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?