The Renovation Dog

It seems like when I’m away from Luke is when I notice the most about him.  When we are together it is easy and natural and I don’t notice how we interact much of the time.  When I leave him for times like vacations, I notice dogs everywhere.  And I notice that they are not my dog.  They are all sweet and they are all adorable and I enjoy meeting and petting them, but there is always that “thing” missing.  It reinforces that the right dog and I found each other because we know what the other is thinking without words, and mostly without even eye contact.

Today, though, I met another border collie who was tied outside a dog specialty shop.  I was respectful of the border collie’s space because I know Luke would have wanted that, but I did say hello on the way inside.  While looking around the store I heard the border collie talk the way Luke talks — it was amazing!  Apparently the dog had waited long enough and came to tell its owner it was time to go.  It stood nicely in the doorway and said what needed to be said in border collie speak, which is completely different from barking.  On the way out, I witnessed the border collie digging in a nearby flower bed and chewing on wood chips.  When ultimatums are ignored, destruction follows in their wake.  I found the whole scenario totally entertaining because after knowing Luke I could understand what was happening throughout!

I learned two things about Luke this week.  First, and almost more surprising, was that his love for generic Cheezits borders on obsession.  After rejecting tortilla chips, cheetos, frozen french fries (reheated in the oven, of course), and even french fries straight from the fast food restaurant I was quite sure that this would be one more instance where he would sniff the item, gingerly lift it into his mouth with his tongue, roll it around for a moment, unceremoniously drop it back on the floor or dog bed or carpet that he took it from, and look at me with this utter disgust on his face seeming to ask, “Why on Earth would you eat something like that?”  Instead, he sniffed, tasted, devoured, and proceeded to beg for more every time I opened the box.  This is unusual behavior for Luke as he usually does not get my food and wouldn’t like it if he did, so instead of being irritated with him as I’m sure I should have been I couldn’t help but be tickled at what seemed to be his helpless devotion to these silly crackers that led him to override his natural aversion to the act of begging!

The second thing I learned happened this morning on our normally quiet, dark walk through our apartment complex.  We are some of the first creatures stirring most mornings, which is nice.  Well, I think it’s nice — Luke would rather be back in bed for another couple of hours before heading out and about!  This morning, however, there was a motorcycle already purring as we passed one of the side lots.  I steered Luke in another direction because I never know what noises and experiences are going to trigger his freak-out reaction and in the dark is not the best time to try to work through something scary.  We tried our best to stay out of harm’s way, but to no avail.  The motorcycle came directly in the path we had taken in our attempt to retreat.  I had Luke sit, but as the motorcycle passed by I looked down at him and noticed that the look on his face did not read fear but fascination.  His head and eyes followed the bike and he would definitely have run after it if I hadn’t stopped him.  Luke loves motorcycles!  Testosterone and motorcycles — it transcends the bounds of species!  And then I found myself in the middle of this daydream fantasy where I’m riding a motorcycle and Luke is in the sidecar with doggles and a scarf flapping in rhythm with his tongue in the wind.  I guess the lesson here is that as well as you think you know someone, there’s always more to learn!

It’s amazing how wrapped up in our own troubles we can get.  I was moving.  I was leaving my home.  I was losing my roommate and best friend.  My whole life was turning up-side-down.  Sure, I knew that it would impact Luke in certain ways, but I also figured that as long as he was with me he would basically be okay.  I failed to realize that that was a philosophy for a different dog.  That worked for my previous dog, Shaun, who had only endured minor hardship in his life before coming to live in the lap of luxury — literally!  He had the confidence to go anywhere as long as we went together.  Luke, in sharp contrast, is scared of everything.  It took this one day, though, to bring it all into focus.

Luke had a bad night.  He slept, but not well.  Before my alarm went off, he came in and woke me up to let me know that something was just not right.  Neither one of us could put our nose on just what it was that was out of place.  Maybe it was a noise, maybe it was a feeling in the atmosphere, or maybe it was the moment that all the change and the emotional upheaval built up on him and just became too much.  I’ll never know, really.  All I know is that the dog who I have to wake up for our walks in the mornings and who goes almost directly back to bed afterwards, was wide awake and troubled.  I worried all day long, as any mom would, that he was sick and I couldn’t be with him.

We went for a walk when I got home to try to set both of our nerves a bit more at ease.  Luke was not sick, but he was incredibly twitchy and jumpy — even for Luke.  We walked a long way to see if we couldn’t get some of whatever it was out of his system.  We played frisbee to try to calm and focus his over-active herding brain.  When we got back home, though, Luke was just a nervous wreck again.  So I had to do some thinking.  Why was he so upset?  Why now?  What were we going to do about it?  How could I help Luke?  How could I help Luke help himself?

As soon as I allowed myself a fresh vantage point, the answers began to become so clear.  I had to go back to the basic principle that Luke is scared of everything.  Caught up in my hurry to get settled in the new place and make it home, I had not taken the time to think about the fact that Luke might need some time to soak in his new environs.  These were not the same people that he had inspected from the hillside next to our old apartment building; these were new people with new habits and new sounds and smells.  I needed to slow us down.  I needed to take time for us.

Luke is so incredibly smart.  I have to keep reminding myself that I don’t make him use even half of his intellect most of his life.  I think his intelligence is a double-edged sword at times.  Of course it’s good to be smart, but he never forgets anything and he comes up with new things to be afraid of all the time.  So, that day, it became my challenge to find a way to use his intelligence to dig him out of his hole.  If he is as smart as he is supposed to be and has proven himself to be, then he should be able to reason himself out of his fears as well.

So we sat.  In the middle of the parking lot, with everyone going about their business around us and giving us strange looks, we sat.  For long periods of time while Luke trembled and swung his head in all directions and flickered his ears until it seemed they might fall off, we sat.  It was not until Luke stopped trembling and sat with his ears perked forward in a posture of curiosity that we thought about moving towards home, and even then it was only a few steps.  The process would start all over again every time he would shake or cower or pin his ears back in fear.  I might stay standing, but he would sit and we would wait until he thought everything through.  And he was thinking.

He was pondering and considering a few questions.  Where do the sounds come from?  Who are these people?  Are they dangerous?  Are they interested in me?  What are they doing?  Where are they going?  It seemed that only after he exhausted these and other questions that only he could know about would he be ready to move forward with the kind of attitude I was looking for out of him.  Only then would he sit up straight, perk his ears forward, cast them about in many directions attempting to catch all noises created around him, and walk next to me as the strong and confident boy that he is.

This was by no means a simple, one-time process.  We sat a lot.  It took us quite some time to cover the distance between our parking space and the breezeway and the three flights of stairs to our door.  We continued the process later that night when we went back out for a late night potty-break — a process that I learned included a leash every time, not because he was going to run off anywhere but for his feelings of security.  He needed to know that he was linked to me and that I would be there to ward off anything that might potentially cause him harm.

Little by little, we have seen improvement.  He hears noises now and wonders where they come from instead of immediately wanting to hit the deck.  He sees people and considers staying his course before cowering and vearing.  When his old habbits take hold, we sit and we think and we try to come back to center.  At the end of the day, we are what the other has so we need to help each other out.  He reminds me everyday how to smile and laugh and love and feel extreme joy about simple things like frisbees.  The least I can do is try to help him out of the prison of terror he has built for himself.  I am coming to understand that time and patience are my best weapons in that fight, and for Luke I have those in infinite supply.

I just got back from vacation, and as much fun as it was it was super hard to be away from Luke.  I think I struck up a conversation with every Border Collie and Sheltie owner in the Pacific Northwest!  I’ve been thinking how much Luke would have loved this trip and how dog-friendly most of this trip really was.  It really is just a shame that there just isn’t a way of getting normal-sized dogs places without driving them or subjecting them to torturous cargo area rides on planes that would scar them for life!  (Especially Luke, who is already dealing with whatever damage he sustained from his puppyhood!)  So, I thought, thought I, why don’t certain airlines have special dog areas?  I think they could remove two to four of the middle seats (which no one really wants to sit in anyway, right?) and fashion the space for a dog to occupy.  That way, people could pay a puppy fare of some kind and walk their (less than 50-60 lb?) dogs onto the plane and then be able to have a nice vacation with their beloved pet that doesn’t waste the entire time just getting where they are going.  Eh?  Eh?  The airlines could make a little extra money selling Evian and dog biscuit travel packs for the pooches!?!  After the flight home, however, I think I will exclude Delta from the bidding on my idea.  Long story, different blog!

So Luke and I had a moment out of a movie today.  We were out walking and these two guys ride by on bikes.  One of them keeps riding the other looks back at us and is trying to get his buddy’s attention in regards to us — so much so that he turns around just in time to narrowly escape plowing into his buddy’s bike.  It was one of those moments where you were glad catastrophe had been averted, especially since you had been the cause.

I would like to claim all the credit.  I would like to say that it was because it is June in Texas and in order to step outside your door in the afternoons you basically have to forgo the wearing of clothing, and what I was wearing was so enticing that it made this poor fellow almost wreck his bike.  Alas, no.  It was my beautiful dog that was his undoing.  And can I blame him, really?  So the story really goes a bit more like this…

These two guys ride by on their bikes while Luke and I are out walking.  One of them seems to take no notice whatsoever.  The other one, however, tells me I have a great dog.  I tell him thank you.  He looks as if he is going to ride on, but he looks back at Luke once more as if to make sure he’s really seeing what he thinks he’s seeing.  Then he catches up with his buddy, just out of my earshot, and begins talking to his buddy with the top half of his body turned back around to face Luke.  His buddy still show enough disinterest as to not even glance over his shoulder as he peddles on down the path, but his is quite nearly interrupted by our Border Collie aficionado as he finally turns back around just in time to find himself about to ride smack into his buddy’s rear wheel.

Luke, on the other hand, was a bit too concerned with whether his latest stick would make good mulch to notice his 15 seconds of fame!

When I rescued Luke from the shelter I had this idea that his ordeal would be over soon.  For all but the first year of my life, I had been ruled by Shelties and was well aware of the dynamics of a herding dog relationship.  It was one of the reasons they let me have Luke in the first place.  I had never spent an extended amount of time with a Border Collie, though.  If you have, and as I found out, Luke’s ordeal was destined to continue — perpetuated by his own mind’s incredible inner-workings.

The plan was a renovation of sorts.  As you would with maybe a kitchen, if you’ll bear with the analogy, I would take something that was beautiful already and wonderfully unique in its flaws and try to help it be something I could live with.  Things rarely go according to plan and all renovations take longer, and more resources, than you originally expect.  This one involved a living, breathing creature — with a mind and a will of his own.  I had no idea what I was getting myself into!  I had no idea that over the next four years and counting I would be such a totally changed person myself because of what Luke brought into my life, and because of what he teaches me every day about moving past fear.