Ambassadog vs Reactive Dog: Can McGee be both?

Ever since I fell in love with pit bull type dogs, I have dreamt of being the proud owner of an "Ambassadog". In my daydreams, my Ambassadog and I would flit from social event to event. We would run pet friendly 5ks together, she would calmly sip from a bowls of water while I read novels at outdoor cafes, and my stocky little breed ambassador would elicit adoration from all her onlookers by, you know, kissing babies and stuff.

Flash forward to reality. While my blockheaded McGee and I both enjoy kissing some babies, we've got a long row to hoe before we're frolicking light-heartedly in a road race or sipping anything other than a stiff drink. But Dog Dad and I are realistic human beings with reasonable expectations for what our pup can accomplish, right? We try to be.

The McGee is currently enrolled in Reactive Dog class. Our goal for the class is simple: help McGee learn to ignore other dogs. That's it. Not live with other dogs, not play with other dogs, not sniff other dog booties. Just ignore other dogs. Notice a dog, look at a human, get a most excellent treat, carry on with life. Piece of cake, right?

Not so much. Asking The McGee to ignore other dogs is like asking our 5 year old niece to ignore her bag of Halloween candy on November 1st. MUST EAT ALL OF THEM RIGHT NOW...

Last night was our 4th class in a series of 8. The trainers we are working with have been so compassionate and are constantly brainstorming with us to try and figure out what is going on in our little dog's brain. At this stage of the game, our McGee is still working behind her barricade while the other dogs happily munch their treat and watch their owners in full view of the other doggies. It can be challenging to keep your chin up under such circumstances and I often wonder whose confidence it is that we are really trying to build.

We did decide to do some pre-class work with our girl to see what would happen if we dropped the leash and let her approach the fake dog on her own. My heart dropped past my stomach and all the way to my toes as I watched her confusedly pin the fake pooch to the ground. It didn't take her long to walk away, but I could see the adrenaline pumping in her little body and feel hot tears welling up in my eyes.

The fake dog interaction over, we decided to bring a non-reactive, playful dog into her presence and see how she would manage it. Don't worry, our capable trainers took all the appropriate safety steps: two points of leash attachment, 3 experienced dog handlers, lots of space to move around, oodles of super yummy treats, and a muzzle for McGee (insert more tears here). Two different dogs each took a turn, one male and one female. As expected, another dog in her space elicited some of the most deafening sound effects yet produced. The trainer handling McGee spent several minutes working to turn her away from the other dog and help her come into a more relaxed state of mind. McGee couldn't get there and we had to call it quits for the day.

What was the point of all this drama? Well, it was important for us to see what would happen if she ever had the chance to approach another dog on her own. The fake dog gave us that opportunity without putting any other dog in danger. And bringing another dog into her space so that she could see it fully gave our trainers some insight because now they know what we deal with on a daily basis.

Ambassdog? Well, maybe not in the same way that Johnny Justice or Handsome Dan or Wallace the Pitbull have made great strides for pit bull type dogs, but I still believe that all our hard work is cultivating an ambassador for the breed.

Interested in reading more about different levels of dog tolerance? Check out this invaluable resource from the dog savvy folks over at BAD RAP: Undertanding Different Dog Tolerance Levels.

The Astounding Metamorphosis of Dr. Pittie McJekyll

I've wanted to be a dog foster mom since I knew that there was such a thing. I know that I have what it takes to offer a dog patience and stability until the right family comes along. I just didn't know that I'd have to exert so much patience waiting for my opportunity to foster.

You see, sometimes THE PLAN that you have in your mind is not the plan that shakes out. And this is especially so when the dog you adopt turns out to be the dog WITH ALL THE ISSUES.

Now, let me tell you this: The McGee put on a good show for all of her caretakers and the animal shelter and for me as well. She was surrendered with another dog who was her buddy, she was social with her soon-to-be-cousin dog who came for a "let's make sure we get along" visit before we took her home, she was easy going to the point that we nicknamed her Carpet Dog and the shelter staff boasted that she might have a future career as a doorstop.

Oh you tricksy, tricksy McGee. Once she settled into her knew digs and realized that she would be staying for keepers, she morphed from sweet little doorstop into The Real McGee. The Real McGee is like a dog version of Jekyll and Hyde. Or maybe like that man eating plant from Little Shop of Horrors. (She doesn't really eat men at all, don't worry.)

What I'm actually referring to is the worst case of leash reactivity I have ever seen. I'm no animal professional, but I've done a great deal of dog walking at animal shelters and handled all of my family's pups over the years and I've never experienced anything like The McGee.

Imagine this scenario: it's a beautiful sunny fall day and I'm walking with my sweet little Dr. Pittie McJekyll through the neighborhood. She's wearing her snazzy Freedom Harness and her Gentle Leader. Her leash is loose and she glances at me lovingly from time to time to check in and receive a bite of yumminess from my treat pouch. Suddenly, from around a bend in the road there appears that sweet lady from down the road with her big black lab. I glance back over my shoulder to determine my best escape route, only to realize that three houses back the residents have just let their three medium sized barky dogs out into the front yard. Panic sets in as I resist the urge to strip off my sweatshirt and wrap it around my dog's face in a last ditch effort to hold off the impending transformation. Click, treat, squeaky happy voice, click, treat, praise, treat, look, treat, oh no, stare, click, click, treat, smash treats in face, walk faster, staring growing worse, cannot break staring crazy gaze no matter how much beef I offer as a bribe.........nooooooooooooo!!!!!!! And then the screaming. The shrill, Jekyll has left the building and Hyde is in the house sound that melts my eardrums and breaks my heart at the same time. Why can't she understand that this is not the way to gain friends, dog or human? What is wrong with me that I can't communicate stability and make her feel safe at my side? Will this ever get better?

To be fair, we have made some serious progress over the last year. Canine Good Citizen class was a breeze for The McGee. She passed with flying colors. That is, she passed 9 of 10 tests with flying colors. Test 8: Reaction to Another Dog proved too difficult for her to bear, much less pass. And if a dog fails one section, they fail the whole thing. But her threshold is growing. She can walk past many of the neighborhood dogs in their yards without staging a meltdown. She plays happily with her cousin Big T and she is slowly learning that she can earn treats by looking at us when she sees/hears another dog. She used to have the same reaction to cars and that problem has dissolved almost completely.

What is the point of this story? Well, the point is that when we adopted our McGee, I thought we'd give her a good six months to settle in and then we'd be able to foster other dogs. I mistook her initially mellow behavior to mean that she would be an ideal "big sis" when we were ready to open our home to other animals in need. I didn't know that what she was really telling us was, "I'm frightened and my self esteem is low. I'm not ready to show you who I really am, so for now I'll just remain guarded and quiet."

I haven't given up all hope. I still think that, with patience and time, our family will be able to foster. Even if it means that The McGee has to spend all this extra time training us to walk better on a leash.

The McGee

What can I possibly say to describe her succinctly and sufficiently?

Soft bellied and hard headed, The McGee has snarfled and snorted her way into this small family.

You see, she wasn't supposed to be our dog. There was someone else. A puppy with less baggage who I followed from one shelter to another in hopes that she would be my girl. A little bulldog baby who would have been named Frannie. But she had other suitors who were faster than me. I was beaten to the punch. And who can really feel sorry for that? A shelter dog with many options. What a fortunate thing. I think they named her Annie...

So, I decided to peruse the other options available to me that day. I saw Fr/Annie leave the shelter with her new dad and, feeling slightly sad and, let's be honest, a little impulsive, I headed down the row of dogs to see who else might be available. Sucker.

And she was there. Throwing herself upwards and outwards at the kennel door. Crazy faced and giddy with excitement at the idea of getting out and then, once released into the semi-freedom of an outdoor play area, aloof and butt-plunked in a homemade dirt hole underneath a bench without much indication that she'd like to be my friend.

And here we are. One point five years later: me type tapping on my computer keys while The McGee snores her best and loudest snores on the floor next to me. She is wrapped in MY favorite blanket which she somehow adopted after we adopted her. I'm pretty sure she loves my husband more than me. It doesn't really bother me. Not too much.

She is The McGee. The sounds she makes as she sleeps are so human that I can almost imagine they are coming from my dad, asleep in his armchair, remote slowly drifting out of his hand.

But no. I look to my right and there she is. Small and sleek. When she curls up so tight and packs all her chub together, she resembles a sleeping baby hippo dragon pig. I wonder where she hides her folded wings and watch for smoke emitting from her vibrating nostrils.

She is the best dog in my world.