Zach (January 7, 1996 - January 31, 2011)

Zach in his prime

According to the charts, he was 115 (human) years old.  Tibetan Mastiffs have an average lifespan of ten to fourteen years, longer than most large-breed dogs, but any dog owner will tell you it's never long enough.

The Mother-in-Law always called Zach a "gitte neshamah," a "good soul," because of his patience and gentility. When the Brother-in-Law brought him home from Virginia fifteen years ago, he was a big ball of fluff, and the BiL used to carry him around in his arms because he was afraid to climb the stairs. The MiL fell instantly in love with the "big teddy bear," and within a month Zena came north to join her littermate so Mom could have a dog too. Zena was the runt of the litter, and Zach always looked out for her, something that made the BiL pick him in the first place. The two of them never passed each other without a wag of the tail and lick on the face. When Zina was put to sleep two years ago, Zach didn't eat for three days.  He knew someone important to him was gone, and he grieved.

He was a gentle giant, nervous about everything. When he was a puppy, he slid and went splat in the marble entry hall to the condo building; that floor terrified him ever after. Every time he went around the corner from hall to kitchen in the apartment, he put one paw down very gingerly, and took his time; he'd had a fall there too.  He barked up a storm when the doorbell rang, but greeted everyone who entered with a dignified wag of the tail and a gentle nudge of the nose.  He never jumped, and seldom licked.  In the true manner of a TM, he was aloof and independent, yet never unfriendly. He bore up manfully under petting from small children, but would eventually just get up and walk away.

He shed. My lord, did he shed.  The BiL couldn't be bothered to groom him on a regular basis, and the clumps of fur drove me nuts.  I used to take him out on the balcony, and brush and pull and gather enough to knit a sweater.  Zach didn't care much for this.  One day, as I enthusiastically pulled and tugged at his coat, he kept getting up and moving to the door, and I kept grabbing him and pulling him back. Finally, he let me know in no uncertain terms he had had enough. This enormous, 120-pound dog, who could rip my arm off if he wanted to, started to cry. And he won-- I didn't have the heart to keep brushing him.

The family brought him here for the Eldest's birthday last year, because Zach was very much part of the family and we wanted him with us. Our Best Friend felt threatened by the presence of such a big alpha male in his house, and finally attacked him, biting him over the eye. I came very close to getting rid of OBF after that. The BiL convinced me that OBF is a good dog, just insecure, and that time and patience would cure this aggression. As much as I love him, I still haven't forgiven OBF for this. It taught me something important about my dog, but I'm sorry the lesson came at Zach's expense.

Our last visit with Zach involved a trip to his dog park, and I think it was the best good-bye we could have had.  I knew in my heart I probably wouldn't see him again; sure enough, a few weeks later he was diagnosed with a growth on his liver. The BiL didn't think Zach would make it to his birthday, but he did; he even made it to the BiL's birthday a few weeks later.  Then, as last week wound down, it became evident that Zach's quality of life was declining. So today, the BiL, his sister, and mother all went with Zach to the vet for his final visit.

I won't believe he's gone until we go out there on our next visit, and there's no black polar bear to greet us.  The house will seem empty.  Rest in peace, Zach, our gentle giant, our "gitte neshamah."

The Pet Blogger Challenge

I'm a pretty decent writer, but a lousy business person and networker. For quite a while now, I've been trying to find other personal blogs about dogs, or even pets in general, so I could exchange links and acquire new readers. I thought it would be easy, but my poor networking skills translated into bad blog-finding skills. I found blogs that had been abandoned in 2008 after a single post; blogs that were pictures but no text; and glossy, intimidating blogs put together by magazines or non-profit organizations that were slick and professional and not likely to exchange links with the likes of me.

Finally, I typed the simple words "dog blog" into the WordPress search bar and found what I was looking for. And the first thing I found was the pet blogger challenge. Of course, typical of my professional luck in general and my blogging luck in particular, the entry date for the challenge has passed. I'm filling out the questionnaire anyway; what have I got to lose?

1. When did you begin your blog?

I started my blog at www.ourdogpark.blogspot.com on June 22, 2010. I then migrated it to www.thebarkpark.wordpress.com sometime in November or December. Right now I maintain the blog at both URLs. (I have since discovered that ourdogpark.wordpress.com is available too, and grabbed it, but can't figure out how to move the blog to the new URL. Of course, what I really want is thedogpark.worpress.com, but it's taken. And the last post there was 2007. Figures.)

2. What was your original purpose for starting a blog?

Blogging serves a double purpose for me: to entertain and to alleviate writer's block. I had not written in years; meanwhile, in the process of fostering abandoned dogs, we had come to own a large, anxiety-ridden, German shepherd/husky/malamute/Australian shepherd/you-name-it cross, who is both a nuisance and a delight. Our experiences with him, and our life at the dog park, provided a blocked writer with the necessary starting place for a blog.

3. Is your current purpose the same? If not, what’s different? If so, how do you feel you’ve met your goals?

I still struggle to write. Sometimes the posts just flow, and sometimes they sit in the draft folder and take ages to see the computer backlight. Although technically it's a blog about dogs and the dog park, I've also blogged about feral cats and our fostering experiences.

The underlying theme of "Our Dog Park" is what our experiences with animals and other pet owners show us about human nature. Part of the goal has always been to tell some funny stories, and reach people who do not own dogs or pets of any kind. If one of my non-animal-loving friends says she enjoyed a post, I feel my writing succeeded. The trick is getting people to read it in the first place, without assuming, "Oh, this won't interest me, I'm not a dog person."

4. Do you blog on a schedule or as the spirit moves you? If the former, how often — and what techniques do you use to stick to it? If the latter, do you worry about… well, whatever you might worry about (e.g. losing traffic, losing momentum)?

I wish I blogged on a regular schedule! We live in a harsh northern clime, so the poor dog (and we along with him) has been languishing indoors most of the time. Generally I write when I feel I have something to write about, but I know that irregular and infrequent posting is the kiss of death for a blog. If you don't post regularly, people will stop checking you out. So I try to find something to write about at least once a week. I don't always succeed.

5. Are you generating income from your blog? If so, how (e.g. sponsor ads, affiliate relationships, spokesperson opportunities)? If not currently, do you hope to in the future — and how?

Money? First you need traffic.... Without enough followers, it's hard attract sponsors or make money. I found AdSense on Blogger too complicated to deal with, and not worth the time for the limited number of hits I generated.
The pipe dream is that one day all these disparate posts will fall into a coherent whole, and I can publish them in book form. (There's no law against dreaming, right?)

6. What do you like most about blogging in general and your blog in particular (bragging is good!)?

I enjoy knowing that whatever I choose to write is available for anyone to read; they just have to be "lucky" enough to stumble upon it. My readers give me lots of positive feedback, though not necessarily in the comment boxes. And I think that what I do is a little bit different from other blogs about animals; I write about dogs, but about people too, and how our similarities often trump our differences. My favourite post is Unfinished Business, which is really about friendship, and how compartmentalized our lives can be.

7. What do you like least?

I had hoped to have a bigger readership by now... Blogging can be like shouting in the wind. Site stats tell you you've had readers, but when they don't leave comments, you don't know if they liked what you wrote or not, or if they'll be back. I wouldn't mind making some money from this, either.

8. How do you see your blog changing or growing in 2011?

I hope to write more posts, attract more readers, generate more comments, and have more fun!

Nemesis

We met King on one of our first visits to the dog park with Our Best Friend. King is a huge malamute with squinty eyes, and he took an immediate dislike to OBF. "Yeah, that's King," his owner said. "He either loves or hates you. Better keep your dog away from him." I detected a hint of pride in his voice at his dog's snobbery, and I resented the idea that my dog was the one who needed to watch his step. By all means, let's allow the bullies to make the rules.


Now, OBF definitely has social issues. He's inept at play, and sometimes barks aggressively or inappropriately at other dogs. But he's trying, and the other dogs will usually just leave him alone. Our friends at the park understand his issues, and try their best to help. If I feel he’s being really over the top, I grab him and make him sit with me. OBF knows "sit" and "stay," and he obeys it, even at the park. He certainly never goes after another dog unprovoked. If he did, I’d be mortified. So would the Spouse. So would any responsible dog owner.

King's owner doesn't have a problem with his dog's selective aggression; if King doesn't like a dog, it’s the other dog’s problem. And King goes out of his way to make OBF feel threatened and unwelcome. He doesn't attack, he doesn't go head-to-head; he just sidles up next to OBF and emits this low, threatening growl. OBF stands there with a confused look on his face, but never reacts. If I call him, he's more than happy to escape King and come to me. When OBF tries to play with another dog, King will come up and try to run OBF off. This all very annoying.

Fortunately, King doesn't seem to come to the park very often anymore.  Then, on our way to the park last week, I saw a woman walking a very large malamute. I thought, "What a huge dog! It's as big as King.... but it can't be him, that's not his owner."

We got to the park, and for some reason I had trouble removing OBF's leash between the gates. Next thing I knew, King had his face pressed against the wire gate, growling at OBF.

Our Best Friend, trapped between two gates, leashed, and feeling hugely vulnerable, finally snapped. He started barking insanely at King; if there hadn't been a gate between them, there would have been blood. I tried to get OBF calm, with zero affect whatsoever. Fortunately, King's owner came running up, and for the first time I met the female half of the family.

I lost it a bit too. I told her that King always aggresses OBF, that this scene was entirely King's fault. She apologized, then gently suggested I take OBF back out so she could distract King. I took OBF out the first gate until King was safely away, then led him back. His eyes were on King as I removed his leash and opened the gate, and he shot off straight at him. Fortunately, King was half-way across the park by then. I called OBF, he stopped to pee, and the moment of crisis passed.

I can't help contrasting the difference between husband and wife. His "my dog can do no wrong" attitude is out of place in a park that prides itself on its safety and welcome for dogs of all sizes and breeds. He gets away with bringing King because King doesn’t attack-- he just threatens. One day some other dog will not take kindly to King's implied threats, and things will get ugly. I'm willing to bet King's owner will blame the other dog.

The wife was more apologetic, and kept King on the other side of the park. At one point he did wander back and did his usual push-up-against OBF's shoulder and growl. I held my breath, thinking OBF would remember the encounter at the gate and lose it, but he didn't. He had his usual confused "I'm not sure what's happening here, but I'm just going to ignore it" look on his face, and came the instant I called, glad for an excuse to get away from King without losing face. King's owner came and grabbed him, and again she apologized. If King's male owner showed as much disapproval of his dog's actions, King might be a better dog.

Cesar Millan believes that dogs learn attitudes and behaviours from their owners. Calm assertive owners have calm obedient dogs, anxious uncertain owners have neurotic dogs. And I suppose men who think aggressive dogs make them seem more macho are going to have dogs like King-- or worse. A dog, like a fancy car, can be an expression of the owner's ego. We're doing everything we can to make Our Best Friend a better dog, to improve his social skills, to lessen his anxiety. When someone approves of their dog's aggressive and anti-social behaviour, it says more about the owner than it does about the dog.

The Winding Path to Dog Ownership, Part VI(a): Enter Our Best Friend

After the disaster of Caramel and Cocoa, we decided to take a break from fostering. While Cookie had been a wonderful experience, we quickly learned that abandoned dogs often come with behaviour problems. While these issues are never the dog’s fault, we are not dog psychologists or professional trainers, and we didn’t have the patience, time, or knowledge needed to, in the words of Cesar Millan, “rehabilitate” dogs.

Well, as they say, man plans, G-d laughs. Barely a week later, our “lady who does” asked if we would take in a dog her granddaughter had picked up in the street. The dog was running loose, but when Stacey called “Come, boy,” he came to her. He had a choke chain, but no ID tags. She knocked on a few doors, asking if anyone knew whose dog it was. Finally, one person told her, “He lives in that house over there, but he’s been outside for a few days now, and I don’t think they’re feeding him.” Stacey went to “that house over there” but no one answered, so she took him home.

The dog had been living with Kate for two days. He was completely housebroken, seemed non-aggressive, and didn’t bother her cats. She showed us a picture. My immediate response was no—I saw a German shepherd mix, and didn’t want anything that big or that potentially aggressive. The Spouse saw a gorgeous animal. The next day I picked up Our Best Friend and home we went.

Well, he is gorgeous. A big, plumy, wavy tail, intelligent face, and a coat all shades of brown. He’s smaller than a shepherd, but just as smart. He learned his new name the first day, and already knew “sit” and “lie down.” Plus he didn’t try to climb on the bed, a bonus for me just recovering from two sleepless months sharing a bed with Caramel and Cocoa.

However, OBF’s anxiety was clear from the moment we met. He cried all the way home in the car, and jumped back and forth over the seats until he squished in between me and the passenger seat. While he seemed friendly and played beautifully with the children, he showed a fear of adult males, and growled at a stern voice saying “No.” When we tried walking him, he pulled on the leash; if he saw another dog, even three blocks away, he lunged forward and barked uncontrollably. Handsome as he was, I saw a big dog with “issues” that could end with someone getting bitten. I told Marisa to put him up on Petfinder and find him a home.

But because of OBF’s dog aggression, Marisa had a tough time finding another home for him, and the longer we had him, the more attached everyone got. OBF was just so darn smart. The Oldest taught him a slew of tricks in no time at all. He loved to play ball in the back yard, and seemed eager to please as long he didn’t feel threatened. In spite of his initial fears, he quickly bonded to the Spouse, and slept on the floor beside him every night. Kate said if we’d keep him, she’d babysit anytime we went out of town. After two months, I invested in rabies shots and a check-up at the vet. We decided to have him evaluated to see if he was “salvageable,” and took him to Jason at K9 Corps, who offered a free assessment.

Jason operated out of a storefront in a rundown commercial area. He asked us a few questions, tested OBF’s reaction to loud noises, and then swung his clipboard toward the dog’s face in a slow-motion move. OBF immediately sprang to his feet and began barking aggressively. Jason nodded and said, “This dog’s been hit.” Some dogs, when abused, become cowering and submissive. Others engage in defensive aggression. OBF clearly fell into the second camp.

Jason then impressed us with a display of obedience from one of his pupils, a little cocker spaniel who obeyed a rapid series of “sit/up/sit/up/sit/up” commands like a marionette on a string, while completely ignoring OBF, who was barking hideously the whole time. He told us OBF could be every bit as obedient—for $500, give or take, with lessons every week for about 6-8 weeks, and 15 minutes of daily reinforcement at home. We told him we’d get back to him.

We put OBF in the back of the van and got in. As we drove off, the Spouse asked, “What do think?”

I started to cry, thinking of how sad the kids would be, and how money, again, had to be a deciding factor. “We don’t have $500. Not for dog training, anyhow. I don’t want a dog that might bite someone, and I don’t have the energy or strength to train a dog that big. If he was Yorkshire terrier, I could pin him to the floor if he tries to bite, but I’m not strong enough to wrestle with Our Best Friend. He’s going to have to go.”

“Whatever you say,” he said, then added, “Let’s see how it goes over the next little while.”

I knew I wasn’t getting rid of this dog so fast.

Fairy Dogparents

Here's a little feel-good story to start off the new year.

Economic times are rough, and animal welfare experts will tell you that when money grows short, the family pet is often abandoned or given to a shelter because its owners have to make a choice between feeding the pet and feeding themselves. At the same time, animal lovers know the difference a pet can make in life of someone who is lonely or struggling with hardship.

Enter Fairy Dogparents.  The brainchild of Marlo Manning, Fairy Dogparents is a non-profit organization  that provides food and vet care for dogs whose owners are facing difficult financial times so they are not forced to give up their pet.  The charity operates in Massachusetts, and is fairly new.

For the full story, watch this "Making a Difference" segment with Brian Williams of NBC.