Secret Ingredient

If you have not been living under a rock and have actually read more than one of my blogs, you know I love Rottweilers.  Since welcoming my first two Rotties, in 1994, I have been addicted to this breed.  Growing up with a hodgepodge of dogs on the ranch, I felt I knew canines well enough, until Taz and Mickey stormed into my life.  After only a few months I realized that these were not typical dogs.  What set them apart from their fellow canine cousins took me a while to really nail down, but once I did it made perfect sense as to why they acted the way they did. 

The way the history of the Rottweiler was told to me, and confirmed by various sources, is that when Roman forces conquered Germania, their supply trains of livestock and carts followed them.  Helping with that task were Roman Mastiffs, big powerful dogs who aided in the herding of cattle and pulling of carts.  Once in Germania, these Roman Mastiffs bred with the existing herding dogs in an area that was later christened Rottweil, a town named for the red tile roofs of the bathhouses the Romans had built there.  This new breed of dog came to be known for its fierce loyalty, strength, and intelligence, but the breed came with a secret ingredient thrown in the mix, thereby setting them apart from other dogs.

My girl Belle had a massive "F You" attitude, especially when she had her toy.

The way I like to describe a Rottweiler is this: a Rottweiler is a dog that has the strength and stoicism of a Mastiff and the intelligence of a Border Collie but with a very large middle finger added to the pot.  This was it, the defiant, look-you-in-the-eye-and-question-whether-you-are-Alpha-enough-to-run-the-pack attitude that set the Rottweiler apart from all the other dogs I had known.  It took years of working with countless Rottweilers (and other breeds) to truly confirm this, but I have full confidence that the secret ingredient that makes a Rottweiler special is that stubborn ‘f*** you’ type attitude they convey at times. 

This was confirmed yet again when I took my Rottweiler, Carly, to the vet for her annual checkup and vaccinations the other day.  My vet walked into the exam room and we chatted a bit about how she was doing since Bradum had passed.  The entire time, Carly lay on the floor near me but with her eyes fully locked on Dr. Anderson.  Her ears weren’t back in apprehension and outside of a slightly elevated pant rate, she was as calm as always.  Dr. Anderson then did as he does with all the dogs, he sat on the floor and called Carly over to him, hoping that she would want attention and allow him to perform the exam while petting her, like most dogs allow.

“Come here, Carly,” he said in his always calm, even tone -- which only contributes to making him such a great veterinarian.  Carly didn’t budge.  He tried to coax her over one more time and then stopped.  Now, I couldn’t see Carly’s face from where I was sitting, but apparently the look she gave Dr. Anderson was a good one.

“Troy, if that dog had middle fingers I believe she would be giving me doubles right now,” he said, giving up.

Yep, there was that secret ingredient again, displayed right on cue. 

Carly and "the look".

What’s awesome about people that know Rottweilers, even if they don’t own one, is that they understand that the middle finger is a breed trait, and they actually love the dogs for it.  It is what makes Rotties unique, and is, after all, their secret ingredient.

Do you have an example of a Rottweiler with an attitude? Share it in the comments below.  If you want to know more about my efforts as a writer, be sure to check out my Facebook and Twitter pages.  You can also learn more about me at my website www.troykechely.com.  There you can also purchase my first novel, Stranger’s Dance. 

The Cost of Confidence

One of the most valuable lessons I’ve learned working with dogs came from my dog trainer friend, Angie, when we were asked by a shelter to come help do behavior modification on some of their worst dogs.  We were being shown a dog that exhibited such extensive fear issues that it was nearly paralyzed and had been for over a month.  A staff member would enter the outdoor kennel and leave food and water while the dog cowered inside a Dogloo doghouse.

“You need to get that dog out of there. You can’t let it stay like that,” Angie told the staff who responded by saying that any attempt to place a leash on the dog triggered massive fear aggression.  “Then use a catchpole!” Angie said.  

Her point was this: When are dealing with a fearful dog it must be broken out of that mindset. Leaving the dog in its fearful state will only drag it deeper into negative behaviors.  This is why fearful dogs should never be paired up together in a shelter setting.  Fear feeds on fear, which is why such dogs should be paired or worked alongside a calm, confident dog.  The dog that cowered in its dog house, well the staff did what Angie directed.  A catchpole was used (not harshly) to remove the dog from the doghouse, out of the kennel, and it was taken for a walk.  After only a few days of repeating this, the animal was no longer hiding in the dog house but out exploring its kennel, even when staff went by.  After a few more days it allowed contact, then finally a leash, and eventually it started acting like a typical dog.  Through confident measures and by not allowing the dog to wallow in its fear and insecurity, confidence was created, which basically saved this dog’s life. 

Of all the dog bite cases I’ve been asked to be involved in, most of them were the result of fear aggression, also known as defense aggression.  The dog, facing an unfamiliar or terrifying situation has only three options when under high stress: flight (run), fight, or freeze (submission). Fear-based bites are often the result of the dog not having the ability to run away and not being of a submissive temperament.  Thus, the only option that remains is to fight.  For this reason it is so important to work with fearful dogs by breaking them out of fear cycles.  In shelters, where time is short, it is important to take more drastic measures, such as using a catch pole to physically remove the dog from its self-imposed prison.  This isn’t done out of anger or in an aggressive fashion, but it is done in a manner by which the dog has no other option but to submit.  In doing so dogs learn to trust their handler over the world they were so fearful of.  There are few things more awesome than watching a skilled dog trainer, such as my friends Angie, Ben, and Ron, take a very fearful dog, that had been biting everyone and everything, and in a few months have a stable, calm dog that is on its way to being a well-behaved member of its pack and society.

Carly, queen of the tire

I want to address this topic because my girl, Carly, is one of those fearful dogs.  I consider her a dog with conflicting personalities.  She has the drive and dominance of a working line Rottweiler, but because of her past she came to me with almost no confidence and high defense aggression issues.  What helped most with her transition wasn’t just my efforts but also my male Rottweiler, Bradum.  I didn’t realize how much confidence Carly gleaned from Bradum until he passed away on August 1, 2016. In the last two years, Carly had grown to be my brave guardian who took on most challenges without much hesitation. However, in the week following Bradum’s death, she reverted back to being an insecure dog.  This makes sense, really, Bradum was one of those dogs who carried himself with calm confidence and who rarely had to push the issue of being top dog.  Carly fed off of that confidence, and I attribute her positive behaviors to him being a part of the pack.  Come on now, you would be brave too if you had a 120-pound Rottweiler as your backup, wouldn’t you? Now that Bradum is gone, I’ve had to ensure that Carly understands that her confidence should come from me.  I’m still Alpha; I’m still here.  It has taken a few weeks, but Carly is back to her normal, guard dog behaviors when out for a drive or in the house.  This is in part because I didn’t let her revert back to her old self for very long. Instead, I focused on her obedience training and proactively continued pack walks at Montana Murray Kennels here in Bozeman and with my friends Brett and Mike and their dogs.  These settings required putting her in challenging situations in which she had to look to me for confidence. It has all helped.  Consistency in training, routine in daily life, and exposure to situations where she can see that I will handle it have all been key factors.  Through these circumstance she sees that she doesn’t need to protect me (though I know she will), but rather I will protect her.  I am, after all, the Alpha in the pack.  This is all she needed, to know that there was still a leader after Bradum died and that the scary circumstances were not really so scary after all. 

Carly and I doing confidence training at Montana Murray Kennels

Does Carly still have issues?  Yep, and I suspect she always will.  Even so, she continues to make improvements with each day, though it takes consistent effort on my part. I’m okay with that effort in order to help continue to build her confidence.  It is a cost I’m willing to pay.

If you want to know more about my efforts as a writer, be sure to check out my Facebook and Twitter pages.  You can also learn more about me at my website www.troykechely.com.  There you can also purchase my first novel, Stranger’s Dance.  For those outside North America, Stranger's Dance is available through Amazon UK and Amazon JP in both Kindle and paperback.

Grievance with Grief

Since posting about the passing of my boy, Bradum, I’ve received numerous messages of condolences and support, all of which I greatly appreciate.  One message, though, caught me off guard.  A social media friend sent me a note asking how I deal with the grief of losing a pet.  You see, my friend had lost his dog just five days after Bradum had passed, and it impacted him so much so that tears would flow without warning.  It took a long, pre-sunrise walk with Carly for me to sum up my response to his query. Even now I’m not sure I answered him in a way that helped. How does one explain how they handle grief and what is the best way to comfort someone who is grieving, especially when they live a great distance away?

Before I share my response to his inquiry, I must state that part of what hit me with his note wasn’t his question itself but that he would ask me.  Am I an expert on the topic of grief at the loss of a dog? God, I hope not, but after losing seven dogs in twenty-two years, perhaps I have a little more experience than others.  I will share what I can and hope it helps my friend and any others who face the void left when a beloved pet dies.

To give justice to my answer I need to go back to when I was a kid on the ranch.  Death was a part of everyday activities.  I remember helping my parents attempt to save an orphaned calf, only to walk up in the morning to bottle feed it and find its lifeless body.  With livestock there was some level of detachment but not much, at least not for me.  I worked with these animals, and my brothers and I helped raise some of the orphaned calves, only to end up selling them for slaughter.  I don’t regret those events: it was simply life on the ranch.  When you add to that the game hunting my family did, it raised my awareness of the fragility of life all the more.  Seeing something die is one thing but to take a life is another. I’m thankful my dad taught my brothers and I that we must respect the animals we hunt, even thanking them for the meat they provide after the kill. Though my dad got into trophy hunting it was never my thing; I hunt to put meat in the freezer.  The old adage that you can’t eat antlers is one I still live by.  Though I enjoy hunting, the act of taking a life never fills me with pleasure.  Rather, it is a job, a task that needs to be done and I ensure I perform the task as efficiently as possible.  Nothing twists my emotions more than having to walk up to a wounded animal, to look it in the eyes, and then to have to finish it off.  It is a mix of emotions for me: on one side, sadness that the animal suffered in any way and on the other, anger that my first shot wasn’t effective in preventing that suffering. 

I know that my emotional connection with the animals I hunted came from an incident that occurred long before I could hunt.  I was in grade school when the Montana Fish, Wildlife, and Parks asked if we would foster a fawn deer and antelope that had been orphaned when their mothers had been killed.  The policy nowadays would be that the babies be euthanized, but back then the FWP had a facility where orphans were kept, almost like a zoo.  At the time they were out of space at the facility so they asked my dad if we could help.  I remember bottle feeding both animals, but without their mothers their chances of survival were slim.  Sure enough, the deer died first, then the antelope.  I remember seeing the antelope fawn take its last breath and it haunted me in ways I still can’t describe.  It wasn’t a fear of death, mind you, but the full acceptance of how fleeting life can be.

Now, these stories were about animals I didn’t have much connection to yet I still felt somber at their ends.  When our family dogs passed away, though, I really experienced true grief. In high school and college, I was spared such grief by not having any dogs of my own.  It wasn’t until 1994, when I got my first two dogs, that I bonded with animals whose ends caused an extreme impact.  Taz went first, suddenly and without warning at age four.  I still don’t know what happened, I just know that I was devastated.  When Mickey’s turn came after ten years, I had tried to prepare myself, but her passing left me depressed and prone to sudden tears at just the mention of her name months later.  I used to be ashamed of this and never shared the reality with anyone.  It was when I was talking with a good friend and fellow Rottweiler owner, that I saw I was not alone in my emotional connection with a pet.  My friend was and still is in law enforcement and is one of the toughest people I know; however, for more than a year after the passing of his female Rottweiler, a dog that was a part of his wedding, my friend still teared up when talking about her.   This helped me to realize that my grief was normal and even stronger with dogs because of one thing - time.  You see, when my dad died I grieved but not nearly to the depth I did when Mickey died.  This wasn’t because I didn’t love my dad -  far from it -  it was just that I had spent so much more time with my dog than I had my dad in the years prior to his passing. The sudden absence of Mickey from my life was more of a shock to my system. 

As time went on, I took in more rescues and experienced loss upon each of their passing’s.  Most dogs I adopted were older so my time with them was short.  There was one stretch in which I lost three dogs in three years.  This compounded loss felt as if I had been repeatedly hit in the gut without the opportunity to catch my breath.  Still, I learned from it. 

One lesson I learned was to pre-plan for having to put a dog down. Having a plan helped offset the shock a little when the time came.  Also, by pre-planning, I pre-grieved.  What does this even mean? Well, when my girl Belle had bone cancer I knew I would have to set a date to have her put down before her leg became so weak that the bone broke.  Mentally and physically, besides her leg, she was in good health.  Still, I had made the decision that Belle would go with dignity and that I would pull her from the game before the cancer beat her.  The problem with this plan was that for the three weeks leading up to it, my mind dwelt on what was coming.  I would sob late at night as she snored next to me, knowing that soon I would have to end her life.  Yet those weeks of grieving before the event helped somewhat.  The pain of the act itself was as severe as always, even the few days afterwards were hard, but I bounced back faster than I had before.  Why? I believe it was because I had already released much of my sadness.   

The above was part of my answer to my friend: pre-planning and pre-grieving.  But the biggest thing that helped me through such times was still having another dog in my home.  The other dog was grieving, as was I, at the loss of their pack member and they looked to me as the alpha to lead on.  That remaining life, that companion, still needed me to walk them, to feed them, and to love them.  This, in my experience, is probably the best cure for the loss of a pet

Carly and I on an early morning hike last weekend.

Since Bradum’s passing, Carly and I have been working through this process, with my efforts on building her confidence and focusing on getting some of her remaining issues resolved.  When the time comes, when the right dog needs a home, my pack, and my heart will be ready to take them in, all the while knowing that at some point I will have to say goodbye.  I guess that is what life is really all about, hellos and goodbyes.  We can count how blessed we are by how many of those hellos and goodbyes we experience with both the people and the animals we love.

If you want to know more about my efforts as a writer, be sure to check out my Facebook and Twitter pages.  You can also learn more about me at my website www.troykechely.com.  There you can also purchase my first novel, Stranger’s Dance.  For those outside North America, Stranger's Dance is available through Amazon UK and Amazon JP in both Kindle and paperback.

Shadow

Back in 2005 my friend Angie, a dog trainer and fellow founding member of Big Sky Rottweiler Rescue, and I were asked to teach a canine behavior and handling class in Casper, Wyoming. Not only was I excited to take my course material outside of Montana for the first time, but I also looked forward to the opportunity to visit my grandmother, Virginia, who was in a nursing home there. It had been longer than I care to admit since I had last seen her, and I knew that her Alzheimer’s disease was taking its toll and her eyesight had left her years before. The night we arrived, I stopped by to visit Grandma and while there, I asked for permission from the head nurse to bring Angie’s dogs, Taq and Ame, to visit my grandmother the day after the class.  The head nurse granted permission, even after I explained that Taq was a very obedient Schutzhund-trained Rottweiler.  The nurse, I believe her name was Judy, was still okay with the visit as dogs were always popular with the residents at the home but they rarely made visits. She was especially excited to have Ame, Angie’s Toy Fox Terrier, there since smaller dogs were better to have around frail bodies. To have the opportunity to bring dogs in to visit my grandmother was very special to me as she had always had a dog in her home, usually a stray that had wandered into her care and stayed for the rest of their life.  Because of the love that Grandma showed those strays, I give credit to her for instilling in me the love of dogs at a very young age.

My grandma and her dog, Lucky, back in 1997

The class the next day was enjoyable but long, with Angie and I teaching for over nine hours straight. By the time we finished class and grabbed a bite to eat with Kathy, a fellow BSRR founding member and the person who had set up the class, it was too late to go visit Grandma. 

The following morning Angie and I said our goodbyes to Kathy and her dogs and loaded Taq and Ame into my truck with the intention of getting gas and then spending a few hours at the nursing home, before making the long drive back to Montana.  Heading out of the parking lot I turned to Angie, “I really appreciate you going with me and taking Ame and Taq to see Grandma.  This is going to mean a lot to her.”

Angie (left), Ame, Taq, and Kathy and her dogs after our class in 2005.

“No problem Troy. Besides, this is good for Taq and Ame,” Angie said with a smile.  I had known and worked with Angie and her husband, John, for many years, and Angie and I had previously come to the conclusion that we were siblings from a different mother given that our views on dogs and life in general were nearly always in sync.

Pulling into the nursing home, I saw Taq bounce around in his kennel and wondered if his energy level was going to be an issue.  I smiled knowing that Taq’s nickname was ‘The Criminal’ due to his regular mischievous antics and propensity to get into trouble.

“Do you think Taq will be okay with all of this?  He has never done this before, gone to a public setting like this, right?”  I asked as I shut off the engine.

Angie shrugged her shoulders.

“Well if you can’t handle him I can take him and you can walk Ame,” she said, her smile betraying her sarcasm.

“Umm, no thanks. I’ll let you walk the rodent and I’ll stick with the real dog.” 

She knew full well that I didn’t consider Ame a real dog but more of a hyperactive rat with a collar.  In Ame’s defense, though, she isn’t bad for something that I worry about stepping on.  Unlike some small dogs, Ame isn’t a yapper as Angie doesn’t tolerate it, and Ame actually thinks she is a Rottweiler because that is what she grew up with. Still, I preferred to have a big black and tan troublemaker at the end of the leash.

 “Now don’t go picking on Ame.  She is a sweetie and you know it.  Besides, she will be a bigger hit in there than Taq.  Everyone knows that older people like small dogs.” 

“Well, we’ll see which dog gets the most attention, now won’t we?” 

While still in the parking lot, I put Taq through some basic obedience to remind him that he needed to be on his best behavior. I call it getting the dog into ‘work mode’, and I use the same method with any high drive dogs I work with.  The German commands did their magic on him as he sat and downed instantly upon command.  Angie and John’s years of training were shining through at that moment.

I saw Judy as we walked through the front door, and she rushed from behind her desk to introduce herself to Angie and the dogs, well, more specifically to the dogs.  I think she might have acknowledged us humans, that were attached to the leash, after a few minutes of petting the pups. She said we could sit at one of the couches in the visiting area while they retrieved my grandmother.  As we sat at the couch I could see that Taq was a little nervous, but his training and regal attitude overcame that nervousness.  There is something about the breed wherein the dog seems to know that it isn’t just a dog but a Rottweiler.  Taq’s head went high and he calmed down as he took in all the activity going on around him.  Angie sat on the couch and tried to calm Ame who was her normal neurotic self, her four-pound body bouncing across Angie’s lap.  Seeing the two dogs together made me shake my head. Taq’s head was easily five times bigger than Ame’s entire body. One was trained in tracking and bite work and the other was simply an ornament (I’m sure I will catch hell from Angie on that comment). They really were a true contradiction of canine companions.

Judy soon arrived with my grandma, pushing her gently in the wheelchair that she was confined to due to hip problems and her lack of eyesight. 

“Hey good looking,” I said to Grandma, my normal greeting for her since I was in high school, “I brought a surprise for you.”  Grandma smiled a little at my voice as I gently took her hand and moved it over to Taq’s massive head.  I watched as the contact with his warm fur flowed through Grandma’s fingers.  Her eyes opened up and she turned her head to try and look at the dog.  She softly moved her hand across his fur, feeling his shape.  I could see a tear form in her eye as she caressed his ear.  Taq looked at me for approval and then looked back at Grandma.  He seemed to know that he was doing a job and had to be calm.  Angie then asked if Grandma wanted to pet Ame and proceeded to place her in Grandma’s lap.  A bigger smile came across Grandma’s face as she petted Taq with her right hand and Ame with her left.

Soon people began to migrate toward us.  The energy of the dogs seemed to pull on everyone there.  One by one, both patients and nurses would come by to see Taq and Ame.  The air of loneliness that had permeated the place upon our entrance was gone, if only for the brief time of our visit.  Off to my left I could see a frail old man sitting in a wheelchair.  He was about fifteen feet away but made no effort to come closer.  I could see that he was staring intently at Taq, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was afraid of him.  As a nurse was loving on Taq, I asked her about the man in the wheelchair.

“That’s Harold.  He came here about a month ago.  He’s a very quiet, and I don’t think he’s had any visitors.” 

“Do you think he is scared of Taq?” I asked.

“I don’t know, let me go see.”  The nurse walked over to the man, who in his prime, would have been just under six feet tall but now looked as though he couldn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds, his body diminished under the torment of time. 

“Harold, Harold, are you okay?”  The old man nodded yes.  “Do you like those doggies, Harold?”  The old man raised his left hand slightly, and the tremor of his muscles in response to the effort belayed the difficulty of the simple movement.

“That’s Shadow.  That’s my Shadow.”  The nurse looked over at Taq and me as the man’s words pierced my heart.  I glanced at Angie and saw that her mouth was open like mine because of the intensity with which those simple words hit us both.

“Harold, did you have a dog like that once?”  The nurse asked. Harold nodded yes.

“That’s my Shadow.” 

I felt my heart tighten in my chest, realizing the connection and memories that Taq was evoking in the man’s mind and soul. 

“Sir, would you like to pet him?”  I asked as I stood and began walking Taq over to him, leaving Angie and Ame with Grandma.  Taq strained a little at the collar, pulling me toward Harold, the Rottweiler seeming to sense something positive in the old man.  Taq, without any command from me, sat next to the wheelchair and lay his head on the armrest.  The withered, vein-marked hand trembled as it gently stroked Taq's head. 

“My Shadow.  My Shadow.  You are such a good boy.”  The nurse and I looked at each other through tear-filled eyes.   For ten minutes the man petted Taq’s head and spoke of how good a dog Shadow was.  I didn’t even try to explain that Taq wasn’t his dog. In that moment Taq was Shadow, and who was I to deny that pleasure to Harold. 

After a while a voice could be heard on the intercom stating that the morning meal was going to be served soon.   Angie nodded at me indicating it was time to go.  We had a seven-hour drive to Bozeman ahead of us and it would take her another two hours to get back to her home in Helena. 

“Sir, I am sorry but I have to take Ta… Shadow back to his kennel.”  The man smiled and patted Taq’s head one last time.

“You be a good boy, Shadow.  Remember, I love you.  You be a good boy.”  As the nurse pushed Harold’s wheelchair away he looked back at us and I saw his hand raise up slightly in a goodbye wave.  I went back to sit with Grandma for another ten minutes.  Finally, kissing my grandmother goodbye, Angie, Ame, Taq, and I headed out of the nursing home.  I was silent as I walked into the sunlight with Angie.  Taq was in a perfect heel until we were outside and then he reverted back to his normal, criminal self and began exploring the flower beds in search of one of the countless squirrels in the area. 

“That was a tearjerker wasn’t it?”  Angie broke my thoughts with her words as she loaded Ame into her crate.

“Yeah, I’m not sure what to say about it.  Thanks again for letting Grandma see the dogs.  I know it meant a lot to her, and it seemed to mean a lot to everyone else, especially Harold.”

“No problem, Troy, besides after that I don’t think I’ll ever be the same.” 

I motioned Taq into his crate.  With a smooth, athletic leap he cleared the tailgate and entered his crate.  I petted his head.

Taq waiting patiently while Angie and I taught our class.

“You be a good boy, Taq… I mean Shadow.”  I smiled at his temporary renaming.  Closing his kennel, Angie and I climbed into the cab and headed toward the interstate for home.  I regretted having to leave my grandmother, as I wondered when I would get to see her again, yet those few hours with her and the time with the man who missed his dog, Shadow had changed me as well.  Like Angie, I knew I would never be the same.

I was able to visit my grandmother with a dog one more time before she passed away on January 27, 2010.  That dog was my boy Griz and I will share that story in a future blog.  Taq passed away on March 26, 2008 and was Angie’s last Schutzhund trained dog. Though both my grandma and Taq are gone, the memory of that day, a man named Harold and his dog, Shadow, is one that I will always hold dear.

Do you have a story about the power of dogs in reaching people? Share your story in the comment section below.

Since starting this blog in November, 2015, it has been viewed more than 3,100 times.  Thank you everyone for your interest and telling others about it. If you want to know more about my efforts as a writer, be sure to check out my Facebook and Twitter pages.  You can also learn more about me at my website www.troykechely.com.  There you can also purchase my first novel, Stranger’s Dance.  

Benefits of Dog Ownership

I’m sure you’ve all seen the lists on the internet that detail the supposed benefits of dog ownership.  Some of those lists are researched and very accurate where as others are based on not-so-scientific methods.  This one will fall under the category of the latter. 

Since owning my own dogs, going on 22 years now, I can say that they have provided me a lot of benefits along the way. I’ve also observed the benefits that dogs have provided other people as well.  The following are some examples of those:

Anti-depressants and stress relief

Research has shown that petting a dog helps lower blood pressure but I’ve seen that it has a much broader impact.  For example, I had a friend who suffered from depression.  She shared with me once that her depression was so bad at one point that she didn’t even want to leave her bed, even to eat.  What got her up was her dog.  Her struggle with the grips of depression were not strong enough for her to neglect her dog.  Even though she wanted to hide under her covers all day, her dog needed to eat, be walked and played with, and be loved. She saw that another life was dependent on her and that reality pulled her through that very dark time.

Another friend works in a very high stress career where travel for long periods to dangerous places is required.  When he is home though, he shared that even with all the stress, when he was in bed and his dog would lie next to him, his head across my friend’s chest, all the worries and memories went away with each pet that my friend gave his dog.

Confidence

The prior blog about Jamie and Bo, is just one example of how the presence of a dog can instill confidence in a person.  Another one is a young lady I know who was almost the victim of child abduction.  I’m hoping she will be kind enough to do a guest blog about that situation and how an amazing dog named Adonis helped her through that, but for now I will speak of her current situation.  After the attempted abduction, my friend has justifiable fears of certain situations.  She has learned that by having a dog with her cancels those fears and allows her to live a very full life.

The other example that I find fascinating is the use of specially trained dogs to help victims of violence or sex crimes have the courage to testify in court against their attackers.  Here is a link of one such example: http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/calgary/trauma-dog-helps-girl-testify-at-sex-assault-trial-against-father-1.2857825

Getting your butt out of the chair

This last one I’ll share is a personal story.  As a writer, one of the standard piece of advice I’ve received is “Keep your butt in the chair!”  This simply means that to succeed as a writer you have to write.  Figure out a way to sit down and write every day.  Most people don’t succeed at writing simply because they let life keep them out of the chair. 

Back in 1996 I was working on my first attempt at a novel. I finished it eventually but was told that the work needed to make it ready to submit to a publisher was going to be massive.  So, I shelved it and I might someday return to it but for now I’m content that it was a test run and can leave it be.  While writing it though, I became rather absorbed in the story and would spend as much time as I could working on it.  At that time I was living in a small condo so my desk was in my bedroom with the chair situated such that my back was very close to the foot of my bed.  As I was typing away one evening, I felt the gentle push of a paw on my back.  I don’t know if it was Taz or Mickey, my first two Rottweilers, but I ignored it and kept working on the story.  Then came another nudge, a bit more forceful but gentle enough not to break my flow of typing.  Without looking back I told my dogs to wait and that I would take them for a walk in a bit and charged ahead with whatever scene I was so absorbed in.  Then it arrived.  A hit to the back of my head that was forceful enough to send my glasses plunging to the keyboard and to leave my head spinning a bit.  Fumbling to put my glasses back on, I turned to see Taz and Mickey standing on my bed, butts vibrating in excitement at gaining my attention and their eyes making it very clear that the time for a walk was now.  Needless to say, we went for a walk. 

My first Rottweilers, Taz (front) and Mickey, hogging the bed.

Even now as I work on my third novel or these blogs, my dogs are masters at getting me out of the chair, or, at a minimum, pausing long enough to give some ear rubs or play a quick game of tug.  They have taught me that all too often we become so absorbed in things that we forget to take a moment and enjoy life.  Even if that moment is only a walk with your dogs or a spirited game of tug.  

If you want to know more about my efforts as a writer, be sure to follow my Facebook and Twitter accounts.  You can also learn more about me at my website www.troykechely.com  as well as purchase my first novel, Stranger’s Dance.  

Holding a Grudge

“Nothing holds a grudge like a female Rottweiler.”

The above saying was coined by my friend Vicki one day at the Humane Society of Gallatin Valley after an incident occurred involving Queen, one of our long-stay Rottweilers. Queen had exacted a rather violent act of revenge on another shelter dog, Mate, who seemed to have a knack for irritating all the other canine tenants at the shelter.  I’m not sure what Mate said to the other dogs in his flurry of intense barks as they passed by his kennel, though I suspect it was far from friendly and likely would have made a sailor blush. I just know that none of the dogs liked Mate, especially Queen. 

Little 85 pound Queen loved her tires

The incident in question occurred following many weeks of Mate’s tormenting. Because of his behavior, Mate was kept in an isolated part of the shelter while the rest of the dogs were moved to and from the outdoor exercise kennels.  After the other dogs had their turns, Mate would be brought out to the exercise yard.  When one of the staff went to move Queen, she slipped loose and made a beeline to the part of the shelter that held Mate.  The two dogs proceeded to exchange verbal insults until Mate, foolishly, stuck his nose through the gap in the doorframe of the kennel.  Queen latched on and pulled Mate out of the kennel by his face, bending the doorframe in the process.  Before she could do any serious damage, the staff caught up to her and separated the dogs. 
Thankfully, Mate was fine outside of a small cut on his muzzle, and he was adopted a few weeks later, allowing the shelter to return to normalcy, if there is such a thing in the animal care world.  Now, what is important to understand about the altercation is that Queen was friendly to all of the other dogs in the shelter, and I used her regularly to teach kids in elementary schools about dog behavior.  She really was a good dog, except when it came to Mate.

Vicki’s bit of wisdom that day has been proven true time and time again in my life. Not only do female Rottweilers hold a grudge but they are jealous, spiteful creatures who are not afraid to express their cantankerous behavior or their angst at a particular situation.

When I first started teaching dog behavior and handling classes, I was only doing so for regional animal shelters.  When I was asked to do a class for a large veterinary clinic and boarding facility in Laurel, Montana, I was honored and a bit concerned, as I knew my audience would be experts in dogs, at least in the medical aspects.  Thankfully, the class went well and those that attended were impressed with my material and how well-behaved my dogs, Mickey and Griz, were during the demonstrations.  Now, I should have known that Mickey was angry at me for being used during the handling demos.  She gave me ‘the look’ several times when I led her out in front of the class.  At the end of the class, before leaving for the two-hour drive home, I let Mickey and Griz out into one of the big exercise areas of the facility so they could relieve themselves.  I watched both dogs do their business and then loaded them up to leave.  Upon arriving home, I offered to let the dogs out into my backyard so they could relieve themselves again, but Mickey just looked me right in the eye and then urinated in the middle of my living room.  Please note that Mickey had been with me for almost seven years at that point, was fully house trained, and could hold her bladder for ten hours if needed.  What she did was deliberate and a very clear message to me.  I heard her loud and clear, and never again did I use her in my demonstrations.   

My girl Mickey taught me a lot about how Rotties hold a grudge

When my girl Belle came along, I knew she would be even more intense that Mickey had ever been.  Belle, being protection trained and rather dominant, tended to view everything as hers, including myself.  To say that Belle was a jealous creature would be an understatement.  If I left the house with a female friend, I knew there would be a price to pay later.  Thankfully, unlike Mickey, Belle didn’t exact her price by marking.  Nope, being the bitch that she was, she preferred to destroy things.  She didn’t destroy just anything, nor did she display typical destructive behavior that could have be associated with separation anxiety. No, she was very specific, finding something of value to me and hiding it, only to return it later, or she would chew up something and leave it for me to find in a very obvious spot.  One of the best examples I can recall was when I left the house in the car of a female friend of mine.  When I returned, I found that Belle had taken a plate out of the sink, dropped it to the floor, breaking it, and had taken the big pieces and left them in a pile in the middle of my living room, twenty feet away.  Another time she took utensils out of the sink and laid them in a perfect line in the living room again, the line pointing to my driveway, where I had been picked up. She also managed to chew up an unopened can of tuna, and if it hadn’t rolled under the couch, I’m sure she would have dined on it in its entirety.  This was, again, in response to me leaving the house with a female friend.  Now, if I went to work or left on my own, no problem, Belle wouldn’t do a thing.  Her revenge always resulted because of me spending time with another female. 

Belle and I on one of many road trips together

My current female Rottweiler, Carly, has shown very similar behaviors to Belle’s, though she has expanded her revenge to include the times I leave to walk dogs   with a friend who lives a few blocks away. I notice a look on Carly’s face the moment I close the door, and I know that there will be retribution because I am walking somewhere without her.  As a result, much to the humor of my friend, I now drive the two block distance to his house.  You see, Carly is okay if I drive away, as that is normal. I go to work, or to the store, and I always come back.  But to go out the front door without her, well, apparently in her code of conduct that is not allowed.

My ever jealous Carly

Could I mitigate these behaviors? Sure, I could crate or kennel my dogs, but I would rather not.  Having had many female Rottweilers, I’ve learned to accept these quirks in their behavior and even enjoy them to a certain extent.  I do make efforts to minimize the likelihood of Carly feeling as though she needs to exact revenge, but I know that it will happen again at some point.  She is, after all, a female Rottweiler, the jealous, grudge-holding creatures that they are.

Do you have a dog that holds a grudge?  Share your story about dogs holding a grudge in the comment section below. If you want to know more about my efforts as a writer, be sure to check out my Facebook and Twitter pages.  You can also learn more about me at my website www.troykechely.com.  There you can find links to where you can purchase my first novel, Stranger’s Dance.