Jasmine, locked in a sort of living rigor mortis, lay where she was placed, silent and motionless. Stirling had heard from others that many of the dogs peed or puked on their car rides home, but Jasmine did none of that. Stirling would"ve preferred a few body fluids-any signs of life-to the otherwise catatonic state Jasmine displayed.
When the couple reached their suburban home, in a cul-de-sac at the bottom of a hill, they lifted Jasmine out and carried her into the backyard, where she remained motionless. Then Stirling brought out her other three dogs: Rogue, a Lab mix; Sophie, a blind fifteen-year-old c.o.c.ker spaniel; and Reymundo, a shepherd mix. While Stirling held Jasmine"s leash she introduced the new housemates one by one. To Catalina"s surprise, Jasmine stirred.
She perked up. Her whole body changed, became more relaxed. She stood. Her legs were bent, her back hunched, and her head and tail lowered, but she was up. She walked a little. She sniffed at the other dogs. She was suddenly, and literally, if only in the smallest way, animated. Stirling had found the moment hopeful, although she had to admit she had no idea how the Jasmine experiment would turn out.
A lifelong dog lover, Catalina had grown up in Argentina, where the family"s German shepherd, Malebo, would walk with her to school every morning, then take himself home after she went inside. At sixteen she moved to the States and studied painting in college. Afterward she was looking for a job to pay the bills while she worked on her art when she stumbled upon an opening at the Washington, D.C., Humane Society. If she had to work at a real job, she might as well do something that allowed her to be close to animals. For better or worse, the position was in the Society"s abuse and neglect division, and working with dogs and cats that had been mistreated or ignored became much more than a job. It was an emotional roller coaster.
After two years, Stirling was burned out, so she left to manage a doggie day care, moving from the world of injured and forgotten animals to the universe of pampered pets. It was an interesting contrast, but one Catalina did not study long; a year later she and Davor relocated to San Francisco. In California, Stirling started her own dog-walking and pet-sitting business. Every day it was just her and seven or eight dogs. As if that wasn"t enough canine time, she also began volunteering with a rescue group. The doggy-filled hours were wonderful, but three years later she became pregnant, and she and Davor decided to move back East to be close to family.
They packed their four dogs in the car and drove across the country. When motherhood arrived, in the form of a son, Nino, it was gratifying and lovely, but it did not quell Catalina"s drive to work with dogs. She began volunteering in the Baltimore City Shelter. There, she met the people who ran a rescue group called Recycled Love, and she began working with them, too.
Over ten years of caring for animals, she had been involved with hundreds of dogs and had developed a special keenness for taking on the hardest cases. For a time she had a German shepherd with aggression issues and she spent a lot time studying what caused such problems and how to alleviate them. She had nursed several scared and shut-down dogs back to a state of stability and happiness. She had seen a lot, although she had never seen anything as bad as Jasmine.
There was a room in Catalina"s bas.e.m.e.nt, finished and tidy with a big window that let in a lot of sunlight. She painted it a calming blue color and set a roomy dog crate on the floor. She filled the crate with soft blankets and a toy or two. Then she placed Jasmine inside, the way one might place a vase on a table or a clock on the mantel.
The dog would not walk into the crate on her own, and she hardly moved once she was inside. She simply lay in one spot and stared out at the world around her, stared at Stirling. It didn"t matter if Catalina left the door open or closed, stayed or left, brought the other dogs in or kept them away. Jasmine stayed put-not flinching, not stretching, not even, it seemed, blinking.
For the first few days the dog would not drink or eat, at all. Finally, Stirling simply left bowls of food and water just outside the crate and left the room, closing the door behind her. Only then would Jasmine inch out of her vault and partake.
Four or five times a day, Stirling picked Jasmine up and carried her outside. As always, the dog went rigid at the touch, and Catalina hauled her like a FedEx delivery to the yard. She put Jasmine down on the gra.s.s, and the dog lay motionless, staring at her. Only after Stirling backed away, went inside, and closed the door would Jasmine get up and relieve herself. Then she would skulk across the yard to a hole in the ground she"d found. She would crawl down into the hole and resume her frozen vigil, staring out at the world around her like a statue.
When she was not outside, she spent almost all her time in the crate. Although the door was almost always left open, Jasmine never ventured out. Whenever Stirling came in, the dog would stare at her with an intensity that was unnerving. Anywhere Catalina went in the room, anything she did, Jasmine fixed her with a steady gaze. There was nothing threatening about it-as always the dog kept her head down-but it was inescapable and unchanging.
In the evenings, Catalina would go into the room, put on a soft light, play soothing music, and simply sit near the crate. She was hoping to help Jasmine decompress and relax and to start forming a bond. She would offer treats and toys, but as always Jasmine was unmoved. If Catalina tried to pet Jasmine, the dog would tremble. Jasmine just stared. Every time Stirling looked over, all she saw were those eyes, and she came to think of the dog as two brown circles boring into her. When Jasmine stared like that her ears were perked up, and the bent one asked, what, when, why? what, when, why?
Catalina was beginning to have some questions of her own. Perhaps it came from all the years working with dogs, but she had developed an inner sense, an almost animal instinct, that she followed unerringly. When she had first gone to see Jasmine at WARL, she had not a.n.a.lyzed the prospect of taking the dog. She hadn"t weighed the potential impact on her family or what the odds of actually helping the dog might be. She simply felt it. Deep within her she felt that she wanted to help. She needed to help. And she had gone with that feeling.
Now, though, the first shades of doubt occasionally flashed through her mind. Had she been wrong? The stakes were high. Just because many of the Vick dogs were in foster homes, it didn"t mean they were home free. Each dog was officially undergoing a six-month period of observation, and it was still a possibility that any dog could be deemed dangerous or mentally unstable to the point that its status might change. The powers that be could determine that any given dog might have to be moved from a home to a sanctuary or might even have to be euthanized. Already, BAD RAP had voluntarily sent one dog, Mya, to Best Friends because she proved too damaged for the outside world.
Catalina was determined to keep anything like that from happening to Jasmine, but she knew that if the dog continued to struggle, hard questions would follow. She never had any illusions that it would be easy, that it would be anything but a long, difficult process requiring patience and will, but it had been four weeks and the dog was still lost in the woods of southern Virginia. Catalina did not know if Jasmine would ever make it out of there.
Despite the lack of progress, Stirling continued to follow her instincts. She may have wondered if Jasmine would ever reach the hoped-for state of recovery, but she never questioned her decision to take Jasmine in.
Catalina considered what she had to work with. The one thing that had any noticeable effect on Jasmine were the other dogs. By now, Catalina was certain it was safe to let Jasmine mingle with her other pets. She"d observed them together many times and she could sense that Jasmine would not attempt to harm them. She could see that Jasmine needed other dogs. Jasmine had grown up in a world of animals and she felt safer and more comfortable among her own kind.
By following her instincts Catalina was about to tap into a very powerful influence of dog behavior, the pack instinct. Canine motivations can be broken into a few key areas: survival, food, and companionship. Survival includes the drive to find shelter, procreate, and defend oneself, which comes in the form of fight-or-flight instincts. In that regard, Jasmine had established her crate as a den and since she had been spayed there was no procreative drive. In the fight-or-flight equation she"d clearly given up the fight and that was not a bad thing; it was the constant state of flight or withdrawal that had to be undone. The food drive includes not just eating, but any behavior a.s.sociated with hunting or gathering food, and while Jasmine did consistently eat, she wouldn"t come out of her crate when someone was around and she never displayed the sort of tracking and chasing behavior a.s.sociated with hunting, which indicated that she was not very deeply moved by those instincts. The companionship drive reflects the need dogs have to integrate themselves into a social order, the pack. Catalina could see that this instinct was still strong in Jasmine.
In the yard with Rogue, Sophie, and Reymundo, Jasmine continued to show her only signs of life. She interacted with them, sniffing and walking and occasionally rubbing up against them. Moreover, she looked like a different dog during these times. She was more relaxed and comfortable and seemed almost normal.
Stirling needed to use this to her advantage. Jasmine was now on a pretty steady schedule. She got food in the morning, which as always, she ate in solitude. Every two hours Stirling would carry Jasmine out to the yard, where she would pee and then sit in the hole in the ground. In the evenings Catalina would feed her again and then sit with her, playing soft music. At night she would let all three dogs out together in the yard.
Jasmine always had a leash dragging behind her, and one night Stirling put leashes on the other dogs, too. She held these leashes as the dogs walked in the yard, and when Jasmine went to join them, Catalina picked up Jasmine"s leash in the other hand.
Jasmine stopped and looked back at her. She looked at the other dogs, sniffing their way across the yard. Jasmine seemed to be weighing her options. She wanted to walk with the other dogs, but she was nervous about the leash and Stirling"s proximity.
After a moment she moved forward. She walked with the other dogs. She went a few steps, then stopped and lay down, frozen again. Stirling dropped the leash and Jasmine went straight to her hole in the ground. It was over in an instant, but it had been something new. Something to build on.
The next night Stirling repeated the process and again Jasmine walked a few steps with the other dogs while Catalina held the leash. She kept at it each night until she could take all three dogs on short walks around the yard.
It wasn"t much, but it was progress, and Stirling would take whatever she could get. It had been nearly two months now and nothing else had changed with Jasmine. She still would not eat with anyone in the room. She shook when Stirling came near, had to be carried outside and in-stiff and petrified-and would not be touched. Everything scared her. Voices from upstairs, footsteps anywhere, would set Jasmine to trembling. Stirling had never had so much trouble earning a dog"s trust, but the success in the yard gave her new hope.
She redoubled her efforts, using the other dogs to buy Jasmine"s trust however she could. Every night when she played the soft music, she would bring the other dogs in the room and simply sit, petting the other dogs and relaxing. From the safety of her crate Jasmine watched, unmoving, those intense eyes burning into Stirling.
Stirling took to bribery, too. From time to time she"d randomly pop her head in the door of Jasmine"s room and throw a treat across the floor. The dog would never move to retrieve the snack while she was there, but when she came back later it was always gone. Still, Jasmine did nothing to acknowledge it. Most dogs would recognize the routine and send some sort of signal-a tail wag, a yawn, a snout lick, something-to show their appreciation, but Jasmine offered nothing, just those two brown eyes, shining out of the crate.
The second month pa.s.sed and so did the third. It was the same thing every day, over and over. Breakfast, dinner, hauling in and out. Jasmine sitting in the crate. Alone. Staring. Jasmine sitting in the hole in the yard. She interacted a little with the other dogs, she took her short walk on the leash, she stared out from the crate as Stirling and the other dogs sat in the soft light.
Something had to give.
30.
ON HIS SECOND DAY with Jonny Rotten, Cris Cohen was up at 6:45. Jonny had slept quietly through the night and Cohen was happy to see that he hadn"t had any accidents in the crate. By 7:00 they had negotiated the stairs and were out on the street. Jonny was excited and scattered, but better than he had been on the first day. He still jumped from side to side, and he alternated between stopping short and pulling forward, but he wasn"t tying up Cohen in knots. with Jonny Rotten, Cris Cohen was up at 6:45. Jonny had slept quietly through the night and Cohen was happy to see that he hadn"t had any accidents in the crate. By 7:00 they had negotiated the stairs and were out on the street. Jonny was excited and scattered, but better than he had been on the first day. He still jumped from side to side, and he alternated between stopping short and pulling forward, but he wasn"t tying up Cohen in knots.
As they walked, Cohen started to get an idea of what Jonny did and didn"t like. He was very interested in people and wanted to say h.e.l.lo to everyone they pa.s.sed. He didn"t seem to care much about dogs. Garbage trucks were a definite dislike. The first one they pa.s.sed sent Jonny scrambling in three directions at once, eyes popping, head swiveling, nails scratching against the concrete in an effort to escape. He didn"t seem to know where he wanted to go, but he didn"t want to stick around.
Cohen felt sorry for the little guy and tried to calm him, but he also had to fight back a chuckle. In his moment of uncoordinated panic, Jonny reminded Cris of s...o...b.. Doo. Whenever s...o...b.. saw a ghost (which happened with alarming frequency), he would go into a leg-spinning, head-twisting retreat accompanied by the cartoon sound effects of speedy footsteps, klonks, bonks, crashes, and breaking gla.s.s. Out on the sidewalks of San Francisco, Jonny had just gone totally s...o...b...
It wouldn"t be the last time that day. Everything was new to him, and while he spent 85 percent of the walk wagging his tail as he explored, the other 15 percent included less happy interactions with the real world. Still, they made it to the Lawton School, a small building two blocks away, before turning for home. As they paused in front of the school Jonny looked up at Cohen with his head tilted. A tall, wide set of stairs led up to the building"s front door, and Jonny seemed to be asking, "Do I have to go up those?"
When Cohen ignored the steps and turned for home the little dog pulled ahead of him, crossing back and forth as he went so that Cris stumbled comically over the leash.
After his big morning adventure Jonny had the day to relax in his crate, chewing on a few toys and basking in the sun. But when Cohen came home at 5:00 P.M., it was back to work. This time they walked through Golden Gate Park, a place full of dogs. Sure enough, they had hardly entered the park when one approached. The dog seemed like it wanted to come over and Cohen wasn"t sure how Jonny would react. He made sure to place himself between Jonny and the other dog. As it pa.s.sed, Jonny looked over but seemed to have little interest. Jonny knew it was a dog; he saw it, but he didn"t care. The pattern repeated itself several times with other dogs and each time the result was the same.
This was great news, and it made Cohen feel positive about Jonny"s long-term prospects. Sure, the little guy was scattered and scared and full of misdirected energy, but he was people-friendly and had no interest in messing with other dogs.
As Cohen reflected on these things, he felt a sudden jolt in his shoulder. A crow was hopping along the ground just off the path. Yes, Jonny was fine with dogs, but he wanted a piece of that bird like n.o.body"s business. How many times had a big black menace like this one teased him from the trees while Jonny was chained up in the woods? Cohen had no idea, but he made a mental note. Crows: not a fan.
After a nice dinner, Jonny retreated to his crate. He was wiped out, and by 7:30 he"d crashed. The house filled with the sound of his sweet little snores.
Jonny and Cris were out by 6:00 A.M. the next day. Cohen had started to work with Jonny on heeling and the little guy was getting the hang of the leash, so they made more progress, marching right past the school and on to Sunset Playground. A set of bleachers stood next to a field, and Cohen took Jonny over to check it out. Cohen looked up at the long row of steps. He looked at the dog. It was worth a try, he thought.
Maybe it was the open-air setting. Maybe it was that there were few distractions, but Jonny went up and down those stairs without a problem. For the first time, Jonny seemed a little more focused and Cohen figured that the steady exercise was helping settle him.
But Cris had to work a little late that night and when he got home at 6:00, Jonny was a ball of energy. On their walk, Jonny was hyper. He scrambled around and he jumped up and down so steadily that Cris felt as if he were walking down the street dribbling a basketball. At the playground the sound of screaming children distracted him and made him uneasy, as did the wind, and the cars and the crunching leaves underfoot. As well as Jonny had done that morning, he was equally unfocused that night.
Not all was lost, though. At dinnertime Cohen had begun hand-feeding Jonny. Cris sat on the floor with his legs stretched before him in a vee. Jonny stood in between Cohen"s legs. Cris asked Jonny to sit, showing the dog how when he didn"t seem to understand. Every time Jonny sat on command, he got a piece of food. And so they went each night, piece by piece, through one cup of kibble, reinforcing the sit sit command. command.
This was more than a matter of good manners. Dogs that are raised the way Jonny and the rest of the Vick dogs had been grow up very reactive to external stimuli. They see a bird they want to chase, they chase it. They hear a sound they don"t like, they run. Teaching them even the most basic commands, like sit sit and and stay stay, forces them to tune into their internal voice, especially when those commands are paired with rewards such as food or affection.
Suddenly the dog has to make a choice. In the past he would have simply thought, I smell food, and I want it, so I should just find it and eat it. I smell food, and I want it, so I should just find it and eat it. Now, he had to consider an alternative: Now, he had to consider an alternative: If I wait, and do what is asked, I"ll get the food, plus positive reinforcement, and more food. Good things happen to me when I listen to the inside voice rather than simply following my impulses. If I wait, and do what is asked, I"ll get the food, plus positive reinforcement, and more food. Good things happen to me when I listen to the inside voice rather than simply following my impulses. Teaching a dog like Jonny to sit is actually reprogramming his thought process. Teaching a dog like Jonny to sit is actually reprogramming his thought process.
The dog may have been a bit scattered during his walk, but Jonny focused during dinner and did a great job learning to sit. He even continued to sit on command after the food was gone, even though the only rewards were hugs and pats on the head.
The affection riled him quickly and the undirected energy was back. Cohen had begun to clean the kitchen and when two pots clanged together, Jonny went totally s...o...b... Cohen put him back in his crate to help him settle down and before long, Jonny"s now familiar little snores filled the air.
On the fourth day, Jen returned from a business trip. Cris had been taking care of both dogs, Jonny and Lilly, while Jen was gone. Since the two were not allowed to interact yet, the routine included separate walks and feedings and playtime for each. With Jen back, the workload could be split up and the four of them could do things as a group. For the evening walk, the quartet set off together, Jen and Lilly leading the way, Cris and Jonny following a few paces behind.
Jonny seemed to like this. He walked in heel without the usual amount of pulling. Cris worked with him on sitting at the park and Jonny did it a few times, even though he wasn"t being bought off with food. On the way home, Jonny paused in front of the school, checking out the stairs that led up to the front door. It was only a few days earlier that they"d stood as an insurmountable obstacle. Now they didn"t seem so scary. A moment later Jonny was pulling Cohen up the steps. If he was s...o...b.. Doo at times-a flushing toilet had sent him scrambling earlier that day-he was Rocky Balboa now.
Jen walked Jonny for the first time the next day. The pooch was a little unnerved by this, but he did fine. Cris had never noticed it, but Jen observed that Jonny liked to pee on everything. Marking territory is normal behavior for dogs, but as far as Jen could tell, Jonny took it to an extreme. He also couldn"t pa.s.s the school anymore without bolting up the stairs. Having mastered the feat, he now seemed determined to show off.
But if Jonny was sometimes s...o...b.. Doo and sometimes Rocky, another alter ego was also emerging, Mr. s.p.u.n.ky. This guy often came out at night. Anytime anyone played with Jonny, or gave him lots of praise, he went from mellow to madman in sixty seconds. Jonny loved to rub his big square head against Cohen, but when he did he went bonkers with joy. He ran, he leaped into the air repeatedly, he did that crazy thing dogs do when they rub their b.u.t.t across the ground.
Usually, Cohen calmed him down by putting him in the crate. After he"d relaxed for while he would emerge more focused, and this was when his softer side came out, especially as he continued to decompress from shelter life. Cris and Jen learned that a good chest scratch would often be rewarded with a series of kisses. And that more than anything he liked to lie on the floor and play with his little fuzzy chew toy.
They grew to expect his soft snores when he drifted off.
On day ten, Cris and Jonny were back in the car and on the road, and Jonny was once again looking queasy. They were headed over the Bay Bridge when, almost as if he were feeling nostalgic, Jonny puked in his pen. Cohen groaned at the thought of the cleanup.
Their destination today was not Oakland but an empty parking lot in Berkeley. This was where BAD RAP held its weekly group training sessions. They were quite a sight: As many as fifty or sixty pit bulls could be there on any given week split into groups of ten or twelve and spread out across the rectangular lot.
Cohen was excited about the start of cla.s.s. For one thing, he wasn"t supposed to let Jonny interact with Lilly until he had gone through five cla.s.ses. The two dogs had continued to go on tandem walks, and from watching them in that situation, Cris knew the pair were interested in playing together, but he still had to keep them apart. They had even gone on one trip to the park with Melvin, the pit bull that Cris had fostered years before and that now lived in the neighborhood. Jonny had really seemed to love being part of a pack that day, and in the evening he and Lilly had lounged near each other in the backyard, feasting on rawhides.
He also felt that Jonny had made a lot of progress in the first week, and he was looking forward to showing the little guy off, especially to Tim Racer and Donna Reynolds, who would be there running the event. Jonny"s first triumph had been the stairs. The whole undertaking had required the generous deployment of treats, but Cohen had managed to get Jonny comfortable with the ups and downs of life on the outside. In addition, Jonny"s heel heel was coming along nicely, and he"d made measurable progress on was coming along nicely, and he"d made measurable progress on sit sit. Yes, he could still be jumpy and excitable, but he was ten times the dog now that he had been ten days earlier.
Cla.s.s, however, was a disaster.
Jonny was so wound up that he couldn"t concentrate on anything. There were new people all around, new dogs, new places, new things to pee on. He forgot or simply refused to do all the things he and Cohen had worked on. About the only thing he accomplished was walking in a circle, and by the end of the cla.s.s he could hardly do that. After an hour of commands and demands on his attention, Jonny was so fried that he half stumbled around the lot like a drunken sailor.
Tim and Donna told Cris that they knew how hard he was working and that it would all pay off down the road, but Cohen couldn"t help but be discouraged. As he got in the truck he felt as though all he had to show for his effort was a long drive home with a dog that would probably puke.
31.
THE WINDING TWO-LANE ROAD that leads to Best Friends Animal Sanctuary drops down into Angel Canyon, a sprawling valley in southern Utah surrounded by dramatic wind-carved cliffs that have been dyed red by the iron oxide within. People have lived here for ten thousand years and one-thousand-year-old petroglyphs dot the cliffs and ridges. that leads to Best Friends Animal Sanctuary drops down into Angel Canyon, a sprawling valley in southern Utah surrounded by dramatic wind-carved cliffs that have been dyed red by the iron oxide within. People have lived here for ten thousand years and one-thousand-year-old petroglyphs dot the cliffs and ridges.
The sanctuary has access to thirty-three thousand acres, and at any given time it plays host to almost two thousand animals, not just dogs and cats but horses, mules, goats, rabbits, and even pigs. In late December 2007, another twenty-two dogs arrived on the scene. It was the latest stop in a journey that had started at 1915 Moonlight Road. The group included many of the worst cases that had been recovered from Vick"s home.
As the vans arrived, the sanctuary staff unloaded the dogs into their new homes. The housing at Best Friends consists of a series of octagonal-shaped buildings that are designed to look like a typical suburban house. Inside, kennels radiate out from a central work area and those interior s.p.a.ces are connected by doggie doors to large exterior runs (ten feet by twenty feet), so the dogs can go in and out as they please. They"re large s.p.a.ces and typically two or three dogs live together in each kennel-run combo.
That was not possible with the Vick dogs; they needed to be housed separately. During the previous weeks, workers had placed large crates inside the kennels and subdivided the exterior runs, so that each dog would have its own crate and its own run, but it would not be able to go in and out unless someone transferred it from one place to the other. It wasn"t what the staff preferred, but it would have to do for now.
Two of the trainers had spent the previous two weeks in Virginia, providing the dogs with some companionship and getting to know them a bit. They were on hand now giving advice to the others. The sheer variety of canine personalities was notable. Some of the dogs stood in their pens ready to come out and meet the latest group of people looking to help them. Some barked and some sat patiently waiting. Others cowered in the backs of the pens, scared and uncertain.
One trainer approached a crate and lifted the name tag attached to the outside to read it: Little Red Hair. It was the same dog that Nicole Rattay had spent so much time with while in the shelters in southern Virginia. During Rattay"s six-week stint, Little Red had gone from a dog that was so scared she wouldn"t even come to the front of her kennel to eat treats and needed to be carried outside to the exercise area, to one that walked outside on her own, welcomed petting, and came to so enjoy the company of people that she would spend time hanging around the shelter office.
Now, as happened with so many of the dogs, the trip and the new surroundings had set her back. The trainer opened the crate and tried to coax Little Red into her arms, but the dog stayed anch.o.r.ed against the back wall. The trainer reached in and slid Little Red out, clipped a leash on her, and stood her up on the ground. She started to walk toward the closest building, encouraging the dog to follow, but Little Red stood frozen and then slowly sank to the ground. The trainer had to carry her inside and set her in her new home, a much bigger all-wire crate set in between two others.
The dogs were split between two of the octagonal buildings, and by the time they were all settled it was nighttime. The staff took each dog out for one last walk and then prepped them for sleep. As the dogs got comfortable, a few of the attendants pulled out cots, sleeping mats, and sleeping bags. They set these up in the center of the octagons or even inside the kennels. The dogs looked at them questioningly.
The sanctuary workers were doing what they considered to be part of their job: ensuring that the dogs were comfortable and getting the attention they needed. Some dogs were more active than others and they tried to split up the energetic ones, but they also had to be careful not to let the activity of a hyper dog hara.s.s one with fear issues. Through the night they continued to rearrange the dogs, trying to find the best combinations.
When morning came they got on to the real work.
The staff began evaluating each dog, finding out its strengths and weakness and setting individual goals for each. They also started charting every dog"s mental and emotional state on a scale of one to ten within six parameters: confidence, fear, energy, human interest, individual enrichment, happiness.
About half of the dogs were dealing with severe fear problems, Little Red among them. For most of the first week, she did little but hide in the back of her crate and bark at those who came to tend to her. She certainly did not lack attention. Best Friends had staffed up so that they had about one attendant for every five of the Vick dogs; the usual ratio averaged something like one person to fifteen or twenty dogs. There was at least one person with the dogs twenty-four hours a day.
One of the caregivers a.s.signed to Little Red"s area was Carissa Hendrick, who had left Best Friends a few years earlier to move to Maine. She came back just to work with the Vick dogs. During those early days she helped move Little Red through the daily routines-feedings, walks, outside time. Other than that, she hardly saw the dog. Whenever she was not otherwise occupied, Little Red hid in her house. From time to time Hendrick would see the dog"s head pop up for a quick look around, like a periscope breaking the surface of the ocean, and then disappear again.
Hendrick made it a habit to be around Little Red without paying attention to her, giving the dog a chance to get used to her presence without the anxiety of being engaged. The strategy worked, and before long she began to work with Little Red on basic training and enrichment. She also took Little Red for her medical evaluations. The staff vets examined Little Red"s coat, which was thin and spotty, and they looked over the criss-cross of scars that stood out prominently on her snout.
Their tests revealed that she had babesia, a blood parasite that"s fairly common in fighting dogs because it can be pa.s.sed through deep puncture wounds. The condition can make dogs anemic and sick. Little Red had not shown any symptoms, but she would have to be watched.
For now, though, Hendrick began to work on Little Red"s fear. She had begun to bond and show trust. Hendrick didn"t know about Nicole Rattay, but without a doubt the work she"d done with Little Red in the shelter was paying off. Little Red already knew that people could be good. She already knew how to trust, at least a little.
By the end of the second week, Little Red had started to come around. She was friendlier and more comfortable with the three or four people who worked with her on a regular basis. She even began to show off a little smile. She pulled the corners of her mouth back and lifted her lips to show her teeth. It was a nervous and submissive gesture, but it was endearing nonetheless and she became known for it around the compound.
Hendrick looked at it as a metaphor for all of the Vick dogs. They had been through so much, overcome so much, and yet they continued to persevere. They could smile. It might be a bit forced and quivering, but it was there. She hoped to help make Little Red happy and secure enough that it would turn into a real smile.
To start the process Hendrick began introducing a few comforts and enrichments-toys, blankets. They worked on basic training too, although Little Red"s past experience didn"t help her in this area. The first command taught is almost always sit sit, but Little Red refused to do it.
The most common method of teaching a dog to sit is for the trainer to encourage the dog to perform the desired behavior and then offer a treat. The dog soon a.s.sociates the command with the behavior and the reward. When a dog has trouble figuring it out, trainers will often hold the treat out over the dog"s head. As the dog attempts to look straight up, it is almost forced into a sitting position, but it didn"t work for Little Red. When anyone held their hand up over her head, she didn"t look up; she cowered.
Another trick trainers use is to enter the dog"s area in the morning with a full bowl of food, give the command, and simply stand there until the dog performs the desired behavior. As soon as the dog does what has been asked, the trainer puts the bowl down. This didn"t work with Little Red, either. She simply refused to sit and Hendricks or others would sometimes stand there for twenty-five or thirty minutes waiting. It reached a point where if Little Red"s b.u.t.t came anywhere near the floor, they dropped the bowl and got out of there.
Finally after more than two months, a ridiculously long time, Little Red figured out sit sit, and once she got that, it was almost as if she figured out the whole game. Suddenly she seemed to understand that they were asking her to do things, and when she did them she got rewarded. She learned fast after that and made up ground on the dogs who"d moved ahead of her. She learned stay stay, down down, and come come commands. She walked on a leash, which she had at first refused to do. commands. She walked on a leash, which she had at first refused to do.
She enjoyed the facilities at Best Friends, which included a large exercise run the dogs were allowed to use every day and an obstacle course that challenged them with a series of apparatuses that required climbing, crawling, and agility. There were balance beams and hurdles and tunnels to climb through. Besides providing exercise and fun, the obstacles helped build confidence.
Still, the Best Friends staff moved slowly. There was no need to rush as even the best of the lot would have to stay a year before they could even be considered for a foster home. Besides showing dramatic improvement in Best Friends" internal evaluations, any foster dog would also have to pa.s.s the Canine Good Citizen test. That was the ultimate goal and Best Friends knew it was a distant one. For some of the dogs it might never happen, so the staff proceeded with an eye to the very long term future.
Part of the program for dogs that were trying to overcome fear was routinely introducing them to new places and situations, which would slowly teach them that they could go out into the world without so much fear. The daily routine soon incorporated long walks to explore the different sights and structures within Angel Canyon.
Some days Little Red would take on a path that looped out from the dog compound and wandered through a variety of settings and situations. Other days she might head off to the "dog park," a two-acre gra.s.sy field with a fence around it where she could be turned loose to play and romp. She might scale a ridge or sit by the side of the road and look at pa.s.sing cars. Little Red adapted. She wasn"t progressing the fastest, but she was doing better than some of the others. Some dogs were so fearful that if a bench that sat along the path was moved from one spot to another they would freak out and refuse to walk past it.
She excelled at her relationships with the people she knew. Best Friends staffers continued to sleep in the buildings holding the Vick dogs for the first six months. Each night they would bring one dog out to sleep with them. For her first such stay Hendrick brought Little Red. It was a good choice as the dog quickly snuggled in for a comfy night. Before long Little Red had a reputation as one of the best bedtime buddies, and she became a favorite when attendants were choosing a dog to hang out with for the night.
The charts that tracked her behavior and att.i.tude were trending in the right directions. Registered daily on a scale of one to ten, her fear index had hovered above five in the early months, spiking at eight. Now, six months in, she could have wild day-to-day swings, but her median reading was below four. Her confidence rating started close to four and had climbed to near five. Likewise, energy, enrichments, and enjoyment of life were all up.
On paper and within the bounds of her newly formed world, Little Red was growing happier and more sure of herself, but up to now she"d been isolated from other dogs. The staff at Best Friends decided it was time to begin introducing her to her canine neighbors. Their ultimate goal was to get the dogs comfortable enough with other dogs that they could be integrated into the larger Best Friends population and live in a typical kennel setup with one or two others. They had already started this integration process with some of the other Vick dogs and had found success.
Little Red was next, although her situation was different. Her multiple scars and worn-down teeth led many to suspect that she had been a bait dog, one used for practice by the fighters. When a dog that has had that experience feels threatened, it"s more likely to lash out. Its fear and insecurity can lead to aggression, and it"s inclined to attack first as a form of defense.
The staff was well aware of this possibility when it took Little Red into a fenced area and then strolled into view with Cherry Garcia, another Vick dog who was known for his mellow disposition. As soon as Little Red, the sweet snuggly sleeper who loved to smile at people, saw Cherry, she stood at attention. Both dogs stared at each other across the compound.