I got behind it, it would at least run towards the yard. I have never seen sheep run like these ones did. While they didn't look it I'm sure they were part deer or gazelle. They were fast and agile. They were also gone. And not back into the barnyard! Discouraged I began walking the fence line. With no sight nor sound of the sheep, hot and tired, I began the long walk back home.

Only to discover them calmly grazing alongside the cattle in the neighboring field. Okay, now what? Walking home, gathering the dog and finally, successfully moving the sheep back into the corral. Whoo Hooo!

Time passed and while remaining freakishly wild, the sheep started to settle in. I became more brave while working them. One evening a friend of Ken's came to visit and work his dog. His young, not really trained dog...

While working one of the sheep broke from the herd and ran like the gazelle it was back into the corral. I thought it wouldn't be a big deal as they were locked up at night anyhow. Rather than stop where it was fed this sheep chose to run through the corral and out the fence. As it was getting late, (and I was still irritated with my last chasing adventure), I decided the sheep could come home on it's own or get ate by a wild animal.

The next morning outside doing chores (What you need to realize is when I do chores I generally roll out of bed, pull on some sweats, don't stop to brush my hair, or teeth, put on a bra, deodorant, etc. I generally do all that and shower AFTER I've fed the animals.) when a car pulls into the driveway. An older gentleman rolls down the window, "hey, are you missing a sheep?" Surprise I nod an affirmative, he then proceeds to tell me it's just down the road. Not wanting to be responsible for a vehicle animal collision I gather up my trusty grain bucket and begin walking down the road. And I walked and walked, then walked some more. Still no sign of the sheep from hell. Calling, shaking the grain bucket - nothing!

About a mile down the road, a large truck slows down, a man shouts out the window "If you're looking for a sheep it's a 1/2 mile ahead of you. Inspired I pick up speed. Another mile passes. Still no sheep. Hot, tired, hungry, sweaty and grouchy I try to decide what to do. My mom pulls up in her car with the dog riding shotgun. Guzzling the Gatorade she brought me we drive down the road - still no sign of sheep. (By this time it's 25 degrees Celsius out...) While I was ready to quit and head home, mom decides we need to start stopping at houses. Where I live on the east side of the road is a large national park bordered by a large provincial park, on the west side of the road are acreages. As a last ditch effort we pull into the grazing reserve. Mom felt they should be notified. While mom's talking with the caretaker (I had refused to get out of the car looking like I did.) I noticed the sheep. My sheep! It was walking around the corner of a building.

Remember, I'm hot, tired and mildly grouchy at this point. Hopping out of the car I persuasively start shaking the grain. The sheep's head shoots into the air! It begins to trot in the opposite direction. Infuriated I let the dog out of the car. Springing into action the race is on! And the sheep is once again gone... sigh. Wishing I could just leave the stupid thing, I once again begin walking only this time with Tessa. Periodically I'd stop and send Tessa into the brush (no this was not open field - all heavy bush), after another mile and half we reached the horse gate leading to the road. Heaven sent, my mom was sitting there with the car. Exhausted, home I went. And no - the sheep was never seen again. I hope it died a nasty death by coyote!

Needless to say I did learn a lesson. The remaining sheep (less the one who impaled herself days prior) went to the auction market. And I went sheep shopping once again...

In the picture: Bapper, Rambo and Chevy in a stand off with Tessa. The next picture would have been the dog diving into the sheep, mouth agape, and sheep scattering every which direction.

The Beginning

If you had told me 5 years ago that I'd be where I am now, I'd have laughed. After all, who plans to have 7 sheep, 3 horses, 3 dogs and a cat? Let me assure you, I was perfectly content with a (as in 1) horse. The saga starts with Tessa. When I got Tessa I had no intentions of owning a dog. I lived in a condo and had a footloose and fancy-free lifestyle. Instead Tessa was destined to be a gift for my boyfriend at the time. However, in between the time I purchased the puppy and the puppy was weaned, an explosive break up occurred. I spitefully kept the yet to be named puppy. Knowing enough about dogs the realization that life as I knew was now over quickly set in. Having never owned a house dog I bought books and read, read, read, desperately trying to slow the learning curve. Tessa is a purebred Border Collie from working lines. This means she is busy. To further complicate matters Tessa is not an easy dog to get along with and train. She has issues and has had issues from day one.

Having grown up on a farm, I was familiar with Border Collies had a good understanding of what she'd need to be happy and healthy. This is how I developed an interest in working stock dogs. A couple of years went by when she started to show some neurotic behaviors. I made the commitment to work her and learn how to be good at it. Everyone who knows me knows I'm type A and a research freak. So I researched, and asked questions before settling on a trainer to take lessons from. Off and on over the course of 4 years I drove 2 hours one direction to take lessons from Ken Mackenzie - stock dog trainer extraordinaire. Tessa, while a challenge, loved it. So did I! I was hooked.

Having a stock dog means one must have stock. Ken would off and on lend me some of his dog broke sheep to work at home. Eventually the time came for me to leave "the nest" and fly solo. I watched at the sheep auctions, read the classified and found some sheep. Not dog broke. What an adventure! I'll share my sheep escapades another time.

Living in a high predator area meant I needed something to protect my sheep. Meet Bella. Bella is a soon to be one year old Maremma. Maremma's are livestock guardian dogs. This means they live with the stock and keep predators away. I'm now at two dogs, and 3 sheep.

Two months prior to Bella's arrival some kind soul dumped a lovely cat on the range road. This generally means a death sentence for the animal. Except I kinda liked this neat little cat. Meet Moxie - mouser. Moxie and Bella are best buds. I'm now at 2 dogs, 3 sheep and 1 cat. Plus the 1 horse I had always had.

July was a banner month for me. I decided Tessa was getting older and I wanted a second dog for when she would no longer be able to work. This is how Reba my 8 month old Border Collie joined my family. 3 dogs, 3 sheep, 1 cat and 1 horse. At the same time my breeding saga for my mare was continuing. Originally, I was breeding through artificial insemination to a cutting bred stallion from the north. The stallion had issues, his owners felt bad for me and offered me a weanling (as they were unable to produce the semen I needed). This is how I acquired Stella. I still needed to get Whiskey bred so I took her to my friend (who happens to have a working cow horse stud). While there I encounter a 2 year old who was a deal I couldn't pass up. The official count at this point became 3 dogs, 5 sheep (bought new ones), 1 cat and 3 horses. Unfortunately, Whiskey didn't catch... (as in she's not bred right now.)

And it all started with a dog...

In the picture is the original Tessa, myself and our first "money won" at a trial.