DogTown

by Stefan Bechtel

  A STRATEGY FOR VIVIAN

  Michelle realized that there was a window of opportunity for training Vivian because she had just arrived in a new, scary situation where she didn’t know anybody and felt doubly insecure. Michelle intended to take advantage of this, using Vivian’s fear to help build a relationship with her.

  To start, Michelle began by talking gently and feeding Vivian treats through the fence. Gradually, she taught her to sit in response to her command. Michelle had to be assertive and firm while staying positive, ignoring negative behavior, like Vivian’s barking and lunging, and only rewarding the behavior she wanted.

  As Michelle began breaking through Vivian’s wall of hostility, she discovered that Vivian’s personality could sometimes be regal and stand-offish, and then at other times goofy and puppyish. Vivian had to be completely at ease to reveal these sides of her personality, so most casual observers didn’t get to see them. To most new people, she remained aggressive and hostile—but it was just a front.

  Growling and barking, Michelle said, are two forms of communication—two ways for dogs to say they are uncomfortable with a situation. They are also warnings, a way for a dog to say, “Get away. I’m uncomfortable with you being that close, and if you don’t get back, I’ll bite.” Michelle’s goal was to make Vivian feel comfortable with new people and new situations, so that she wouldn’t need to use those forms of communication.

  As the relationship between Michelle and Vivian began to deepen, Michelle was able to slowly and carefully expose the dog to new things. The treats allowed Michelle to earn enough trust to safely enter Vivian’s run (although there still were occasions when Vivian would stiffen and seem unsure when Michelle entered her run, perhaps as a prelude to biting; Michelle would have to force herself to stay calm and wait for Vivian to relax). Eventually Michelle could slip a leash over Vivian’s head and take her for walks. Vivian began to see Michelle as the person who gave her good things, including treats and walks. Michelle discovered that Vivian loved toys, and she’d sometimes pick up a toy and throw it toward Vivian, to help the big dog relax—as if to call out Vivian’s inner puppy. Only then could Michelle get close to Vivian and get her to mind.

  According to a news report, events such as Hurricane Katrina might affect dogs as well as humans, resulting in behavioral symptoms that may be similar to post-traumatic stress in humans. The canine symptoms include barking for no apparent reason, hiding, forgetting potty training, losing weight, and even behaving aggressively.

  “I think Vivian bonded with me because I made the effort,” Michelle said, “and because I called her bluff.”

  VIVIAN’S “FENCE FACE”

  Michelle had been working with Vivian for three weeks, and making steady progress, when she decided to introduce her to trainer John Garcia. Vivian had shown a marked preference for female caregivers over male ones, and Michelle knew that getting her comfortable with both men and women would be important in her rehabilitation. Seeing how Vivian reacted to John, and if she was capable of relaxing around him, would be the first step.

  It was a snowy day at Dogtown when John and Michelle approached Vivian’s run. Vivian began lunging ferociously at the fence, a behavior known to the trainers as barrier aggression, meaning that the very presence of the fence tended to make the dog more hostile and threatening. Vivian would actually back up and then charge the fence line, barking loudly.

  “She’s got a really good ‘fence face,’” John said calmly. “She gets the reaction she wants, which is for people to leave her alone and not go into her run.”

  Most people would be completely intimidated by this display, if not terrified. But John and Michelle simply decided to listen to what Vivian was saying. By reading her body language and listening to her barks, both John and Michelle felt that Vivian was saying, as clearly as she could, that if John had entered the run at that point, she probably would have bitten him.

  And John was listening, because although Vivian had no bite history, John had been bitten badly—twice—early in his training career. Once he was inside a run with two dogs who were squabbling when somebody asked him a question and he was distracted for a moment; in a flash one of the dogs bit him so severely on his left calf that it took 60 stitches to close the wound. He was on crutches for a month.

  The other time, John was bitten by a dog he’d been working with for seven months and trusted completely. He’d brought the dog into his own home, taken him for long walks, and rolled around on the ground with him. He was in the process of putting the dog into a crate when suddenly “he just grabbed my right hand and sucked me into the cage.” The dog held on for three minutes. John spent two weeks in a hospital, but afterward his hand was still sore. It turned out he had a bone infection, requiring still more surgery. The hand still bothers him every day, he said. These two instances remind John daily how important it is to be vigilant with dogs, even ones he knows very well.

  Because Vivian can be difficult to manage, she wears a red collar, signifying that she may only be handled by Dogtown staff.

  “I would be a liar if I said I’m never afraid of dogs,” he said. “I mean, fear keeps us alive. For the most part I just try to use common sense so I don’t get myself hurt.”

  John remembered how powerful Vivian had been when he’d had to hold her down for a blood draw during her medical intake. She’d been muzzled, but she fought mightily. “She’s probably one of the strongest dogs I’ve ever held in my life,” he said. John knew it would be unwise to test her by entering her run when she was telegraphing all the signs of a potential bite.

  BECOMING PART OF VIVIAN’S LANDSCAPE

  For this meeting, despite all of Vivian’s threats and bombast, John decided to react to Vivian by not reacting. He just stood there, a few feet back from the fence, as Michelle tried to soothe the dog.

  “I was just part of the landscape,” John said. “I wasn’t a person, I wasn’t a dog, I wasn’t anything. I was neutral. I was zero. It’s much easier to introduce yourself to a dog that way.

  “When I first started working with dogs I didn’t have that ability to control my emotions like that,” John said. “When a dog threatened me I basically got scared. But that will magnify the dog’s behavior because it makes them scared.” Because John kept his emotions in check, over several meetings Vivian became more comfortable with John.

  John continued to build a relationship with the skittish dog. Like Michelle before him, John used treats passed through the fence to nakedly bribe Vivian. That way, she came to associate him with something positive. Whenever she did something positive—like approaching the fence calmly, coming when called, or sitting on command—Vivian’s ear would push forward, wrinkling her forehead, as she attentively looked to John for a tasty treat. Rewards distracted Vivian from trying to scare him and focused her on trying to please him instead. It didn’t hurt that John would also sweet-talk the big girl shamelessly. “There ya go, you’re so smart, not to mention beautiful—you’re my type of woman, yeah….”

  Eventually, John got to know Vivian well enough that he and Michelle decided he should try to take her for a walk. Because of Vivian’s history of aggression, Michelle was one of only two people who had ever taken her for a walk at Dogtown. Now John wanted to become the third.

  It was another snowy day at Dogtown when John and Michelle entered Vivian’s run. Though John was a skilled dog handler, he kept a wary eye on Vivian because he had seen how “without any warning, she’ll sometimes snap and try to bite.” Michelle leashed up Vivian and led her out of the run down a snowy trail, with John walking very casually alongside, a couple of steps outside biting range. Almost imperceptibly, Vivian’s stance began to loosen. She seemed to grow more relaxed, and more interested in reading her “morning newspaper”—all the markings from other dogs along the trail.

  In a soft voice, John asked Michelle to hand over the leash, and she did. The handoff had been barely noticeable, but it was critical—John called it “the mak
e or break moment.” Vivian glanced back and saw this, made note of the fact that she was now being controlled by a different human, and moved on.

  “How’s it going, baby girl?” John said soothingly. Then, to Michelle, he said, “She’s looking right at me, so she knows I’m walking her. She’s gravitating toward you, but at least she’s acknowledging me as safe and secure.”

  After that, Vivian just seemed to be ignoring John, which is exactly what he wanted.

  The Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) provides tips and strategies for preparing pets and other animals for emergency situations. You can read them on the Web: http://www.fema.gov/individual/animals.

  NEW FRIENDS FOR VIVIAN

  Later on that same afternoon, Michelle and John decided to attempt to move Vivian into a run with two other dogs who also had traumatic histories—Joe, another Katrina survivor (who had been returned from an adoptive home due to biting), and Pedro, who had been rescued from the war zone in Lebanon. Moving a dog like Vivian into a group situation could potentially help her learn to live with other animals. But the trainers were also aware that putting dogs together like this could be explosive, like throwing a match into a fireworks factory. In fact, John said, “Dog intros are probably the most dangerous thing we do here.”

  Still, John and Michelle knew that both Pedro and Joe had good “dog skills,” meaning that they mixed easily with new dogs, and that Vivian also liked other dogs. (Her hostility was directly primarily at humans.)

  A good scratch cements the strong friendship between Vivian and Dogtown Manager Michelle Besmehn.

  First, Michelle went into Vivian’s run and leashed her up. Vivian knew Michelle well enough by now to tolerate this amiably. Next, John leashed up Joe, a black Lab, and walked him into the run with Vivian. The two dogs sniffed each other curiously. Then Joe began to romp around Vivian, in a puppylike way, darting in and out. Vivian stood her ground, regarding him with something like regal amusement.

  “Boy, she’s got that ‘tough girl’ attitude, doesn’t she?” John said.

  Then it was Vivian’s turn to dart around playfully, seeming to accidentally bump into Joe. Vivian was clearly the heavier, more powerfully built of the two dogs, and this body-bumping play-display may quickly have established a pecking order. Whatever was going on, it seemed to have satisfied both dogs, and they both settled down surprisingly quickly.

  Next, Pedro was brought in on leash, and a similar getting-to-know-you routine took place. The three dogs seemed to quickly work out a friendly social arrangement. It appeared that Vivian was becoming a part of the pack.

  This placid scene seemed a world away from the first day John saw Vivian savagely lunging against the fence. “The first time I saw her, she had the most negative reaction towards me imaginable,” he recalled. “She was really nasty. And now, she sees me and she gets all wiggly. She really is happy and enthusiastic to have me take her out of her run. Once you get to know her, which isn’t that difficult, she’s a lover. I mean, she’s just adorable.”

  But Vivian isn’t out of the woods yet. She has made great progress in overcoming her fears, but there is still much to accomplish. She must make new connections with new people and fully overcome her barrier aggression before adoption can be a reality for her. Vivian continues to live at Dogtown as a red collar dog. She and her trainers, including Michelle and now John, will continue to work with her on her barrier aggression and other threatening behaviors.

  John said, “I have high hopes for Vivian because she is such a cute, loving dog, but no matter what, we’re not gonna say, ‘Oh, she’s fixed. We’ll put her into a home with kids’ before she’s ready. We’re not gonna set her up to fail. We’re gonna set her up for success. Even if Vivian is never placed in a suitable home, we’ll take care of her here at Dogtown forever. The rest of her life is gonna be a good life, no matter what.”

  The fear and chaos of Katrina, which spread like dark water over the lives of Vivian and Scruffy, may have stained their spirits forever, but the storm also brought them to Dogtown, where these gallant creatures may learn to live. There, they can be “set up for success” despite all the psychological wounds they bear. Their pasts have given them much to overcome, but the dedicated team at Dogtown will continue to work toward their ultimate goal: a life without fear.

  Infamous Spikey Doo

  John Garcia, Dogtown Manager

  Over the years there have been many, many dogs who have changed my life and in some cases even saved it. But the one who will always be closest to my heart is my girl, Spikey Doo. I met her when I was 16 and visiting friends in Southern California. Back then, her name was just plain Spike. She was a year-old American pit bull terrier (I call them pitties for short) and had a great life. She had lots of room to run around in her California backyard. There were lots of little kids around to play with her, too. Her rambunctious, fun-loving personality jumped out at me, and I instantly saw what a great dog she was.

  But Spike’s situation was changing. Her family had to move to Texas and couldn’t bring her along because of housing restrictions in their new place. They had exhausted all their options in trying to find different living arrangements and were really concerned about what was going to happen to their dog. Before the move, they were looking high and low for a forever home for Spike, but time was running out.

  As soon as I met Spike, I thought she would fit in perfectly with my family back in Utah. Because my mom and I lived out in the middle of nowhere, there was a lot of room for Spike to exercise. We also had a lot of companion animals for her to play with. At the time I had a dog, a chow-timber wolf mix named Sprocket, two cats, ducks, chickens, a rooster, and a crow. Plus, in my mind I could just imagine how much fun Spike would be as a hiking buddy. I had always had energetic dogs like her in my life, so I told the family, “If you can’t find a place for her to go, let me know. She can come live with me in Utah.”

  Of course, after I made the offer, in my mind it was set in stone: Spike was now my dog. But there was another person I needed to consult: my mom. I hadn’t yet let her know that another dog was on her way to our home, so I decided to do the right thing and tell her. Mom wasn’t very surprised; I would routinely show up with abandoned animals to care for. This time, I could tell she was hesitant about my bringing home a strange dog, but being the best mom in the world, she told me she would help me transport Spike to Utah. My mom told us to rent a car and drive Spike out to a halfway point near Las Vegas. She would meet us there and drive Spike and me back to our home.

  Spike’s family and I rented a swanky Lincoln Town Car with all the bells and whistles (the first one I’d seen) for Spike’s road trip to Vegas. Spike’s family decided to come with us so they could say goodbye to her. Even though they knew Spike would have a great home, they were still very sad. It was an amazingly difficult decision for them, and they felt as though they were truly losing a part of themselves. I kept assuring them that I would take very good care of their baby and they were welcome to visit her anytime. There were a lot of hugs and tears when they said goodbye. And then they got in their car and drove back to California, and we got into ours and drove Spikey Doo to her new forever home. Once we arrived in beautiful southern Utah/Northern Arizona (yes, I’m actually an Arizonan), my adventure with Spikey Doo really began.

  Being 16 and not really knowing much other than what I had experienced with all my other dogs growing up, I was under the impression I would just let Spike out of the car and she would fit right in with all the other animals at our house. We were one big happy family, and I thought Spike would just blend in with everyone. Boy, was I wrong.

  Spike’s introduction to our pets didn’t go very smoothly, to say the least. Spike didn’t know other dogs and cats—much less ducks, chickens, roosters, and crows—so she didn’t know quite what to do around them. Looking back, all I can say is that Spikey Doo must have thought I’d brought her to her first buffet. The first thing she did was try to pick a fight with Spro
cket, and then proceeded to chase anything that would run away from her. It was chaos—every animal was sprinting away from her. I ran after Spikey Doo and finally caught her before anyone got hurt. As I stood there catching my breath, I started to think that I might have made a very bad decision.

  My mom looked overwhelmed as she watched. She knew how important it was to me to save Spike’s life, and she could tell from the look on my face that she wasn’t the only one overwhelmed by the situation. But, great mom that she is, she took one look at me and told me not to give up. If we kept trying, we would find a way to help Spikey Doo adjust.

  This was one of my first experiences with truly negative behavior in an animal. All of my other dogs (including pitties) were relatively issue free because they had been exposed to lots of them from a very young age. Growing up, I always felt like I could handle anything that came my way when it came to dogs, but this was the first time I came up against big socialization issues like these. It was all new to me.

  The goal was to get Spikey Doo used to our other pets, and I was determined to help her do it. But I wasn’t quite sure how to do it. Spikey Doo clearly hadn’t been around a lot of other animals in her California home. Because she lacked socialization, she had had no experience to draw on when she met these other creatures. When I was pondering how I could help this new spunky girl while not jeopardizing any of my other animals, it hit me—I simply can’t give up.

  One of the first things we tried actually turned out to be the best: constant supervision. I stayed with Spikey Doo every minute—everywhere I went, she went, too. It was a lot of work because I had to make sure she didn’t put any of our pets in danger, but it was also a lot of fun—we really got to know each other. She was a playful, smart, spunky girl who learned quickly but who still needed a lot of guidance when interacting with other animals. The first few weeks were rough, but I stayed patient and gave her lots of time to figure things out. To this day, I think the best thing I did was giving it time and letting her learn that all the other animals were part of our family and, now, so was she. And the hard work started to pay off. Spikey Doo eventually understood what I was trying to convey to her and started to see the other animals as friends, not lunch.