As mentioned earlier, Chase liked to run; usually away from me. Our little town of Basin only had a couple streets and our yard was big so I didn't usually have him on a leash when letting him out. Ok, I was a bit lazy with the leash and thought it would be easier to just call him and he would come back. That lasted a couple days. Eventually, he caught wind of the neighbors dogs or the little girl down the road or the horses or whatever it was that was more interesting than me and in a shot, he was gone. Turns out, the leash would have been much easier.
It wasn't just the mornings in Basin either. Chase bolted whenever possible and especially in the most inconvenient times for me. One day we were at a sporting goods store in Helena. I left him in my jeep while I went in for a couple things. When I came out to load my stuff in the back, Chase leaped from the back seat out into the parking lot and within seconds, he was gone.
"No! Chase, get back here!" I ran after him and for the next 10 minutes, I chased him around the parking lot, around the store, out in the yard and back into the lot until I finally gave up.
About that time a 12 year old boy was coming out of the store with his dad. Chase was standing 20 yards away crouching as if ready to bolt again as soon as I came towards him. I walked away from Chase and to the boy and his father and asked him if he would do me a favor. I told him Chase's name and asked him the boy could call him. Chase was a sucker for kids. I think a lot of it had to do with the fact that they always had some kind of food stuck to them, (especially the little ones.)
As I talked to the boy, Chase's curiosity kicked in and he started wondering over to us. The boy called his name and the cautious walk turned into a full on run to the boy and as the boy petted Chase, I grabbed his collar.
I carried him to the jeep and put him in the back seat, rolled him on his back and got in his face. "Dammit Chase. Listen!" I said as I pointed a finger in his face. Right.
Later that week, I went to a Pizza place just outside of Helena. They have horseshoe pits outside and hold league tournaments much like pool. A couple buddies had a team that was throwing that night and asked if I would sub. "Heck yeah." Nothing like pitching shoes to give me an excuse to have a few beers with the boys.
I let Chase out to run around and socialize with the folks. He was a cute puppy and the attention from the women was kind of nice. But there was always the end of the evening trying to get Chase back in the truck that was a guaranteed stresser for me and wasn't all that enduring to the girls. It's not cool watching some grown man running around while an 8 month old puppy gets the best of him. On this particular night however, I had a plan.
I know what you're thinking. "Why don't you just lure him into the jeep with a treat?" I tried that. It worked a few times but Chase caught on and he would have much rather had his freedom than some treat.
I opened the hatch on the jeep and my trap was set. It wasn't much of a plan but I knew it would work. Chase's weakness was that he never wanted to be left out of anything especially some game. He hated when I left without him because he thought I was going somewhere better than where he was at. So after opening the hatch, I started running around in circles and calling his name until he started chasing me. Back and forth I ran, ducking and dodging him as he jumped at me and after riling him up, I ran to the jeep. Not wanting to be left behind, he jumped in and I slammed the door shut.
"What the hell was that?" my buddy asked as he laughed at me.
"That's the only way I can get him in the jeep." I said.
"Well," he said, "I'm going to tell you something then that will change your life and you and Chase will be much happier."
We talked for about an hour that night. He explained to me how he had the same problems with his two labs and the one thing that changed everything was a choke chain. I was a little apprehensive because I also had another buddy who worked for the Humane Society and choke chains were out. But after revisiting the many frustrations of the past few months as well as having the realization that someday Chase would run out into the street and get run over looming in the back my head, I agreed that a small investment of a couple dollars for the collar might be worth it.
I went immediately to the store and picked up a collar for Chase and the next morning got started. For only two days I led Chase around on his new collar only giving him little jerks to correct him when he wasn't listening to simple commands and in those two days, Chase and my relationship grew ten fold.
What was lacking in our relationship was an understanding of who was boss. The choke chain enforced the hierarchy and although one might think "choking" a dog is cruel, the objective isn't to hurt the puppy or even to apply enough tension to actually choke them, but to get across to the puppy that I am in control. A few moments of discomfort was well worth the eventual outcome of Chase actually listening to me and at some point even progressing to a constant desire to please me. It literally took 2 days and a few little yelps and Chase seemed to be a different dog. However, he wasn't a different dog; he still had the same playful spirit, curiosities, and love for everyone and anyone that he met, he now just jumped straight in the jeep when I said "load up."
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Terrible Two's-1a
Chase grew up to be an amazing dog; he was fun, smart creative and the best friend a person could ever have. He didn't start out that way, however. In fact, he was kind of a little shit until he was about 3 years old.
The first real incident was shortly after I brought him home. I let him out to do his business and after chasing him around the little town of Basin, MT for about a half hour, I decided to take a shower and get ready for another eventful day at work. I was working for Alternative Youth Adventures and had just received a promotion, so Chase was kind of a way of celebrating my new position and my new lifestyle of spending more time at home and less time in the back country. Because I was on-call pretty much 24/7 for the duration my groups were in the back country, I had to live within a few miles of our base facility in Boulder. Basin was just down the road and a friend/co-worker was renting a house there so he suggested Chase and I move in.
I jumped in the shower and figured Chase would be alright hanging out in the living room for a few minutes while I did my business. It was winter-time and the house was brick; no insulation and the only heat source was a wood-burning stove with a broken damper. Burning the lodge-pole pine we had taken from an old burn area in the mountains, we could never keep the stove going past 3am so by 6, the house was always down to about 40 degrees. The hot water from the shower was not only welcoming but pretty much the only way to stop from shivering until the stove heated back up melting the frost off the walls. Needless to say, it was sometimes difficult to leave the sanctity of the hot shower. Subsequently, what should be five minutes of unsupervised freedom for Chase, often turned into 10 or 15 or even 20.
On this morning, I didn't think I was in the shower that long. Obviously long though because when I opened the door to run from the warm bathroom to my cold bedroom to jump into some thick layers of wool and fleece, I was stopped in my tracks by Chase lying in the middle of the living room amongst pages and pages of a ripped up paperback my roommate had been reading.
"No!!!" I yelled. I hadn't yelled or even really disciplined Chase until then so he didn't understand the new inflection that was thrust from my mouth. It didn't even startle him. He just lay there chewing away.
Chase cocked his head and looked at me as to say, "What's up?"
"No!" I said again. "No chew!" And I crabbed what was left of the book and smacked him on the nose.
With tail between the legs, Chase ran to his kennel to hide as I cleaned up the mess. I felt bad and after cleaning up the strips of shredded paper I went to Chase's kennel to give him some lovin.
The next day my morning ritual began with another game of chasing Chase around the neighborhood after letting him out to do the deed so-to-speak. After finally catching him, I left him in the living-room again, confident he wasn't going to be chewing up any more books after our little episode from the day before. I definitely shortened my shower though as my 'trust' in him wasn't as solid as I may have wanted. When I opened the bathroom door, Chase was sitting right in front of the door shaking. Apparently, the connecting of the dots wasn't as obvious for him as it was for me. Instead of recognizing the scolding from me as a consequence for chewing up the book, he associated it with me taking a shower. For the next week, Chase waited by the bathroom door while I was in the shower. In fact, even throughout his adult life he always checked on me.
There are plenty of lessons to take from this. Throughout his terrible two's, Chase and I struggled to be on the same page and I learned time and time again that it was much easier setting him up for success rather than allowing him to fail and then trying to teach with consequences. That's not to say there were no, or shouldn't have been any consequences but I was once asked how to keep a dog from getting into the garbage by my insurance agent and when I asked him where he kept the garbage he told me it was left in the kitchen next to the counter. I could tell how frustrated he was because every day he had to clean up after his puppy and he was just about to the end of his rope. "Could you lock the garbage up?" I asked.
The point is, a puppy will be a puppy and if you put situations like an open invitation to dig through the garbage in front of them, they will always fail. Sometimes a little failure leads to a life lesson but in most cases, unless you catch the puppy in the act, they're not going to get the lesson and you'll set yourself up for unnecessary battles that won't accomplish anything but more and more frustration for you and the dog. Lock the garbage up and if you have to take a shower, maybe the kennel is a better option for ten minutes rather than letting them explore freely.
The first real incident was shortly after I brought him home. I let him out to do his business and after chasing him around the little town of Basin, MT for about a half hour, I decided to take a shower and get ready for another eventful day at work. I was working for Alternative Youth Adventures and had just received a promotion, so Chase was kind of a way of celebrating my new position and my new lifestyle of spending more time at home and less time in the back country. Because I was on-call pretty much 24/7 for the duration my groups were in the back country, I had to live within a few miles of our base facility in Boulder. Basin was just down the road and a friend/co-worker was renting a house there so he suggested Chase and I move in.
I jumped in the shower and figured Chase would be alright hanging out in the living room for a few minutes while I did my business. It was winter-time and the house was brick; no insulation and the only heat source was a wood-burning stove with a broken damper. Burning the lodge-pole pine we had taken from an old burn area in the mountains, we could never keep the stove going past 3am so by 6, the house was always down to about 40 degrees. The hot water from the shower was not only welcoming but pretty much the only way to stop from shivering until the stove heated back up melting the frost off the walls. Needless to say, it was sometimes difficult to leave the sanctity of the hot shower. Subsequently, what should be five minutes of unsupervised freedom for Chase, often turned into 10 or 15 or even 20.
On this morning, I didn't think I was in the shower that long. Obviously long though because when I opened the door to run from the warm bathroom to my cold bedroom to jump into some thick layers of wool and fleece, I was stopped in my tracks by Chase lying in the middle of the living room amongst pages and pages of a ripped up paperback my roommate had been reading.
"No!!!" I yelled. I hadn't yelled or even really disciplined Chase until then so he didn't understand the new inflection that was thrust from my mouth. It didn't even startle him. He just lay there chewing away.
Chase cocked his head and looked at me as to say, "What's up?"
"No!" I said again. "No chew!" And I crabbed what was left of the book and smacked him on the nose.
With tail between the legs, Chase ran to his kennel to hide as I cleaned up the mess. I felt bad and after cleaning up the strips of shredded paper I went to Chase's kennel to give him some lovin.
The next day my morning ritual began with another game of chasing Chase around the neighborhood after letting him out to do the deed so-to-speak. After finally catching him, I left him in the living-room again, confident he wasn't going to be chewing up any more books after our little episode from the day before. I definitely shortened my shower though as my 'trust' in him wasn't as solid as I may have wanted. When I opened the bathroom door, Chase was sitting right in front of the door shaking. Apparently, the connecting of the dots wasn't as obvious for him as it was for me. Instead of recognizing the scolding from me as a consequence for chewing up the book, he associated it with me taking a shower. For the next week, Chase waited by the bathroom door while I was in the shower. In fact, even throughout his adult life he always checked on me.
There are plenty of lessons to take from this. Throughout his terrible two's, Chase and I struggled to be on the same page and I learned time and time again that it was much easier setting him up for success rather than allowing him to fail and then trying to teach with consequences. That's not to say there were no, or shouldn't have been any consequences but I was once asked how to keep a dog from getting into the garbage by my insurance agent and when I asked him where he kept the garbage he told me it was left in the kitchen next to the counter. I could tell how frustrated he was because every day he had to clean up after his puppy and he was just about to the end of his rope. "Could you lock the garbage up?" I asked.
The point is, a puppy will be a puppy and if you put situations like an open invitation to dig through the garbage in front of them, they will always fail. Sometimes a little failure leads to a life lesson but in most cases, unless you catch the puppy in the act, they're not going to get the lesson and you'll set yourself up for unnecessary battles that won't accomplish anything but more and more frustration for you and the dog. Lock the garbage up and if you have to take a shower, maybe the kennel is a better option for ten minutes rather than letting them explore freely.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Welcome Home
I brought Chase home that night. He was only six weeks old and I knew what to expect as far as him feeling lonely and whining. It's totally natural for a puppy to miss his litter mates so I fixed up a bed for him in a box I placed by my bed. I dangled my hand down to rub his ears until he went to sleep. He woke up periodically and whimpered and I would comfort him until he stopped and then I would drift off again. I didn't get a ton of sleep but I was ok with it.
The next night was more of the same and although I knew it probably wasn't a good idea to get him into the habit of sleeping in my bed, I let him knowing he would feel more comfortable and we both would get more sleep. It went on for a few days without incident, i.e. he didn't crap anywhere or piddle. I would get up first thing in the morning and let him out and he would do his thing so I was feeling pretty safe. One morning, very early in the morning, I was woken up by something so horrific it definitely reinforced my initial concerns with letting him sleep in my bed.
Puppies have monumental stages they go through in their developmental cycle that have a lot to do with their mouths and how they explore and figure out their surroundings. Being weened off their mother's milk and losing their teeth are pretty big elements in this process. As they develop their baby teeth, the mother gets tired of being bit and will steer them into eating solids and won't let them feed off her. At some point the needle-like teeth fall out and the puppy grows thicker adult teeth that are more suited for their size and type of food they will eat. Chase was somewhere in between these stages where he had his baby teeth but he was still looking for mamma's teat. Did I tell you a puppy's teeth are needle-like and are razor sharp?
So about 6am one morning, before I was awake, Chase was exploring under the covers and ran into something I'm sure he thought would produce the comfort and nourishment he was missing after only a few days of being away from mamma and his other litter mates. I'm guessing I don't need to explain anymore. Let me just say that by 10am, I had purchased a carrier and that's where he spent the rest of his nights until his adult teeth grew in and he could be trusted.
This behavior was far from over though and I found out the hard way how persistent a puppy can be. I'm a guy and a bachelor and I sometimes walk around in my boxers in the morning. I'm just saying. Chase would hide around corners waiting for me to walk by and he would jump and nip at me, catching my boxers with his teeth. He ruined several pairs before I finely started wearing sweats and if I rolled out of bed a little lazy and neglected to cover up, Chase would go on the attack and another pair would be shredded.
It was months before Chase grew out of that nasty little habit and in fact, it kind of continued throughout his life only he wouldn't bight. He would take a running start and jumping on the way by, he would swing his front paw catching me in a bad way. I think he thought it was funny. He wouldn't do it to anybody else and he didn't jump up on people. He just liked giving me cup-checks I guess...
The next night was more of the same and although I knew it probably wasn't a good idea to get him into the habit of sleeping in my bed, I let him knowing he would feel more comfortable and we both would get more sleep. It went on for a few days without incident, i.e. he didn't crap anywhere or piddle. I would get up first thing in the morning and let him out and he would do his thing so I was feeling pretty safe. One morning, very early in the morning, I was woken up by something so horrific it definitely reinforced my initial concerns with letting him sleep in my bed.
Puppies have monumental stages they go through in their developmental cycle that have a lot to do with their mouths and how they explore and figure out their surroundings. Being weened off their mother's milk and losing their teeth are pretty big elements in this process. As they develop their baby teeth, the mother gets tired of being bit and will steer them into eating solids and won't let them feed off her. At some point the needle-like teeth fall out and the puppy grows thicker adult teeth that are more suited for their size and type of food they will eat. Chase was somewhere in between these stages where he had his baby teeth but he was still looking for mamma's teat. Did I tell you a puppy's teeth are needle-like and are razor sharp?
So about 6am one morning, before I was awake, Chase was exploring under the covers and ran into something I'm sure he thought would produce the comfort and nourishment he was missing after only a few days of being away from mamma and his other litter mates. I'm guessing I don't need to explain anymore. Let me just say that by 10am, I had purchased a carrier and that's where he spent the rest of his nights until his adult teeth grew in and he could be trusted.
This behavior was far from over though and I found out the hard way how persistent a puppy can be. I'm a guy and a bachelor and I sometimes walk around in my boxers in the morning. I'm just saying. Chase would hide around corners waiting for me to walk by and he would jump and nip at me, catching my boxers with his teeth. He ruined several pairs before I finely started wearing sweats and if I rolled out of bed a little lazy and neglected to cover up, Chase would go on the attack and another pair would be shredded.
It was months before Chase grew out of that nasty little habit and in fact, it kind of continued throughout his life only he wouldn't bight. He would take a running start and jumping on the way by, he would swing his front paw catching me in a bad way. I think he thought it was funny. He wouldn't do it to anybody else and he didn't jump up on people. He just liked giving me cup-checks I guess...
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Chapter1b: The Beginning
Lori and I haggled a bit over the price. She dropped down to $380. Looking back it seems so ridiculous to have haggled for a $20 discount on a dog like Chase. But the deal was struck and although he was still only 6 weeks old, she let me take him. Logistically, it was going to be much easier than having to make another trip down in a few days just to make the usual 7 week minimum with the litter.
We walked back to the pen and I picked him up. He was soft and a little bit of a butter ball. His skin under his coat rolled as I massaged his neck while I held him. His eyes were a deep blue, still not the color they would be, and he had that new puppy smell. Licking my face and nipping my nose, the love affair had begun.
He road home on my lap and I talked to Adam, my human companion who road down with me, about a name. It didn’t take that long. We threw a couple names out there but they didn’t seem to fit. I’ve never named a child and can only imagine how difficult that might be. It seems like such an important decision; one that will live with them for the rest of their lives.
I thought briefly about the method Indians used in naming their children. It seems so perfect to name them after some event or something seen at birth but it was dark out and we were rolling down the highway and yellow strip or median didn’t really seem fitting. Jumping Deer? Whoa, that was close.
He was from hunting lines and I knew that we were going to spend many days in the field getting after birds. I also had a very good friend in high school named Chasen so in a few miles the pieces of the puzzle came together—Chase.
I said the name out loud and it just seemed right. “Chase… Chase.” Adam approved and I was kind of proud of the name. It wasn’t your typical name and it was fitting…even more so the older Chase became. But I was also going to register him so I would need more that just Chase.
“Hey! Chasen Tail!”
We laughed and Adam looked at me like, “You’re not serious…”
Oh yeah, I was. Chasen Tail was it. That’s what Chase’s registered name would be and again, later in life, it became so much more fitting than one might imagine.
We walked back to the pen and I picked him up. He was soft and a little bit of a butter ball. His skin under his coat rolled as I massaged his neck while I held him. His eyes were a deep blue, still not the color they would be, and he had that new puppy smell. Licking my face and nipping my nose, the love affair had begun.
He road home on my lap and I talked to Adam, my human companion who road down with me, about a name. It didn’t take that long. We threw a couple names out there but they didn’t seem to fit. I’ve never named a child and can only imagine how difficult that might be. It seems like such an important decision; one that will live with them for the rest of their lives.
I thought briefly about the method Indians used in naming their children. It seems so perfect to name them after some event or something seen at birth but it was dark out and we were rolling down the highway and yellow strip or median didn’t really seem fitting. Jumping Deer? Whoa, that was close.
He was from hunting lines and I knew that we were going to spend many days in the field getting after birds. I also had a very good friend in high school named Chasen so in a few miles the pieces of the puzzle came together—Chase.
I said the name out loud and it just seemed right. “Chase… Chase.” Adam approved and I was kind of proud of the name. It wasn’t your typical name and it was fitting…even more so the older Chase became. But I was also going to register him so I would need more that just Chase.
“Hey! Chasen Tail!”
We laughed and Adam looked at me like, “You’re not serious…”
Oh yeah, I was. Chasen Tail was it. That’s what Chase’s registered name would be and again, later in life, it became so much more fitting than one might imagine.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Chapter 1a: The Beginning
Chapter 1: The beginning
Chase and I started our journey together much like many other pet/owner relationships start. I had thought about getting a dog for a while and decided to look in the newspaper. I remember sitting in Phil and Tim’s, (we used to call it Filthy Tim’s,) in Boulder, MT on a Sunday morning waiting for the football games to start and saw the want ads strewn about a table next to me. With nobody still sitting at the table, just remnants of a couple’s breakfast left waiting for a busser, I figured the ads were fair game.
Sipping coffee and finishing my own breakfast, I flipped through the pages until I came to the dog column. Labs are pretty popular and I knew I wanted one. I know it’s a bit cliché for a guy like me—early thirties, fly fishing guy/back country guru—to have a lab under toe but I really did like labs. I thought with the work I did with kids and wanting a bird dog on top of it, a lab would be perfect. I fingered over ads for Sheppard’s, Border Collies, mixes but only one ad for Labrador Retrievers. They were chocolate and the breeder was selling the males for $400.
I don’t think anyone in my family at that point had ever spent $400 for a dog before. I was a little apprehensive but justified the money with the fact the breeder had researched the blood lines and was guaranteeing championship quality and certified hips. I made the call and a young woman answered the phone.
We spoke for a while about the lines she had been breeding and I bought all she was selling. The sire was a champion and the bitch only produced pure chocolates. There was only one puppy left so if I wanted one, I had better hurry. Lori Davis was the breeder and she was confident she was producing the best labs around. I believed her and that night, I was on my way to Whitehall, MT to check the puppy out.
It was early December and as the sun set, the air became very cold. I took a buddy of mine with me to Lori’s place and drove into the drive-way at around eight o’clock. She brought me to the garage and introduced me to the female. After accepting me, Lori walked me to the pen with the puppies. Nine puppies—all six weeks old—littered the pen. Some were cuddling together, some were playing and some were gnawing on each other’s ears. All of them had different colored ribbons on them except one. As I approached the pen, he came to me.
Lori explained to us that eight of the puppies were spoken for. A gentleman called her earlier and requested number eight without looking at them. She told me she picked the better of the two left and claimed him for the man. If I wanted to however, I could have the puppy she chose for the caller and she would sell the ninth to him. Out of all the puppies in the pen, the only one not spoken for climbed up my leg.
“That’s ok, I’ll take this one.”
Chase and I started our journey together much like many other pet/owner relationships start. I had thought about getting a dog for a while and decided to look in the newspaper. I remember sitting in Phil and Tim’s, (we used to call it Filthy Tim’s,) in Boulder, MT on a Sunday morning waiting for the football games to start and saw the want ads strewn about a table next to me. With nobody still sitting at the table, just remnants of a couple’s breakfast left waiting for a busser, I figured the ads were fair game.
Sipping coffee and finishing my own breakfast, I flipped through the pages until I came to the dog column. Labs are pretty popular and I knew I wanted one. I know it’s a bit cliché for a guy like me—early thirties, fly fishing guy/back country guru—to have a lab under toe but I really did like labs. I thought with the work I did with kids and wanting a bird dog on top of it, a lab would be perfect. I fingered over ads for Sheppard’s, Border Collies, mixes but only one ad for Labrador Retrievers. They were chocolate and the breeder was selling the males for $400.
I don’t think anyone in my family at that point had ever spent $400 for a dog before. I was a little apprehensive but justified the money with the fact the breeder had researched the blood lines and was guaranteeing championship quality and certified hips. I made the call and a young woman answered the phone.
We spoke for a while about the lines she had been breeding and I bought all she was selling. The sire was a champion and the bitch only produced pure chocolates. There was only one puppy left so if I wanted one, I had better hurry. Lori Davis was the breeder and she was confident she was producing the best labs around. I believed her and that night, I was on my way to Whitehall, MT to check the puppy out.
It was early December and as the sun set, the air became very cold. I took a buddy of mine with me to Lori’s place and drove into the drive-way at around eight o’clock. She brought me to the garage and introduced me to the female. After accepting me, Lori walked me to the pen with the puppies. Nine puppies—all six weeks old—littered the pen. Some were cuddling together, some were playing and some were gnawing on each other’s ears. All of them had different colored ribbons on them except one. As I approached the pen, he came to me.
Lori explained to us that eight of the puppies were spoken for. A gentleman called her earlier and requested number eight without looking at them. She told me she picked the better of the two left and claimed him for the man. If I wanted to however, I could have the puppy she chose for the caller and she would sell the ninth to him. Out of all the puppies in the pen, the only one not spoken for climbed up my leg.
“That’s ok, I’ll take this one.”
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