The end of an era

Saturday was the end of an era for my family. We put to rest our first and only family dog.

At nearly fifteen, Taffi's passing was hardly unexpected. We all watched her deteriorate with age, becoming uncomfortable and dysfunctional. With all of the close-calls and illnesses that Taffi had during her lifetime (mostly due to her delinquent nature), my mom was sure that some dramatic illness or trauma would be her undoing. She didn't think she would have to make the decision to put Taffi down. But, as I joke with my family, Taffi was too mean to die. She was a fighter, and she was stubbornly loyal to my mom.

And my mom was stubbornly loyal to her. Every malady Taffi suffered (and there were many) was quickly treated. Even, on one occasion, when that meant over $1,000 in vet bills for four days in intensive care after Taffi ate opossum poop in the yard. Especially near the end of her life, Mom got used to fighting for Taffi by searching for health solutions for her. She diligently took care of her, even getting up at 5:00 a.m. every morning to let her outside and feed her.

But a few weeks ago, my tearfully told me of her decision to put Taffi down. "I used to think that God was trying to teach me perseverance," she said, "but now I think He's trying to teach me about letting go."

In the car with just my mom, dad, sister, and Taffi on the way to the vet, I realized that it was the first time in a long while that we had all been together in that way. It was a snapshot of our family unit as it was years ago, before new human and animal family members were added to our lives. And it was the last time the four of us would be together with Taffi.

We had Taffi for nearly fifteen years. As we were saying goodbye to her, we were also acknowledging the ending of an era and ushering in a new one. Things are changing for all of us: my mom and dad both have new jobs, my sister is married and expecting a child, and I have many changes in my own life. Though we are a close family, our lives are taking us in new directions.

Through her own nature of determination and stubborn independence, Taffi taught us all about perseverance, but any lesson on perseverance needs to be accompanied by a lesson on letting go. In order to move into a new phase of life, you have to let go of the old one. Letting go of Taffi frees my family to fully acknowledge this new stage of our lives together.

So on Saturday, with a blend of laughter and tears, we said goodbye and learned that it's ok to let go.

Poodle for the President?

If Obama becomes President, he may move into the White House with a Poodle by his side.

Senator Barack Obama promised his daughters that their family would get a dog after the presidential race, win or lose. The American Kennel Club took advantage of this opportunity to run a poll asking America what breed should be selected by the Obama family.

The AKC pre-selected specific breeds they thought would fit the bill. They had to take into consideration that one of the Obama daughters has allergies, so whatever breed is chosen will need to have a hypo-allergenic coat. For each breed in the running, the AKC offered a brief profile.

The Poodle closely beat out the less-popular Soft Coated Wheaten Terrier to become America's choice for the Obama family.

But, if Obama is elected, is it a good move for him to own a Poodle?

Let's face it, Poodles kind of have a bad rap. Ask most people what comes to mind when they hear "Poodle," and they're likely to say "snooty."

Not exactly the image Obama has been cultivating.

But are Poodles really snooty dogs? Or is this reputation due to unfair breed stereotyping and prejudice?

Standard Poodles were orignally bred for hunting. Far from a sissy task. And that silly show haircut? It was originally done to cover their essential joints and organs, while taking away excess hair that would hinder movement in the water. These are hearty, intelligent sporting dogs. Not a bad choice for a first dog.

Aside from the Standard size, which stands at at least 15 inches tall, the Poodle also comes in Miniature and Toy varieties. Honestly, I don't think choosing one of the smaller sizes would be good for the Obama family's image. Toy Poodles were mainly bred and kept to be trained to entertain. Who could take Obama seriously with a little Toy Poodle pirouetting at his feet?

No word from Obama as to whether he plans on taking the AKC poll's advice and selecting a Poodle, but if he does, let's hope the dog is standing by his side, not held under his arm.

Little Cavalier

Little Cavalier
Originally uploaded by speakdoglish

One of the great things about trying to come up with a logo idea for a client is that I might just hit upon something I like for myself.

This is one of those things. This little Cavalier was so cute, I decided to keep it. In fact, I like it so much that I think I might make a series out of it. I think they would make cute greeting cards or stationery. I've toyed around with the idea of developing a line of designs for a while, but never done anything about it. I did some research on getting a business license and starting a small business, but never had the motivation or the time to take my design products or services to the next level.

Today I applied for a business license and got a PayPal account. Next thing to do is register a domain name and start building a site for myself. Hopefully, if I can get things rolling quickly enough, I'll be able to send out some cards in time for Christmas and maybe get some orders.

Most of my drawings end up being Cavaliers, so I'm hoping that the Cavalier community will like them. I'm thinking Cavalier designs have a good chance of selling, because most Cavalier owners collect Cavalier items, and there aren't many Cavalier specialty items around. Not like this, anyway. I like keeping it cartoony, because Cavaliers are such happy and fun-loving little dogs.

I'm a little nervous and a lot excited. Whatever becomes of this, at least I'm doing something!

Trying to maintain his cool demeanor

After my run today, I grabbed Alfie and Butter to accompany me on my cool-down walk. I've been trying to walk them more lately, hoping to get them back to the weights they were at before they came to live with me and became subject to our couch's gravitational pull. I also want to take them for walks to get them socialized and give them more confidence. Like me, if they stick around the house too much, they can get a little shy.

In Alfie's show days, when he lived with a large number of Cavaliers, he was the leader of the pack, the King of the Yard. Whenever I took him back to visit, I could tell that he had the respect of the other dogs. The amazing thing was that I never saw him use aggression to gain respect. He simply had a presence. A cool air of confidence.

About half way through our walk, I began to see him get that presence back. He held his head higher and picked up his pace. I might as well have had him on a show lead and been gaiting him around the ring, the way he was moving.

We rounded a corner near a woman kneeling next to her flower beds. Normally the dogs might shy away slightly, taken aback by an unexpected stranger. But they did well, kept their pace. Once we were around the corner, we began to walk past the house's yard, which was surrounded by chain-link fence. The first half of the fence is lined by dense bushes, which end abruptly at a vehicle gate, exposing the yard. My dogs trotted alongside me until we passed the bushes, when a black-and-tan chihuahua, seeing us through the chain link, immediately shot across the yard toward Alfie.

Alfie, seeing in his peripheral vision what must have resembled a bat out of hell, startled and charged forward on the lead, all but yelping with surprise. Upon seeing that the charging object was nothing but a yappy little dog contained by chain link, he glanced over his left and right shoulder, clearly thinking, "Bloody hell, I hope no one saw that."

He then clipped along, escorting Butter and I home, intermittently looking over his shoulder.

The makings of an animal trainer

Today I participated in a summer tradition: I went to the zoo with my mom.

Some of my earliest and dearest memories are of me and my mom at the zoo. When I was very young, my older sister participated in zoo camp, a program that allows kids to follow around zookeepers and go behind the scenes of the zoo before it opens. The three of us entered the quiet zoo in the gentle glow of summer mornings. After Amy was off with her zoo camp group, mom and I explored the zoo we had all to ourselves. Even though I didn't get to go behind the scenes or work with the animals like Amy, I was thrilled that I was able to see the animals before anyone else did.

Though we had free reign of the entire zoo, I usually led my mom to the most exciting exhibit, the beluga whales. They are my favorite exhibit to this day. I'm not sure I can pinpoint what exactly it is about them that I like. Perhaps it's the way their mouths curve up slightly at the corners, resembling a friendly smile. Maybe it's that they're white, like holy things. But I think it's that the beluga exhibit provides an intimacy that other exhibits don't. I think I've been closer to the belugas than any other zoo animal. (Well, besides the goats in the petting zoo, but that doesn't count.) They swim up to the underwater glass, their blubber gliding across my outstretched palm. How far apart are we? An inch? Two inches? Regardless, they are right there looking at me with their obsidian eyes as they gracefully sweep by.

We always stayed for the beluga "keeper talks," where the zookeepers come out and talk about the whales and how they train them. I paid careful attention to the hand signals the keepers used to tell the whales what behaviors to perform, so that when I had my chance to see the belugas through the underwater glass, I could communicate with the whales on my own. I stood waiting at the glass, signaling the whales to come to me. And when they did, I swore it was because they were responding to me. I thought I was talking to the whales. When the zoo was open and other children started lining up at the glass, they would all chatter to their parents while I stood quietly moving my hands, summoning my amiable aquatic friends.

I had no idea then that when I got older I would be using the same principles of positive reinforcement and operant conditioning the zookeepers use. I don't work at the zoo, and I don't train beluga whales, but I am able to form a rewarding relationship with dogs. When I'm working with them, I'm able to replicate that childhood thrill of communicating with an animal. It's so rewarding to watch them learn, and to be able to look them in the eye and connect.

I never actually went to zoo camp. I guess by the time I was old enough, they had stopped the program or something. Maybe if I had gone I would be a zookeeper today. Regardless, I am a dog person through and through, and I continue to enjoy relationships with animals through my two adorable and adoring (if not always obedient) Cavaliers.

Dogs and the Depressed

As someone who has moderate atypical depression, I recently opted to stop taking medication and pursue mental health in more natural ways. It got me thinking--what effect do my dogs have on my depression?

They certainly give me reasons to smile throughout the day. Alfie's almost-human gentle eye contact always has a way of calming me and making me be in the moment. And Butter's ever-wagging tail and upside-down antics (in which she gets attention by going completely limp--except for her wagging tail--and flopping over on her back) remind me to smile and laugh.

But can they really be considered treatment?

I've heard a lot of positive messages like this one about how pets are beneficial to health, but I haven't found a lot of information on differences in effectiveness among specific types of depression.

For example, that article mentions the positive effects of pets on stressed stockbrokers, sad nursing home patients, or AIDS sufferers. What about people whose depression is not as easily attributed to specific environments or circumstances?

I did some quick searching through my university's databases of academic journals. While I didn't find any studies that directly answered my question, I did find some interesting study results.

• A study published in Anthrozoos (the journal of the Delta Society) in December 2007 challenged the common assumption that owning a pet decreases loneliness. "There was no evidence that companion animal acquisition helped to reduce levels of loneliness, irrespective of whether participants already owned a companion animal at the time of seeking to acquire a new companion animal, or the type of companion animal that was acquired."
• A study in the same journal in 1993 looked at the impact of dog ownership on depression, anxiety, and anger in working women and found that "Results did not support the hypotheses that among working women (1) pet owners would have lower levels of emotional distress than nonowners and (2) the greater the degree of attachment to the pet(s), the smaller the degree of emotional distress."

So, dogs may not be as effective a medicine or preventative measure as is generally thought.

However, I did find many studies relating to dogs and depression that had to do with the relationship between animals and the elderly or "empty nesters." Studies of those groups decisively found that animals had a positive mental effect.

It seems that while I may be able to rely on my dogs to lift my moods and lower my blood pressure, I can't count on them to cure my depression. Still, I count them as invaluable additions to my life, and I can certainly rely on them to try to brighten my day.

Reconsidering "Fido"

An article in my local paper the other day revealed that there is only one licensed Fido in my city. The name has such a historically strong association with dogs, I guess it now seems too unoriginal to use. But the name most often used now? Buddy.

How original.

According to Wikipedia, the name "Fido" comes from the Latin word fidelis, which means "faithful." Faithfulness is a trait dogs are famous for, and even though "Fido" may now seem cliche, "Buddy"has become our modern equivalent.

I think it's time we reconsidered the name "Fido." Dignify it a little. Think about it: Buddy is the kind of dog you watch the game and have a couple beers with, but you could philosophize over a glass of wine with Fido.

But then again, why not get a little more creative?

I had a chance to puppysit these two uniquely named pups. The girl (left) is named Barbie, and her brother (right) is, you guessed it, Ken.

Unfortunately, I didn't get a chance to name either of my dogs. Because I got them as adults, they were both used to their names already. But I'm not complaining. In fact, I think their names are quite fitting.

My dog Alfie got his dignified, quintessentially English name because he was born in Britain, where naming a dog "Alfie" is not uncommon. I think it fits him, and when he is looking especially English, he even gets promoted to Sir Alfred. It suits him quite nicely.

My dog Butter, on the other hand, is a little less dignified. She has no English roots to trace her name back to. I like to think that her name is appropriate, since she melts into the arms or lap of whatever human is holding her, and she spreads out across her bed (or mine) when she sleeps. (Har-har.) But the true story (she is a little embarrassed to admit) is that she was named "Butter" simply because her littermate was named "Peanut."

How Peanut feels about her name, we can only guess, but at least it's a little more original than "Buddy."