Who really is the difficult one?

My life with Albie has been a challenge in so many ways. Not for him, but for me. I have had to learn all about dog behavior. Dogs don't come with instructions and, for most dogs, they don't need any. Humans spent ten thousand years taming and training canines to become their best friend. And virtually every dog owner knows the results of this millennia of hard work. The Ecstatic tail, the hopping and jumping, the overwhelming exuberance when you walk in the door after a long days work. I've known such devotion in the years that I've been fortunate to have a dog as a part of my life. Alas, Albie's greetings leave me wanting. And it isn't his greeting to  anyone, just to me. When he sees Kevin coming home from work,  it's the expected enthusiasm that you always see. Even with our friends, his excitement is barely containable to the point where he can't even control his bladder. I never get that response, ever. Not even when Kevin's been gone for several days. Nope, I'm just greeted with a level of ambivalence and a face that says, 'oh it's just you.' I'm not exaggerating either. I sometimes even get barks with his hackles raised, though that probably happens because he doesn't realize it's me. His hackles usually go down right about the time he sees my face.
None of this is a complete surprise. I knew when we got Albie that he would mostly be Kevin's dog. He goes to work with him virtually every day and spends all day with him, so of course Albie has a stronger connection to Kevin then he does to me. Ironically, I work as a dog walker, so in theory I could take him to work with me everyday. And though I have tried a couple of times, Albie always demands too much of my attention. Unfortunately, this job that I love so much makes my dog's snubs become even more glaring.  Why do all the other dogs, some of whom I only see once or twice a week, become so excited whereas my own dog is quite blase about my entrance?
Just like every other thing with Albie, this was going to take some work. What I realized was I had to make him want to see me.  I had to give him a reason to be excited when I came home and that was really quite easy. Just make sure to take him out and play ball with him everyday. He still doesn't treat me like he does everyone else, but he's definitely happier to see me. I just have to make sure to keep up my side of the bargain and hide my disappointment when he bounces uncontrollably upon seeing our friends. 

But this wasn't the end of my illogical issues with him. For reasons unknown to us, Albie frequently doesn't react in the usual 'dog' way. I've already discussed his dislike of being touched. Albie also can get over-stimulated when he is playing. The best way to describe what happens is to compare him to a cat. It is quite common that cats who are petted for too long will inexplicable lash out at their guardian's hand. If Albie gets too riled up, he will stop playing and start growling. He never has tried to bite either of us, but he sounds ferocious enough that it quickly puts a damper on playtime. Kevin and I both know that this is a possibility; however, sometimes when I'm playing with him, I forget and begin to internalize his emotions. It happened just the other day and I grew angry with him, claiming that he 'hated' me. I know how absurd and anthropomorphic that sounds, but these instances can dredge up old issues I have harbored since childhood. 

Until recently, I thought I was the only person who felt they were a disappointment to their pet. Then I stumbled upon a book called Travels with Casey and was excited to read that the author felt the same way. When he discussed this with his therapist, he learned that he was expecting specific responses from Casey and, when he didn't get them, he was projecting his inefficacy on the dog. A light bulb went off in my head. My age-old worries over whether someone liked me or not were resurfacing in my dog. The reality is Albie frequently doesn't respond in the typical canine way to situations. Because he was obviously taken from his litter too young, he doesn't know how to play; thus, he growls. It has happened often enough that I can predict when it will happen. I've learned so much from Albie, but I still struggle with my own emotions. Unfortunately, I'm on my own with that one. I just have to stop and remind myself that Albie doesn't hate me. He just wants what any dog wants, treats and ball.

Helping Hands

One of the biggest challenges in raising Albie was the realization that he doesn't like to be touched. That's right. Our adorable pooch would rather you didn't pet him, thank you very much. Crazy, I know, but when I told a behaviorist/trainer I know she said it's more common than people think. The manner with which dogs express their discomfort comes in various levels. My mother rescued a chihuahua mix from a hoarding situation who has an intense fear of hands. She wouldn't normally bite, just run from the situation. My mother has earned her trust, therefore her hands are ok. I have spent time there, while visiting, and Sophie has become used to my being around, but I could still sense apprehension. I'm sure, if I were able to spend an extended period of time with her, she would become comfortable with me. I walk a few dogs who dodge away from my hand when I try to pet them. They would never bite, but prefer that I not touch them. It's weird to experience when compared to the typical, loyal pup.
But my dog is anything but 'typical'. When my partner or I tried to pet him, he growled. Always. It was disheartening the first time this behavior exhibited itself. I was so sad that I couldn't touch my dog without hearing that horrible rumble echo in his throat. I began to look for answers to why this had happened. I finally found a potential explanation in one of the many books about dog behavior I have read. When raising puppies, it is important to begin picking them up when they are five weeks old. Although dogs are domesticated, they need to become used to human touch. When Albie was found, they estimated he was no older than six weeks. I don't think he had been abused before then because he never really flinched in fear when we reached out to him. It was obvious that he just didn't know what hands were for and why we wanted to touch him.
My strategy was simple, keep trying. It began with me putting my hand out every time he walked by, letting it brush along his side. I continued trying to pet him. I even went so far as to explain that hands were good, using a quiet, soothing tone of voice. Hands gave him treats. They threw the ball. I'm sure many think I'm crazy for talking to him as if he knew what I was saying, but I like to think that he can comprehend what I'm telling him. It didn't happen overnight, but after four long years of consistent coddling I witnessed definite progress. Previously, if I gestured for him to come to me, he would emit a low growl. Now he will come over and actually lean against me while I scratch his back. He even comes over when I don't cajole him. People have always wanted to pet him and we would always be hesitant to allow it because he would frequently snarl at their hands. It was never a huge one, often so subtle that only we would notice it, but it would happen. Now he is downright friendly to almost anyone, including men with whom he is often leery.
I won't go so far as to announce that he's cured. We took a hike today and had found many ticks crawling on him. When we were in the car ("going somewhere" in his mind) he had no problem with me touching him. An hour ago, I wanted to check to make sure he didn't still have anything crawling on him. If you had heard the growls, you would have thought there was a rabid animal in the house; however, a few minutes ago he walked by me and didn't make a peep when I gave him a hearty pat. It's been a challenge, figuring out such a complex pooch. But I've seen amazing improvements over my years of hard work. I love my flawed dog. I have learned more from him than any other animal I have known, and I am forever grateful he is a part of my life.

Mr Smartie Pups

Over the years, I've been fortunate to know many dogs. Maggie, the Golden Retriever, was sweet and loving and completely devoted. Kiska, the Siberian Husky, was independent and a wonderful listener. Tiki, the teacup poodle, was cuddly and innocent. And Gizmo, the Toy Poodle, was the smartest dog I ever met. Until now. My sweet, flawed dog is truly the smartest dog both me and my boyfriend have ever known.
When we first got Albie, we knew there was a definite possibility he would be intelligent. He is a mixture of several herding breeds and they are some of the smartest of all dogs. Not long after he came to us, I tried teaching Albie some tricks. He learned quickly how to shake, sit up pretty, give me a high five, and show his belly (laying down on his back). He could even sit up and then fall over when we pointed a finger and said, 'bang.' We were both amazed at how fast he picked up everything. I felt quite proud. Then, as quick as he started, he stopped doing all but latter. If I asked him to shake, he would turn his lips into a fierce snarl and a low growl would emit from his chest. The same answer came with the request for a high five. And to this day, the mere mention of the word 'belly' causes him to protest, even if we don't ask to see it. I asked Kevin if he knew what had happened. He had no idea and was equally baffled. I honestly have no idea why he decided not to perform anymore. And it's not just us that gets this response. He has met people who have put their hand out to ask for a shake and he's given them the same disgruntled response, though it is much more diminutive. In a way, I feel he's decided it's beneath him. I know, I'm anthropomorphizing just a bit too much. But I can't think of any other reason and it honestly fits the behavior.
So maybe that doesn't really prove that he's smart; however, there are many more reasons that point to his intelligence. Since he was a pup, we have given all his toys names. We ask him to bring his big red bone or crazy ball. He picks up on the names pretty quickly. He even knows another language when it comes to his toys. Kong makes a toy that somewhat resembles a tandoor oven, so we started calling it by that name. He actually has two, big and little tandoor, and he knows the difference when we ask him for each. Then there's big red bone. It's not just a toy, it's become a tool. After we moved to our present house, I was playing with him and his favorite toy, chewy ball. Periodically, it would roll under a dresser in the bathroom. Most of the time, he would reach underneath and either pull the ball out or hit it and wait for it to roll out. But there's one spot that he couldn't reach at all. I decided to see if I could teach him to bring me his big red bone which I could then use to get the ball. Again, it didn't take very long for him to pick this up. In fact, there have even been times where he has brought the big red bone when I didn't know the ball was under the dresser. On several occasions, he's brought it to me and put it in my lap. Normally, that would mean he wants me to put treats in it. I don't always do that and will tell him to bring me the ball instead. He gives this frustrated little whine and runs to the bathroom. It's difficult being a dog sometimes when your human friends don't understand you. And he brings it when the ball is stuck somewhere else, too. Yup, he's smart.
But if I still had any doubts, they were erased just a few nights ago. Often, when we go to bed, Albie sits on the bed. Sometimes he still wants to play. Other times, he just wants to visit for a bit. On this particular night, I decided to try to teach him what his tongue was. He had been sticking the tip out of his mouth, so I pointed at it and said, 'that's your tongue.' Then I pointed to my own and repeated the word. I asked him to show me his tongue. Of course, he had no idea what I was saying. Then I asked, 'where's your tongue?' I asked again and he looked at me curiously. He suddenly jumped off the bed and left the room. We didn't think anything of it as he often did this when he wanted to go to sleep, but a moment later he came back with a toy. He hadn't played with this toy in several weeks and had to dig it out of his toy basket. We call it his tux. That's right, he brought me a toy that sounds the closest to what I asked for. Like I said, he hasn't played with it and we hadn't asked for it in a while. I think it's pretty impressive that he remembered it's name and recognized that it sounded like what I was asking about.
Well, he may not know a thousand words like Chaser, but he definitely understands a lot. And I think he may understand more than he lets on, but that just may be because I'm a proud parent.