K-pack diary: I think I can, I know I can.
I'm not sure how long I will be able to keep up these posts, but I am going to try to do it every day.
Many of you are aware that my father wants to foster puppies all summer for the local dog shelter in Yanceeville. So far we have fostered, and adopted out about twelve/sixteen different puppies. I haven't been bonding with them, the way I did with the "Original Six" we fostered last fall, but I do my part in keeping them in line. The last batch were a set of red retrievers; they were very sweet, but incredibly timid at first, but after three-ish weeks with us, qualified for adoption.
Well, yesterday, my father decided that is it time to put to the test, my skills as a dog rehabilitation expert. He brought home four feral puppies; they have zero previous human exposure, are fearful-aggressive, and are biters. A red zone case. If they had been left at the shelter, they would have had to be put down, due to not being eligible for adoption.
I have been given two weeks to improve their behavior. They don't have to be eligible for adoption after two weeks, but they do have to be broken of their biting, and demonstrate that they have gained some human-socialization skills.
On Friday, May 8th, around two PM, I went out to get a first glimpse of these puppies; two of them folded in on themselves at the corner of the cage, while the other two disappeared into the dog house. My father and I sat down near the ones we could get to, while leaving them space to get away if they needed. They were completely shut down. There were no signs of them using their noses; their backs were turned to us, and they were simply frozen. After about half an hour, the pair began to finally sniff at us, just a little.
I came to the conclusion that it was a big enough step for them to come out of their intentional-comatose and relax enough to use their primary sense, that we should leave on that positive note. We left them be for the rest of the day, only stopping in to feed them.
That night, I slept very poorly; I woke up time after time, struggling to get comfortable, and when I did manage to sleep, I had dreams of dog people, the shadow, and the trial ahead of me.
I finally gave up on sleep and climbed out of bed around one PM. Right away, as I stepped out of my room, my father asked if I wanted to go with him to give the puppies some treats. I agreed, and went to throw on some clothes.
As I was dressing, I meditated. I centered my focus on communicating with the dogs. I silently repeated a mantra. I gathered my energy into a place of absolute stillness, to be completely in control and calm.
We entered the kennel, and I identified where all four puppies were. I walked along the edges of the cage, casually sniffing out the territory I was claiming, while keeping the idea that I was there to make peace in the forefront of my mind.
I took a piece of the soft food and offered it to the pair hiding in the dog house; they were completely shut down. I retracted my hand and thought, while my father layed the plate close to the pair in the corner, where they very cautiously drew closer to it, sniffed, and ate the food. He left to get more, and I was struck with an idea.
I went to the pair in the corner, knowing full-well that these were the two more aggressive of the dogs. I squated down, and tossed the food to them. It took a moment, but they sniffed, licked, and finally, ate the piece, in full knowledge that I had given it to them. Their curiosity was peaqued; I was on the right track.
Dad returned, I motioned for him to join me, having him sit on the other side of the dog house, closer to the fence, and backed up a bit myself, to leave plenty of space for an escape, should the puppies' tension escalate.
I extended my hand in the direction of the one nearest to me, and waited. He hesitated, then lifted his nose and sniffed. He leaned just a little bit closer, and so did I. He licked my fingers clean. Success! My father coppied my behavior, feeding a piece of the food to the other puppy. Both ate from our hands, and were willing to lick our fingers clean afterwords. I took the remains of the plate to the other pair, who, I realized, just needed to be left alone to smell and taste the treat; the next time we came out with some, they would be more wanting.
My father was utterly shocked; he thought it would take me at least four days to get them to eat from my hand. We sat quietly for a while, and once both puppies had relaxed, and were no longer startling when we moved, left.
We let several hours pass between that visit, and the next. This time, we brought Deshi [the husky/nanny] out with us, as he is a very good babysitter; a gentle diciplinarian. We put Deshi into the kennel, and the one that I had been feeding in the corner earlier slipped out through the door. There was no way I was going to be able to chase him down without stepping on him or kicking him.
I made the choice to wait calmly and quietly for an oppertunity, and it presented itself.
The puppy wandered under the tarp we leave on the corner of the kennel, for shade/shelter, and trapped itself.
"Now or never!" I told myself, and put my plan into action.
I moved quietly, but quickly over to the tarp and watched to see where the puppy was moving.
I prepared myself for being bitten- probably multiple times.
As I slid my hands beneath the edge, I pictured where Ceasar Millan always grabs small dogs; over the shoulders, and the underside of the chest. I placed my hands and began to grip, and the puppy became furious. He growled, snarled, and snapped at me so viciously, that I was reminded of the neighbors dog that tore into my arm when I was a child. If I was another puppy, I'd have been mince meat.
But still, I held my center so firmly, that my heart-rate did not even jump. Keeping the Ceasar hold on him, I turned him onto his back laid one hand against his chest, pushing my fingers firmly against his neck with the other. After a moment of intense battling on his part, he stilled.
I gently pulled his tail from between his legs to encourage a more comfortable frame of mind, and began to massage his shoulders. He squirmed, and I held, and continued to massage. Another moment passed, and I allowed him to lay on his side, where I continued to massage. He looked at me, his ears back in submission, but the complete petrifiying fear that had previously been readable was seemingly gone.
I picked him up, with no fight, and held him in my arms as I carried him to the gate of the kennel. My father opened the gate, and I set him down, where he rushed to greet Deshi and the other puppies, now that he could rejoin them.
We sat down and watched as Deshi mothered them. Three out of the four of them did not hide from us. They came right by us as they danced around their nanny's legs. And then, the trio did something unexpected; they paused in their excitement to sniff, touch [with their mouths, as it's the way that puppies explore], and lick our hands.
A bigger shock came about five minutes later, when our little escapee allowed dad to pet him for a solid minute- no shivering, shaking, growling, snarling, biting, or tail-tucking.
As it began to rain, and we retreated indoors, I remained cool on the exterrior, but inside, I was hollering my triumph from the mountain tops.
I am going to do this, damnit! These puppies will not be put down.
- Asher
Many of you are aware that my father wants to foster puppies all summer for the local dog shelter in Yanceeville. So far we have fostered, and adopted out about twelve/sixteen different puppies. I haven't been bonding with them, the way I did with the "Original Six" we fostered last fall, but I do my part in keeping them in line. The last batch were a set of red retrievers; they were very sweet, but incredibly timid at first, but after three-ish weeks with us, qualified for adoption.
Well, yesterday, my father decided that is it time to put to the test, my skills as a dog rehabilitation expert. He brought home four feral puppies; they have zero previous human exposure, are fearful-aggressive, and are biters. A red zone case. If they had been left at the shelter, they would have had to be put down, due to not being eligible for adoption.
I have been given two weeks to improve their behavior. They don't have to be eligible for adoption after two weeks, but they do have to be broken of their biting, and demonstrate that they have gained some human-socialization skills.
On Friday, May 8th, around two PM, I went out to get a first glimpse of these puppies; two of them folded in on themselves at the corner of the cage, while the other two disappeared into the dog house. My father and I sat down near the ones we could get to, while leaving them space to get away if they needed. They were completely shut down. There were no signs of them using their noses; their backs were turned to us, and they were simply frozen. After about half an hour, the pair began to finally sniff at us, just a little.
I came to the conclusion that it was a big enough step for them to come out of their intentional-comatose and relax enough to use their primary sense, that we should leave on that positive note. We left them be for the rest of the day, only stopping in to feed them.
That night, I slept very poorly; I woke up time after time, struggling to get comfortable, and when I did manage to sleep, I had dreams of dog people, the shadow, and the trial ahead of me.
I finally gave up on sleep and climbed out of bed around one PM. Right away, as I stepped out of my room, my father asked if I wanted to go with him to give the puppies some treats. I agreed, and went to throw on some clothes.
As I was dressing, I meditated. I centered my focus on communicating with the dogs. I silently repeated a mantra. I gathered my energy into a place of absolute stillness, to be completely in control and calm.
We entered the kennel, and I identified where all four puppies were. I walked along the edges of the cage, casually sniffing out the territory I was claiming, while keeping the idea that I was there to make peace in the forefront of my mind.
I took a piece of the soft food and offered it to the pair hiding in the dog house; they were completely shut down. I retracted my hand and thought, while my father layed the plate close to the pair in the corner, where they very cautiously drew closer to it, sniffed, and ate the food. He left to get more, and I was struck with an idea.
I went to the pair in the corner, knowing full-well that these were the two more aggressive of the dogs. I squated down, and tossed the food to them. It took a moment, but they sniffed, licked, and finally, ate the piece, in full knowledge that I had given it to them. Their curiosity was peaqued; I was on the right track.
Dad returned, I motioned for him to join me, having him sit on the other side of the dog house, closer to the fence, and backed up a bit myself, to leave plenty of space for an escape, should the puppies' tension escalate.
I extended my hand in the direction of the one nearest to me, and waited. He hesitated, then lifted his nose and sniffed. He leaned just a little bit closer, and so did I. He licked my fingers clean. Success! My father coppied my behavior, feeding a piece of the food to the other puppy. Both ate from our hands, and were willing to lick our fingers clean afterwords. I took the remains of the plate to the other pair, who, I realized, just needed to be left alone to smell and taste the treat; the next time we came out with some, they would be more wanting.
My father was utterly shocked; he thought it would take me at least four days to get them to eat from my hand. We sat quietly for a while, and once both puppies had relaxed, and were no longer startling when we moved, left.
We let several hours pass between that visit, and the next. This time, we brought Deshi [the husky/nanny] out with us, as he is a very good babysitter; a gentle diciplinarian. We put Deshi into the kennel, and the one that I had been feeding in the corner earlier slipped out through the door. There was no way I was going to be able to chase him down without stepping on him or kicking him.
I made the choice to wait calmly and quietly for an oppertunity, and it presented itself.
The puppy wandered under the tarp we leave on the corner of the kennel, for shade/shelter, and trapped itself.
"Now or never!" I told myself, and put my plan into action.
I moved quietly, but quickly over to the tarp and watched to see where the puppy was moving.
I prepared myself for being bitten- probably multiple times.
As I slid my hands beneath the edge, I pictured where Ceasar Millan always grabs small dogs; over the shoulders, and the underside of the chest. I placed my hands and began to grip, and the puppy became furious. He growled, snarled, and snapped at me so viciously, that I was reminded of the neighbors dog that tore into my arm when I was a child. If I was another puppy, I'd have been mince meat.
But still, I held my center so firmly, that my heart-rate did not even jump. Keeping the Ceasar hold on him, I turned him onto his back laid one hand against his chest, pushing my fingers firmly against his neck with the other. After a moment of intense battling on his part, he stilled.
I gently pulled his tail from between his legs to encourage a more comfortable frame of mind, and began to massage his shoulders. He squirmed, and I held, and continued to massage. Another moment passed, and I allowed him to lay on his side, where I continued to massage. He looked at me, his ears back in submission, but the complete petrifiying fear that had previously been readable was seemingly gone.
I picked him up, with no fight, and held him in my arms as I carried him to the gate of the kennel. My father opened the gate, and I set him down, where he rushed to greet Deshi and the other puppies, now that he could rejoin them.
We sat down and watched as Deshi mothered them. Three out of the four of them did not hide from us. They came right by us as they danced around their nanny's legs. And then, the trio did something unexpected; they paused in their excitement to sniff, touch [with their mouths, as it's the way that puppies explore], and lick our hands.
A bigger shock came about five minutes later, when our little escapee allowed dad to pet him for a solid minute- no shivering, shaking, growling, snarling, biting, or tail-tucking.
As it began to rain, and we retreated indoors, I remained cool on the exterrior, but inside, I was hollering my triumph from the mountain tops.
I am going to do this, damnit! These puppies will not be put down.
- Asher