Please pardon the agitated nature of the previous post. I hope that those of you who’ve been through clicker training (or may have started it and then…) can sympathize. Here’s a brief progress report: We all seem used to the click click click associated with feeding and treating Charlie. Hopefully on Monday Trainer Tim will think we’ve sufficiently “charged the clicker” and by the middle of next week we’ll be embroiled in another clicky challenge. Fingers crossed.

Public Service Announcement: Look, Something Shiny! is about the shiny new thing on my mind. Right now it’s Charlie. Don’t worry, soon I’ll start spouting off about something else. But for now let’s stick to the dog.

As of today we’ve had Charlie for about two weeks. Since bringing her home we’ve worked through involuntary urination, a tumor on her neck, resource guarding, numerous almost-dogfights, and four baths. As she’s gotten to know and begun to trust Jed and me, Charlie’s showing her more vulnerable side. And with that comes a laundry list of fears and phobias which so far includes:

Things That Cause Charlie to Tuck Tail and Run or Hide in the Bathtub

• The sounds and smells of cooking
• Rain storms
• When the blinds move in the breeze
• Those metal doors embedded in the sidewalks all over downtown
• Glass elevators (not when she’s in them, just when she sees them in operation)
• Our oscillating tower fan

She sounds like a total chicken, right? Well, get this:

Things That Every Other Dog in the World is Scared of, but Charlie Isn’t

• The vacuum (in fact, she runs up to “get” it)
• Getting taken into the back room at the vet’s office
• Being put into a bathtub full of water
• Emergency vehicle sirens
• Strangers who run up to touch her

Her veterinarian, with whom I’ve become all too familiar, agrees that she is a “weirdo”.

His words?

“Good luck with that.”

Click. Lamb.

Next up: Teaching an eight-year-old German Short-haired Lab how to fetch. Seriously.

Jed and I are experiencing emotional and sensory overload thanks to this dog.

THIS dog?

I mean, thanks to Charlie. Sorry, Charlie. (hehe, I couldn’t resist)

First of all, we apprehensively ride the roller coaster of vet visits (i.e. the bills that accompany them) and pulling chewing gum off of footpads at 6am after the poopie scoopie bag burst while picking up dog bombs during the morning walk.

Both are expected. Neither are fun.

Speaking of fun?! Let’s talk about obedience training.

You see, Charlie has this thing about other dogs. That thing is “Omigawd I SEE another DOG and I’m GOING to GET IT and if you don’t LET ME I’m going to FREAK the EFF OUT!” and then when we let her meet the other dog it’s “OH NO YOU DIDN’T just try to SMELL my butt NOW I WILL BARK and SHOVE and SCARE your owner HAHA I SHOWED YOU.” She’s pretty harmless, but that behavior is not great for meeting new people, yanno.

So, $100 later we meet Tim the Trainer and yesterday began the process of teaching Charlie to, well, behave like the good girl we all know she is. That process involves meat (lamb, that fancy/gassy bitch) and a clicker thing. We click the thing and she gets lamb. And we click. Lamb. Click. Lamb. And then we feed her dinner one kibble at a time. Click. Kibble. Click. Kibble.

We are in the midst of the maddening process of getting Charlie to “love the clicker” as Tim the Trainer puts it. See, the clicker is really an annoying training device. It’s piercing. Frankly, all involved are put off by it. That’s the point. We teach Charlie to not worry about insanely irritating things by giving her delicious noms when she hears a click. (That’s not completely accurate, but I can’t explain the concept in any sort of concise manner. So, we’ll go with what I got.)

Clicks for every piece of food at breakfast and dinner. One hundred thousand million gajillion clicks a day.

I hate the clicker. At least Charlie gets lamb when we use it. Know how I can learn to love the clicker?

I’ll give you a hint:

Click. Ice Cream. Click. Manicure.

But, it’s not about me.

So, Jed and I are holding on to bare threads of sanity and hoping that Charlie “loves the clicker” soon so we can move to Phase 2, which Tim the Trainer promises will be less intense. And that’s awesome. I can’t wait.

Click.

Click.

Click.

More later…

PS. We LOVE this dog. If we didn’t, we wouldn’t put ourselves through this madness. I hope you understand. Doglovers, do you know what I mean?

Meet Charlie Browne.

The “e” at the end is for femininity. Or something.

Stats:
Gender: Female
Breed: German Shorthaired Pointer/Laborador Retriever
Height: 22″ at the shoulder
Weight: 46 lbs
Age: 8 yrs

As of Memorial Day weekend she still called a second-chance dog shelter, Family Dogs New Life, home. We saw her on their website and immediately went to meet her. Back then she was called Marley. The place was hoppin’ and I was nervous that she’d already been snatched up. But we lucked out. I remember thinking she was smaller than her picture let on…

Charlie’s first week was focused on getting her situated and helping her trust. It took four baths to get her completely clean. In the process we discovered that she doesn’t shed. BONUS! She also checked out completely healthy at the vet office. Can I mention that the people at Mt. Scott Animal Clinic are amazing? One thing we discovered after a day or two is that she suffers from urinary incontinence, which isn’t uncommon in older female dogs. That accounted for some of her discomfort during the part of the week, but thanks to some inexpensive medication she’s dry as a desert rock. And we can tell that she’s happier for it.

And now for the trust part… The kind (and truthful) folks at Family Dogs New Life warned Jed and me that Charlie had a history of food and toy guarding. At their office we were able to induce some of her guarding behavior, and we felt like it was something we could work with her on. During week 1 breakfast and lunch were presented to Charlie in small, hand-held increments. We kept toys away from her until we established that we were the bosses and givers of all things delicious and nourishing. Now we can reach into her filled dish and grab kibbles while she wags her tail and munches around our fingers.

As far as toys are concerned, the progress is slower because Charlie doesn’t seem to have a whole lot of interest in playing right now. When a local intuitive animal communicator, Bridget Pilloud (@petsaretalking), talked with Charlie she discovered that grief over what Charlie perceived as the death of a previous owner causes Charlie to crave peace and quiet. Bridget assured us that if we give Charlie space and not overwhelm her with attention she’ll be a whole different pup in about three months. Fair enough. In the meantime, rather than push Charlie to play I’ve been stuffing cookies into a Kong and letting her kick it around as she pleases. She’s smart enough to know that if she bites the Kong hard enough the cookie will break and the pieces will fall out. It took her about 10 minutes to figure that out.

And that leads me to Charlie’s intelligence. She already knows Jed and me by name and has learned to “wait”, which is useful at crosswalks (someone else taught her “sit” “stay” and “down”). One downside of her smarts is the fact that she is very reactive when we show stress or speak in anger about work, etc. Charlie also likes to be dominant, which can scare other pet owners. We are meeting with a trainer to help us teach Charlie not to push other pups around. And teach Jed and I a thing or two as well.

So what about the cat, you ask? He’s not coming. It has nothing to do with Charlie, since she came along after I made the choice to leave Jeremy where he is. Here’s the short version:

Since moving to the CyanPDX on May 9th we’ve been thinking hard about a pet, but Jeremy (see previous post) is too happy and comfortable with my parents to steal away. The day that I called Mom to make the final decision with regard to Jeremy was a tough one. I love that cat. He’s huge and grouchy and not affectionate, but that doesn’t really matter. What does matter, though, was the fact that he would be lonely in our apartment and cut off from the outdoors. With Mom and Dad he has a yard and someone to keep company (Mom’s a domestic goddess, you see) all day every day. The choice was a no-brainer.

Now we have ourselves a happy ending. Charlie gets a second chance and Jeremy gets to live out his life in small town Pennsylvania. We can’t always pick the easy choice. I think the tough ones are the most rewarding, though.