Do you talk to your dog

Sophie the irrepressible Bordoodle turned one year old Friday. She actually has calmed down a lot, but now people are saying, "Wait till she's two!" Well, darn, I thought I would have her tamed and reasonable by one. Training Sophie--hmmm, is that the title of a book?--has been a long and sometimes difficult process. For economy, I took her to the PetSmart training classes rather than hiring the personal trainer I used with Scooby. PetSmart training works really well for some people, er, dogs. Not Sophie. I suppose I wasn't consistent about doing it at home, and getting her there got to be a problem--she's so wild once she gets off my property that I am afraid of being pulled down. Sophie will not be getting long outdoor walks, unless Jordan gives them to her.
Eventually I gave up on PetSmart, but she retains a lot of good manners from that training--sit, down, drop it, leave it, etc. But I called Kenny, of Home Dog Training, for larger issues such as jumping--my left arm is always a mess of scratches and marks where she jumps when I'm at my desk. Kenny's big dictum is "Don't talk to your dog while you're training. Only commands." Come on, I want to carry on conversations, tell her she's being adorable, ridiculous, spoiled, whatever. Yesterday, our third and apparently last lesson, he finally got through to me by asking if I saw how she listened to him but not me. "She tunes you out, because she hears you  talk all the time." Made sense, and I'm trying hard, though I have ocasional lapses. I am allowed to say "Good girl," so I do that often. And I play with her and love on her--just no cooing, please.
The first picture is Sophie loving having a new toy; the second is Sophie busily destroying said toy which no longer squeaks.
We're working on stay and come--she did "stay" beautifully with Kenny here; not so much with me. If I hold the leash, she does well; If I let go of the leash, she stays while I walk away, then bolts when I start toward her. I haven't tried "come" on my own yet--she's tired of Pupparoni, and Kenny suggests a tiny tiny pieces of cheese, so I'll buy those awful Kraft slicees. But I figure we have to master "stay" first. What with Jacob, both dogs, yoga, plants to water, and other chores, plus training Sophie, it's no wonder I hardly have time to write.
I hard a small part in a nice dog story this weekend. Two Facebook friends are dog rescuers--they post heartbreaking pictures of dogs that must be rescued or they will be put down. Yesterday there was a miniature schnauzer--surrounded by newspapers, so that I wondered if he'd been destroying them. I shared the photo on Facebook as I do with many rescue dog pictures, and friends of mine saw it and decided they wanted him. He had to be "tagged" by seven this morning, so they emailed, got word late last night they could pick him up today, although they were warned he'd been there so long because he was "unpredictable." They picked him up, named him Jasper, and took him home to a menagerie of dogs and cats where he happily fit right in. I am so grateful to have had a small part in this rescue, and I hope to keep up with Jasper.


Jasper before rescue

Saving dogs

I have a new cause--relax those of you who know me well, it's not political. That would be an ongoing cause. My new one is not exactly new either. I'm reposting pictures of dogs about to be euthanized in hope that someone will say, "I have to have that dog!" A Facebook friend has been posting these for some time--when I said she was breaking my heart, she replied that she couldn't not post them. So now I'm re-posting, plus I've made another friend who is if anything deeper into the cause. Judy Obregon (don't even know where she lives!) posted today about a dog she followed, visited, even gave a collar to--he was euthanized today, and she's in agony over it. Kathy, my first "dog cause" friend has built a small kennel on their ranch so she can temporarily foster some animals.
My Aussie, now 11-1/2, is a rescue dog, from the Humane Society of Fort Worth. I got him at three and a half, and he brought many problems. He'd been a "back-yard' dog--ignored and abused, never given love nor trained properly. To this day, his house manners are not reliable, though he is obedient. He long ago got over snitching food that is not his or chewing--in fact, he's not much interested in toys. He'll come when I call, eagerly--once he got out on the street and I called to him. He came running happily home, with a look that said, "Did you want me?" He's a good dog, and when he looks at me soulfully with one blue and one brown eye, I melt. But he'll potty when my back is turned--and sometimes just because he's being stubborn.
I got a new puppy last summer--for several reasons. Jacob, then just barely five, was afraid of Scooby  because of his size; Scooby needed companionship--he was developing the old-age habit of sleeping all day, had given up chasing squirrels, a chore at which he used to be a master; and I wanted a puppy that I could train the way I wanted. The latter hasn't worked out so well, but I'm persevering. But still, last July Sophie came into our lives. She's a wild mix of border collie and poodle--coal black as a small puppy with just a bit of brown on her muzzle. Now she's getting some silver on her long bushy tail and on her ears.
Sophie is one wild bundle of energy. In fact, sometimes I think she's two dogs--the one that minds me so well and the one that gets frantic with excitement and throws all behavior rules out the window. On a leash, she will stop at the front door, look back at me, look out at the world, and sit patiently until I say "Okay." Off the leash? She's out the door and across the street in a heartbeat and all my cries fall on deaf ears, though a neighbor? A new person to love her? Of course she'll go, which is how I got her back when she escaped recently.
But I've had conscience pangs over buying a kennel dog instead of taking in a stray. When I look at the pictures on Facebook, I wish desperately that I could take in more animals. But I'm realistic and I know my limitations. So I'll keep posting those pictures and watching for people who need a dog. I have one friend who is sort of half-heartedly looking for a second dog, and I often post with her in mind.
My neighbors have strong feelings on the subject too. They own two rescue dogs. Jay said the other night, "I'm not much of a taxation guy"--understatement! he's so conservative he squeaks--"but I think there ought to be a heavy tax on peole who are not licensed breeders who let their dogs reproduce." Go, Jay!

Jacob now adores both dogs; here he loves on Scooby

This is a  plea for two things: give or find a rescue dog a home if you can; if you own non-show quality pets (how many of us have show quality?), have them neutered. It's the only human(e) thing to do.