What do dogs understand?

Yesterday morning I received the following text from a friend who has two Welsh Terriers:

"I tell [dog] that [son] is coming. He trots over to the only window where he can see the street. Looks out, wags his stubby tail. Looks back at me, then settles in to wait." Nearly eight hours later I checked in to ask if he was still in his spot, waiting. The answer came: "Yup."

This story would be even more impressive if I could tell you he didn't move the spot all day. He did, but only for short intervals. And he returned to his post, waiting patiently until low woods signaled the arrival of this woman's son.

Shortly after I read the first text, I was sitting at my desk in the dining room. I heard my daughter's door open and remarked to Blue, who was sitting beside me, "You'll need to go to your room. Marley needs to go outside." I didn't turn my head or even speak in anything but a low monotone (the result of an unfortunate cold and stuffy nose). But Blue clambered to his feet as I finished my remark, trotted to his room and on into his crate, where he turned around and lay down. Perhaps it was the sound of my daughter's door opening. Perhaps not.

So, for those who would argue dogs cannot understand what we say, I beg to differ. Yes, I based my conclusions on anecdotal evidence and a sample of two. So be it.

Poor baby!

Yesterday got away from me. One of the reasons was we discovered Blue had been hiding a secret under his thick, heavy, beautiful coat - a HUGE hot spot.

So off to the vet he went. He came home with a large shaved area and he has been creeping around the edges of rooms ever since! He is so self-conscious; bless his heart.

Here's a quick shot of the area, just in front of his tail. My son's job now is to put the spray treatment on the area twice a day and then make sure he doesn't lick it off. I think it could become a temporary full time job ...

Poor Blue

For the next few days, I am going to focus on those for whom I am most thankful - my children and my dogs. I hope to get pictures of all in front of the tree. Wish me luck!

Book Review: Follow My Lead, by Carol Quinn

More than a year ago, I read a book that resonated with me on so many levels. The author had a background in public relations, she was a single parent AND she had dogs. There were differences, of course. She ran agility. We don't (not sure my knees and ankle would hold up!). She has Rhodesian Ridgebacks, not terriers. She's a successful writer in California. I'm ... not. Nor have I had a live-in love interest (or any romantic relationships since my divorce).

I visited her website, "liked" her Facebook page and began following her on Twitter. I knew I liked her writing style and I felt she was saying some important things about deepening our relationships with the animals in our lives. Imagine my happy surprise when she followed me back on Twitter!

It was even more exciting last week when she sent me a Twitter message asking if I would consider writing a review for her book on Amazon. Okay, exciting and terrifying. Here was an author I admire, asking me to commit to (virtual) paper my thoughts about her book, thoughts that could potentially influences purchases. Yikes.

But I did it. I put my thoughts and my writing "out there" to a wider market than I have written to in years. And, since most of my years in p.r. were spent writing for someone else's byline, or anonymously, this was one of the first times my writing - with my own name - had the potential to reach so many.

I just got the loveliest note from Ms. Quinn, thanking me for the review and saying she was going to "share it around." How awesome is that?

Below is what I wrote for the book Follow My Lead: What Training My Dogs Taught Me about Life, Love and Happiness, by Carol Quinn (ISBN-13 978-1580053709, published by Seal Press, 2011). I highly recommend it for any and all the dog lovers in your life!


I read Carol Quinn's book after the bright cover and melting brown eyes of the dogs on the cover drew me in. And, from the first, I was nodding my head in agreement, highlighting passages, turning down pages and making notes in the margins. Quinn does an excellent job of looking beneath the surface, examining both humans and canines, their differences, their bonds, and her relationships with each.

I found myself looking at many of my own personal and professional challenges through her lens of life with her dogs - gorgeous Rhodesian Ridgebacks. I cringed at the often harsh tone and criticisms of their agility instructor while marveling at how she could relate canine behavior and reinforcement training to humans. I found myself hoping that screenplays and books would sell, that love would be forever and that - for one brief moment - the planets would align for both humans and dogs. And they do, but not always as was planned or expected.

In agility terminology, Carol Quinn hit all the contact points for me with her book. The messages, the lessons she learned from her dogs, she generously shares with the reader. And she reminds us that, for some of us, it is "dog wisdom we were seeking all along."

Second place

I have been relegated to second position in Blue's hierarchy of human love. I wrote last week of the sweet evening of mutual admiration, when he lay by me as I read. He relaxed and slept. I relaxed and remembered how to breathe deeply.

Then, on Friday night, my son came home from college.

Yes, friends, that was all it took. In just these few days, I may be good for food and water or for a quick pat. But Blue only has eyes for his boy now. He can't be bothered to get up to go outside - unless his boy asks him. He happy dances - only for his boy.

What the heck?! On the other hand, that is just how it should be, isn't it? It warms my heart to see their close bond and know they always have one another's back. They don't even have to be in the same room, but their closeness is palatable. It is, indeed, a happy holiday season for one special Blue-dog.

Thanks and welcome

I have a few new followers today, so I wanted to take a moment to say "thank you, thank you, thank you" for joining me on this journey. I hope I periodically write something you can use in your own life or that makes you think or gives you that "aha." Let me hear from you; a big part of this journey is learning from one another.

Until tomorrow ...

A little piece of my heart

I ran a rescue transport this weekend. And while my work in rescue always makes me look with new eyes, I can say without reservation that this trip changed me. Ella is pretty typical of many of the dogs we have seen in Welsh Terrier rescue (WTCARES) lately. She is older, she has some health issues and she isn't a shining example of the breed standard.

Her story isn't unique: she was dumped at a shelter in southern Oklahoma, likely gotten rid of by the puppy mill to which she gave her life until they got rid of her. When I picked her up just about two months ago, she was crawling with fleas - literally; it was like her skin was moving - eek! She was dirty and matted. She smelled. She was misshapen from nursing litter upon litter of puppies. She seemed to crouch as she walked; I'm not sure what caused this, maybe she spent all her time in a small crate; I will never know. She had lumps and bumps. And, in what was a first for me, she was swaybacked. At 8-10 years old, she had a lot of "strikes" against her.

Her name - Ella - popped into my brain, and it seemed to fit. She was as ladylike as she was fearful. But her spirit was evident, even hidden beneath the indignities of her life. That first night she slept in an ex-pen full of clean fluffy towels and bowls of fresh water and food. After delivering her to my vet for a health check, I was told she had erlichiosis and had to be treated for that before anything else. For the next few weeks, she was given twice daily doses of medication to fend off this tick-borne disease, one that isn't unusual for puppy mill dogs in this part of the world. When she was strong enough, she was spayed and began the second step in her recovery. There was a bit of interest in her from adopters. Unfortunately, all have cats and Ella is not a fan.

The decision was made to move her to Tennessee, which is where the national chair of breed rescue lives. Ella would stay there until a forever home could be found. Yesterday she continued the journey she began in October when she left her former puppy mill life behind.

Preparing to load up

"But I don't want to ride in a crate!"

She didn't, by the way. That is, she whined and barked until I relented and allowed her to ride in the seat next to me as we made our way east towards Arkansas. We were meeting someone in Ozark, just about 180 miles for us, who take her to meet another transport person in Little Rock and she would go on to Memphis for a couple of days. I don't usually let dogs ride outside of crates; it's too dangerous for both them and for the humans. But ...

Who could resist this face?

As I drove, I had a lot of time to ponder the horrors of recent days. Ella didn't really care for music, so it was quiet except for road noise and her quiet snores as she relaxed into the heated seat. She made one thing clear, however, either I had to be touching her or she had to be in contact with me. At all times. I found this interesting, as many times puppy mill dogs have been so deprived of human contact that they never really welcome touch. Ella is different however. She craves touch and human contact. She is happiest when she can be in direct line of sight. And her tail wags constantly. I haven't seen such an ongoing windshield wiper of a tail in motion in quite a while! She may carry baggage from her former life, but she has relegated it to a place of unimportance where it cannot interfere with her appreciation of the here and now.

And so we traveled. I talked to her and she listened intently when she wasn't sleeping. We shared secrets and ambitions, hopes and dreams, heartache and grief (well, I did). Even in sleep, she would stretch across the center console until the tip of her black nose - or one of her paws - lay ever-so-lightly on my leg. In her silence and her peace, she told me of herself and taught me a lifetime of lessons.

As I have done more times than I can count, I drove to the appointed location and sent Ella along her way. She wasn't happy to get in her crate (I hear she barked on her next two legs of the journey; that would be close to five hours of total barking. Sheesh!). I told her goodbye and that I loved her, that she would have a wonderful life and I would work hard to find her a forever home. And then I spent the first 20 miles of the return trip sobbing. For, you see, Ella gave me more than I ever gave her. She shared her ageless wisdom with my very soul, in ways I have yet to even comprehend. But I can absolutely say that I know that wisdom is there, somewhere deep inside me. She taught me that it is okay to open up for love, even when you have been treated badly, that the reward is worth the risk, that good and loveliness exists in the world and, often, comes in the shape of a little rescue dog.

I pray that Ella will have a long life filled with love and happiness. I will work hard to find a home for her where she will have the time and the space to stretch her bent legs and always be in contact with those who love her. And I will always carry a little piece of Ella in my heart, in exchange for the piece she took of mine. I can only hope that my heart will be as pure and as full of love as hers, that I will greet each day with the exuberance of her tail and her sparkling dark eyes. That I will relish the good in the world and do my best to help good outweigh evil.

As I drove back through Tulsa at dusk, I snapped this photo of the evening sky. It reminded me of the unlimited potential in the world and that, regardless of the vast potential for grief and ugliness and horror, the wisdom of the ages can be found in the heart and spirit of the animals all around us.

Thank you, Ella-Bella. I love you.

P.S. If you know someone who can give Ella the life she deserves, please let me know. Or go to www.wtcares.org to complete an adoption application. Ella is waiting and she is patient. But I am not, and she deserves nothing but the best!

On human tragedy

It seems to be that humans are the cruelest of animals. No other creatures inflict such horrific acts upon one another. And, yet, we profess to be the most highly evolved.

I believe the time is long since past to look to other animals, to see how they live their lives and to strive to emulate them, rather than continue on the path we have chosen.

Sad beyond measure today. Thankful my dogs do not watch the news, although they are much more attuned to energy and have surely felt the sorrow in the universe today.