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.  

The Empty Bed

This last weekend I had to travel to Billings on business but was fortunate to spend time with my friends, Steve and Rose, who recently had to put down their Rottweiler, Tasha.  During our talks, Rose shared about Tasha’s quick decline and final day but also about how fortunate they were to have had her eleven years.  Tasha was two years old when they adopted her from the shelter in Bozeman after they approached BSRR about getting another dog when their first rescue had passed away. As with anyone who has lost a four legged family member, the hole left in their hearts was evident with moist eyes and broken voices as Tasha’s final day was relived. Rose then told about that evening how she couldn’t look at Tasha’s bed and removed it from their bedroom, wash it and then stored it in the basement. I knew exactly how she felt.

Tasha

Though it is never easy to put a dog down, it seems especially difficult to move on after doing so with a dog that you had shared your life with for many years.  When my boy Griz finally passed in 2012, he had been with me thirteen years. That first morning when I walked out of my room I did what I had done thousands of times.  I looked at Griz’s bed and started to say “Good morning Grizzy bear.”

I barely got the first word out when I froze and stood staring at the empty bed.  I knew not to look elsewhere as the night before, my veterinarian had helped me load his body into my car for me to drive Griz to the pet crematorium that evening. All I was left with was the empty bed. 

Griz

For the days and weeks afterwards, I gave as much devotion as I could to my remaining rescue, Grace, but knew I needed to open my home to another dog soon.  Even after doing so, Griz’s empty bed haunted me and it was while walking Grace and my then new dog, Bradum, that I came up with the idea for a poem. 

I didn’t want to do something that was specific to Griz but rather to all the dogs I had walked through life with but were now no longer there.  It grew beyond that to where I now send it to anyone who loses their dog and is struggling.  To let them know that their pain is normal and that they are not alone.  So I share it with you now and encourage you to share it as well.  I do this because if there is one thing I’ve learned as a dog owner, it’s that the love we have for our pets is only equaled by the grief we experience when they part from us. 

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.  

Never Say Never

I saw a meme on a social media site the other day that made me think.  It said something along the lines of never abandon a dog, no matter what happens.  In literal terms, I agree completely and would never abandon my dogs in the sense of leaving them to fend for themselves on the streets or in the country.   I’ve heard many people say, however, that they would live on the street rather than give up their animals, and I have to wonder if that is truly what is best for both the person and their pets.

After nearly twenty years of Rottweiler rescue work, I’ve repeatedly seen people give their dogs up to both shelters and rescues.  Sometimes this is done out of convenience or for other selfish reasons, including the excuse that the dog is old and they don’t want to care for it any longer.  I’m honest when I say that I have little respect for such people, as they seem to view the living being they are dumping as a disposable item, worth no more than an empty soda can. Others I’ve seen have surrendered their dog when all other options have been exhausted or when they realize that doing so is actually best for the dog.  These are the people I respect. 

Several instances come to mind in regard to people who, putting their own desires aside, looked at what was best for the dog and made a heart-wrenching decision to part with their animals.  I mentioned one such instance in my blog titled Guardians, where I convinced a woman who had a DUI conviction and was going to spend a year in jail to surrender her dog.  Through the thick glass of the visiting center at the jail, I remember asking her to honestly tell me how well cared for would the dogs be while she was gone.  Her uncertainty led me to make her a promise, which I kept -- that if the dogs were surrendered, I would personally ensure that they went to a good home.  They did.  The woman could have insisted that the dogs be fostered so she could take them back when her sentence was complete but she didn’t.  I think she realized that she would be in no position financially, nor would she have a home, to properly care for the dogs once she was released.

A similar situation didn’t involve jail but did involve a man who struggled for many years with alcoholism.  The man lived by himself with an amazing young male Rottweiler, named J.W., who was getting into trouble with neighbors and local authorities. I won’t detail the long story of how I came to meet J.W.’s owner, but I can share that circumstances became so bad that I made the decision to try to convince the man to surrender his dog.  The reality was he needed to give up his dog or law enforcement would become involved, limiting J.W.’s options for finding a home. You see, the man was entering a yearlong, court-ordered rehab program and he wouldn’t be able to care for the dog and he didn’t know of anyone who could take J.W. I remember being with the man as he stood outside his truck, sobbing for an hour.  He loved that dog more than life itself.  Finally, in a moment of clarity, the man handed me J.W.’s leash. 

J.W.

I share these stories for a reason.  Several years after I convinced the woman in the jail to surrender her dogs, I ran into her at the animal shelter where she was volunteering.  I didn’t recognize her but she knew me.  When she reminded me of who she was I was concerned she would be angry about having to surrender her dogs, but it was just the opposite.  She, instead, thanked me for taking her dogs. Knowing they were safe and happy was a comfort to her and she had been clean and sober since that day in the jail’s visitor center.  

The same happened with J.W.’s owner, or more specifically, with his wife.  It was at least three years after the day J.W. was surrendered to Big Sky Rottweiler Rescue, and I was at the post office and, as is normal for me, I had my dogs in the car. A lady parked next to my car and smiled at the massive Rottweiler heads looking toward the building, waiting for my return. When she came into the post office she asked if the car was mine and if I was involved with rescue. I said yes and introduced myself.  It was then that she told me she was married to J.W.’s former owner.  Again I was concerned about her reaction, but just as before, there were no hard feelings toward me, only thanks.  The man had sobered up, was now married to her, and had even became an elder at a local church.  He had shared all the details about J.W. and I with her which is why she asked if I did rescue. We chatted for a bit, and before I left I asked that she pass a message on to her husband.  My message was that he had made the right choice.  J.W. had been adopted by the family that had fostered him for BSRR and he shared his home with a cat and another Rottweiler.  As hard as it had been for the man, I wanted him to know that he had made the right decision.

The common theme in both of these stories is that both owners struggled against something they couldn’t control without help and to get that help, they needed to surrender their dogs. The act of surrendering the dogs was so traumatic that I suspect it was a factor, even if only a small one, in their decision to make the changes in their lives so that they would never experience that pain again.  I know for me, I make many sacrifices to ensure my dogs have a good life.  No I don’t buy them bottled water or feed them gourmet food, but I do want to make sure they are loved and cared for.  If I was making choices in my life that risked that care, or worse, resulted in me having to give up my dogs, then I would do everything I could to change myself and my situation to avoid repeating that. I’m thankful that the two people mentioned above, did just that.

These people made the tough call to surrender their animals because it was best for the dog even though it was emotionally painful for them as the owners.  Do the dogs miss their owners after surrendered? Absolutely! However, if there is one thing I’ve learned in rescue, it is that dogs are amazingly resilient animals.  They can transition into new, loving homes much more easily than people realize.  What is even more amazing is that, even in their new homes, they never forget their former owners.  That bond cannot be broken.

So, when people say they would never give up their dog, I believe they should rethink such a statement.  Having had many medical issues in my life, I know that if I learned I was terminally ill with some malady, the first thing on my mind would be to ensure that my dogs would be cared for.  If that meant surrendering them to a good home in advance of my demise, then all the better.  As much as it would hurt me, it would be what is best for my dogs.  You see, I’ve had several dogs that came from such situations and my current boy, Bradum, is one of those dogs.  Bradum’s family was forced to move from Montana to Florida in order to try to find work.  The family knew that it would be hard to find a place to rent in Florida that allowed dogs and it would be nearly impossible to do so with a one hundred twenty pound Rottweiler.  Feeling that Bradum would have a better chance of finding a good home here in the Montana region, they surrendered him to BSRR.  I can’t imagine the pain such an act caused them but I respect their decision. Though I don’t know who they are, I hope they know that they made the right choice.  They never said never to the idea of giving up their pets. 

Handsome Bradum

It often comes down to making those hard choices, the ones we said we could never do. Like facing the tough call to euthanize an old, sick dog or one that is aggressive beyond rehabilitation, or surrendering a dog to a rescue because the situation would actually be worse for the dog if one were to keep it. Sometimes the very thing we swore we would never do is actually the best thing to do if we consider what is best for the dog.

I will always respect the person who makes such a difficult decision as much as I respect the person that will invest everything they can so they can keep their dog.  That is why I, and other members of BSRR, offer free training advice to people in our region and have even provided dog food to people who have fallen on hard times.  If a dog has behavior issues that might result in the dog being surrendered or people simply can’t afford to feed the dog while between jobs, then as a rescue organization, it is our duty to do everything we can to allow them to keep their dog. However, if all else fails, we respect the homes that have exhausted all options and make the call to surrender their pet.  God knows we all may face such a choice though I pray none of us will.  But if we do, think about the dog and do what is best for them.

As a side note, if you ever find yourself at a point where you feel you need to surrender a dog, please, please, please, don’t wait until the last minute to contact a shelter or rescue organization.  The more time you can allow for space to be made or a home found, then the better for all involved.

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.  There you can purchase my first novel, Stranger’s Dance.  

The Joy of a Ball

If the information provided to Big Sky Rottweiler Rescue is correct, then my boy Bradum is now over ten-years-old.  For a Rottweiler this is very old.  Yet, looking at him, you would hardly know it.  Besides some grey around the muzzle, an arthritic limp when he walks, and a slower pace than he once had, he appears as fit and vibrant as a dog half his age, especially when there is a tug rope or a big rubber ball involved. 

Every day after I get home from work, Bradum and Carly excitedly ask to be let into the backyard and, no, not to relieve themselves. They are hell-bent on one thing and that is a big rubber ball with a rope attached to it.  Carly will grab the ball while Bradum latches onto the rope and the show begins.  Growls and prancing are all part of the spectacle as they show off their skills of tug.  This lasts for ten to fifteen minutes before they either tire or Carly’s stomach reminds her that it is dinner time.  Either way, for those few minutes, Bradum acts nothing like his age should imply. 

The daily ritual of full contact tug with my crew

 The other day was no exception.  Both dogs were engaged in full contact tug when Bradum broke away to run to me for some affection.  This wasn’t because he loves me, well, perhaps a little.  Rather, this is a common trick he uses, as he knows Carly is a very jealous creature.  Sure enough, Carly saw me giving Bradum attention and left the ball to sprint over and push herself between Bradum and me.  This is exactly what Bradum was hoping for.  Like a rocket, he fired off toward the ball as fast as his one hundred and twenty pounds could accelerate.  As he got to the ball he tried to stop and grab it with his mouth, only to go tumbling past it.  I watched in horror as he hit the ground with his side and rolled completely over.  To my relief, Bradum didn’t even miss a beat as he rolled back up to his feet and snatched the ball in joy, triumphantly sprinting past Carly and me.  Carly, accepting the challenge, darted after him to reengage the tug-of-war.  I shook my head in disbelief and knew I would need to give Bradum his anti-inflammatory medicine after he ate -- he would surely feel his tumble later.  Sure enough, when we took our final walk of the evening, my big old dog could barely keep up, his joy at getting the ball having come with a price after all.

In reality, I wonder if Bradum, or any old dog, knows that there will be painful consequences from playing so hard, and if they do, if they even care.  That potential ignorance is something I admire in dogs at times: ignorance of consequences to life’s pleasures, ignorance of the limitations of age, and ignorance of mortality.  As humans we are not so fortunate to be oblivious during our limited time here.  We are all-too-familiar with the harsh reality that death will come to us all.  Oh to be a dog, to just be aware of the moment, the simple pleasures of a meal, the chase of a rabbit, quiet time with someone you love, or an old chewed up rubber ball. This lesson, that we should, at times, be like dogs and just enjoy the simple things in life was first taught to me by a Rottweiler named Chaos, and later on by her owner, Nancy. 

I met my friend Nancy a few years after I started Big Sky Rottweiler Rescue.  Both being Rottweiler owners, we became fast friends, and she soon volunteered at the shelter I worked with, going almost every day for many years, before she moved to Spokane with her husband and Chaos.  Chaos, her Rottweiler, lived up to her name. Full of energy and excitement, she was a real joy to know.  One of her favorite toys was a big red ball.  Ever the puppy, even at eleven-years-old and sore from the final stages of bone cancer, she would still play with her red ball.  If she didn’t have the energy to play, she would just lay in the grass with her ball, happy, content, and seemingly unaware of her fate to come.  Nancy though, was all-too-aware.  She, herself, was suffering from liver cancer.  When Chaos finally passed, Nancy sent me a picture of the dog with her ball to put on the memorial section of BSRR’s website.  With it, she included these words about her faithful companion:

“…She lived for the moment and didn't worry about whether playing was going to cause stiffness and pain later. Her sheer joy at finding that silly red ball was a sight to see. ...She taught me a lot with that red ball.”

Chaos and her red ball

For several years after Chaos’ death, Nancy fought her own cancer.  Each time I saw her, she had a smile even though I knew she was struggling.  Even with the pain and knowledge of what was to come, Nancy tried to focus on the simple pleasures of life.  For her, one of her favorites was volunteering at the local animal shelter. She told me that the animals just seemed to know that she wasn’t well.  The dogs that would normally drag the staff and other volunteers would walk calmly next to her, as though aware of the fact that she didn’t have the strength to hold them back. The times she didn’t have the energy to walk them, she would simply enter their kennels and sit on the floor.  The dogs would come and lay their heads on her lap and let her pet them, giving back the comfort and love that she had given to so many of the animals during her lifetime.  To some, this simple task is meaningless in the big picture of life, but to Nancy it was a true pleasure, and she kept doing it as long as her body allowed.

On March 14, 2013, at fifty-two-years of age, Nancy W. Freeman met the end that we all must face.  I still think of her smile and our political disagreements, but most dear to my heart is my memory of her love of animals, especially a Rottweiler named Chaos who enjoyed the joy of a simple red ball.

My friend Nancy, her dog Copper, and I in 2012

Watching my boy Bradum get older, I know that the time is drawing near when I will have to say goodbye to him like I have with so many other dogs in my life, and many friends.  What I wouldn’t give to be spared of the knowledge and foreboding of things to come. How wonderful it would be to live like a dog, unaware of life’s finite length.  Then again, are they unaware?  Upon the passing of dogs in my home, I’ve seen the remaining dogs act somber and even respectful of the one that has died, grieving as though they knew full-well what had happened.  Perhaps they are not as unaware as they seem.  Perhaps, just perhaps, they know more about dying that we do, and conversely, about living.  The Bible teaches that all creation longs in expectation to be made new by its Creator.  Perhaps that is why dogs do not fret about the end, and they, instead, enjoy the time their Creator has blessed them with, even if that is as simple a thing as playing with a big rubber ball.

Bradum and his ball

Nancy’s dedication and love for animals was part of the inspiration for the character of Abby in my novel, Stranger’s Dance.  To order a copy, click here or go to my website at www.troykechely.com. 

Guardians

Something happened the other day that not only reminded me of a particularly strong trait in Rottweilers but also made me thankful for that same trait, protectiveness.  When I taught classes on canine behavior and handling, I categorized canine behaviors into three instinctive categories: pack, predatory, and fear.  I counted the innate protective behavior drives under the pack category and labeled them as protection of pack members and of territory.  These behaviors are rooted in the time when a pack of wild dogs or wolves needed both territory and healthy pack members in order to survive.  The need to protect these elements was very real.  Now, through selective breeding, certain instinctive behaviors have been suppressed or enhanced in many breeds.  For Rottweilers, that protective instinct was enhanced given their duties of protecting livestock and, later, as military and law enforcement K-9’s.  What I love about Rottweilers is that, with proper training and socialization, they have a wait and see attitude when it comes to potential threats, but once they perceive someone to be a threat they are all in and will stop at nothing to protect those they love. 

Griz (back) and Belle on guard duty

I’ve had several Rottweilers who exhibited high levels of this behavior, and the most commonly protective were females, interestingly enough.  Belle came to me protection trained, so it really was no surprise that she had this drive within her. Given that all my dogs are rescues, however, I’m rarely privy to their past training or breeding.  Carly is one such example. Having come to me through Big Sky Rottweiler Rescue (BSRR) after being pulled from a high kill shelter in California, Carly arrived with a lot of baggage.  One thing I was sure of, though, was that she had a high protection drive.  This was proved true just the other day at my mom’s house.  On occasion I leave my dogs with my mom when I can’t be home to let them out.  This is great for me as I don’t have to worry about them being cared for while I work or travel.  It also gives me comfort knowing that when people come to their house, there might or might not be two Rottweilers present.  Given that my folks live out of town I like knowing that the dogs are there, but the question of whether they will act protectively or not is always in the back of my mind.  My mom has often wondered the very same.  Well, mom got her answer the other day. 

Now, both Bradum and Carly are very vocal when people come to the house, whether my house or my parents’, and they make sure anyone approaching is aware that there are two large dogs present.  Once the door is opened, both are typically all wiggles at the joyful expectation of a visitor.  Bradum usually runs off to retrieve his rope to play tug, and Carly sniffs the guest before antagonizing Bradum so they can show off for the guest. Not this time.  My stepdad was out in the backyard when the dogs went ballistic at the den window as a large man approached the house.   Mom, always keeping the screen door locked, opened the main door at the sound of the doorbell. The man was over six feet tall, wearing baggy clothes, and had a rag and bottle of window cleaner that he was supposedly trying to sell.  Now, the moment the door was opened, Carly went from the standard warning barks to full on, ‘I’m going to rip you to shreds’ behavior.  Bradum, the gentle soul that he is, stood behind mom, not sure what to do.  Mom tried to get Carly to settle down by giving her the ‘Phooey’ command, which means ‘don’t do that’, but unlike normal situations, Carly ignored my mom and only intensified her behavior. As Carly repeatedly showed the man her teeth with every bark, mom lowered the glass of the screen door a bit and heard the man’s somewhat nervous sales pitch, all accompanied by Carly’s barks and growls.  Mom told the man they weren’t interested, and the man looked relieved at the rejection as he turned to leave. 

When I picked up the dogs later that day, my mom shared about the incident, and I immediately asked if they let the man in. She said they hadn’t because she didn’t feel comfortable given how Carly was acting. I praised both my mom and Carly at that point, confirming to my mom that she should trust the dogs.  If they trigger on someone then there is a reason. I’ve worked hard to socialize Carly, and anyone that knows us understands that even though she came to me with major issues, she has become a very stable, intelligent companion.  With the exception of being hyper-protective of the car, she is typically great when people visit, the worst being a few barks if she doesn’t know the guest.  As a result, I know that if she triggered to that extent then there had to have been a reason.  One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned in working with dogs for all these years is that you trust your dog; they sense things through smell and body language that we can’t detect.  Mom learned that lesson and said she now knows that if there was ever a problem, Carly would protect her.  For me that is a very comforting thought, especially after having shared the story with a friend in law enforcement. He told me that they were having a problem with similar scams where the “salespeople” targeted the elderly and would force their way into the home with the intent of theft of prescription medicines among other items. My friend, also a Rottweiler owner, said that Carly had good instincts. I have to agree.

Carly and Bradum, my current guardians.

This incident reminded me of other examples of Rottweilers playing the role of guardians.  One such occurrence involved me having to convince a woman to surrender her two Rottweilers after she was in jail for multiple DUI convictions. Succeeding in that, I arranged for a foster home in Livingston, Montana to which I could take the two dogs, both of whom were rather aggressive.  When they arrived, it was found that both dogs had logging chains around their necks and once removed, the dogs’ behavior improved markedly. The dogs settled into their temporary home, but after a few weeks there the woman who was fostering them experienced a scary incident.  She woke in the middle of the night to the sounds of screams and growls.  As she turned on the lights, she saw her drunk ex-husband being attacked by the older Rottweiler.  The man, who had a restraining order against him, had broken into her house and was making his way to her bedroom when the older Rottweiler attacked him.  The moment the light came on, both dog and man froze, and the dog looked back at the woman as if she was looking for direction.  The woman, realizing what was going on, cried out, “Well don’t stop, keep biting him!”

The dog, as if trained its entire life for this single purpose, knew exactly what she was supposed to do, and reattached herself to the man’s leg as the woman called the police.  The man tried to flee but was arrested, and the dog was given a lot of praise and treats for preventing what could have been a terrible situation.

Another instance of Rottweiler guardians happened a few years after I started BSRR. Years of owning and working with Rottweilers caused me to develop a knack for spotting a Rottie from a great distance.  I don’t know what it is, but something about a Rottweiler would grab my focus.  This, I learned, was not abnormal for an owner of a Rottweiler, but rather one of the side effects of this wonderful breed.

It was with this talent that I picked up the habit of remembering where I saw every Rottweiler -- what house it was at, or what vehicle it was in.  One place, in particular, happened to be along the interstate west of Bozeman.  Just past the small town of Manhattan, on the south side of I-90, sat a nice two-story house.  The place was well kept, and I assumed one of the occupants was a truck driver as I had seen semi-trucks parked there on occasion.  Yet, it was not the trucks that drew my attention each time I drove by.  Often there were two Rottweilers patrolling the property.  There was no fence around the house, and the frontage road was rarely traveled, as it dead-ends at a farm field only a few miles past the house.  I never saw the dogs outside of their property, and both looked to be in good condition and well cared for.  Though I have never met these dogs and certainly didn’t know their names, they taught me much about the breed during my brief observations as I drove by at seventy-five miles per hour. 

Oftentimes, the two Rotties would be laying on the east side of the house.  Their large black bodies sprawled out in the sun, caring nothing about the cars passing by.  One time I drove by and could see a lady standing in the doorway talking to another woman or girl (I couldn’t tell the age) who was sitting on the front lawn.  It all looked straightforward enough until I realized that the lady sitting down was reclined against a Rottweiler that was sound asleep behind her.  The scene was a snapshot of one of the gentler and less publicized aspects of this versatile breed. 

On another occasion I was blessed with a similar snapshot into these two dogs’ lives. It was a nice summer day, and I was heading east on the interstate after visiting a friend in a town about ten miles west of there.  A little less than a half mile from the house, in the back yard, I noticed a small child flying up into the air and then back down. Similarly, another small child would fly up into the air and fall down again.  I wondered what the heck was going on.  As I got closer I saw that two young kids were jumping up and down on a trampoline, having fun as kids should.  I looked for the dogs, as my truck was almost at the house, but I couldn’t see them.  I strained to find the dogs, all the while keeping my truck on the road.  Driving past the house, I looked to the back side and finally spotted them.   On a small grass covered mound, just to the side of the trampoline, were the black and tan canines.  Both were lying down in the pose of the Sphinx: bodies straight and alert but heads high and focused.  Their gazes were fixated on the children.  At that moment I realized those two kids were likely the safest children in the county --their guardians were there.  Who would dare approach the children and try to inflict harm? 

I drove on, glancing in my rearview mirror until I could see them no longer.  It was that image, the fleeting glimpse of those kids and their protectors, that defined what Rottweilers are, at least to me anyway.  They are our friends and companions, clowns and entertainers, confidants and helpers.  But above all else, they are our guardians.  The guardians of not only our family and homes, but also of our hearts. 

My girl, Mickey, was always on duty as a guardian

The guardian instincts of dogs were a key part of the character, Stranger, in my novel, Stranger’s Dance. To order a copy, click here or go to my website at www.troykechely.com

For information about Big Sky Rottweiler Rescue, go to www.bigskyrottrescue.org.