Showing posts with label working dogs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label working dogs. Show all posts

Thursday, February 28, 2013

Mr. and Mrs. Dog



Transparency: The author of Mr. and Mrs. Dog and I are personal friends.
I am quoted once, in the chapter "Behaviorism."


Literary career not going so well? Here's the plan:

Impulsively buy a pet dog. Better yet, "rescue" one.

Fail to train him.

Be befuddled by his dogness.

Fetishize ignorance and incompetence. See "sitcom Dad" for a template for your character.

Write a dull memoir about your mid-life crises framed in a narrative about your own indulgent shortcomings at dog ownership. (Dogs are the new Ferrari.)

Cap it, if possible, with the dog's death.*

Sentimentalize the animal.

"Learn" something about yourself.

Trowel on the glurge about how they love us unconditionally.

New-Age aspartame spirituality (optional.)

Finish with grand, sweeping conclusion about What Dogs Mean that is innocent of any mastery of simple information about what dogs are.

Rake it in.

These books sell well to audiences of distracted, sentimental pet owners because they do not challenge any of their prejudices, half-conscious assumptions, or life choices.

I missed the part about the job of stories being to make us feel more complacent.

One reason that dogs know so much more about us than we do about them is that they depend on us. If the person you are living with has total power over when and whether you get to eat or poop, can have your gonads removed, and is legally permitted to have you killed if you piss him off, you will become an excellent observer. See Hegel for more on this.

What most dogs know about most of us is that we are incoherent. They adjust accordingly. The human doesn't even know that he's suffering for and from his own incoherence, so deft is the dog. The human may misidentify the visible portion of the dog's efforts, and conclude that the animal is "difficult" or "troubled."

"We think she was abused ..."

There is another way to write about dogs.

One could put oneself in a position in life where a dog or dogs become necessary. Not "necessary" to shore up a weak psyche -- necessary to achieve some human goal, some important work in a world where there is more action than in, say, a typical New Yorker short story.  Passionately necessary.

That has the effect of improving one's observational skills immensely. Never to be as good as a dog's, but better than you were before. From this follows genuine absorption, self-discipline, knowledge, perspective and insight.

Which is what farmer, novelist, essayist and sheepdogger Donald McCaig shares in Mr. and Mrs. Dog.

This nonfiction account interweaves the narrative of sheepdogs June and Luke's, and handler McCaig's, travels and trialing in preparation for the World Sheepdog Trial in Wales with other travels: visits to four pet dog trainers and a veterinary behaviorist.

Why would a sheepdogger, immersed in work that provides dogs with more coherence than a suburban pet can dream as her feet twitch in pursuit of visions of rabbits, step out of his contained subculture?

A couple years ago, noticing that most top handlers wore shooting glasses, a novice asked Scott Glenn what colored lenses she should buy.

"Rose-colored," Scott deadpanned.

I needed to change my lenses, to learn how to see my dogs afresh. Maybe I could borrow the pet dog trainers' lenses.

To see my dogs better, I needed to learn to see your dog. Funny how things work out sometimes.

The world of sheep and outruns, whistles and angles and drives and fetches -- these all make sense to sheepdogs. The same men and women who created the work have created the dog.

Airplanes and elevators, TSA agents and literary agents, kindergarten classrooms, car wrecks, parades, exam tables, and beaches where No Dogs Allowed is the law of the land -- notsomuch. But all those things are as much a part of June and Luke's world as is a stroppy blackfaced ewe, whether or not they or McCaig would choose for it to be so.

McCaig offers an international buffet in Mr. and Mrs Dog. Interspersed between accounts of sheepdog training and trial runs both triumphant and disastrous, the reader can absorb the philosophical underpinnings of behaviorism, the origin of "obedience training," the bureaucratic derangement and logistical ordeal of bringing a live dog into Britain (a dead horse, in a suitable state of disassemblement, is apparently much easier), descriptions of pet dog-training classes, a media-celebrated dog expert who does not own a dog, and the reason that legends of betrayed dogs, from Gelert and Argos to Raymond Carver, resonate so hard across time.

I have always admired McCaig's facility with descriptions of action, a place where most writers fall down for me as a reader. Perhaps this talent derives from the discipline of the sheepdog trial, the necessity of processing so much action in such a compressed moment, the compulsion to unravel what happened in painstaking detail afterwards, analyze every ear-flick and brood on every error.  Whatever the origin, McCaig can describe a trial run or a training class with the same vivid clarity as he brings to a Civil War battle. The attentive reader will be rewarded. I devoured the nearly 200-page book at one sitting, chewing every bite completely. However, it is likely that a reader who has never seen a sheepdog work or attended a trial will have difficulty visualizing the course and how it is run. (I would refer such a reader to YouTube -- try searching USBCHA trial and ISDS trial. Avoid any videos with "AKC" in the description. Better yet -- find a sheepdog trial near you this year, and make a day of the outing.)

McCaig's even greater strength, whether he is creating a fictional dog or describing a dog he knows well, is in characterization. Most writers' characterizations of dogs are no more than cherry-picked projections. McCaig shows us the real dog, or the portion of the real dog that she chooses to reveal to us. When McCaig projects, it is self-consciously --
 "Are you Max's?" the vet tech smiled at me.

I shook my head no. I didn't think I belonged to any dog, but if I did, I'd probably be Luke's, presently in the car, or June's. She was beside me in the reception room of Tuft's University Foster Hospital for Small Animals.

June eyed the big and little pet dogs and their humans. June yawned. June didn't want Donald to be hers: she had enough on her plate. Besides, how would she feed him?
 -- or, in hindsight, self critically. Luke is a "blockhead." The reader learns what that label really signifies only much later, just as McCaig does.

What it signifies is human assumptions, and ignorance, and the ways that we fail our dogs as they do their level best not to fail us, no matter how unreasonable our expectations.

It doesn't require a dabbling literary dilettante to fail a dog, in large ways or small. Real dog men and women carry the scars of their failures like tribal tattoos. The question that haunts every handler of every working dog is, and will always be, "What would she have been if she'd had a better handler?"

In contrast, the accounts of pet dog trainers and their pet methods strike me as inhibited, overly polite. McCaig brings the courtesy of a guest rather than the scalpel of an investigator to his subjects -- Tony Ancheta, Behesha Doan, Wendy Volhard, Pat Miller. The reader must fill in too much; doable for a trainer or hobbyist who knows the landscape of that minefield, a challenge for the civilian who does not. Only McCaig's interview with pill-pushing veterinarian Nicholas Dodman presents a clear author's point of view about his subject.

McCaig set out to put on new lenses with which to see his dogs -- not to revolutionize his entire image of them, but to change the tint and see if any new textures or details stuck out.

Most dog owners don't depend on their dogs for necessities, and most dogs do not help out at lambing, apprehend bad guys, serve a disabled master, find lost children, flush pheasants, or even keep the premises rat-free. Nevertheless, dog owners ask a lot of their dogs, sometimes impossible things, without being aware that they are doing so.

Even the owner of a Chihuahua blinking and shivering in her pink sweater would do well to try out the lenses worn by those who consciously ask everything of their dogs, and are keenly attuned to the gravity of those demands.

Have the highest expectations, do the work, and your dog can walk at your side anywhere on earth. He'll become the dog you've empowered to change your life.



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* Bonus points, apparently, if you are the one who actually kills the dog. Yes, that's you, Jon Katz.

Saturday, July 14, 2012

Making Lemonade

I partner with English shepherds in my work.  I breed and raise them to be as intelligent as possible -- no prudent stops on cognition, designed to make the beasts easier to live with.  You want to live with an English shepherd, it's your job to make it easy by co-opting that brain, not suppressing it.

So I am not easily impressed.

This video left me gobsmacked.

It's a cute two-minute clip of a goofy dog playing with the hose, right?



This canine engineer is the prophetically-named Sagan.

You may know him as Garrett, son of Rosie.

He went home to live with Eric and Braveheart in Connecticut.  A third (genetic) or fifth (cultural) generation dog trainer's assistant.

And he knows how to position a hose so that the water makes the arc he wants.  In fact, without resorting to opposable thumbs, he does better at it, with fewer errors, than I typically do when I'm trying to water something in the garden and want to put the hose down for a spell.

Most "experts" will tell us that dogs are not cognitively capable of the kind of calculation that Sagan performs here.

And consider -- he is a teenage dog, very recently introduced to the joys of hose-play, and is in an excited and slightly frustrated frame of mind.  Not a recipe for successful rocket surgery.

No one screwed around with a clicker and treats to manipulate Sagan into picking up the end of the hose. Nobody manipulated successive approximations towards an arc of flowing water.  Eric just gave his puppy the latitude to find what he enjoys and experiment with it.

A dog who is selected to be intelligent, and then empowered to be intelligent will always exceed the expectations of those who have dismissed them as "lemon brains."

Sometimes he will even leave his proud grandma with her jaw hanging slack.

Update:

The video is starting to go viral, with over 5400 pageviews in the last 16 hours.

And has been picked up by MSN.  Where they employ someone who understands English shepherds astonishingly well.

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Choosing and Raising a Small Farm Dog: Short Form


By request from many of the wonderful participants at my farm dog presentations at the Mother Earth News Fair on Saturday, I have uploaded my powerpoint slides to the web. You can find the presentation here.

I added notes to the presentation, since the slides are mostly just mnemonic cues for me while I'm gabbling and a chance to put in some pretty pictures . The notes don't show up when you view the powerpoint online, but should if you download it. The urls for further resources are there on the slides.

After the Roseannadannas are all launched (I'm at three today, it will be two by Thursday) and I'm done feeling sorry for myself and moping around, I'll have more to say on this, concentrating more specifically on English shepherds, with in-depth information about health concerns, intelligence-gathering before purchase, and how to find an ES whose specific temperament is right for your farm and home.

Saturday, September 24, 2011

Snapshots Saturday: Kid Gene

I only want to produce English shepherds who have the kid gene.

That means they don't just tolerate whatever damn fool thing a kid does to them, they generally like it.

I want to see the pups become one big wiggle when they see a human child. I want them to leave their masters' sides to snuggle a toddler.

Pip and her sister Roz came with it. On the ride home with them from their breeder's, we stopped at a rest stop. The girlpuppies saw some children at a distance, and were overcome with joy. With careful selection of males, all of Pip's descendants have retained this magnetic pull to children, and a gentle and indulgent nature with them.

Today I gave a presentation on choosing and raising a small farm dog at the Mother Earth News Fair, courtesy of the nice folks at PASA.

Actually, I gave it twice.

The pups (the five who are still here; Gilda went home Thursday) were supposed to be part of a friend's stockdog demo, scheduled back-to-back with the presentation. Rachel never made it, apparently thwarted by the ebil power of PennDOT. So neither did the slow, fat ducks we hoped to "start" the pups on today.

Instead, at the command of a torch and pitchfork brigade, I did a repeat of the lecture, and the pups, Gramma Pip, and Uncle Cole then became the main attraction in the livestock pen. It was large enough that they could retreat from attention if they chose (they didn't, except to play briefly; naptime in the small puppy pen was enforced). The stock panels allowed petting access but not picking up. Also allowed Jane, who is an X-dog with the power to walk through walls, to slide out several times, but we retrieved her with the help of her admirers on the other side.




The awesome puppy-wrangler Rebecca Hostetter and I got pretty fatigued counting, counting, counting puppies. We each got to briefly visit the rest of the Fair when we rounded them up for naptime. Not enough time. Too many things to see. I cannot return tomorrow, but next year ...

For the participants at the Fair who have asked for my Powerpoint, I will have it online this week some time, and will post a link here when it is up.

Monday, August 29, 2011

Snapshot Sunday: Command Post Compliant


Like her mentor, Lilly, Pip is a great command post dog.

She can recharge her batteries, schmooze, and keep it all low-key if I get pulled into management tasks.

Puppy blogging resumes this week. We've been a little oversubscribed since Tuesday. PC and I and our friends and family and pack have had just enough time to care for the Roseannadannas' emerging social needs, not enough time to report on their adventures.

This is why we breed more working dogs.

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Thank You


On July 5, 1991, Perfesser Chaos and I -- just engaged, still in graduate school -- counted out five fifty-dollar bills and came home with the better end of the deal.

Within a week we were semi-desperately looking for a bigger job for the little German shepherd we'd brought home to be our backpacking companion and my teaching assistant.

Within two months we were setting up puppy SAR runaway tasks, more or less with puppy in one hand and instruction book in the other.*

Within four months we had found our first SAR unit, and been informed that we'd somehow avoided ruining our puppy, who looked to be a pretty good SAR prospect.

Within a year (!) Lilly had fielded on her first search, and made her first live find. Precocious, much?

Over a decade of working partnership, thirteen and a half years of wisdom and tolerance and gentle companionship. Over half my SAR career under her tutelage.

Thank you, Lilly. Thank you for the last twenty years of my life.


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*NB: I recommend this route to no one.

Friday, May 27, 2011

Photo Phriday: Cow. Dogs.


More later; Blogger is crawling along tonight.

Brandywine Briar Rose and Caledonia Danny Boy. I do not remember the name uf da cow.

Thursday, May 12, 2011

Three Cups of Dog Shampoo

Back in March, while Japan bled and scoundrels found ways to make money off of it, I published this post, cautioning good-hearted people to be skeptical of the claims of certain charities.

Because when a panhandler rides a media snowball while throwing out vague images of rescued goggies becoming rescuers, apparently everyone whose job it is to scrutinize such things loses her damned mind. And puts up a Paypal button.

Why, it's almost as if someone claimed to have been lost in the Himalaya, and held prisoner by the Taliban, and also that he's building schools for girls in Pakistan for which you need to send him mor moneez. I mean, who would lie about something like that? And the media all said he was legit, so why wouldn't you trust those guys, they always check out the charities that they plug, right?

What kind of scoundrel solicits charity and then puts it in her own pocket, her friends' pockets, and doesn't produce anything like the claimed results? People call me a cynic ...

Anyway, within that post I used a SAR dog unit called CARDA -- California Rescue Dog Association -- as a foil. Because CARDA is everything that the NDSDF is not -- a lean, efficient, effective, highly reputable producer and deployer of life-saving canine SAR teams within the state of California.

And after reading CARDA's tax returns, I took them to task, because they utterly suck at fundraising. Because of this sucking at fundraising -- or rather, because they don't have any money -- the financial burden on their individual handlers is higher than it should be. And in this economy, that means that lost people may not get the help they need as fast as they need it, because a handler is calculating whether she can afford the gas to respond to a search -- among other considerations. Or a handler has to pass on a special training seminar because of the cost, and doesn't have that new or extra-honed skill when the time comes. Or a handler has to quit outright because of the overall cost of staying trained and responding.

Well, CARDA is having a fundraiser. If I upbraided them for not doing it before, I guess it is beholden on me to help them now that they are putting forth the effort.

So, if you live in California, go to Pet Food Express this Saturday, meet some of the search dogs who are ready to save your bacon, and get your dog washed. Buy tokens and use them later. Buy tokens and donate them. Buy some of that Natural Balance dog food -- it seems like a good brand. Just donate to CARDA outright.

All the deets are here.



If you have a blog -- especially a California-related or based blog -- post today or Friday. If you are on social media, post and tweet this.

Help people find out who really fields life-saving search dog teams in California, and help them continue to do so.

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Job Application


A friend's account of a puppy at the shelter where she volunteers brings back a story.

This is Goose. He's at B.A.R.K. in Billings, MT, and he is looking for a home. Goose is a RRR -- random reservation ranch rover. But he looks a lot like someone else I know. And he's a precocious retriever. That just might mean something about the kind of dog Goose intends to be.

It's June, 2007, and the Pistons -- the offspring of Pip and Boston -- are about five weeks old. Eight adorable little fuzzy landsharks. They're precocious, by which I mean, they have responded to the interaction of their driven genetics and their enriched upbringings by teaching themselves all sorts of skills -- going outside to poop, climbing out of their pen, bossing around full-grown German shepherds.

Personalities are starting to stand out. Rosie is already ebil. Tuck (nee Ed, for Edmund Hillary) is already a genius. Maggie (nee Sally) is already sweet.

The back patio door is open, and the pups are swarming outside in the yard. I'm in the kitchen when Andy trots in, looking for attention, because that's what he does, his thing, to want to be constantly interacting with a person, and usually talk about it the whole time.


Oddman offering an opinon.

I don't know why I did it, but I wadded up a ball of paper and threw it the length of the kitchen.

This is the "fetch test" that one does when evaluating working puppies. You do it at seven or eight weeks of age, in a place free of distractions. If the pup brings back the paper ball when you call and clap encourage him, great. If he runs off with it and plays keepaway with you, well, then you know something important about his potential to be challenging. If the pup doesn't go after the ball, or is lackluster about it, he may just need another few days or weeks to reach that developmental moment. Sometimes I'm quite sure that a pup just can't see far enough or track motion with his eyes yet, but a week later it's all there.

I hate it when handlers talk about pups "flunking fetch." The test has become a shibboleth in some working dog circles, generally among people who have no clue how to administer it correctly or interpret it in context, and the sketchiest black and white notions about puppy developmental stages.

So that's the fetch test, except it wasn't, because one would never "test" a pup as young as Andy; he was simply not old enough to have reached the appropriate developmental moment.

I suspect I was seeing if I could get him to go away and stop bothering me, kid.

Instead, here is what happened.

Andy trotted the full length of the kitchen (about 18'), picked up the ball, trotted straight back to me without any encouragement, sat down between my feet, looked me straight in the eye, and dropped the ball. Then maintained eye contact.

Oh. I did not just see that.

I picked up the ball and threw it again, full length of the kitchen.

Pup trotted out, picked it up, trotted back, sat, eye contact, dropped ball. Maintaining eye contact until I picked it up again. There was no air of goofy puppy play in this retrieve. He was serious bordering on somber.

I felt my heart in my mouth. A brand-new being was making his decision about himself known to me, a rare and momentous declaration. I had to be sure.

Third throw. Andy trotted out to the end of the kitchen. He'd just picked up the paper ball when two of his brothers came rioting in the back door, a few feet from him.

Woohooo! Brudder Andy has a prize!

I figured that was the end of that. Before he could turn, there was a brother latched onto the spitty paper wad on each side of his mouth.

But it was not the end. Andy -- the male pup lowest on the puppy totem pole -- turned anyway, wrenching his brothers loose. He started back towards me, a brother on either side, and dragged them with him as they yanked on his trophy, ripping bits off as he forged on. His teeth remained resolutely clenched on the paper ball, eyes forward, undeterred.

He eventually reached my feet, sat, looked me in the eye, and at the moment that both siblings let loose of the paper, spit it out between my ankles.

Oh.

One in a million. No hyperbole.

No less responsibility, as his breeder, than if I had a handicapped puppy to place. From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs. With dogs, "ability" and "needs" are the same damned thing. Dogs don't know about alienation of labor.*

And that is why -- not how, but why -- Andy went to live with Janeen, and become Audie, aka The Oddman.



Because he had to go to someone who would exploit him, know him, challenge him, adore him, and get him. Someone's whose needs and abilities were also the same as one another, and aligned with his. He was a gift, mine to give, not keep.

Five weeks old, and he applied for his dream job, trusting a headhunter to find the right position for him.


____________

* Unless they've been conditioned to it with bribes and bad training ideology.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Nine Questions I Would Ask ...

... if I was going to donate money to support search and rescue dogs, maybe because I felt awful about a big disaster.

1) Did I already pay for this?

Well, yes, yes you did -- if you are a US taxpayer.

The FEMA/DHS urban search and rescue task forces (USAR TFs) that are sent by the federal government to major disasters in the US and for relief worldwide are tax supported.

The task force members have their deployment expenses paid. Those who are paid firefighters and public safety personnel are paid for their time on deployment.

No donated funds are needed to deploy these task forces and their search dogs.

This is not true of local search and rescue teams called to local or regional incidents -- most of which are a single lost person, with no collapsed structures involved. The individual team members who respond pay all their own deployment expenses, down to the gas money to get to the search.

2) Does the charity that is asking for money field search dogs?

If the charity is this one, it does not.

National Disaster Search Dog Foundation acquires dogs, puts them through several months of training, and then assigns them to (typically) firefighters who have been selected by their employers to handle a dog.

The NDSDF does not field the teams. When they send out a fundraising appeal citing "our" search teams and this is reprinted in the press and on blogs and social media sites, be aware that the dog and handler are almost always employed by a big-city fire department, and are always members of a federal USAR task force that is responsible for their ongoing training, credentialing, and deployment.

Yet the print and online media, including media where the journalistic motto is supposed to be "Question Everything," and where grandiose claims from such "charities" as the HSUS and PeTA have been regularly skewered, have unquestioningly reprinted the NDSDF's press releases, generally including a "donate now" link.

When a press release invokes a narrative about animals + disaster + we need money, it is apparently unacceptably bitchy to apply normal doses of skepticism and scrutiny to the release or the entity behind it.

That's how HSUS raised and hoarded millions in the wake of Hurricane Katrina, while local animal shelters nationwide go begging.

The canine search teams are a small component of each USAR task force, but they receive the bulk of the media coverage.

There are two FEMA Task Forces sent by USAID to Japan. The Fairfax County, Virginia task force -- generally the "go-to" TF for international missions -- has six dog-handler teams deployed to Japan, none of them formed or trained with involvement by the NDSDF. But a google search on various terms such as "search dogs Japan" "disaster dogs Japan," etc. will invariably pop up the NDSDF logo and acres of regurgitated press release about "our dogs" and "our teams." And a donation button.

FEMA, and the individual task forces, devote more resources to operational matters than they do to public relations and fundraising blitzes. And it shows. The press agents of NDSDF crowd out coverage of the majority of task force canine teams. Those six dogs and handlers from the Fairfax County task force may as well not exist. The hundreds of other federal USAR teams standing at ready who met the standards without involvement from NDSDF are complete nonentities. And the many hundreds of seasoned SAR teams who not only respond to "normal" searches, but maintain readiness for disaster response outside of the federal system aren't even a dream.

3) Does the charity that is asking for money train the search teams?

This one is a bit trickier.

NDSDF says that they provide the firefighters -- most of them with no previous dog handling or training experience -- with professionally "trained" dogs. The implication is that the dog is a plug 'n' play component of the disaster search team, delivered to the handler pre-assembled and ready to go. Certainly superior to a handler training her own dog from scratch.

A review of the dog biography narratives on its own website reveals that it typically takes more than a year, often many years, sometimes, apparently, never, for a firefighter + NDSDF dog to pass a FEMA basic test.

Just like a civilian handler, or anyone, who joins a task force with his or her own dog, or joins a task force and acquires his or her own dog to train.

Meanwhile, NDSDF says that it is providing ongoing training to the teams.

But every FEMA task force is supposed to have its own training program and its own training officer -- for every canine handler, not just those who acquired their dogs from NDSDF.

There are 238 operational FEMA canine teams nationwide, most of whom train and qualify without receiving any money or support from NDSDF.

4) Is the provision of partly-trained adult dogs to firefighters the only, or best, way to provide quality disaster dog teams?

To answer the first part (only?), emphatically no.

Most disaster (urban) SAR handlers are still civilians who choose, raise and train their own dogs. Initially, FEMA only accepted operational handlers who already had search and rescue deployments under their belts. That way, when a team was deployed on a disaster, with its additional stresses and dangers, it would not be the first time that the handler and dog had done real-world work together. The working partnership was already "proofed."

Unfortunately, and for a variety of mostly bad reasons, FEMA moved away from exploiting the skills of experienced dog handlers and started to allow individuals with no canine experience to fill slots on its task forces. In some task forces, experienced wilderness handlers need not apply.

As for the second part (best?), I can give you my opinion as a SAR handler with nineteen years of experience.

There are two elements here: Do firefighters without dog experience make the best handlers, and do adult dogs who have been through several months of kenneling and training make the best search dogs?

I have seen no evidence suggesting that they do.

My personal experience with firefighter-first handler candidates has been that the small minority of them who are suitable need a lot of education about dog behavior and interspecies teamwork, and constant on-scene oversight, in order to work effectively with a dog. That's not oversight from the fire chief, that's oversight from an intimately-involved canine training officer with many years of canine SAR experience and good teaching chops. Conversely, too much oversight -- handholding -- just serves to nurse along handler wannabes who are not capable or not interested in developing the higher-level skills that make a truly adaptable and resourceful handler. Not just a guy who can, maybe, pass a test.

Working with a search dog is not like learning a new machine that also happens to be a PR goldmine. It is a humbling, life-altering experience that requires profound openness and health of ego to achieve.

My experience with young adult dogs recruited for SAR training has been that the only ones that typically succeed are working-bred animals -- field Labs and goldens, working GSDs and Malinois, well-bred border collies. And they generally succeed when paired with already experienced SAR handlers who went through a lot of trouble to choose their own dogs.

Interestingly, even for working-bred dogs, there appears to be no fast-track to operational status achieved by starting with a young adult as opposed to a young puppy. Takes the team just about as long or a little longer, on average, to get to operational status if the dog is two when they start as it does if the handler starts with an eight-week-old puppy.

This is assuming similar ability and motivation on the part of the handler, similar operational standards, similar availability of credentialing procedures. (In this post-NIMs world, availability of credentialing and backlogs for evaluation and classes are a real issue for all kinds of emergency providers. When one's dog isn't getting any younger, it's beyond frustrating.)

Time to certification is important because, assuming total "trainee" time elapsed is the same, you get more bang for your buck starting a puppy and getting him operational by age two than you do starting a two-year-old and getting him operational at age four. Right?

Depending on breed, most SAR dogs retire at between 8-12 years of age, if there are no special medical concerns. Border collies and English shepherds often go longer. Rottweilers and bloodhounds, typically significantly shorter. Working-bred dogs of all breeds usually have a longer career than those who are indifferently-bred or show-bred, in addition to qualifying at much greater frequency.

The difference in return-on-investment in the dog's training for a six-year career vs. a ten-year career is significant -- for handler, for the unit, for the lost person.

In the case of dogs who have not been bred for work and well-raised, the training time is increased, and the chances of the dog ever becoming operational (again, assuming the same talent and motivation in the handler) are much lower.

My biggest objection to starting with adult dogs is that one loses the concentrated learning period of young puppyhood, in which the pup may be essentially imprinted with a commitment to scent games, as well as learn to be fearless in the face of all kinds of challenges. The best person to provide that kind of upbringing is the pup's handler. Good breeders exploit the learning window from birth to eight weeks, too. Many a star SAR dog's training effectively begins in the womb.

5) Is the firefighter + "pretrained" canine candidate team the way forward for disaster search and rescue?

I sure hope not. The NDSDF would like it to be, and are setting out to make it so using charitable contributions from nice people who want to support search and rescue.

If that were to happen, it would be both the result and cause of an ongoing redefinition of the job of search dog and search dog handler that, in my opinion, does not well-serve the public.

High standards are not the same thing as cookie-cutter methods.

In fact, I maintain that the two are incompatible.

An aside. NDSDF has a strong bias towards Labrador retrievers; that's not just shown in their numbers, that's something they state outright. They think that Labs are, as a breed, better candidates for disaster SAR than other breeds. That they fit the NDSDF's cookie-cutter training methodology.

Their own results do not bear this out.

72% of the dogs "graduated" and assigned to handlers by NDSDF (from the bios on their page of current teams) are Labradors or Labrador mixes.

I don't know what the intake v. graduation rate is, because they don't publish it. (Remember, "graduation" is not operational status. It is NDSDF's term for being assigned a handler and leaving the kennel.)

The rest of the dogs are of very few breeds: border collies and border collie mixes, golden retrievers, German shepherds, and one Aussie and one Catahoula.

50% of total Labradors + Labrador mixes have qualified under a FEMA standard.*

63% of border collies + border collie mixes

67% of German shepherds

83% of goldens.

Is NDSDF so institutionally breed blind that they ignore their own results? Are they graduating and assigning to wannabe handlers Labradors that have little or no hope of qualifying because of this bias?

It would be nice to have hard figures on the dogs they take in for training -- which ones wash out during training, and for what reasons, which ones fail after being assigned a handler, which ones ultimately qualify under FEMA and in how much time. For now, there are just a lot of questions about why the NDSF's favorite breed is not, apparently, their own most successful breed.

6) Is the firefighter + "pretrained" canine candidate team a more efficient or cost-effective way of providing disaster SAR teams?

NDSDF took in well over 3.3 million dollars in 2009, per their 990.

They don't state how many trainee teams "graduated" from their program in that time, or how many of their previous graduates qualified as operational with their FEMA task forces, so it's impossible to say what the per-team cost of becoming operational is.

They don't say how many of the dogs they take in as candidates wash out before being placed.

They don't say how many handlers wash out and have their dogs repossessed and reassigned after "graduating." There are some references to these events in some of the dog biographies.

With a great deal of tedium, one can get something like a figure for how many total dogs provided by the NDSDF have qualified with their FEMA task forces. This meant going through every individual dog profile linked on this page, and reading not only the dog's vital stats, but also the secondary page of narrative. In some cases the narratives and the vital stats disagreed on some point, and I had to try to make a judgment about which account was correct. Profiles don't consistently give dates that the dog was acquired or "graduated," but most have a birthdate, which is likely estimated in some cases.

They list 82 dogs, born between the years of 1996 and 2009. These are only dogs that are currently assigned to handlers. I did not include deceased and retired dogs listed on other pages, because NDSDF doesn't provide enough information about them to compare them to the ones on the main page. (I'm skeptical that a Labrador born in 1996 is still operational, but she's on the page, so gets counted.)

Of these, as near as I can determine, 41 have passed some kind of FEMA test, either just the basic, or the basic and then the advanced test. Exactly half. I did not include dogs that have passed a "state test," including the Tijuana state test, because I have no way of knowing whether those tests are, in fact, comparable to one administered by FEMA. I don't know whether some of the dogs who at one point passed a FEMA test have had their certification lapse, either because they didn't re-test at the appropriate time or because the failed a re-test; regardless, a dog who passes the test qualifies as operational for three years, unless injury or some other contingency intervenes.

Let's just look at the dogs born from 2005-2009. Some dogs have neither birthdates nor any operational data -- they may be older or younger, but they don't have FEMA certs according to NDSDF, which is fairly motivated to be up-to-date on such announcements. But of the 31 dogs placed with handlers and still out there (so not counting any that have been definitively washed out, retired, or died since placement) who were apparently born between 2005 and 2009, eleven -- just over a third -- have (according to NDSDF's website) passed a FEMA basic test. None have passed an advanced test. That's 3-4 teams per year passing a FEMA test once they are out with a task force. Can that be right?

Million dollar search teams?

Here's another interesting thing.

NDSDF makes a big deal about "rescued dogs becoming rescuers." They say they scour the pounds for candidates. Save those crazy dogs that are so unsuitable as pets, maybe on doggie death row as unadoptable, but are just born to pound the rubble.

Makes good copy, doesn't it? I have an adopted dog in training for SAR myself, and I can tell you straight, Cole's narrative can draw tears of joy from a cinder block. It is an m-fing great story.

It is not, however, the most efficient, cost-effective way to consistently bring dogs to operational success. And NDSDF's own numbers demonstrate this.

Of those animals (born 1996-2009) whose source could be determined from their biographies, 20 were breeder donations or purchases (puppies), 8 were donated by owners, 13 came from guide or service dog organizations, 14 came from rescue groups, and 19 came from shelters.

The breeder-sourced puppies were all (from what I could tell) good working-bred dogs, as were quite a number of the owner-donated young dogs. This is as it should be.

Here's the rundown on the outcomes for these dogs since 1996, broken down by source (as well as could be determined from the dogs' biographies -- what NDSDF has chosen to publish)

75% of the dogs donated by breeders and paired with handlers passed a FEMA standard, and a third (25% of the total) of those passed the advanced test. That's the best group. If they could deliver those results consistently, my hat would be off to them.

64% of dogs from rescue groups passed a FEMA standard.

62% of owner-donated dogs passed a FEMA standard. This group is mixed between dogs donated by working handlers or from working breeding, and "failed pets."

34% of guide/service dog "career change" dogs passed a FEMA standard.

26% of dogs from shelters passed a FEMA standard. A near mirror-image of the breeder-sourced dogs.

Remember, these are just the numbers for the dogs on their website who are still out with handlers. It does not include washouts from training, or dogs that have been washed out definitively since being sent home with a handler. We don't know about those dogs. And they don't publish enough data about retired/deceased dogs to compare them to current dogs.

From the available information, it appears that there is a significant advantage to taking a well-bred puppy selected by a knowledgeable working dog breeder, raising it in a savvy home (per the guide/service dog model), and training at a young age. Gee, who could have guessed?!

But what "We bought this puppy from a great breeder to ensure the best chances of success" doesn't do is raise a ton of money. The story isn't as good. It's unsentimental. Donors don't line up sobbing to hand over the simoleons.

The cost of a good working-bred Labrador, golden retriever, German shepherd or border collie pup ranges from $500-$1500. Some breeders will happily donate a promising pup to a good cause. Such pups are ready to start their training at eight weeks. They can be ready for operational testing by the time they are two.

So, is the project to rescue dogs from shelters? To maximize the number and competence of operational disaster search teams and minimize the time-to-certification to ensure the longest possible operational life? Or to raise the maximum in tax-deductible donations with a sounds-good narrative?

7) Is this charity a lean, efficient user of donated money?

Let's look at the largest search and rescue canine organization in the US for comparison -- the California Rescue Dog Association.

I choose CARDA because their operational standards are rigorous and well-regarded, and they are on the same sort of scale of personnel as NDSDF. Comparing NDSDF to a typical local SAR team with between two and ten operational canine teams at any given time, or to a single USAR TF, is comparing apples to watermelons. Also, NDSDF is located in California, as are most of "their" teams, and does a lot of fund raising in California.

CARDA has no paid staff. None. No full time PR people banging the drums for media coverage, no fund raising employees, no executives, no office manager, no paid or contracted trainers. It is, like almost every SAR unit in the United States, an all-volunteer organization.

CARDA is both a training and an operational organization. Volunteers train weekly in CARDA groups, have assigned mentors during their training period, and they respond to call-outs through CARDA. CARDA volunteers meet California state standards for operational competence.

CARDA handlers choose, train, and own their own dogs.

CARDA handlers complete required time as pre-apprentices and apprentices before they can challenge the operational tests. Operational handlers put in significant time as mentors.

Right now, this all-volunteer entity has at its disposal 123 trained, certified, credentialed, qualified, can-go-on-a-search-this-instant search and rescue dogs. That does not count dogs that may be certified but have been pulled from operational status due to injury or some other contingency. It does not count trainees. It's really 123 dogs that can work now.

The CARDA operational dogs are from 21 pure breeds, and also include eight mixed-breed dogs. Diversity is strength.

In 2008, according to their form 990EZ filed in 2009, CARDA spent $25,218. Total revenues were $29,579. That's just over $240 non-profit dollars spent per operational dog. That's two-four-zero -- not $2,400, not $24,000.

It gets worse. Better. Depends on how you look at it.

$18,688 of CARDA's income was member dues! Yep, the bulk of the operating expenses of the largest SAR dog organization in the country came out of the personal pockets of the very same people who are devoting enormous swaths of their own time and herculean efforts to volunteer.

Only $6,457 of CARDA's incoming money in 2008 was in the form of contributions or grants.

$52 of charitable money per operational dog. Dogs whose volunteer owners are shouldering the full cost of dog food, veterinary care, equipment, gas, vehicle maintenance, outside training, time lost from work ...

Grants and donations don't even begin to cover the cost of issuing that operational handler a radio. Which is the only thing the handler gets from the organization, and just about the only assets that CARDA owns.

Now, frankly, this sucks in the other direction. I was so gobsmacked that I called up a CARDA member I know and grilled her about it. Yep, CARDA bites at fundraising and public relations. Terrible at it. Too modest to toot its own horn. Refuses to even record the event when a CARDA dog finds a missing person, because of an overdeveloped "team" ethic. ("It would be prideful to admit that one of our own just saved someone's life ...") I would characterize CARDA as overly lean.

I upbraided my friend on behalf of her unit in what I hope was taken in the helpful, if exasperated, way in which it was offered. You guys should be bringing in more money, supporting your handlers, and reminding the public of the amazing service you provide.

The fact remains that the largest and most-respected SAR dog training, credentialing, and deployment organization in the US does its work on a financially threadbare shoestring, and does it damned well.

From 2000-2005 (the latest that full-year statistics are published) CARDA teams responded to an average of 318 searches per year. Those would have ranged from a single dog and handler deployed to check a suspected crime scene for human remains, to massive lost person searches involving hundreds of searchers and scores of dog teams.

They are running over 7,000 volunteer man-hours per year, just on search responses -- not counting an order of magnitude more hours spent on training, testing, and organizational chores.

8) Is this charity managed and run in a transparent and professional manner that is responsible to donors and does not enrich its principals?

You can download NDSDF's 990's here.

I have some questions.

For example, the same individual who receives $800 per month per dog for boarding and training (so she is technically not on the payroll, but a "contractor") is also serving an eight-year term on the board of directors.

Her assistant is her daughter.

That raises my eyebrows a bit.

According to page 7 of the 2009 990, no board member is compensated.

Ms. Davern's kennel received $148,629 for "handler training" in 2009.

There is also a line item for "trainers fees" (24c on page 10) of $210,333. I must assume that this is the $800 per month per dog collected by Ms. Davern's kennel for boarding and training, cited on their "Donate Now" page.

Apparently they don't consider $359,000 in no-bid contract work to be "compensation" to a board member. I guess that may be technically true. I'm sure this is all perfectly legal.

There are six total trainers on-staff for the "yield" of operational teams cited above. Their website does not indicate whether these people are all full-timers, nor what they are paid.

I expect it is probably significantly less than the $320,000 total paid to the top five salaried employees -- the Executive Director, the "Development" Director (which I understand to be "chief fundraiser") , a Business Administration Manager, the Manager of their project to build a multi-million dollar training center, and someone called a "Relation Manager."

As I understand it, these salaries are not out of line in the world of very large, high-overhead nonprofits. (The kind to which I choose not to donate, for this very reason.)

But remember, for CARDA -- and every other volunteer SAR unit in the country that actually deploys humans and dogs -- the figure is zero donor dollars spent on staff salaries.

And, among other questions, does it really cost three quarters of a million dollars to build a rubble pile?

9) Are these the guys who are going to save my bacon in a disaster?

The most important factor in lifesaving after a natural or man-made event causes building collapse is the speed at which help arrives.

FEMA task forces typically take days to mobilize, travel, and deploy.

If you are in the Walmart when the tornado hits and are buried alive under rubble and low, low prices, it will be your local first responders who stand a chance of finding you in time and getting you out. Wouldn't it be nice to know that they've had the resources they need to train to a high level of competence? Wouldn't it be gravy if the individual handlers were not straining their personal finances to be ready to save you?

The Task Forces, though trained for rescue, are typically active during the recovery phase of the search. Bluntly, they arrive in time to find the bodies. If there was a single live-find in rubble in the US by a FEMA-deployed dog team, I have not been able to track it down. The first live finds I can verify were several recently in Haiti. American teams had at least one live find in Mexico City; that was in 1985, years before the development of FEMA task forces with federalized disaster dogs. The dog teams deployed were volunteer wilderness handlers who had cross-trained for disaster.

Otherwise, twenty years without a single lifesaving find for the entire federal USAR system. (If I'm wrong about this, please, point me to the news articles.)

Pip and I deployed during the recovery phase of Hurricane Katrina. This was a state-to-state EMAC request for disaster-qualified SAR dogs who could work both live search and remains recovery. Not a very numerous resource. (This was the one and only time I have had any of my expenses covered in SAR.) Recovery work in a disaster is important work, but it is not the same thing as the high-pucker search that must be done in the first hours after an incident.


One reason we deployed was to hone our skills for the possibility of a future local disaster, one in which we would be the first responders, there in time to save a life. From that point of view, our time in the Gulf was time well-spent, though -- knock splintered wood -- we have not had call to exploit it as yet.

Well-trained and operationally-experienced wilderness search dog teams that are cross-trained for disaster first response and are close to the site of the disaster are the canine resource that is most capable of making a life-or-death difference.

When there isn't a "newsworthy" building collapse or massive disaster, these same all-volunteer teams are out pounding the ground looking for the missing hunter, the wandering dementia patient, the lost child. Saving those lives from "little" personal disasters.

Almost all are members of units that are 501(c)3 charitable non-profits, and are paid nothing for their time and effort.

None of them took in close to $3 million dollars in donations last year.

The next life they save could be yours. Your kid's. Or a total stranger's.

I don't know any who would turn down some help.


------------------------------

* As elsewhere, I am only counting passing the FEMA test as a metric for the NDSDF-supplied dogs. This is because I've no way of knowing whether various "state standards" are comparable, on paper or as executed. NDSDF's stated purpose is to populate the USAR TF's with NDSDF-supplied operational USAR dogs, so I think this is the fair metric by which to gauge their success.

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Take Two, They’re Small

It was a great compliment to a newly-minted dog handler to be asked by my training mentor to evaluate a litter of puppies to identify the search and rescue prospects.*

The big litter of superficially near-identical black German shepherds was from her own breeding, offspring of two SAR dogs. The buyers were a family from Pennsylvania who already owned two of her dogs, both operational SAR dogs. It was time for them to start bringing along a new pup to eventually succeed their oldest bitch.

After messing with the pups for the better part of a day -- observing the litter interact amongst themselves, taking them out one at a time for some formal puppy tests and informal play and mild stress, watching them move -- I arrived at the same answer that their breeder had. “Either of these two bitch puppies is an excellent prospect. And I can find no reason to prefer one over the other. I think they might be actual identical twins.”

A few days later Martha and Dan, SAR dogs JT and Schatten, and Martha’s two teenage boys arrived in an SUV the size of a city block, to visit for a few days, train, and choose their new puppy.

I liked them. We had a lot of fun navigating the baffling New Hampshire topography behind Annabella’s cabin. It was refreshing to cross-pollinate with handlers from another unit who were not using the interaction as an opportunity to gain local political advantage or attempt a mean-spirited alpha roll on the New Kid.

Martha agreed about the two bitch puppies. She spent three days with them, and could find nothing to favor one pup over the other. So she took them both.

Annabella tried to talk her out of this course of action, but in the end relented. Martha and Dan insisted that each one would train a pup.

Less than a year later, Perfesser Chaos took a new job. We packed up Lilly, two cats, all our crap, and the lives we had started in New England and relocated, Clampett-like, to Pittsburgh. We weren’t close enough to Martha to join her SAR unit, but it was nice having a friend and guide in the general area. Their spacious home, set back in the woods near the Laurel Ridge, was our rural refuge, as Annabella’s Unabomber cabin had once been.

Things were not going as one would hope with the puppies, Lauren and Danielle.†

They were still physically indistinguishable (to me) -- color-coded collars were a necessity. But one puppy (I cannot remember which one, seventeen years later) had taken on the role of leader, the other of follower. It was fortunate that the dichotomy was as strong as it was; that’s probably what spared that family the fun of littermate bitches deciding to kill one another at unpredictable intervals.** The fact of the relationship -- the absolute need that dogs have to define their roles relative to their packmates -- cause the identical puppies’ personalities to diverge much more dramatically than they would have under other circumstances.
I cannot remember a single dog who was raised with her mother to adulthood who could be successfully trained for a Guide Dog. Where two litter mates are raised together in the same home we have had the same results. Puppies raised in homes where there are dogs not related to them have never been affected this way by the association with other dogs ... In the case of two litter mates raised together, one becomes a successful candidate for Guide Dog work and one fails, even if their aptitude tests were equal.
Clarence Pfaffenberger
The New Knowledge of Dog Behavior
Howell Book House, 1964 (p. 125)
Lauren and Danielle presented a classic picture of this kind of squandered potential, except that neither were heading for the success promised by their early puppy profiles. They were co-dependent, whining and pacing incessantly whenever separated from one another, even if one of the other dogs was there. Their obedience and general response to human leadership was sketchy at best. I would not consider them housetrained. They barely paid attention to what their humans wanted. They lacked the aura of intelligence and awareness that JT exuded. And neither puppy was all that committed to working. The noses functioned, but the fire did not blaze.

Indeed, at a year of age, they were still “the puppies.” At two, three years of age, “the puppies.” No real progress towards operational status that I could see, and general arrested development compared to their own older dogs, and other SAR dogs of the same cohort.

One divorce and many life changes later, Martha and Dan split up “the puppies.” Each ex-spouse went away with one good older SAR dog and one unfocused, slightly neurotic, unfulfilled young pet. Neither ever fielded a second SAR partner.

Well what does all that matter to me? you say, I just want dogs as pets.

Two puppies will keep one another company, so I can go to work and not feel guilty. It’s a lot of fun watching them play with one another. And they never have to go through the full trauma of leaving their first family. They’ll be friends all their lives, so we don’t have to identify other dogs with whom they can socialize. Throw in a fenced yard -- no need for time-consuming leash walks.

Oh the temptations.

If I wasn't so aware of the number of hits this post is likely to receive from people looking for validation for a decision to buy two puppies, I'd give you the phone number of the clients who called me two weeks into their two-puppy adventure. They were "smart." They didn't buy littermates (partly because they had a thought of breeding the two German shepherd pups in the future.) They got a big robust bitch puppy and a smaller, more retiring dog puppy who was a week or so younger, from a different breeder. The two pups commenced ignoring every human directive, enticement, and entreaty, while the bigger pup began mercilessly bullying the smaller one.

When they called me, this couple who had successfully raised three children had not slept in a fortnight. I felt as if I'd come to help the parents of quadruplets who were both suffering from post-partum depression.

I was able to help quite a bit with puppy management, training, general stress levels. This was a couple who really wanted to do right by their dogs, had high expectations of them, and had found themselves completely unprepared for the onslaught.

I’m down to one Indiana Plague Puppy; Donna went home this morning. They are about 13 weeks old now, several weeks older than the optimum age for going to their permanent homes. Puppy care just got harder.

Four puppies was herding a troupe of striped-assed baboons. Two puppies are half as many as four -- half as much poop, half as much cuddling, half as much training, half as many little ferrets diving for the door or scattering like cockroaches when I needed to contain them.

Two puppies is not, however, twice as many as one. I haven’t yet suffered through a sleepless night of foresaken wailing. I could gate the two of them in the puppy-resistant kitchen for long periods and they entertained one another. I called the puppies, and if one was inclined to come to me, the other almost invariably followed. If I corrected a pup for mouthing me while she was in a ripping frame of mind, she just turned to her sister and piled on -- redirection always available..

In short, raising two puppies rather than one makes it easy and apparently consequence-free to neglect them both. It is the canine developmental equivalent of parking the toddler in front of Gilligan’s Island with a bag of gummi worms and a loaded diaper.

He’s not just less likely to get into Stanford in the long-term; he’s significantly more likely to treat you to phone calls from the school principal and later, the police chief. Or, better yet, to be living in the basement eating your Hot Pockets when he's 35.

I departed from the easy path in several ways. I separated the pups for some period of time every day, taking them each out for leash walks that were, from the standpoint of exercising puppies, entirely gratuitous. They ate from separate bowls, spent time in separate crates, had separate lap-times. But mostly, they were “the puppies.” Neither had launched out of her natal pack and into a new life in a human family.

There are things they ideally should have started learning at seven weeks -- the age at which they found themselves in the dog pound, riddled with cooties, and still a week from coming into foster care where we could begin to address their vetting and start matching them with potential adopters.

It’s neither wise nor productive to unleash two uncivilized puppies -- much less four of them -- into a non-puppy-proofed area of the house. While you are rescuing a shoe from one varmint, another one is behind the TV eating power cord. Whisk one outside when she circles and sniffs, and her brother is makes a deposit to greet you at the door on the way back in. So they lived in the kitchen and did not learn to leave my stuff alone and ask to go out.

One puppy sat sweetly for a treat or attention, another jumped on her head and started gnawing as the human reached down. Each learned that sitting sweetly for what she wants is asking for an ambush -- much better to keep leaping on my legs like a wild heathen.

Shout NO as a pup engages in suicidal or criminal misconduct, and his sister who was innocently playing with a new toy is hit with discipline shrapnel. Uh oh, maybe I shouldn’t play with my toy. Or, maybe this “No” thing is overhyped, and I can ignore it.

One puppy runs from the giant rattling monster garbage bin that is chasing her down the driveway, and her sister concludes that it must be terribly dangerous, and follows in retreat. The fact that the grown-up dogs and the human aren’t a bit worried about this thing doesn’t get through the collective puppy panic.

As a result, the last two girlpuppies were, as of 6 a.m., pig-ignorant barbarians compared to any single pup we have raised. The latest we have ever had littermates together was eleven weeks. At thirteen weeks, the girls were on the verge of overripe; when they had the rips, they were about as tame and approachable as these:


Which, frankly, they closely resembled in more ways than I care to contemplate.



The developmental window for primary socialization and learning has not closed. They will be just fine. And they are still miles ahead of our group-raised ONB puppies, some of whom were with their littermates to the age of eight or nine months.

One or two more weeks of litter-living, though, and these pups would be courting real developmental challenges.

Starting today I am sucking it up and raising one puppy properly, as if she was my own, until she goes to her permanent home. The adult dogs -- trained, civilized,‡ full members of a human family with all the privileges and duties attendant thereof -- act as uniform assets in the pup’s upbringing. They teach her things that can be best, or only, learned from another dog, and they reinforce the policies and procedures of the human household. But the real work will be down to me and PC. Little Susie is Canis lupus familiaris, not plain ol’ C. lupus. She needs to look to human beings for her physical needs, play, direction, leadership, an explanation of her world. As her foster humans, it's our duty to prepare her to keep doing that all her life.

And Miss Susie is already doing this; there is a dramatic change in her compared to last night. I liked her before; now I really enjoy her puppy company.

Here's some free unsolicited advice:

Never buy or adopt two puppies the same age to raise together. Especially littermates. Especially same-sex littermates.

Do. Not.

Here's some more:

If you are a breeder, or place puppies for adoption, never sell or adopt two same-age puppies to one home.

Never. Ever.††

You don't see that "never" here very often. Here's how important I think this is: It is more unwise to buy two well-bred puppies from a breeder who raises them skillfully and lovingly, and bring those puppies up together in the same household, than it is to buy a puppy from the deli case at Petland.

A breeder worth her salt knows this. She won't sell you a set. She most certainly won't offer, suggest, market, discount or hard-sell pups in pairs. Wanna test the balance between a breeder's behavioral savvy and her walletitis? Ask her to sell you two at once. If she says O-tay, walk away clean.

_______________________

* In retrospect, this may have been one of Annabella’s characteristically opaque Zen master lessons about what she thought I had actually done right with my first SAR dog, a truth that I later discerned about myself: I’m a fair to-middling-trainer. What I am good at is selecting puppy prospects who can withstand ham-fisted management, beginner’s mistakes, bad training methodologies, rotten timing, and the whole litany of handler incoherence -- pups who are nearly idiot-proof.

† Martha had a husband named Dan, a son named Dan -- why not just go with it again? Yell out “Dan!” and see how many beings answered.

** Two bitches in the same household who have each decided that the other needs to Go Away Permanently are among the least-favorite projects that face any dog trainer. When those two bitches are littermates whose owners earnestly believe they should loooove one another because they are sisters -- chewing up and swallowing a box of lightbulbs with a Betadine chaser ranks higher on the list of things to do today.

‡ And Sophia. Sigh. She is as God made her.

†† Of course not. Pack hounds. Buy whole litters of 'em and keep 'em in the kennel. It's all good. Carry on. I'm talking about pets, and working dogs that are not pack-hunting hounds.

Also, does not apply to cats. Kitten pairs work well, especially for owners who need them to be contented indoor latchkey kitties.

Monday, February 7, 2011

This One Goes to Eleven


The calendar got ahead of me.

Today is Pip's birthday. Eleven years old and still going strong. SAR dog, training partner, farm dog, pack matriarch, smartass.

The photo was taken last week. My "old dog."

Boy, here's a dog who has gotten me into a lot of trouble. If she hadn't been so damned much fun to work and train as a pup, I'd probably have quit SAR when Mel retired.

We had planned on another German shepherd to eventually take over Lilly's job. Had visited a breeder, met the dam, watched the sire on television. Great dogs, just what I wanted in a GSD. The litter was tiny, two males, and we were set on a bitch. So we waited impatiently until he bred her again, to the first sire's brother. Nice big litter, we were doing the happy dance.

And then they started dying. Mother was not producing enough milk, and breeder somehow failed to notice this.

By the time the breeder called us again, when the pups were a week old, half the litter of eight had "simply starved to death" and he was thinking of killing another weak pup. But no worries, we would have our bitch pup from the survivors.

No, worries.

Aside from our case of acute and debilitating WTF? about how a supposedly experienced working-dog breeder could fail to notice that his apparently overworked, undernourished bitch couldn't feed her babies, we knew enough about perinatal development to worry about the future of the survivors -- bodies and brains deprived of nourishment when they most needed it. We declined a puppy, leaving a pissed-off breeder who lectured me on how this kind of loss was "normal," as if I'd just fallen off a turnip truck.

So now it was a big problem. We'd devoted over a year to a puppy search, and over a year waiting for "our" German shepherd pup, and Lilly was not getting younger, her hip sockets were not getting any rounder or deeper.

Meanwhile, back at the AMRG ranch, our teammate Barb had been on her own long quest for a first SAR partner, and I'd been helping her.

She wanted a dog that was smaller than a German shepherd, but had a temperament like Lilly's, didn't shed much but was furry, would be healthy and long-lived. Border collie was clearly too high-strung, and the taillessness of Australian shepherds was a problem for her.

I'd heard about these dogs called English shepherds years before, when we still lived in Boston. "Like an Aussie with a tail, but calmer." We'd looked into them, but ended up finding Mel to become our second SAR partner and the transcendent dog whose soul merged with and vastly improved my own.

So I helped Barb find a nearby breeder who seemed to be on the right track, and visited to look at the dogs she was using. Saw a male and a female there on the dairy farm and had an instinct -- "Wait until she breeds these two to one another, your puppy will be in that litter."

The litter of five from Dust-Dee and Cocoa was as good a working litter as I'd ever seen. When Barb and I visited them at five weeks of age, I thought "Any one of these could make a SAR dog."

When our hopes for a German shepherd died along with those unnourished puppies, Theresa let us line jump. Barb got first pick, we got second. There were three bitches to choose from. Two nice, normal, balanced girlpuppies who performed beautifully on their puppy aptitude tests, and one cartoon lunatic whose response to adversity was to flip me the middle toe and ransack my gear box for a toy she'd seen ten minutes before and wanted, dammit.

Barb's Rozzie grew into a lovely, gracious, sensible dog. She was our dog-niece. And she lost her career to sickness and died far too young; I still believe it was goddamned lawn chemicals that gave her seizures and then, years later, finished her off.

We took the nut. Took her home on April Fool's Day, and ever since she's amused herself by making fools of us.

She spent her first months with us with her head inside Lilly's lupine maw. We later determined that the Old Lady had been injecting brain tissue -- and personality, character, attitude and highly specific memories -- via her impressive fangs.

Her operational testing for SAR in fall of 2001 was delayed by months when we all lost our damned minds, and every potential evaluator was either queued up or actively sifting through rubble for remains. By early spring, Lilly was more than ready to hand over the reins.

She has birthed and raised eighteen great puppies, and adopted one more.

Groundhogs tell their children tales of the bogeypip.

Baby chicks run to her for protection.

She stole and tried to nurse kittens when she was still a virgin bitch. Their mother resolved the conflict by curling up against Pip's belly and nursing her babies there, which was completely satisfactory to everyone.

She's been on ten commercial flights and has, despite her powers of invisibility in the normal course of travel, become legendary at the Denver airport as the dog who negotiates moving sidewalks at a dead run.

She has vanquished breakers in the Atlantic, Pacific, Gulf of Mexico and a couple Great Lakes.

She has carried a backpack and ten unborn puppies to 14,000 feet.

She has climbed and crawled and chimneyed through caves.

She can tell a totally untrained dog to go to the corner, lie down, and damn well stay there, without lifting her head from her paws. That dog will obey.

She is the only ES I know -- other than some of her children -- who has green eyes.

Troops of scouts, whole elementary schools, and hordes of adults are entertained by her tricks. She is most entertained by herself when she can make a monkey of me by accidentally not on purpose doing the tricks in the "wrong" sequence, but always in a way that fits with the patter of my narrative.

She would rather be a dead dog than a show dog, Republican dog, or just about any other kind of dog I might name to her.

She knows what to do about bears.

She rode the roof of a house into a boat slip during Katrina recovery search, swam back to shore, shook herself, and ran back to the top of the rubble pile to resume working, tail wagging, while the nice firefighters restarted Mommy's heart.

She tells me whether a foster or a client's dog is okay or screwy. If she really likes another dog, I know that the dog is totally cool, even if he needs a lot of manners.

She can look kind of lazy on search tasks, until she detects a whiff of scent and sews up the problem in a few minutes. Her find distance is significantly longer than Sophia's. Working hard and working smart aren't always the same thing.

She thinks rather well of herself.

When I'm not glowering about being the butt of one of her unevolved jokes, I am inclined to agree.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Life or Death

I could not stay inside a house. Again and again I went to the wall, the window, and finally an old man who had been sitting at the table with me laughed and said something to the others ... that I didn't get.

"What?" I asked, turning from the window.


"You have become one of them," he said. "A dog. You pace, you look out, you move ... like a dog."


"I smell like one, too ..."
He nodded, smiling.

"Yes. You do. Only with that other smell there, too, the smell that comes from white places. But that is going away. Tell me now, isn't this better?"


"What?" I had been looking at the dogs again.


"This -- this way to live. With the dogs and the sled and the snow. Isn't it better this way than the way you live the other times?"
...

And I nodded. "Yes. It is."

"Good. You finish this goddamn thing and when it is done you get your woman and come back down the coast and live with us. We'll go hunting seals on the ice and your children will get fat and we'll sit and talk."
-- Gary Paulsen, Winterdance


Lambs pronking through the meadow in the spring are as entertaining to watch as a litter of puppies romping in the kitchen; we must assume that they take the same infant joy in their play. I can think of no morally relevant distinction between the young of the two species, as species.

Cows love their calves; they are gregarious creatures who take pleasure in the company of their herdmates.

There are few vertebrates that are simpler than a Cornish cross hybrid meat chicken. Even they have their bestial satisfactions and uncomplicated personalities, and can be seen to be happy when their short lives play out in green and pleasant summer pastures.

In the end, we eat them. Some of us omnivores consider it important that our food has a decent life, one that is not only free from suffering, but replete with those things that bring happiness to each creature after its kind.

We demand the animal's death to feed our lives, but his pleasures belong to him. A well-kept food animal's life is his own.

Not so the lives of our animal partners. The companions who are designated "pets," and those who work for us or with us to achieve human ends unknown in the animal world. Our lives are commingled, boundaries blurred. They accept a mission for our well-being; if we are not perversely self-absorbed, their happiness becomes ours. We demand their whole lives as if issuing a mandatory marriage proposal. You and me, kid.

We can demand a life, or demand a death.

But both?

Every impulse of decency, every instinct towards fairness screams out against it.

Give me your life. Make my pleasure and my profit and my command your joy. Entwine yourself in my work and life and goals. Meet my eye with your own honest, shining gaze, and cavort with anticipation of the task I have for you. Serve me with your mind and heart. Become my will, and I will become your joy.

Having demanded that kind of devotion and received it, how does a human being then revise the contract to read "And when you are inconvenient to me, when I no longer require that you do my work, when the task that you literally scream to accomplish is not profitable to me, then die and get out of my way?"
The dog's screams had gone on all this time but with the last kick -- the blow must have almost literally exploded the dog's liver -- the dog fell back and grew still and it was over, in seconds it was over and he looked up at me, directly at me, and I saw things had never seen, never want to see again. I saw hate, self-hate, hate and rage and such savagery that I drew back and suddenly understood Nazis and rabies and rape and pillage and My Lai and the death camps ...

... to be able to do that to a friend, a close friend who has pulled you halfway across Alaska and wants only to love and be loved and to pull and see the next hill and is now gone. Killed. Murdered. To savage a dog that way, a friend -- he could do anything.
-- Gary Paulsen, Winterdance

Thursday, January 6, 2011

Operational

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Congratulations to Terrie Kirkpatrick and Brandywine Tia Maria.

Front Range Rescue Dogs' newest operational airscenting SAR team.

Saturday, December 11, 2010

News from English Shepherd Land

English Shepherd Club

The 2011 English Shepherd calendar is available from the English Shepherd Club for $14 (ESC members) or $17 (non-members). Order here. Volume discounts available.

This gorgeous calendar features ES from around the world, including many of our beloved rescue ES. It is a major fundraiser for the ESC, a 501(c)3 non-profit incorporated for the conservation of the English shepherd dog as a heritage agricultural resource.

While you're there, now is the time to renew your membership for 2011, or apply for membership if you are not already one. (Join now and get the member price on your calendars.)

NESR

The National English Shepherd Rescue 2010 cookbook is also on sale. Shepherds in the Kitchen: 483 Recipes to the Rescue is available for $20 here.



Yep, almost five hundred recipes for $20 -- about four cents a recipe. Hell, it costs me that much to print one out. And it's the only way you are going to get my chili recipe, or my famous marinara.

While you are on the order page, check out the other items that benefit NESR's work rescuing and rehoming English shepherds in need -- jewelry, decals, and the great martingale collars with side-release clips (hard-to-find item!) made by the vendor who supplied them for the ONB dogs. And visit the NESR Cafe Press shop.

Mark Your New ESC 2011 Calendar

Please come!

June 11-12, 2011 will be the first Brandywine Farm English Shepherd Gathering in Harmony, PA (16037).

What's a Gathering?

Two days of education, fun, food, networking, socializing, and celebration of (and with) the dogs we love.

I've been to Gatherings in Ohio, North Carolina, Ontario, Montana and California. Each one was different, each had activities tailored to the venue. The larger gatherings attracted ES and their humans from all over North America.

At Brandywine Farm, we are fortunate to be able to rent the township park and community center that abuts our hayfield -- giving us the entire farm, plus the community center's historic schoolhouse (with kitchen and bathrooms), picnic pavilion, baseball field, playground, and parking.

Activities planned include CGC testing, a SAR demonstration, agility, a silent auction to benefit NESR, lectures on breed history and conservation, obedience fun drills, and, if we have the fencing and stock squared away by then, a stockwork clinic. (I've already ordered new ducks for the occasion; we're working on the sheep.)

There will be two days of potluck picnicking, and a barbeque of Brandywine Farm pastured Freedom Ranger chicken. As those who are wise enough to order the NESR cookbook will soon discern, English shepherd people take their cooking seriously. I generally waddle away from Gathering potlucks with a smile on my face.

You can come for one or both days.

There are a variety of camping and dog-friendly motel accommodations nearby.

You do not need to own an English shepherd to come. The ES community is a friendly crowd, and we welcome friends of the breed, the curious, and all who have an interest in conserving heritage breeds. No one will check your dog's pedigree at the door, and all well-behaved dogs are welcomed.

If you have a Facebook account, you can RSVP or keep up on developments at the Brandywine Farm Gathering's FB page. I'll be adding a page to this blog with schedule and particulars as they develop.