Don't Ever...

Don’t ever teach your dog to bark.  Many years ago, when Dutchess was very young, I taught her some tricks.  Not too many just enough to get her into trouble, and it does most of the time.  Last Thursday night, I was sitting at my computer reading the news when I heard that familiar sound.  Woof… woof… woof… came the sound from the back door and I knew exactly who it was. 

Please give me a snack...

Every bark was the same, but when no one responded in a timely fashion or as quick as she wanted, it would go up an octave or two.  Not knowing I could see her and watching and at times she would lay down and bark, not giving it as much energy.   It one of those barks that you think will stop, it’s not too loud, and inevitably it will end you think, but it doesn't because she wants in.

Annie has the Frisbee...

When Dutchess was young, she wanted everything (and she still does), and I mean everything.  She would shove everyone out of the way when it came to snack time, not in a mean way but she felt she was entitled to it all.  Usually, it was never a problem because she did it with a smile on her face, and everyone would say, “that’s just Dutchess.”

I'm pissed...

When I taught her tricks, she was very good at paying attention as long as there was a reward after the fact.  I taught her to sit, down, shake right hand and even shake left hand.  She was great, but she saw things a little different than I did.  As time passed, and she was in a hurry to get into something the treat, I notice that when I would tell her to sit, she would keep going through the routine.  She would “sit” but immediately lay down and then sit again raising her right paw and then her left.  Barking after each trick the whole time, I assumed she wanted 5 treats because she did 5 tricks all at once without being asked, she just cut out the commands because to her, it’s not the tricks, it’s the treats.

Can we come in?

The barking has expanded to other areas in her daily routine.  When she is out, and we have a ball or Frisbee, she’s fine if no-one gets it from her.  If they do and they hole it without playing, she’ll look at me and will bark.  It not a lot of barking but it’s as if she is saying, “I want THAT, give it to me.”

Giving her a voice is something that Elaine warned me about.  While it is cute as a button, it has stepped up her communication skills drastically, and I really think she knows what she is saying, Dutchess is the smartest dog I have ever met.  While she is short on skills, where I see her excel, is that she can communicate and tell you what she wants by the bark, the intensity, and importance of her request, it’s also the way she will look at you, making eye contact and re-focusing on the desire or object. 

I'm cold now...

If Dutchess had been with someone who worked intensely with her, there would have been no boundaries where she could have gone.  She knows what she wants but also knows how to get it, and in my heart, if she had thumbs to turn the key, she could drive herself to the story for more treats.  She is quite the character but don't ever teach your dog to bark unless you’re prepared to be entertained and actually talked to…  Ken

The Package...

Several weeks ago, I received a package to my outhouse at the end of our drive next to the road.  It really is our parcel delivery box but I thought I would shake the neighbors up a little, and it did, quite the conversation piece.  With a fenced and gated driveway, it’s in an excellent spot for deliveries or just to hang out.  Someone sent a package to the farm last week, and it was for the dogs.  It wasn’t cumbersome, and when the dogs saw it, they were excited too.  They usually get their food delivered, and they thought chow time was right around the corner, but this time, it’s wasn't. 

As I sat the package in the kitchen counter, everyone gathered around, and Dutchess got on the table because she wanted to be first to taste her new treats.  While she was a little disappointed at first, she discovered it was her second favorite thing.  Someone sent the dogs on the farm Ten Indoor Chuckit Balls, and it was like Christmas again but in July. 

Bite marks from taking the tag off

I took two balls out of the package and off to the lake we went, even letting JoJo carry one while we walked.  She seemed fascinated with it and loved the way they felt because of the size and texture.   Now stop right now…  Something I don’t understand is why they carry some objects in their mouth.  They will pick up balls with dirt on them, sand, nasty things and even poop and why in the world would they do this?  At least with balls, they won’t eat it, usually.

As we got to the lake, I tossed one in, and they loved it, and most of them went out into the water, and they were a huge success and JoJo jumped off the dock for one, which was a first.  After much play, it was time to go back to the house.  Everyone was wet and tired, and I put the box with the new balls up until the next day.  While they are great, they are called an “indoor” toy, but they work great outside too and are great in the water.

JoJo jumping off the dock

Every day, there are chores to do and things that need to get done.  The dogs always want to play and will bring me items such as balls, sticks or anything they can find that may bring them some satisfaction if it’s thrown.  This day was no different.  While I said “no” to playing they didn’t want that answer, so they walked off, and I thought they would find something else to do. And they did. 

Plastic wrappers

I turned the corner and on the driveway, and to my surprise, (not really) the dogs were having a ball, literally.  Someone and I suspect it was JoJo, got the closed box from the counter and took it to the driveway where she had more room and opened it.  She and the others found the balls that were wrapped in plastic and opened all of them.  All of this is done without tearing up the box that they came in.  I can only assume she wanted the Chuckit balls that were inside.

Several days later and knowing they enjoyed them so much, we went back to the lake.  Everybody enjoyed the fun, Some would bark and run up and down the bank, some would jump off the dock, but all in all, it was a grand day with a new toy.  So far they have held up well and seemed to take the punishment the dogs give them.  My only problem is JoJo has not mastered the command, “drop it.” and she will run off into the woods or who knows where, but usually brings it back, usually.  Thanks, Dave for sending the balls, they were a huge success, and of course, they loved them.  No balls were damaged in this event.  Ken  

Grooming 101

Earlier in the week, I was petting Gabby and felt a clump of hair.  No problemo, I’ll get the brush and get that pesky think out.   I then thought that I would brush a few of them that needed it.  I did brush them several weeks ago, so I'm sure this will be quick.  

I got my tools, and as usual, I sat right in the middle of the driveway.  Before I sat down, I grabbed a floor fan and sat it about 10 feet from me to blow any loose hair into the driveway.  Good plan I thought.

The Fan...

The downside, it was pushing nearly 95 degrees outside, and the humidity was pretty high, but no problem, I’ve got the fan, and I am in the shade.  As I sat down and called one of the dogs, they must have thought it was “loving on Daddy time,” and I was inundated with furry critters all around me.  I put one between my legs and started brushing and getting mats out.  Hum… this mat is a little worse than I thought this might take a few minutes.  "Who is in front of the fan?"

As I worked on their coat, I seemed to be getting a little warm.  I looked around and right in front of the fan was two dogs cooling themselves.  “Dutchess  Meggy move, it’s getting hot,” I said.  Slowly but begrudgingly, they moved, and it was much better.  The fur was flying because I had a dethatching rake and it was getting the undercoat, and the fan was blowing it around.  "Please move."

“JoJo, it’s not your time, and besides, you need minimal brushing, but your nails need some work.”  She was happy and moved on and found something else to do.  The more I did, the hotter I got, and now I was sweating.  “Dutchess, move your butt, it’s hot, Gabby you too!”  Did they talk about this and are they are getting back at me I thought, surely not.  "Please get out from the front of the fan."

This really is JoJo wanting to be brushed...

Everybody was a little frisky and they thought I was sitting in the driveway for their entertainment.  JoJo found a toy somewhere, and that became the center of attention.  The only problem was in my area which was still the center of attention.  When she brought the toy, everything changed.  Now it’s play time they all assumed.

Keeps bring this toy...

JoJo was relentless with the toy.  Just last week, she learned to jump off the dock getting the ball and now she thinks it's better than dinnertime.  The all watched and were ready for someone to tose the toy, but we were busy.  She would lay it down, and the other would try to get it.  Needless, it was a distraction for the dog in my lap.

After what seemed like days in the hot weather trying to keep the dog from hogging the fan, I was done with two dogs, with 6 more to go.  "Please get out from in front of the fan."

Nail time...

Things I learned,

Dogs know what a fan is, trust me.

Put all the toys up.

Don’t brush a dog in hot weather.

Fur sticks to wet clothes and wet faces.

Hire a professional.

I've seen this a lot, but this is two of my dogs... 6 to go.

All in all, it wasn’t too bad, they loved the fan, attention, and toy all together was a little too much for grooming, they made a game of it.  Me on the other hand, it was hot, sticky with fur on my clothes and face which always tickled and couldn’t get off.  I took a shower, cooled off and then it was off to play, should of just jumpted in the water...  Ken  

The New Doc Holliday…

Several months ago, I mentioned to my readers that Doc was going blind.  After a visit to Blue Pearl in Louisville with a certified Ophthalmologist for dogs, and going back for a recheck a month later, it was final, Doc will lose his sight after he failed all the test that would determine if he was a candidate.  While he does have cataracts, it’s scar damage from a strong medication he had to take several years ago.  When Doc arrived at the farm, he was rescued from a breeder in Kentucky who got him from Texas.  He was underweight and need some attention which he got, plenty of it!

Doc is always a lover and knocks you down getting in your lap or on top of you, he is a climber when it comes to attention.  At first, we did not notice much change in his eyesight and behavior but would pick up little things he would do when he was active.  Several months after the two visits to Blue Pearl he would still do everything he would do when he could see in shadows, but that changed soon.

In the last two weeks, I would imagine, his vision as he knows it is gone.  The good thing about having your sight and then losing it, I believe you do know how things look and remember some.  We see this today, He will follow me and stay close by, trying to use his nose when he can.

After reading all I can on the wide world of Google, most of the tips were for dogs in small areas or regular backyards with a fence.  This doesn't apply to us, we have acreage, two lakes, lots of woods and hills and dells for the dogs to play on. 

The hard part is Doc still wants to play with the pack  He will run out the back door with the crew and head down the driveway like a freight train at full speed.  Barking all the way and bouncing off anything that was in the way but he has learned his path to follow.  He will still run through the woods after the “seeing” dogs and will be close behind, even getting into the lake with them.

When it breaks my heart is when it’s "dog snack time" around my chair.  They will get in a semi-circle, and all the dogs wait patiently for their turn and gently open their mouth (except Dutchess) and take the snack.  When it comes to Doc’s turn, he will hold his head up in the air for the treat and bob his head searching, smelling for it.  I call his name, and he moves closer to me, and I feed it to him, he will never see my hand and looks off center of me.  It breaks my heart.

Always ready to go...

In dog years, he is still pretty young at only 7 ½ and has lots of time left.  What do you do?  I had a friend told me that I should put him down and put him out of his misery.  It is a dilemma of what to do and how to adjust.  A week or so ago, he was running, and I had moved the lawn mower on to a walking path, and the dogs were running, and while all of them missed, Doc didn't.  After getting up, he shook it off and rejoined the pack.  After playing, I check and no harm was done except a scratch on his nose, and he got a little extra loving.  He wants to be normal but can't.

Doc will live the rest of his life here with us.  I cringe when he runs with the pack, sometimes leading, sometimes following and sometimes swimming, but he is happy.  He may have lost his sight, but he can still dig holes for moles and loves it.  I have noticed, he is adjusting well with his lack of site but is confused with it.  When he walks down the stairs, he hugs the wall for guidance, and he seems more alert, trying to figure out his surroundings tilting his head from side to side turning to catch sounds with his ears.  He still is loveable and sweet and possibly even more than he was before, which was a lot. 

Now it is my time for him...

Last night, he wanted in my lap so bad, but the couch was full of dogs.  I touched his nose, and he followed my hand onto my legs and laid there.  He was restless, and I started brushing him which he loves, and he soon drifted off into his world where he can see again.  Rubbing his head and especially over his eyes, I wondered where he was in his dreams, but I’m sure he was chasing rabbits and looking at the things he loved and being the King of his world again in his dreams.  Now he is the King of my world.  Ken

As long as Forever,

My Heart will be True,

For as long as I live,

I'll always love you...

Always More...

As most of you know, Elaine and I are the founders of Clancy’s Dream Border Collie Rescue Inc.  It started when our Beloved Clancy suddenly passed away in front of us.  Since then, Clancy’s Dream and the Board of Directors have saved and re-homed many Border Collies from expected doom and loss of life.  

Clancy, our founder, started it all

This week was an overabundance of people and dogs needing help and assistance that came our way.  We receive calls every week, and we always strive to assist in any way possible.  Sometimes, it’s just advice from experience, and sometimes it’s just comfort where their dog has passed, but mostly it is where a Border Collie needs help.  For whatever reason, we seem to be the go-to cause for the breed here in Indiana, and the surrounding states, and that's the way we want it...

I will tell you that you have to examine your surroundings in life with these things.  Sometimes doubt creeps into your mind, and while you try to do everything you can, you have to wonder, “Are we doing any good?”  Driving to town several days ago, and after receiving the notification from a rescue group that they were full, our rescue coordinator posted it on our social media.  It automatically popped up on my screen, and when I saw the photo, I choked up a little.  “Can we help?” I wondered.  I immediately thought about Clancy and his love and compassion for others and his need to help.  Phone calls and messages were made, and things were in the works. 

Once the decision was made, I was off to get a dog.  You always worry about what you will run into, and this was no exception.  I did know the dogs were on a tether in the backyard.  Once I arrived, I was not greeted at the door, so I went to the backyard.  The dog was standing as far as her chain would allow her to go.  A downward tilt of her head with turned up eyes was observed I approached with caution.  This was probably one of the best behavioral assessments I could make at that moment.  Will she growl, bark, lunge, or bite?  I approach, but I’m safe, protected by a steel cable, and I then thought, “Am I really safe?”  Step by step, I got closer.  It had been raining; there was no grass but mud and standing water.  What if I slip on the mud? I'm trapped within her space.  I got closer and closer, and these few seconds determine her fate…

Before

As her head lowered even more and her eyes followed me closely with her ears pinned back, two inches was left to get into range, and as I stuck my lowered hand into her limit, I was committed, one way or another, good or bad.  We both stood still, and I spied the tip of her tail wiggle from side to side and said, “Good girl, good girl.”  It all changed, “this human is good,” and she knew, and so did I.

I went into her mud circle, and she had a friend.  She bounced and turned circles, getting caught on the cable.  I was dirty as hell by then and figured it was time to meet the dog's owner.  She started winning as I left, and I said, “I’ll be back, girl,” and I'm sure she had heard that before and wondered.  After finishing the relinquishment papers and passing the behavior test, it was time to go home.  I put our rescue collar on her, and she stepped out of the mud onto the grass, and she really did dance for joy.  Even though she was on a lead, she was out of the mud and was happy.  She bounced into the car and never looked back.  She was groomed by a donation from a pet salon later that day, and did great and looked even greater.

After

On three different occasions during this day, I choked up and shed a few tears. I asked myself, “How can this happen,” Why does this happen?” and “What can be done?”  I do know there is a movement in Illinois where people are changing laws, picketing pet shops that sell puppies, because most of them are puppy mill dogs.  Indiana recently hosted a statewide conference for shelter and rescue directors and leaders, including staff, to address problems that I attended.  All of the issues are addressed, it’s just getting people to really listen, I mean, really listen!  Education is always a key to solving this problem, but people need to take action.

Why it happens is the part I can’t wrap my brain around.  For me, it means trying to pick up the pieces and attempting to fix broken dogs, which should never happen.  While it is heartbreaking to go to a thing like this, it’s rewarding when they are saved from neglect or abuse, no matter if they only live their short senior lives in peace.  Seeing them live a life running and playing, and all their glory is magical.  By the grace of God, fortune, or destiny, this dog came to Clancy’s Dream because people cared.  Helping is a huge part; not everyone can afford to support financially, but you can visit or volunteer at your local shelter and get involved. 

This dog is only one dog that was saved from a life of pain and neglect.  This coming Tuesday, we have already made arrangements to take in and foster another dog that is living their life on a chain.  At night, before I drift off into my dreams, I often think of the ones that we can't save, and I will never forget the faces.  There is always more.  Let me make it clear, it’s not me doing this.  It’s our Board of Directors and the people who work so hard behind the scenes, and there are more than you know. I’m just a small tire on this car.  If it weren't for the help YOU, our readers, we would not be able to help any dogs.  You, our friends and caring companion, saved one this Saturday, and the 2 other dogs coming into Clancy’s Dream this week.    Ken

Dutchess, not again…

Picture this, you’re sitting upstares in your office and hear your wife cleaning up the kitchen after dinner.   Clang, crash, clink, and I ask myself “wonder what she is doing.”  She has got to be moving the refrigerator and doing some major cleaning, but we’ve only had a light dinner, and then the light came on in my brain because I have been here before… Dutchess!  

As fast as I could navigate through the dogs near me, who by the way thought I am playing and try to run interference, so it was a struggle.  There she was, face looking down but her eyes looking at me.  There she is backing up trying to pull “My” food with her, and she knew, really knew she was in trouble.

Not Always...

"Dutchess” I shouted, but she never batted an eye the whole time but kept chewing and looking but only faster as I got closer.  Just about the time I was in arms reach, she took her last bite and walked away.  “Suger,” I said (not really) how could you do that again.  With every ounce of brains, I can’t seem to control her food antics or control her food.

Dutchess is not skinny by no means, she looks heavy, but she has a lot of hair and her waist narrows where it should, but can she be that hungry?  Lord only knows, and she has been like this her whole life trying to get that extra piece of kibble.  We only feed the dogs in the kennel because they sleep in the house.  On many occasions, after being let out of her “pad,” she will go to each open door just to check if they left a snack for her.

After eating the things in the kitchen and doing a little research, I knew what I had to do.  I grabbed the bottle of peroxide and a 20 gage syringe minus the nettle.  Elaine and I walked toward the kennel, and usually, Dutchess follows us, but when she saw what we were carrying, she turned around and went the other way.  “Dutchess – come”  nothing, but we had to put her on a lead. She knew what was coming.  Once all of us were in the kennel, she went to the corner, but she was lead back to me, and the deed was done. 

 It happened with much fussing and holding, and she even bit the end of the syringe off.  Dutchess seems to be immune to this, and it doesn't always work which once led us to ride her around in a hot car which did the trick.

We were successful this time, she expelled all the things that needed to come up, but it wasn't without a fight.  What I will never understand is that she will never learn and how strong her drive to counter surf is.  The other thing that amazes me is that the next morning, she gallops up the stares and buries her head in my lap, licking my hands and face and giving “me” sugar like nothing happened at all.  She must be looking for a snack…   Ken

It’s Time to Tell the Story…

On April 6, 2008, our first litter of Border Collies that was ever born on the farm arrived.  Molly and Clancy bred on Valentine's Day in 2008, and I knew the pups would be filled with love just like their parents.  Abbie, which was from that litter, had a very rough start and was returned to us just a few months later by a family that didn’t know how to care for a Border Collie. We got to keep her for a week and love on her until another home could be found.

8-15-2008, her first return to us, bath time.

We found her another home with kids to play with and many things to do where she would be in heaven, and she was.  Nearly a year later, we got a call about Abbie.  A family situation had come up, and they could no longer keep her.  Everyone’s hearts were broken because they loved her so much; it was unavoidable.  Several days later, Abbie was back at the farm and fit right in.  That first night, I was lying on the bed and talking to Elaine.  Abbie jumped on the bed and laid down close to me.  In just a few seconds, she scooted herself into my arm, put her head on my chest, and licked my eyebrows.  Elaine watched and said, “She is your dog; you know that, don’t you?”  “I do now, and she will never leave,” I said, and she was here until she left this world.

Abbie was always playing, running, and spinning in circles.  She was full of energy and zest in everything she would do.  She loved ball and Frisbee and would find things for me to throw and set them by my feet as I walked, even moving.  She loved to play and would place the ball in front of the mower as I cut grass and would also stand beside the discharge and wait until I got off and threw it.

On a day in November 2015, I found multiple knots around Abbie's neck, and I suspected the worst.   The following Tuesday, I made a journey along with a trip to Louisville with Abbie.  The road trip only lasted for part of the day; the mental trauma will last my lifetime.  Abbie had inoperable stage 4 cancer and was dying.   Everything was confirmed at the Oncologist’s office in Louisville from a complete exam along with many tests.  Since my “hunch” something is “just not right,” my life has been and is upside down at the very least.  I would never have expected a dog in her prime, full of health and energy, to fall to such a devastating disease, but I soon found out I was wrong, so very, very wrong.   

The following morning, I couldn’t sleep and got out of bed.  I called Abbie, and off we went walking through the woods at 4 am.  There was little or no moon, but the wind was slightly blowing through the tree, and it was dreamlike.  She led the way to her favorite spot at our lake, mostly because it’s one of her play areas.  This time, she walked onto the dock and waited for me.  I sat down on a step; Abbie curled up into my lap and licked my face.  I cried like a child most of the time, and she stayed by my side wondering what was wrong, trying to fix me in her own way, little did she know, I was trying to fix her but I couldn’t.

The one thing I wanted for her was that she had at least one more summer so she could play in the lake, which she loved.  We decided on a plan of action, which included chemotherapy, and tried to get her immune system to respond and fight, and it did.  When she was checked after a long round of Chemo, she was in remission… we had some time.  All I wanted was to warm up so she could play in the water.  As summer approached, she was ready, and for nearly 30 months, she was free of the disease.  I wondered if they made a mistake somehow.  Little did I know, it came back with a vengeance… Abbie’s Vet always said it would, but I didn’t believe him.

In the first week of April, just 3 days before we were leaving to go out of the country for 3 weeks, I noticed Abbie didn’t eat her morning breakfast for last few mornings, Abbie never skipped a meal.  She gets two supplements for her immune system flown in from Australia which was important.  As a precaution, I took her to the Vet for bloodwork and a recheck the next morning.  She ate snacks at the office and acted typically, and her physical exam seemed normal, but the blood work would tell.

That evening, Abbie seemed unsteady at times and even stumbled down the stairs.  It was a long night, and packing for our trip kept us busy, but I was worried.  The next morning she followed me but was still unsteady on her feet, and the Vet called.  “The cancer is back in full force, she is in renal failure, and her organs are shutting down, and her calcium level is through the roof.”  I knew it was terrible, but it will get worse.  Elaine was at work, and I called her and told her it was time to let Abbie go.  I called a friend for a ride and waited for her, giving Abbie everything she wanted, but mostly it was love and attention.  Abbie still wanted to be with me and would struggle to walk, and in just an hour, she was down; she couldn’t walk with her back legs. 

I knew there was a task to do and I had to do it, her grave needed to be dug.  She couldn’t walk, so I carried her and placed her on top of Clancy’s grave.  Five feet away, she watched me as I dug.  Every shovel full of dirt was both a physical and mental burden, but I kept going.  When it was finished, I carried her to a pallet on the driveway that I had placed for her.  I laid down beside her, and with what strength she had, she scooted up to me, put her head on my chest, and licked my face as she always had, but this time she licked away my tears. 

When my friend pulled into the drive, as all the dogs usually do, they ran to greet her, and little Abbie tried too, but this time she was dragging her back legs, something I will NEVER get out of my mind.  I quickly scooped her up and carried her to the car.  Elaine met me at the Vet's office, and we said our goodbyes.  I kissed her nose one last time, holding my face to hers, and took her last breath.  Abbie was gone; she had crossed over.  After enough time and everyone was crying out, It was time to take Abbie home to the farm.  As I rode in the passenger's seat, I held her like a baby, stroked her fur, and held her tight.  When we got home, I asked my friend to please understand, but “please leave.” Which she did.  I took her to her new home, placing her on the blanket along with her favorite Frisbee and even a ball.  I brushed her, cut some hair to be placed with Clancy’s, kissed her one last time, and lowered her.  As usual, the dogs were around and watched but were on their best behavior.  Abbie was placed behind Clancy, her Father, and will be next to Molly, her Mother, when that time comes.

Abbie's last photo, she is sitting on Clancy's grave, watching me

Abbie was the only dog that I was first and last to touch in their life, I was there at the beginning and until the end.  The rest of the day was a fog, and I really don’t remember what happened after I buried her.  As odd and silly as it may sound, I didn’t want to take a shower at the end of the day, but I did.  My face had her saliva on it where she licked me, and when we were riding home, as pets usually do, her blatter released on my lap through her blanket, and that was the last physical remains I had of her.

She is sorely missed, and things have changed dramatically with her being gone.  No one brings me a ball or Frisbee, and my bed is a little less crowded.  Everything has settled down a notch, and I don’t get my face washed as much.  I am so grateful that we had the time we did, and as the Vet once said, “Every day is a gift.” And it was…   

Daughter and Dad, together again

"Hey, Dad, I'm home," Abbie said to Clancy. "I knew you were sick and when you were coming, and I waited for you," said Clancy. "I sure miss the water and my Frisbee," Abbie said.  "Come with me, you've never seen anything like this," Clancy said, and as they walked toward the sun, Abbie whispered to her dad, "Will he be OK? He was so sad, and I loved to lick his eyebrows?"  "He'll be fine; we'll see him soon."

As I said when I wrote Clancy's story, I do this not to make you sad or feel sorry for me, I write to help me heal and remember once again, Rest in Peace my little Abbie Dabby Doo...  Ken