Pillars of Strength

This Valentine's day, the proverbial day of love, we're dedicating a post to "K", KB's loyal chocolate labrador who is currently battling osteosarcoma.  If you haven't visited their blog yet, it can be found at http://romp-roll-rockies.blogspot.com.  It is truly one of the most powerful blogs I have ever read, both for the beauty in the photographs KB posts and in the remarkable way that KB is able to so effectively convey how special her K is to her (and vice versa).  If you're looking for a good example of a "heart dog," look no further.

I have, most fortunately, encountered very few tragic situations in my young life, both human and animal, and I really cannot even imagine how it must feel to deal with a chronic, long-term and serious condition such as this in an animal that is so emotionally close to you.  In some ways, I'm struggling to find the words to post, because I don't know what I could possibly say to KB to lessen the burden of this nasty diagnosis on her.  In the most literal sense, I've never been through it.  I hope I never have to go through it because I don't think I could be even half as strong as she is.

Yet, I feel like I can't make a post about "heart animals" without mentioning my one and only Taco.  My relationship with him was so magical that sometimes, five years later, it's hard to believe that he even existed in the first place.  The only chronic condition he faced during my time with him was his advanced age and the ongoing thought that he may or may not make it another year.  I guess it might be a bit of a stretch, but, in that respect, I understand at least a little bit the emotions that KB must be going through.

Taco exceeded my expectations, though, and I spent six great years with him when, in reality, I probably only thought I'd have a couple at most.  Although the black cloud of "that time" always loomed in my head and, quite frankly, even at some points consumed my thoughts, I tried my hardest to put it aside and simply enjoy my time with him.

He and I did nothing exceptional together.  I never rode him, never even got on his back.  Yet it is those seemingly mundane and day-to-day experiences that made my relationship with him so great.

I hate to post something that I've already posted before, but I just want to snag a couple of paragraphs from my tribute to Taco that I wrote a couple of years ago.  It completely sums up my relationship with him and I think truly brings home that "hug your pet and seize the moment" idea.

"Taco taught me so many lessons in those six years I spent with him. For one, he showed me that friends can come at the most unexpected times, in the most unexpected places. He taught me about what it meant to be motivated, to be dedicated to something that you find important. He taught me to never take for granted life's simple pleasures. At death, he showed me that even the most horrible of endings cannot take away from what was a magical, storybook friendship. I am a different person - a better person - for having known Taco. He has had a profound impact on my life.

2002

I guess it's those themes that I wanted to convey to you all by retelling this story. That when you love, you should love deeply. That when you make a decision, even if no one else agrees with you, what matters most is that you yourself believe that what you did was right. That when do you something, you must do it to the very best of your ability. And that when you come along someone who needs your help, you just might be able to change both their life and your own with a little bit of time and effort.

Taco, where ever you are, I hope it goes without saying that I love you with all my heart. Thank you for everything that you did for me. It was an honor to have been by your side, an experience that I will never forget as long as I live. No matter where my life takes me, my heart will always be in the aisles of that old barn, in the middle of that green paddock, in the places where I was with you."

It was KB herself who, when I originally posted this story, said that "I think that Taco taught you important lessons that now are guiding you with Marge. You're giving similar devotion and love to her as you gave to Taco." She couldn't be more right. I see so many parallels between Taco and Marge.. the "one man's trash is another's treasure" idea, the struggle to overcome problems that, at times, seemed insurmountable, the unwavering dedication we have to each other even when things do not look so good.  I have my heart horse to thank for laying the groundwork that made my relationship with my heart dog so brilliantly beautiful.  He lives on in everything that I do.

KB, try your hardest to not dwell on the diagnosis K has received and think only of the days of romping and rolling with K that you have to come.  Her zest for life has trumped her condition so far, and through the life and lifestyle you've given her, you have every reason to believe that that will continue for quite a long time. You are one of the strongest individuals I know, both because of the personal struggles you've been up against in your life as well as your "carpe diem" attitude as you and K go on this journey together.  I know that you are giving her the best possible chance to live a long, healthy, and happy life in spite of the "C" word that changed your world a couple of months ago.  She is a special dog and you are a special person - and it is so amazing and so perfect that you found each other!

Friends on Wednesday

And, this one takes the cake..

Cabin Fever

I've been sick all weekend, which hasn't exactly provided me with anything interesting to write about on here!  For the most part, I've done nothing but sleep, blow my nose, and sit like a zombie at my computer.

Lucky Marge actually managed to get a few walks, including a monster of a walk on Friday night that really tuckered her out and a decently long walk yesterday, but I really wish I could have spent some time out of the house, walking Marge in a park or something and maybe going for a ride (I haven't ridden now since the beginning of January!).  This winter has been so nice weather-wise and I haven't really gotten to take advantage of it thus far. I think I'm finally on the mend now, and, after being cooped up in the house for about three days, am actually sort of happy to be going back to school tomorrow.

Just about the only big news from the weekend is that I won $275 in a Super Bowl pool yesterday!  That was exciting.  I'm sure my winnings will all be spent on the individual pictured above..

Nerdy Fearful Dog Post

Something I've thought a lot about is the root of Marge's fears: whether they can be accounted for mainly by nature (biochemical imbalances, genetics) or nuture (bad early-life experiences or simply a lack of good ones).

Now, I know that neither of these are mutually exclusive, and that there is an awful lot of overlap.  But, it is well-known that there are dogs who aren't "wired right," no matter how uncommon extreme circumstances of this mis-wiring may be, and that there are dogs whose outward temperament is a product of their very bad life experiences and, should they have been raised correctly, they would not be fearful.

We can also throw a curveball in to this by saying that the reaction each dog has to its "nuture" is, in part, dictated by "nature:" that two dogs, of different genetic background, reared in the same negative environment, wouldn't necessarily both turn out to be fearful. Similarly, dogs of the same genetic background, reared in different environments, both won't necessarily turn out to be fearful.

In fact, that's where I really think the answer lies.

Have you ever heard of the diathesis-stress model?  No?

Okay.  Imagine a cup.. an ordinary plastic cup.  The cup is labeled "FEAR."  (Don't mind my crappy drawings.)

The cup is filled part of the way with the dog's genetic endowment.  In the case of fearfulness, a dog with a low genetic predisposition for being fearful would have only a tiny bit of their cup filled.  A dog with a high genetic predisposition for being fearful would have a LOT of their cup filled.

Now, for each environmental scenario that might push the dog more towards an over all fearful disposition, the cup gets more full.  Each "stress" added pushes the dog towards the top of the cup, towards the threshold (spilling over the cup = threshold = fearful dog).

Obviously, in a dog with a lot of genetic predisposition towards a fearful personality, it would not take a lot of different stressors to reach that point.  In a dog with a very small genetic predisposition towards fear, it would take an awful lot of those stressors - but, it is still possible, if the dog encounters very bad life experiences.

 The combinations are endless - for example, there will be dogs who, despite a large genetic predisposition towards fear,  never wind up with the fearful phenotype because they are raised in a relatively good environment.

I don't know how much of the theoretical "cup" is filled with each component - genetics and environment - in Marge's case.  Since I only know bits and pieces about her puppyhood and know zilch about her genetic background, aside from what her mom and siblings looked like, I don't know if her fears came more from a genetic predisposition or a shoddy upbringing.

Whatever the cause, there is something about Marge that has lead to a lot of her fears being reversible or at least partially reversible.  She is extremely responsive to classical conditioning, whereas a lot of other fearful dogs aren't.  That leads me to believe that it was her upbringing that caused her to be fearful, rather than a biological reason (which may have required medication to reverse).  But I might just be pulling that out of thin air.

What do you think?  How do you think a dog's outward behavior comes to be - from genetic endowment or environmental stimulation?

Well Wishes and Short Teeter Update

We're sending our very best get-well wishes to Lilly from Champion of My Heart as well as the handsome mister Corbin (from the blog named for him).  Both are dealing with acute medical issues right now and we urge you to go over there and lend your support.

Don't forget to visit K, either, whose journey living with osteosarcoma is an ongoing, up-and-down theme in her life. We're happy to report she's doing really well and received some good news yesterday.

Marge says, we hate to hear about other dogs being sick.

Today, I finally made the hour-long trek to train on *the* teeter that Marge despises so much, which also happens to be the one that she encounters 9 times out of 10 at shows.  I'm happy to report that she performed it every single time without any fear, and was pretty quick about doing it, too.

She had a great time and was very curious about the horses in the field across the street (if only she wasn't so afraid of them up close, I could bring her with me when I go ride).   I really like the instructor and hope to train with her again soon.  She was really instrumental in helping Marge get over this new teeter issue in the first place, back in October, by offering to have us come to her class and let us use the equipment we need.

I'm planning another trip to another training facility next week to continue to diversify the equipment on which she trains and environments in which she practices in preparation for our next show in two weeks.

Memory Lane

My head is swirling with ideas about different things to post, but because I'm so tired from helping move Phoebe and the other horses to a new barn, I can't even fathom the idea of writing anything cohesive about things even remotely difficult or philosophical.

So, instead enjoy this picture of my first "real" pet (other than my beloved Willy, the goldfish!), a guinea pig named Scooter.

He was kind of mean, to be honest with you; he frequently bit me hard enough that I'd bleed.  We nearly got rid of him once for that.  We brought him to a pet store over night and were really going to leave him there and let them sell him. My cousin offered to "replace" him with two baby guinea pigs that I could keep. But, the next day, I was so upset that I told my parents to go back and, thankfully, he was still there.  (There I go again, being loyal to my animals, even at age 9!)

I don't remember much about him. I can recall clearly the time that he escaped from his harness in my backyard and almost ran away, and the squealing sounds he made when he knew you were going to give him vegetables.

He died in February of 1999, after several bouts with pneumonia.  About two weeks later, we brought home Layla.

You can barely discern the fact that this is a picture of a guinea pig, but sadly, it's the only picture I could find.  Fortunately, my picture-taking frequency has increased with later pets.  I have well over two thousand pictures of Marge in the three and a half years I've had her.  Yep, that's right!

Day 1306

I'm actually late on celebrating MargeBlog's anniversary this year, since I completed three full years of blogging not today, but actually on this past Saturday.  Perhaps my belatedness is a good thing, though, since today truly reminded me of how far Marge has come in the over one-thousand days she has now spent with me.

The Marge of today and the dog I originally adopted -- the dog I first wrote about in January 2009 -- are truly not the same animal.  The dog I adopted was an extremely sensitive, afraid-of-the-world, yearling dog who, quite frankly, didn't have a clue about anything.   She was unsocialized to both dogs and people, and, to make matters worse, also had the additional challenge of learning to live in New York City, a place so far removed in so many ways from her upbringing in Ellijay, Georgia.

The Marge of three and a half years ago would have hit the end of the leash and pulled desperately away from the many people and dogs we encountered today while we were out together delivering my newspapers.  She would have never let those people pet them, nor would she have dealt well with dogs yakking at her from every direction.  Instead, she approached them (albeit, some more cautiously than others) and simply ignored the dogs who sent so much noise her way.

The Marge of three and a half years ago would not have been able to take a walk in a completely strange neighborhood, with two other dogs, without lowering her tail and pinning her ears to the back of her head. She wouldn't have whined with excited enthusiasm and anticipation as we drove down the road to see those friends, nor would she have tore across the yard with them in attempt to get them to play, like she did today.

The Marge of three and a half years ago would have never been excited to go in to a busy pet store in a busy parking lot, where men, women and children all ohh'ed and ahh'ed over her.  She wouldn't have looked up at me, smiling, as a toddler pet her all over from head to back to tail.  She wouldn't have accepted treats from those people nor would she have ever, ever wagged her tail to say hello to three total strangers who all happened to be 6' tall high-school age boys in uniform.

If her leash became undone in the front of that store, as it accidentally did today, there would have been a good chance that the Marge of three years ago would have darted away.  The Marge of today simply stood by my side and waited for the leash to be snapped back on.

The little things like this have really started to add up over the years.  I know that I am, without a doubt, experiencing the best years of Marge's life right now - still a young adult dog, but with enough time in New York under her belt to know that the world isn't a scary place and that there are good people and good things out there to experience.

Marge is literally the best dog I could have asked for.  She has taught me so much about dog training and truly catapulted me in to an interest in learning, training, and behavior.  The things we accomplish are made that much sweeter when we take a look back at our humble beginnings.