A Miserable Failure

I failed miserably. Yep. I blew it. I suppose that comes as a surprise to some of you who might expect an intelligent, clever, action-packed little guy like me to be picture perfect, but it's true. I didn't come through when my Forever Mom needed me most. And though I feel bad about it, I think you'll agree it's a good thing. 

You see, my Forever Mom has some students in one of her classes that have reactive dogs - dogs like me, as a matter of fact - and she wanted to show them that she understands what they are going through, that she's "been there, done that," that she "feels their pain," etc., etc. To demonstrate this and to be absolutely authentic and convincing to her students, she pulled me out of her office, the inner sanctuary where all us dogs stay while she's working, so everyone could see how I explode with unpleasant, snarly, growly, barky behavior when I see dogs I don't know. The point simply was to let her students know that she knows what they are dealing with because she has ME. 

Well, I'm here to tell ya, and happily so, that her plan backfired. Yep. It's true. When my Forever Mom held me in her arms in front of a class full of dogs that I had never met, I'm proud to say that I behaved well - quietly,  gentlemanly, angelically even, and I did not react! 

Dig that! All the training training and desensitizing, along with my Forever Mom's most excellent situation management skills (plus her love and devotion to me too, I suppose), are working! Once again I declare that I AM making progress! Hot diggity dog!

Now, had my Forever Mom put me on the floor in front of all those unfamiliar dogs, it's likely that I would be telling you a different story (and I totally would share the whole truth with you because I am an honest little sheltie after all). But, when my Forever Mom did a double take and realized that I was being a good little guy, she decided to keep me in her arms, praise my most excellent behavior and then quit while we were ahead. Good call! Ending on a positive note worked for me! It was so much fun to be able to make a positive impression for once and show people that there is hope for improved behavior for reactive dogs!

So, it’s all good. Well, it’s almost all good. I still have to live with this whole failure thing since I didn't go off the deep end like my Forever Mom expected me to. But you know what? I think I'm okay with it. In fact, I think I'll do it again sometime soon. I'll let you know how it goes!

Sometimes failure is an option. 

I failed at something recently, 

and I’m glad I did!

Shock and Awe And Hot Dogs

Hey There. Remember me? That cute, clever little Sheltie who has a lot to tell you? Sorry I haven't made an entry in my blog in awhile. I guess it's true what they say about the holidays being a busy time. I sure have had a lot to do!

I had my first Thanksgiving with my new Forever Family and, cow-a-bunga, did I have fun! I got to be a part of everything: the cleaning, the cooking, the hugging, the eating. I was so happy and so busy meeting and greeting all the people who came for dinner. The best part was when Melinda arrived because she loves me gobs and always has a big hug and lots of cuddles for me. It seems that being small really has its advantages where laps are concerned! (Okay, I may be a budding, young, high-potential, cutting-edge athlete, but I still like lots of affection. Hey, I am making up for lost time!) I hope you all had as wonderful a Thanksgiving holiday as I did!

But enough of that. Time to get down to business! I have some most excellent news to share with you - a progress report of sorts. Whoa-daddy, it seems that I might indeed turn into one heck of an agility dog after all. With Lassie as my witness, I swear that a couple of times last week I cared more about playing agility with my Forever Mom than I cared about checking out other dogs in the room. Seriously! Pretty dippity darn shocking and awesome, isn't it? (Get it? "Shock and Awe." Sometimes I totally crack myself up!) 

Well, it's true. And it happened not once, not twice, but three different times! Could it be that I'm on a roll? Could it be that I like hot dogs and venison jerky more than I like going after other dogs? Man, I hope so because when I do a good job and stick close by her, my Forever Mom always has some good treats to give me! Now that’s something to remember, isn't it?

Yeah, yeah, I know. You're thinking "ratchet it down a notch or two little buddy," and you're right. I still have a lot of work to do. A LOT. Especially when you consider how I blew my gasket the other day when I saw an unfamiliar and unsuspecting Doberman. Yikes. Old habits really do die hard, which is why I'm not ready to make a debut at Soccer Blast or anything like that yet. Heck. I don't even know what a start-line stay is! But where there's progress, there's hope. And it seems I have made enough progress that my Forever Mom is hopeful about me having an agility career one day. Dig that! Yippee Skippy! 

So while I keep working on my manners, my crate games, my self control, and my agility skills, I would love it if you would keep your fingers crossed for me 'cuz I just know my name would look really good with some agility titles behind it! Thanks!

Note to self: Remember that I like hot dots and venison jerky much more than I like going after other dogs . . . remember that I like hot dots and venison jerky much more than I like going after other dogs . . . remember that I like hot dots and venison jerky much more than I like going after other dogs. Remember that I like hot dots and venison jerky much more than I like going after other dogs . . . 

Nick and Melinda cuddled with me a lot on Thanksgiving Day. 

I’m such an adorable, little guy, not to mention a bit pushy, 

so I understand why it was hard for them to resist me. 

I'm Coming!

Wow. Did I have a fun weekend. What great weather - it snowed! And even though we didn't have electricity or running water for an entire day, I still had a whopping good time! Why, you ask? Well, I'll tell you: I now live on 40 acres (yep, you read that right: f-o-r-t-y), and that means I get to go on long walks off leash! 

It seems hikes around the property are a regular thing around here in late fall, winter and early spring - before the crops go in and after the sand burrs are done for the season. My Forever Mom likes to "walk the property", and she takes the herding dogs with her. Yes, that's right. Herding dogs only; all others: too bad, so sad. I guess that's because we need more exercise than the toy spaniels and I know we stick around better than they do. Yowser. Color me lucky that I'm a sheltie, a herding dog extraordinaire, and count me in!

Over the weekend, when it was snowing so hard that I could barely see the end of my pointy little nose, my Forever Mom slipped on her boots and strapped on her snowshoes and away we went. We got to run in the woods and jump through the tall grass and bury our faces in the snow, and we had a ball. The snow made it so that we didn't get dirty and the best part is there were no burrs poking up from the ground to stick in my feet. Yeeee Ha!

Last week, before it snowed, we were out for a romp and we came upon a deer in the woods. Yep, you guessed it. We started chasing that sucker. Boy was it fast! We went full throttle after it to the very edge of the property before I heard my Forever Mom S-C-R-E-A-M for us to come back. Then guess what? We did! And she was right there, waiting for us, ready to dish out most excellent treats for our good behavior! I LOVE that!

Okay, full disclosure here. Remember how I'm still learning stuff? Well, I have to admit the reason I came back when my Forever Mom called is because I love to follow Donzi, the GSD, who really IS well trained. When my Forever Mom tells her to come, Donzi high tails it back lickety split. And I'm always right beside her so I came too. I suppose it helped that the deer disappeared through some pretty tall grass and eventually I couldn't see it any more. But, the point is I came when I was called, no matter the reason, and I got some tasty treats for my good behavior! 

Now some of you may be thinking this whole forty acres of freedom thing is a recipe for disaster. After all, Shelties are known to be “flight risks”, and reports of a runaway Shelties are all too common. But my Forever Mom wasn't at all worried that I would run off, deer or no deer; she knew I would be a good boy because I'm starting to get it that good things happen when I come, when I obey. And she knows I love me new Forever home and that I'm going to do everything I can to stay in it, including coming for delicious treats, even when I'd rather chase a deer. 

So sign me up for a stellar recall some day! I want to prove to my Forever Mom that I can be as good as Donzi, my German Shepherd role model! 

Here we are, walking the property last week before the snow. Busa, Donzi, Bounce, and me. 

Herding dogs only. Can life get any better?

Party Down Party Dog!

Hi again. Yep. It's me, Dixon. Here I am with more to say. So, here goes.

Boy, did I have a great week! I cannot even begin to tell you how awesome it is to be someone's dog - even despite those annoying rules that I am trying to learn about and follow. Take the barking for example. Who would have thought that I'm totally okay not doing it sometimes, especially when the pay off is that I get to chase Donzi, the GSD, when she races after her ball. Seriously. Who knew that quiet play still could be so much blasted fun? See? I'm learning!

On Sunday, I had more fun because I got to do one of my favorite things: attend play group at Cloud Nine Training School for Dogs, my new home away from home. And, while all us dogs romped and stomped around, many of us took turns having our pictures taken at the Halloween photo shoot that was set up to raise money for MN Sheltie Rescue. I won't bore you with the details except to say that mostly it felt like we had one big day-long party, and I got to hang out with a bunch of dog friends, old and new. It was so cool. I got to meet Kepler, Dustin, and Parker, three "alumni" from MN Sheltie Rescue who were lucky enough to get adopted like me; I got to play with some of my "homies" like Bunny, Nephew, Lucy, Bella; and I got to meet a young, well-mannered Sheltie named Vigo. Woo Hoo! Let the good times roll!

Sarah, one of my specie buddies, bought a Halloween costume for me so I could dress up like a "gentleman", with a hat and tie and all. If I'm not mistaken, I believe the outfit even helped me behave in a rather gentlemanly fashion. I say this because Kepler's Forever Mom commented on my good manners and couldn't believe that I’m the little guy who has "issues". Ha!Hmmm. I wonder if that means I truly am making progress? I hope so. It will make my Forever Mom ever so happy and proud when I can be around unfamiliar dogs and not go ballistic. 

For now I'm jumping for joy that I get to be my Forever Mom's  "work in progress", and that I get to enjoy days like Sunday where I can run and play and have the time of my life. Did I mention that Sarah's husband, Brad, photographer, re-toucher, sheltie fancier extraordinaire, took some amazing pictures? Well, he did (see mine as an example). My favorites are the ones of the dogs wearing costumes! You go Princess Dottie and Lady GaGa Ruthie! Rock on!

Man, I hope we get to do this party/photo shoot thing again next Halloween, especially since I KNOW that I will be able to attend now that I am someone's dog with a Forever Home!

Thanks to Brad’s excellent photography skills, you can’t really tell that my front feet never stopped “pitter pattering” while he took my picture. Don’t I look like the perfect gentleman?

Forever Is A Long Time, Right?

I looked up the word forever; it means for all future time; for always. 

I sure do hope that's true because guess what? I just got my very own forever home. Yep. I hit the jackpot this week, and my foster mom is now my Forever Mom! Awesome, huh? Hip hip hooray for me! And it's none too soon in coming, I tell ya. Given my rough start in life and all the foster homes I've had, it feels awfully good to be somebody's dog at last. And guess what? I even have a forever "registered" name: RumRiver Rescue Me. Wheeeee!

It's no secret that I have some annoying behaviors, which is why my foster mom . . . oops . . . I mean my Forever Mom thought long and hard before adopting me. She finally decided that with all I've been through, and with how much potential I still have, I deserve a chance. 

Again I say hip hip hooray and yippee for me! 

What have I been through? A lot, apparently. At least that's what my Forever Mom learned over the past several weeks as she worked with three different animal communicators (yeah, she was thorough) to find out about my past. Now, I know many people don't believe in that communicator hooey, so I may lose some of you here, but the truth is that once I started talking, I had a lot to say (as you can imagine), and my Forever Mom feels like she understands me so much better as a result. 

One of the things I revealed is that I was kept in a small outdoor pen with lots of other dogs and a big, black one picked on me mercilessly because I am such a shrimp. I even had to scrape for my food! Pretty wild, huh? But that explains why I’m such a horse’s rump around dogs I don’t know and haven’t been able to meet up close and personal. I’m afraid I will get picked on until I can find out they are nice. It’s not my fault! I suppose I just need to learn that not every dog is going to do me harm. I hope that’s possible!

I know my Forever Mom still has her work cut out for her, but I feel much better now because all that unpleasant stuff is behind me. Yep, life started improving for me once I became part of the rescue program and it just keeps getting better and better. Three foster homes later and an eye-catching picture of me on www.mnsheltierescue.org that caught the attention of my Forever Mom, and wa la! Here I am with a new name, a new home, a new family, a new career (hopefully), a new life! 

So, I have a message for anyone thinking of adopting a rescued dog: yes, we can be a huge challenge but we also can be unbelievably rewarding. Give us a try! No doubt there are more irritatingly smart, overwhelmingly challenging, but adorable guys like me out there who will be just as grateful to become your dog as I am to be my Forever Mom's dog! It's their turn to learn what "for all future time" and "for always" really mean!

Here I am, in my new forever 

home, napping with Bounce, 

my new forever friend. 

Yipee for me! Shhhh. 

(Oops. Sorry. I mean, Yipee for me!)

Hey Mr. Trampoline Man

Boy have I had a lot of ups and downs this week - more even than the Dow Jones Industrial Average I think. One minute I was well behaved. The next I was naughty. Then I was the picture of perfection. Then, well, you get the idea. Up and down and up and down. I swear it was like I was jumping on a trampoline all week!

Last weekend I went with my foster mom to another outdoor agility trial - in St. Peter this time. The temperature was pretty toasty the first day, and I think the heat made me a little less reactive. I managed to sit ring side on my foster mom's lap and then stroll leisurely through "tent city" with as much self control as any guy would have while he's being fed tasty, lip-smacking, homemade tuna/pumpkin/garlic treats. I could tell my foster mom was pleased with my behavior and, of course, that made me as proud as a peacock. I even got to meet a Pyr Shep named Bono and another little, tiny Sheltie named Keeley. I was nothing short of angelic and, in fact, once we completed all our mutual sniffing, we were all kind of bored with each other. Bono's owner really liked me, too. She said she even would snap me up and keep me if I had a pedigree! (What's a pedigree?)

While trying to get Bono and Keeley to play, I spied a Border Collie a few tents away who was tugging on a toy, and that got me a little worked up. Fortunately, I settled quickly so no harm done. It was a good day!

I heard somewhere that all good things must come to an end and that definitely happened the next day that we went back to the agility trial. Oh boy. Was I a pistol! All those dogs jumping and running and having fun. It was just too much for me. I wanted to meet them all and join the reindeer games, but instead I went into maniac mode and sounded like I was going to attack them all. When one of them came right up and stared me in the face, I exploded with over zealous barking that must have made people think I was a killer Pit Bull (no offense intended to any Pit Bull friends that I might be so fortunate as to acquire in the future). 

I had to spend a good deal of time in my kennel while my foster mom ran courses with a couple of the other dogs (Darla, the superstar English Toy Spaniel and Busa, the baby BC), and that was hard on me. They did pretty well, I hear, but no doubt I could have done better because, in case I forgot to mention it to you, I am pretty small and darn fast. I can go over the A-frame lickety-split; I can race across a full size dog walk; and I can even do six weave poles. Count 'em - SIX! I sure do love doing agility. But in St. Peter my job was to learn to be quiet in my kennel while other dogs got to play. Such a boring lesson. I didn't do such a good job. 

So, back home we went with my foster mom wondering what in the world to do with me. 

I know my foster mom loves me lots and isn't ready to give up on me yet, but some days I can tell that I wear her out. Maybe some extra Sheltie kisses will help. I have lots of those to give her! And I will do my best to have better behavior this week. 

Meanwhile, I think I'll spend some time jumping on the trampoline where the ups and downs are part of the fun.

I love jumping on the mini trampoline with my foster mom. 

Hey! An athletic guy like me has to stay in shape some how! 

What For?

Do you know what a "what for" is? I do. Actually, it's more like a "what in the heck did you do that for?", and I know what it is because I got one the other day. "What fors" don't happen often around here; you have to be pretty naughty to get one. 

Well I was. Naughty that is. I know it's hard to believe that a small, clever guy like me isn't an angel all the time but, as I've told you, there are rules here and I'm still learning them. 

Apparently one of the rules is that you don't snap at the old, frail dogs, especially when any of them is on my foster mom's lap. As you can imagine, I really like hopping up and snuggling on my foster mom's lap because underneath my tough-guy exterior I'm a real softie and I love hugs. The other day I forgot to check and see if another dog was already cuddling up there, so when I made the leap I Ianded right on Miss Bea, a nearly 11 year old English Toy Spaniel. That wasn't the problem as there's definitely room for two of us since we’re both pocket-sized half-pints, but when Miss Bea moved around a little, I got crabby and I started to snap at her. Oops. Yep. You guessed it. I got a major "what for" and a quick trip to the floor. Bummer. 

Okay, so I have a few more rules to learn, and this one definitely makes sense. No, snapping at or biting the old dogs. I will try to do better, and I know my foster mom will help me because she really does love me. With any luck I will be old one day and it will be nice if no one snaps at or bites me!

Any lap will do. I love to cuddle. Here I am with Melinda, my foster mom’s daughter-in-law. 

She really likes me! But then, who wouldn’t?

The Bark Stops Here - Some Of The Time

In case you forgot, I will remind you that I am a Sheltie. I'm a small one, mind you, but I'm mighty and, yes, I'm noisy. There's no sense denying it 'cause I sure can't hide it (as if any self-respecting, bred-to-do-a-serious-days work Sheltie ever could), so I'll just put it out there, get it off my chest, confess: I bark. Sometimes long and often. The way I see it, to know a Sheltie is to love a Sheltie and to love a Sheltie is to put up with a certain amount of "conversation". 

Bark. Bark. Bark. 

Bark. Yap. Bark. Yap.

Bark. Bark. BARK!

See what I mean?

While my foster mom understands that I have to bark, that barking is hard-wired in me (she’s been very tolerant of much of the noise I make), I’m learning that there are times when I really must be QUIET; we've been having many lessons lately about when those quiet-is-the-only-option times are. 

For example, when I chase the German Shepherd as she fetches the ball, I MAY bark my fool head off. And boy do I! Donzi, the GSD, is a fast dog (not as speedy as me, of course) and it's great fun and excellent exercise for me to run, leap and bark as I race after her. Let the good times roll!

But, when I'm waiting for Donzi to give the ball back for someone to throw it again (which sometimes can take f-o-r-e-v-e-r it seems) so Donzi can fetch it so I can run, run, run and chase her again, I may not bark. (Huh? Who made up that rule?) 

Man. Is that H-A-R-D!!! Being quiet is NOT in my nature. But, those are the rules. So I'm really trying to obey. And if a bark accidentally slips out (oops), my foster mom reminds me "enough" (the dreaded no-bark command around here), and she won't throw the ball again until all is quiet on the western front. I guess she figured if I can learn to be quiet in my kennel while she prepares all those meals, I can figure out this too. 

Sometimes being smart and quick to catch on to things has its drawbacks!

Darn and drat. But what choice do I have? I so want her to throw that stupid ball so I can chase that simple-minded Donzi when she takes off to fetch it that I find myself complying readily. Hey, I'm no dummy. I will do whatever gets me back in the action. 

A sheltie who has self control where barking is concerned - at least some of the time. That has to be one for the Guinness Book of Records!

Take a close look: as much as I really, really want to, I’m NOT barking! 

Problem Solved

In case I haven't mentioned it before, I am a pretty clever guy. Yep, I'm smart, and I have good problem-solving skills. Too good, in fact, according to my foster mom.

Have I told you that I LOVE being in the kitchen? Well, I do. Lots of good things happen there, and being in the right place at the right time means I get first dibs at any tasty tidbits that fall to the floor. I'm no stranger to eating crumbs and, believe me, being small and fast has its advantages; I have out-scrambled the best of 'em for a carrot slice or a peanut. Yum. 

But I know there's more. There has to be. There are too many delicious smells wafting from the middle countertop for there not to be more than those few, paltry morsels that make it to the floor.

One day, and it was bound to happen, my natural, god-given curiosity got the better of me. I had to see what happens on top of the counter - where I can't see; where I can only imagine there is an abundance of food for the taking; where the CAT can go any time he likes (what the?); where my foster mom spends so much time!

Since I am a terrific jumper, I decided to try using my exceptional and well-rehearsed skill to get a better look. But, try as I did, I couldn't boing straight up high enough to get a good view. No worry. A guy like me always has a Plan B, and that involved me hopping easily onto the window seat and then popping up effortlessly onto the counter next to the window. Wa La! Plan B worked and I immediately had a perfect view of the main food preparation area in my foster mom's kitchen. Ka-ching and jack pot! I AM de man! Problem solved! And what a captivating view it was! 

Unfortunately, it didn’t last long. 

Now, I know that my foster mom appreciates when a creative guy like me figures out something on his own and she's the first one to applaud my efforts. But I also know that she takes her job seriously when it comes to helping me learn to make sensible choices. Apparently, jumping onto the counter to observe what she's doing or, better yet, to help myself to something that was left in the pan on the stove is not her idea of good manners. Surprisingly, she didn't scold me or yell at me or go off the deep end for what I did, but she did order a new Scat Mat. Hmmm. A booby trap. Drat. Something tells me the problem really is solved. 

A view fit for a king - or a super agile little Sheltie - even if it didn’t last long!

I'm A PAL

It's true! I am a good little buddy to almost everyone I meet. I'm a veritable charmer! However, now I’m also a PAL of a different sort: In yesterday's mail, my foster mom received letter from the American Kennel Club welcoming ME into their Purebred Alternative Listing Program. What that means is that the AKC concurs that I am, indeed, a Sheltie (as if there was any doubt - bark, bark, bark), and that I can participate in all kinds of performance events, though I'm really only interested in agility, obedience (now that would be something, wouldn’t it?) and maybe herding some day. Woo Hoo! I am set with my own PAL number. AKC here I come!

Speaking of agility, I had a breakthrough of sorts this week - and a well-timed one, I might add, given how frustrated I made my foster mom at that agility trial in Rochester last week. But that's ancient history, and I'm so glad my foster mom was willing to give me another chance! 

This week, my foster mom decided it was time to get me into an agility class - as a student - to see if I can behave around other dogs when I have something better to do; to show her that I like doing agility more than I like being a dork around other dogs. 

Before starting the class, my foster mom had a plan:

1) pick a small beginning class with non-aggressive dogs and understanding owners;

2) allow me to meet each dog (sniff their butt) before class AFTER I calmed down and only if the each owner agreed;

3) have someone standing in an opportune spot ready to squirt and scold me if I tried anything naughty;

4) give me HOT DOGS as rewards (Yum. I love hot dogs!).

Well, I am happy to report that things could not have gone better in my first agility class. Before we started our exercises, I got to meet Mira (a Portuguese Water Spaniel), Moka (a Lhasa Apso), Madge (a RAGOM "graduate"), Chloe (another small Sheltie), Milo (a Rat Terrier), and Tuula, (an English Springer Spaniel). What a great group of dogs, and I liked ALL of them! 

Once I finished greeting everyone, I could concentrate on class and doing the tunnel, the jumps and the ramp. What fun!  Zip here, race there and a fast guy like me was done. Darn that my turn was so short; I could have worked all day! But I guess it would have been rude not to let the other dogs have a chance, so when it wasn't my turn, I waited, albeit impatiently. 

But get this: I got to be a DEMO DOG during class because I am such a good jumper. Can you believe it? Me? In front of a group of dogs, showing them how to do something? Talk about awesome! I could tell my foster mom was super proud of me, and I needed only one squirt from the water bottle to remind me to behave. Miracles do happen!

It's a good thing Dr. Julia Tomlinson at Twin Cities Animal Rehab Clinic gave me a full physical evaluation yesterday and the thumbs up for doing agility because I'm going to try really hard to have a long and successful career. She did say I need to stay skinny, and I think I can do that because I am a pretty active little guy! But I do love those hot dogs. Do they come in a "diet" version?

I may be chewing on a bone, but I’m dreaming of agility!

Back To The Drawing Board

I really can be such a good and personable boy and I can leap onto anyone’s lap in a single bound! Just ask Melinda!

Wow. Did I have a busy weekend over the Labor Day holiday! Who knew there was so much to do? Even though I am still full of energy, I think I wore out my foster mom, which is why I haven't blogged for a couple of days. 

Over the holiday weekend, I went to an agility trial with my foster mom and some of the other dogs. We went to Rochester, the place where I was found, and we got to hang out under a tent and walk around on the grass and see a lot of dogs that I had never met, doing what I really like doing: agility.

Unfortunately, I was not on my best behavior. It was all the other dogs. There were so many of them and I didn't know any of them, and I couldn't help being my usual obnoxious self - times about a hundred. I know my foster mom became quite frustrated with my crazy outbursts. And even though I really did try to collect myself and earn a few treats, it took all the effort I could muster and my attention didn't last long. Drat.

After awhile, my foster mom arranged it so I could meet another small, young Sheltie named Spring. Yippee! A meet and greet! Count me in! 

As my foster mom predicted, once Spring and I exchanged our "hi, how do you do" sniffs, I was a perfect gentleman, and I was ready to romp and rip up the grass with him. But Spring did not want to play. He just stood there like a statue with perfect behavior. Huh? How could he pass on the chance to frolic with a lively fellow like me? Go figure. 

Meanwhile, a few yards away, there was a whole little compound of shelties and they were playing with each other and getting treats from their owner and having tons of fun. Spring, no; Keyme and company, yes, Yes, YES!!!  Let me at 'em! I went ballistic for wanting to be a part of that action with a noisy, out-of-control behavioral display! Ooops. Bad choice. 

I guess that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. By that time, my foster mom had had enough of my annoying antics and, instead of letting me meet Keyme, she put me back into my kennel while muttering something about "going back to the drawing board." Double drat.

The next day we had company. My foster mom's son and daughter-in-law came for a barbecue and also friends Ron and Kristin. I was a total angel while they visited, if I do say so myself, and I think my foster mom, who needed a break from trying to figure me out, was both relieved and grateful because she didn't call MN Sheltie Rescue to give me back! 

Mother Can You Lend A Hand?

My foster mom has been training dogs for many, many years, and I've lived with her long enough now to see she has lots of tricks up her sleeve. I guess that's why the people at MN Sheltie Rescue decided it would be good for me to stay with her - so she can try different things with me and see if any of them will help me behave better when I'm around dogs I don't know. 

So far she's tried scolding me, but that had no effect (duh). Then she tried that annoying Gentle Leader head collar, but I flipped and flopped around like a fish out of water and it just made me mad! The Evil Squirt Bottle helps me tone things down quite a bit, so she does use that "tool" from time to time. But my foster mom has decided that we make the most progress when she's calm and patient with me and waits for me to offer some version of acceptable behavior that she can reward. Ya gotta love that!

Since I'm no dummy (Okay, I'm being modest. My foster mom says I'm the Stephen Hawking of Shelties.) and love, love, love to earn treats, I respond well to the rewards and I start paying attention (though sometimes not right away, I admit). Then, pretty soon, I start sitting and lying down and doing anything I can think of to get a cookie. It's like magic! And if the situation is waaaaaay too arousing and causes my adrenaline to spike off the charts, my foster mom does to me what she teaches all her students at Cloud Nine to do when they need to help their puppies and dogs settle down: she gently places her hands on my shoulders and softly tells me to relax. And guess what? I DO! It might take me a few moments, but her calmness helps me regain my gentlemanly composure so that I actually can quit barking and lunging and acting like a crazed maniac around those strange dogs! It feels so good not to be so out of control! Sigh. 

My foster mom knows that this strategy is not a quick fix, and it certainly won't work when she's not around to help me make better decisions about my behavior, but if it does a good enough job so that I can do agility in front of an audience of other dogs, that's good enough for both of us! 

(PS: I'm getting really good about behaving well around dogs I have sniffed from head to toe before. A lot of the time I even can ignore them and keep my focus on my agility lessons! Yippee!)

Here I am, all calm and cuddly on my foster mom’s lap while she works at her computer. 

Hey, she’s not typing anything bad about me, is she? 

Bad News/Good News

Look what puppy Yardlea and I found! Self help books! 

I know she’s just going to chew them. 

And everyone says I’m the one with the problem behavior? 

Yesterday, during one of our many training sessions, my foster mom was working on some basic good manners stuff with me. You know the drill: heel, sit, come, sit, down, stand, down, stand, sit, stay, etc. Kind of boring for a clever and busy guy like me who would rather be jumping or learning weave poles or running up and down the A-frame, but I suppose I can see where that’s all necessary. Anyway, we were alone in the training school, I had her and the treats all to myself, and I'll admit I was having fun.

It was getting close to the time when other dogs would start arriving for classes, and my foster mom wanted to see if I had made any progress in how I react to them, so we kept working until the first student arrived.

The bad news is that when a quiet, mature, unsuspecting and good looking Cavalier came in the door, I still reacted badly - very badly. Yikes. Was I a jerk! Boing. Bark. Boing. Bark. Yap! Yap! Yap! That obviously refined gentleman of a dog (his name is Cooper, I was told) must have thought I was a total sheltie maniac. Double yikes!

The good news, however, is that my frantic and frenetic behavior, which we've established I just can't help yet, didn't last quite as long as it has in the past, and in between my outbursts I did tune into my foster mom and do some sits and some really bouncy, animated heeling. I even played with a toy briefly and responded to her call to come! Hallelujah! Also, my foster mom noticed that my initial aggressive-looking behavior quickly changed to excited "I have to meet you and play with you" behavior, even though I continued to jump four feet straight up in the air at the entrance gate. My foster mom, bless her heart, says that that’s progress - a little anyway - so I guess that’s good. One thing I know for sure is that behaving well is a LOT of work. I hope I get it soon!

Meal Times

I love to eat, so you can imagine how much I look forward to meal times!The dogs here eat twice each day, and we get something different at each meal. We always get some variety of kibble, but with that we also get ripe bananas or ground beef or steamed vegetables or yogurt or apples or some other tasty treat. One of the dogs, the red one named Quinn, has stomach problems so she gets a special homemade mixture of boiled turkey and potatoes and no fat cottage cheese. Her food looks okay, but I’m glad I’m healthy and can eat everything that is served!

Before we can eat, some of us have to “kennel up” so we aren’t running around like maniacs while the food is being prepared, which, with 17 dogs, can be quite an assembly line production. I get the middle kennel in the second row. The big, black and tan Cavalier named Nigel used to be in that spot, but now I get it because I am a really good jumper and I can leap into it easily. Since Nigel is an older guy, he got switched to a ground-floor kennel. 

My foster mom is organized so it doesn’t take too long for her to prepare all the food bowls but, no matter how fast she works, the waiting is H-A-R-D for a busy and eager guy like me. And there are rules: I’m not allowed to bark while I’m waiting for my meal. Drat. 

This no bark rule was hard for me to follow at first, especially since some of the other dogs bark and get me started. But my foster mom won’t budge on this requirement, and if I make a peep she reminds me to stop and won’t feed me until I’m quiet. Apparently the old, deaf dogs can’t hear her “ENOUGH” command so they have an excuse for being noisy. But I’m young and smart with excellent ears, and she expects better behavior from me. Besides, she says there are plenty of other times when I get to bark my fool head off so I absolutely must exercise self control at meal times. I might not like it, but I’m trying my best to comply. I’m all for doing what I need to do to get those most excellent meals!

The Tell-All Diary of a Rescued Sheltie/Introduction

Hi! Thanks for taking the time to meet me. My name is Dixon, and I’m a young, small, sable Shetland Sheepdog who is part of the MN Sheltie Rescue program. I have been called a bunch of different names over the past few months, but I really like this one so I hope I get to keep it for a long time. In fact, I like most everything that’s happened to me lately, and here’s why:

I was a stray, running the streets of Rochester, Minnesota, where I was caught and taken to a dog pound or a shelter or some place like that. A volunteer from MN Sheltie Rescue found me there and sprang me, and boy am I ever glad that happened because I have been treated kindly and have received good care ever since. I even was checked out by a veterinarian who said not only am I healthy but I have excellent hips, elbows, and knees to boot! Ka-ching!

In case you haven’t guessed, I am a super smart little dog, and I’m quite athletic if I do say so myself. But, I have atrocious manners when I see dogs I don’t know or have never met, and that bad behavior, combined with my strong herding instincts and antsy tendencies, means that I am a special guy with special needs. Fortunately, the rescue people have been careful not to let me go live with some unsuspecting family as a mere pet, where I could get into trouble and not realize my full potential. I know it’s a lot more work, but I do appreciate that so many people want to give me a chance to put all my smarts and physical abilities to good use. Everyone who has met me thinks I could be a great performance/agility dog. I hope so because all that running and jumping and climbing - with permission and without getting yelled at - looks like F-U-U-U-N!!

For now, my new foster mom decided I should start a blog/diary in case some of the things that I learn can help other owners and dogs with behavior problems. That would be cool. We’ll see. One thing is for sure: I have a lot to say so I hope you’ll check back often!