Sherlock - another dumped dog

By popular request, the story of Sherlock. His ears already have a fan club so it's time I let you meet him properly.

We wanted to motivate Blanche's recovery from her operation (stomach torsion) so we decided in February to get her a new friend. I had promised Lou that his successor (not replacement) would be, like him, a sweet-natured shelter dog that no-one else would want but who could cope with the somewhat brutal friendship of a Great Pyrenees. Hunting dogs are not popular for adoption because hunters assume they were useless at hunting and their background gives them the reputation of being unsuitable as family dogs and liable to run away. So we chose Rudy, who'd been found wandering the countryside in August 2013, with no ID. He was probably thrown out before the new season.

Rudy's prison mug-shot

Here in France, some hunting-dogs are loved all the year round, all their lives. Many, however, live in packs, in cages, exercised only during the hunting season and with no experience of homes and families. We were told that Rudy hadn't known what a caress was but was starting to enjoy them. That he was quiet but showed enthusiasm for outings, in his own way. We already knew what 'outings' meant from our adoption of Lou: a five-minute toilet break on waste ground, 3 to 4 times a week. The surprise with Rudy was that he didn't pull on the lead but he'd been trained (unintentionally) not to come when called. He'd be let off the lead for his five minutes, called, grabbed and taken back to the cage. Obviously, he preferred not to come when called. So we filled in the paperwork and changed his name to Sherlock.

When I went to his cage to spring him from the hellhole, he didn't even get up he was so depressed, and he barked just once, a big hound bay, fit for a Baskerville. I swear he knew I'd come for him and he didn't think he could go on much longer if I hadn't. The breed was new to me and I didn't realise till I got him home that the muscles of his hind-quarters were wasted from lack of exercise and he was far too thin. I thought back to the dish in his cage, piled high with pizza (restaurant left-overs) and untouched. The first night, he cried from the pain in his ears - yes, once again, and worse than with Lou, another floppy-eared dog with the most horrific, untreated ear infection. Dogs are so stoical and they put up with ear infections during the day when there are distractions but they can't sleep at night and the pain drives them crazy.

The vet fell in love with Sherlock and her good work, combined with a healthy diet and daily exercise, has restored his health. His bum is double the size it was and, in his case, that's great news. He's gained 5kg - a big percentage of his 35kg. Thanks to a Blog reader who emailed me, I had a new treatment to try for long-term ear maintenance and we seem to be managing the ear problems by using Zymox regularly (products you can order from the USA and that work miracles).

Sherlock at home

I'm sure from his behaviour that Sherlock had never been in a house before and the stairs up to the front door were a giant step for dogkind. It took a couple of tries the first time but he followed us and the big blonde into the house and into the living-room. He even fell asleep for a while until the T.V. was switched on and then he was completely panic-stricken, ran outside and wouldn't come back in. We left the T.V. off. It took a couple of days with gentle sound and his strong desire to be with us as motivation, and then he was watching Premier League football with everyone else. He still fled from Metallica videos for a while but, now, his favourite place to sleep is right in front of the television.

This is my third dog adoption, I have read hundreds of first-hand accounts from other people, and I have a theory about what I've experienced with all three, very different dogs. They have all been traumatised for the first few weeks and as the effects have worn off, their underlying personalities and experiences have started to show, in some unexpected ways. Sherlock was so numb that anyone could do anything with him for weeks; when he showed dislike and even fear of strangers, I think this was a sign that life mattered to him again and that he wasn't just accepting whatever happened. I know that I have not encouraged his fears in any way (my training is good enough to know that) and yet he is now nervous about situations he didn't care about at first.

Sometimes, trainers make the mistake of assuming that the adoptant is creating fears in the dog. Often, the debutante dog-owner does create fears in the dog! Reassuring and stroking a scared dog is classic reinforcement behaviour. But what I'm suggesting is that awakening from trauma can bring with it all those fears a dog has, based on past experience - or ignorance - and show its own personality, regardless of whether the owner does everything 'right'. Sherlock got over how scary the T.V. was and he has the intelligence and trust in us to learn confidence in other situations he hasn't met before - we are working on it.

We discover new things about him all the time. Training with treats hasn't been possible until now. I thought he'd probably been trained not to take treats and yet he would take little bits of chicken or soft cheese from my hand, and he will eat soaked dog kibble but not dry biscuits. Yesterday, I looked properly at his teeth, which the vet had declared to be good. They do look good when his mouth is closed, but the four middle bottom teeth are eroded, filed away? damaged? ground down on cage bars? I shall ask my vet next time I see her. But I'm now sure that he can't eat hard treats - not won't - and he's been happily accepting little soft cheese cubes today. I know there are other ways of training but I think this is going to help with communication. There are four of us in this marriage :)

After two months with Sherlock, we felt confident enough to take him on holiday for a week and I am very proud of how he behaved: he has been perfectly house-trained (despite never being in a house!) not destructive in any way and he copes with the princess. They are unquestionably one pack although he is not willing to play with her - yet. You will laugh at his one irritating habit. He is a bit of a whiner, especially if we leave the room and he wants us there. Especially first thing in the morning, at first light. Yes, I now have a dog who insists on giving 'A Song at Dawn' outside my bedroom window!!

John, Sherlock and Blanche, the princess, on holiday in Provence

Barbarossa, dirty-beard

Part 3 of our dog adoption

All happy dogs have many nicknames and our Big Bad Lou is no exception. I wasn't worried about his ancestry, thinking him to be what a French friend calls 'a Crusader dog'  and what we used to call 'Heinz varieties' (from the soup advert offering 57 varieties) but then the same French friend told me that Lou looked very much like the old-fashioned Briard from which he is supposedly a cross-breed. What I found out about the breed fits Lou to an L.

the Briard breed

Briards are also known as Bouviers de Flandres, Belgian in origin, and were known in more familiar terms as 
koehond (cow dog), toucheur de boeuf or pic (cattle driver), and - my favourite - vuilbaard (dirty beard),  No prizes for guessing the origin of this nickname and because Lou's beard is bleached and aged a reddish-brown, and he has a certain presence, 'Barbarossa' was inevitable. Despite the nicknames, Briards have a noble history; Charlemagne, Napoleon and Thomas Jefferson are among the famous afficionados of the breed. 

In both World Wars, Briards were the war dogs used by the French. almost to exctinction. They carried messages, searched for wounded soldiers and were commemorated in awards and sculptures (neither of which would have meant as much to them as a game of hide-and-seek with their masters). They are apparently dominant dogs but as my breed of choice for 20 years has been the Great Pyrenees, I wouldn't notice!

Eye contact - good!

Lou seems happy with all his names and his training has progressed so that he now looks me in the eyes, knowing that I  want him to. How does he know? Because every time he looks towards me, or actually catches my eye, and I notice, I tell him how beautiful he is. Some trainers believe you should behave like a dog, avoiding eye contact, and they are right that an unknown dog will consider eye contact to be a threat, but my dogs know that I am not a dog. They trust me and it is beautiful when we look into each other's eyes. It is not challenging (although I've had that too, from previous dogs!)

I can't yet get this contact on walks as Lou still has what I call crazy-escapee syndrome, even though he doesn't pull now. He does behave as if he's just escaped from the shelter and has to make the most of his 5 minutes of freedom. So I'm working on this, the same way I've worked on contact in the house and garden - with compliments.

The story of Lou's adoption - earlier posts

It's just as well that Lou trusts me as we've visited the vet once a week since he arrived here, sometimes without him lifting a leg on her cabinet but always with the intention to do so. The score so far is Lou 3; Jean 4. Dogs with floppy ears are prone to dirty and infected ears, and although I've cleared up the big infection, Lou still has some dirt deep in the ear canal (according to the vet), and hairy ear interiors, so I'm looking at natural ways of regularly cleansing the ears, without poking objects such as cotton buds into them (too dangerous). At the moment I've settled on olive oil, alternating with vinegar/sterilised water on a separate occasion, injected carefully with a small syringe, massaged and any debris swabbed out with gauze. Once a week with the olive oil, which Lou likes, and once a week with the vinegar mix, which he doesn't mind.

In addition to his ear infection, Lou's had a split callus on his elbow, that was being licked into something nasty. How ironic that after 2 years on concrete, summer weather on ceramic tiled floors seems to have done the damage. I've seen how quickly skin problems can turn to a putrid nightmare in our summer heat, traumatising dog and owner, but Lou has healed quickly with only natural medication - thank goodness. The side- and long-term effects of Cortizone and antibiotics can be as much of a nightmare as the initial skin problem. Lou did have to wear a collar and he wasn't pleased.

Swimming 

However, the rewards of virtue followed quickly, and we took him and Blanche for a swim in our special place - clean and quiet. I vowed I would get him shiny and I think I'm getting there.

Even a clean river here can spark skin problems so our latest gadget is a solar-heated outdoor shower for summer fun and dog practicalities. Lou is about as keen on water-from-above as he is on wearing a collar but he is a natural in front of the camera so he did a turn while everyone else fooled around with the shower.

He has now started his modelling career for stock photos and is a real star. This was supposed to be 'the training class' but he and Blanche are more interested in each other than in the supposed training - too true to life!

I wasn't going to blog about Lou again as the adoption is too easy to be interesting (!) but my stepdaughter (in the photo above) is not the only one who's fallen in love with him so I promised I'd post news and photos from time to time. This is already my favourite photo of the summer and friends have suggested I've invented a new sport - water-dog-ski. For me, it's a photo of happiness, of the summer Lou came.

Dogs digging each other

After 2 weeks... 

Lou, our adopted dog, is still amazing us by how civilised he is, despite more than 2 years in a cage. He loves knowing what will happen next, whether it's a walk in the woods or bedtime. He loves water on the ground but not from the sky. If he sees a puddle, he lies down in it. Yet his reaction to the hose-pipe - recoil - reminded me of  his past; shelter cages get sluiced out with hose-pipes. We are lucky with Lou, who is a plucky character, keen to please us and to fit in, but even so, he has a history that we can only guess at from his behaviour.

Read Part 1 of Lou's life with us

Now he is part of our lives, it hurts to imagine what his previous two years were like. He has been fully house-trained here from the moment he arrived (apart from marking his territory a couple of times on the veranda and cellar doors). Imagine how upsetting it must have been for him to foul his cage. Thanks to volunteer dog-walkers he was given 'a walk' every 3/4 days. In between, he was waiting for that walk - or trying to wait. The walk itself consisted of 5 minutes pulling on the lead, 5 minutes freedom on a strip of enclosed grass where he could run about and relieve himself, then 5 minutes pulling on the lead, back into the cage. Even after a fortnight, two shampoos (on the first day!), and a few rain-showers, I think I can still smell the cage and I want that smell gone, forever. Every day, more dead fur comes out on the brush. I want his coat gleaming like his eyes.

Lou has other ideas about his coat. Not only is mud good for hair and skin, it is excellent for bonding two dogs who like digging. The relationship between my Great Pyrenees, Blanche, aka the Princess, and Big Bad Lou, started off polite. The Princess was magnanimous and the Peasant cautious, not least because at 32kg he weighs in at 20kg lighter than she is. Then they started an engineering project in the outer garden. This involved serious digging. The holes filled with water and the furry hippo sat in one. Who knows what Blanche was really planning for Lou but from the moment they started digging together, they moved closer to friendship.

Digging together

Serious concentration

Lou in a hole

I think the honeymoon is over and we're into Stage 2.  Non-stop rain has both dogs bored and looking for trouble (i.e. each other) so this morning witnessed the first session of full dog-dog physical interaction. Lou's style is kung-fu - in fast, out faster, left-right left-right with the paws, then bounce off the furniture and chew the rug. Blanche has a certain elegance in the approach; the play-bow and a lot of vocalising, but the finish is pure sumo wrestler. She's a heavyweight and believes that jumping on your opponent's stomach usually settles things. Not if he's fast enough. They seemed to be playing to the same rules and tails were wagging throughout so I was more concerned for my living-room than for the dogs but I can appreciate what this stage is like when either dog turns aggressive. Then it's often a return to the shelter for the adopted dog, with bad habits reinforced.

Incidental dog training is all around us and I'm trying to not to overload Lou when everything is new but rather to take advantage of opportunities that arise naturally - such as a wine-buying trip. I suspect that Lou's wine knowledge is limited so we took him and Blanche to the May fête day at a Seguret cave, about an hour's drive from here. Dog-wise it was a good test of a long journey, which will be useful for when we all go on holiday in September (if we're still feeling brave); people-wise, it was a good chance to stock up on Cotes du Rhône Villages. 'Nickel! Impecc!' as we say in France when something has gone well. I'd rather Lou didn't pile over into the front seat every time the car stops but that's fixable. 

In a formal training session, I have taught him, 'Thou shalt not pull on the lead' so that walks are now a pleasure, if a bit of a tangle with all four of us and two lunges. From now on, he is no longer allowed to pull on a lead or lunge. Orderly behaviour getting in and out of the car was progressing nicely and then the hydraulics went on the boot door so the dogs now have to get in and out side doors. So much for establishing a routine and keeping to it! Lou's a bright little button and he's adapting; for a different dog, each change would be a setback.

I wasn't prepared for his silence. Not just the lack of barking (compared with Great Pyrenees who have for years alerted me to every passing fly and cleared the area of wolves in at least a 20 mile radius) but the lack of all sound. Apparently this is common in adopted dogs. Sometimes they bark for the first time months after being in their new home. The noise in an animal shelter is ear-shattering; some dogs join in, some retreat to silence, and many are traumatised. All I know about Lou in kennels is that he was not 'a barker'. In his second week I've heard him growl once, when Blanche thought she'd investigate his food bowl. To me, this is a good sign and Blanche understood exactly what was meant - she's not lacking in confidence herself! He has made a little barking noise, twice, so small that I wondered if I'd dreamed it. The first time, he was shut in the outer garden with my husband and Lou could hear me the other side of the door to the inner garden. He wanted to come in! I didn't let him because I don't want him calling the shots. The second time was when Blanche pushed him to play. She is very vocal, with a whole range of play vocabulary and it touched me to hear him reply - even if that response was probably, 'Get stuffed, I'm sleeping!'

When I hear Lou talking, I'll know he really has his paws under the table.

Watching TV

I do worry about the perception that I'm a  nice person because I've adopted a dog - nicer than someone buying a puppy from a responsible breeder. I've done both. Would I adopt another dog in the future? Yes, if it fitted in with what suited our family. Do I think people should adopt dogs, not buy puppies? No, I do not! I think it's a personal choice. I wish there were no dogs in shelters at all and no adoption! When I translated 'Gentle Dog Training' it was in the hope that dog-owners would seek help for 'difficult dogs', not abandon them. I wish the only dogs were those brought into the world in, and for, loving families and I completely support responsible breeders. I wouldn't hesitate to support such a breeder by choosing to buy a puppy from her - as I did with Blanche. What matters to me is the commitment to your puppy and to your dog, for life.

Lou won't be going back to the shelter, however much he starts chewing the rug; and Blanche will still be our dog, however much she starts chewing Lou.

He had me at 'Ruff!' Online dog dating.

The 'Ruff!' part is poetic license as Balou hasn't actually barked in my hearing yet so I don't know what he sounds like - no doubt only one of the surprises in store now that we've adopted a dog. It happened like this...

I read obsessively keep an eye on the French Forum for the Adoption of Big Dogs, telling myself I might be able to offer helpful advice or connect people, that I'm not in any way shopping for a dog, that I'm not a sucker for all those stories of heartbreak and hope. Having worked with a dog trainer (Michel Hasbrouck) I know the dangers of pity, of seeking sainthood via pooches, of bringing home a dog riddled with disease and raging against the universe - instead of adopting his quiet friend.

Which is why I fell madly in love made a totally rational decision when choosing a companion for my Great Pyrenees, Blanche, for me and for my long-suffering husband. It's no secret that I've wanted a second dog for some time but L-S.H. liked the advantages of having only one. I miss dog-dog interaction. I miss the games and I even miss dog dialogue; 'It's my couch.. no, it's mine.. mine... mine..' ending with whoever's bigger/smarter claiming the disputed territory/object.

Finding a dog through a website is a form of online dating and increasingly important in placing shelter animals. Some refuges are Internet-savvy, with professional photos of each inmate; others are suspicious of any contact via a computer and usually too busy to answer a telephone. 'Come and see the dog,' is all the answer you get to your questions about background and character.

I was lucky. I was only trying to get more detail about Balou, to help find him a home, as I thought he had a cute face. Yes, photos/appearances make the first impression and some dogs just appeal to you more than others. Separately, two shelter workers gave me more information about Balou, not realising that I was interested for myself (unsurprising as I didn't realise this either). Both people said that this Briard-cross had 'a character of gold', the French idiom that I would translate as 'a sterling character' (interesting aside on national currencies and character descriptions). In any language, he's considered a cutie-pie.  He gets on with people and with other dogs. But the words that etched themselves into my brain were these (I translate):-

'He is one of those dogs we nickname 'the invisible ones'. People never notice them. Because he's black? Black is out of fashion and no-one wants a black dog. And yet he has so many great qualities.'

Balou has been in a shelter for two years and not one person has even looked at him. He was abandoned due to divorce, losing his family, including the children he loved (according to the couple who left him at the shelter).  His friend the German Shepherd was abandoned with him but found a home straight away. Balou has lived with different dogs since then; they come, they find a home and they go.

Apparently, L-S.H. was tired of seeing a dog's face on my computer screen every time he looked, and said 'Yes'. We went to see Balou on Wednesday, taking Blanche with us so that we could have the first meeting on neutral ground and judge the two dogs' reactions. 

We walked them on lead and one training need was clear straight away - Balou pulls like hell.The dogs ignored each other and Balou even ignored another refuge dog playing macho on the opposite side of the road. Then we let the dogs loose on some enclosed ground.

 Balou and Blanche Sniffing together 

Politely avoiding eye contact



Taking a risk

Invitation to play

Playtime!

Balou wasn't interested in us but that's often the case in shelter dogs, especially with strangers. Part of the training work ahead is to make a relationship with an adult dog. However, he was confident with us, didn't mind being stroked, even on his head (a dominant gesture to a dog so should never be the first approach) and his eyes are full of warmth and fun, despite two years in a shelter. The introduction couldn't have gone better and I can't wait for the 6th May when we can pick up Balou and bring him home. We already had holidays booked and I'd rather he stays in the refuge with people he knows than go to a kennels.

Inevitably there are memories of Bétel, the friend we lost three years ago. No-one can replace him but there is room in our life and hearts for Balou. It seems fitting that my book 'Someone to Look Up To', with Bétel's beautiful face on the cover, is now in amazon uk's top 100 kindle dog books and I was wondering how Balou would fit into the characters living in the refuge, described in the mid-section of the book. Prince maybe? The 5 year old black dog? Or perhaps Sirius himself, in character not in looks, the dog who 'kept the faith.'

amazon link

Extract from 'Someone to Look Up To'
The dogs in the animal shelter are telling their stories at twilight. Prince, a 5 year old black mongrel takes his turn ...


‘From puppyhood to dog, I grew up with the two babies in my family. I made them smile by licking their feet when they were tiny and my master and mistress stopped them pulling my ears or poking my eyes when they were old enough to experiment on objects. My masters loved me, looked after me, walked me and the children together. We were one family. First Linda, then little Alice started school and every day my mistress and I would walk to meet them. I loved the sound of the children coming from the playground. And the sound of my master coming home from work. And the daytime with my mistress. She sang while she cleaned the house, cooked some food. She took me shopping with her or to visit friends. I can keep myself warm through the winter on my memories of my family. I am lucky.’
‘He is lucky,’ we howled.
‘They died. They went out in the car and they didn’t take me. They said, ‘Bye, Prince, see you soon.’ And they didn’t come back. There was an accident. The police said so when they came to my house where I was waiting for my family to come home. One said, ‘He’s a bit old.’ The other said, ‘No, he’s not old at all and he’s sweet. Give him a chance. He’d make a lovely family pet.’ And they brought me here.I will always love my family.’
‘He will always love his family,’ we echoed.
‘I can love another family too. My heart is big enough.’
‘He can love another family too.’
‘My new family will come.’
‘His new family will come.’ As Prince lay down, Maisie was standing up and I could swear she licked his face as she moved past him but as the clouds drifted past the moon, it could just have been a trick of the light. There was no trace of softness in her deep wrinkles as she gave voice.