Not Fond of Bathing My Dogs

SUMMARY: And they're not usually fond of it, either.

I seldom bathe my dogs. Chip and Zorro do, on occasion, get wet anyway (out in the rain, or Chip just loves to play in the hose spray), and they get a good towel rub-down, which always seems to be enough. If I think they've been in poison oak--or if they've definitely (there's no "thinking" involved here) been rolling in nasty stuff, then--yeah. But I and my knees and back would much rather be doing other things.

And that has been true forEVER. Have seldom bathed any of my dogs. Amber was the most often abused, because her coat was oily and accrued dirt like a magnet.  And Sheba's white coat parts would gradually turn brownish just from dirt gathering in that tightly packed husky coat, so she was forced occasionally to suffer.

My agility dogs, though--well, I hosed them down regularly at agility events if it was at all warm, which washed away pretty much everything. So not too many baths. Sometimes during coat-blowing season, to loosen the chunks of hair to make removal easier.

I've never worked as hard as I should have to ensure that my dogs love baths. Poor puppers.

Sadly, I have few photos of Amber, as much as I loved her. Here she is damp as a teenager. No idea whether it was after a bath or just being naughty somehow.

Nothing digital of Remington wet. This is closest I have. But I definitely have photos of him wet. Will have to look for and scan them in.

Poor abused Tika. In grooming truck owned by her foster mom. Tika was happy to see her, but the bathing part seemed sketchy.

Boost, same day. Such an expression of trauma. (See https://dogblog.finchester.org/2014/01/at-groomers.html for details about this day.)

Sheba. I loved the way her coat looked wet, but it did not appeal to her as much. Tika's coat did exactly the same thing. 

I have no Chip bath photos, but he looks like this wet; in other words, adorable. (From playing in the hose.)

Have no good digital photos of Jake wet (not surprising, since I had just started digital when he was old), but here he is doing agility after he has been hosed down a bit.

Yep, nothing with Zorro wet at all that I've found. We don't get out enough (e.g., no walking, hence no walking in the rain). He does love playing in water, so this is the closest I've gotten...

Related posts:

https://dogblog.finchester.org/2008/03/loveyerdog-aka-bath-day.html

LoveYerDog AKA Bath Day

SUMMARY: Dogs are now officially clean.

According to Wikipedia:

In Scandinavian countries, Saturday is called Lördag or Löverdag etc., the name being derived from the old word laugr (hence Icelandic name Laugardagur), meaning bath, thus Lördag equates to bath-day. This is due to the Viking usage of bathing on Saturdays.

OK, today isn't Saturday (dang! that always happens! At least 6 days a week!), but we all got baths today. So when I looked up "bath day" on the web, I found the preceding quote, which says that bath day is called Loveyerdog in actual Scandinavian countries! See how appropriate that is!

I almost never bathe my beasts. Once a year maybe. They get hosed off often enough on warm agility days or muddy winter days, and they don't have greasy coats. But Boost has been scratching a lot lately and Tika's white chest has developed that dangling-tag gray, plus they're both shedding like crazy, so it was time.

But who'd have thought a mere two lady dogs could have gotten so many things wet?

Poo Dog, Poor Dog, Pooped Mom, and Weekend

SUMMARY: Boost's habit of rolling in smelly stuff; Tika's anal glands; my hip & knee; more USDAA coming right up.

Poo Dog

Boost's only major flaw is her propensity for rolling in what some, more particular, people might refer to as "poo". Tika's in most particular. The first couple of times she did it, I was properly horrified, rushed her carefully upstairs into the shower, and gave her a nice bath with warm water and gentle shampoo and all that. The next three thousand times--ferget it. It's the hose in the back yard, with the nozzle set to "shower." Even though she loves to play with the hose spray when it's play time, she's not so keen on the hose dominating the interaction for however long it takes to remove the noisome globs of offensive material.

The other evening, I spent 3 hours down at city hall to try to ensure that dogs like her can continue to be born--San Jose is considering adopting a new animal ordinance that includes limiting litters to one per female per lifetime unless you're a Commercial Kennel, in which case all kinds of inspections and regulations and licensing fees and restrictions such as "must not occur within 250 feet of another dwelling" apply. Since Boost is from her mom's second litter, she might not have been born if such an ordinance had existed. (Maybe more on that topic some other time.) However, sometimes I wonder--

When I got home--late--long council meeting--she greeted me very briefly albeit enthusiastically at the door and then vanished. I didn't think about it while I had a soft drink and talked to my housemate and scritched Tika a bunch, but then realized that Boost had not been around. I went looking to see where she was, and she was lying in the cubby under my desk. Huh, thought I, that's really weird; why is she hiding? "Booster," said I, "why are you hiding under my desk?" She put her ears back, tipped her tail briefly, and scootched back into the dark recesses among the computer cables as far as she could.

My fatigued mind began to make connections. "Oh, you didn't--" I reached under and put my hand in her collar, and felt--something--on her face that shouldn't have been there. I started to withdraw my hand and I didn't have to take it very far before the odor confirmed my dawning suspicion.

I had thought for quite a while that it was my tone of voice or body language when I saw that she had enpooed herself that would make her turn and run, but in this case I had had no clue until after she had already turned, and run, and hid. So she has clearly made the association between being covered with poo and getting hosed off. And yet--and yet--she cannot help herself! It's like the worst kinds of addictions! You rue it after you're done, but the next time the temptation occurs, whammo! there you are indulging once again.

Poor Dog

Over the last 3 or 4 weeks, Tika has been licking more and more insistently at her anal area. Not all the time, but when she begins, she doesn't want to stop. I thought it might be her anal glands, but since I've never had to deal with them before (only one of my 6 dogs ever needed help emptying them, and then the vet had to do it), I really didn't know what I was looking for. Plus she's extremely sensitive about being touched anywhere except in a petting sort of mode (which makes going to the vet a major source of traumatic stress disorder right on the spot). Plus she can lock her little remaining tailbone down over her netherlands so tightly that a hydraulic jack couldn't lift it. Plus all that thick, thick fur.

I finally decided that something had to be done since it was obviously bothering her. So I took her to the vet, along with a clicker and a huge bag of cut-up goodies. Did a lot of tricks and lying down and settling and stuff in the waiting room, and every time I'd go for another handful of goodies, she'd throw herself against the exit door, desperately trying to escape. Her respiration rate doubles or triples--and for Tika the always-over-the-top-dog anyway, that's an accomplishment. Fortuately she's very food motivated, so as long as I had a piece in my hand, she'd hang in there. But so agitated that any attempts to get her to take it gently (read: leave fingers attached to hands) were unsuccessful.

The vet has never, ever, heard her normal heartrate. They always say it's quite elevated. But they can also see that she's about to hyperventilate and then explode from the stress. She was really very good for a dog who normally shrieks when the vet tries to look in her ears. She's never shown signs of trying to nip at anyone during this kind of ritual torture, but she is by far the most-stressed vet-visting dog I've ever had.

Anyway--her anal glands are infected. So I need to try to get some ointment under the locked-down tail twice a day, and give her an antibiotic pill twice a day, for about a week, and then take her back in two weeks for another stimulating visit.

Pooped Mom

My knee has been bothering me a bit. I try to walk normally, not favoring it. But my opposite hip has been flaring up for the last week, off and on. Feels more like something's out of alignment (my thumb sometimes does that, and if I kind of twist and yank it, then instantly it's better--but I haven't found a way to twist and yank my own hip) than merely sore. Feel like I need a chiropractor, not a doctor. Last night, by bedtime, it was so bad that I had trouble falling to sleep, and then it woke me constantly, probably every time I moved in my sleep, all night. I might have gotten 3 hours of sleep.

When I finally dragged myself downstairs around 9 a.m., it hurt with every step and I really was using the handrail to drag myself to the computer to try to find more info about chiropractic care on the Kaiser Medical web site. I sat at the computer for about half an hour, and apparently it rearranged itself during that time, because I was then able to walk, and shower, and dress, and even go to Boost's class, with only minor discomfort.

I haven't been to a chirpractor in many years--hmm, last time my hip was bothering me, in fact. Went to a new one recommended by my renter. Doctor seems nice, and competent, too. Also has 2 dogs and knows what dog agility is, which in my book is always a plus. But he didn't want to do any twisting and pulling until he had done xrays, and it was the end of the day and he was already staying late to see me, so he'll have the xrays processed over the weekend and I'll see him again Monday morning.

But meanwhile that leaves me with ice and antiinflammatories to get me through the weekend. What a pathetic body!

This weekend

Which brings me to this weekend: More USDAA. And a very rare trial in which there is not a single Tournament (national qualifier) class. Just double everything except Relay.

I've managed to work on Boost's weaves only once so far this week. Who knows what the weekend will bring. The scary thought is that she *could* get 2 more standard, or 2 more Snooker, or one more gamblers, this weekend, and move up to Masters in any of those. We are SO not ready. Her AAD (intermediate title--Advanced Agility Dog) requires just 2 Standard, a jumpers, and a relay. We are so so SO not ready for masters. But if she keeps failing to do weaves, the standards aren't likely to come any time soon. On the other hand, if she has fits of perfect weavage like she did this past weekend, we could conceivable finish that title this weekend.

Nope, don't even think about it.

Attar de Dogue Poop

Who's more interesting, a pile of doggie junk food or mom with a camera?

Boost got her first bath today.

It wasn't how I had planned it. I figured I'd introduce her to the shower stall gradually, shaping it, giving her clicks and treats as she went in, playing with her inside; turning on the water in the sprayer hose gradually, and so on. But this is not how it happened.

Earlier this morning, while working at my desk, the distinct odor of dog manure wafted to my nose. This is a bad thing, since the outside doors were closed. I checked Jake's backside. You see, as he gets older, he has soft stools more and more often, and he just happens to be the proud possesser of extremely full petticoats and lush tail feathers. So it sometimes--sticks. (Sorry, this just isn't an elegant topic to discuss.) Sure enough, quite a bit of it all up and down his backside. However, it was also all very dry, so it shouldn't be smelling, but maybe he disturbed it a little and freed some scent molecules.

So I took him outside and spent about 10 minutes disengaging the dried bits with a large-toothed, then a small-toothed, comb, and finally wiping him down. Butt all better. But the odor in the room reappeared. I looked around for stray bits that someone might have picked up on his or her foot and tramped into my office. Nothing that I could find. Then it went away again.

It wasn't until just before the Accurate Mac guy showed up to try to figure out why my PowerBook wasn't working, while I was out on the deck playing tug-o-war with The Boost, that I noticed the tannish stain on her grayish ear. Now, perhaps I've been lucky, but with almost all of my dogs, when they've found something scintillating to roll in, they've had the courtesy to make it something that I, with my mere puny mortal nose, cannot detect. I think only Sheba occasionally found something a bit more blatantly rancid that needed direct intervention. The others would roll, and yet come up smelling like a rose—if the rose smelled kind of doggy in an inoffensive way.

Boost, it appears, is the sort of doggie that likes to wear her art on her sleeve in a more blatant manner. So I've already had to clean off one cheek or ear or another on occasion. Apparently, however, the drastic vomiting episode last week has changed the direction of her artistry. Well, she thought to her little evil self, if I can't eat the poop any more without ghastly nausea, I might as well wear it.

And so, my lovelies, as I started to investigate, I discovered that it was not merely on one ear. And the related cheek. And the related neck. And the related dog collar. But also on the other ear. And cheek. And neck. And right down onto her withers and down the sides. And all the way down her back to her tail. And some even on her tail. By this time, it had dried, so again I was able to remove the large bits by combing, and she was very good about that process. I tried to wipe off the remainder, but realized quickly that this was a deep-cleaning operation, not a mere sponge bath.

Hence the thrusting bodily into the shower stall, dog squirming and fighting the whole way, smearing feces-odored moisture all over her mama's shirt and jeans in the process. Eventually she stopped fighting. Eventually she even stopped hunkering down in abject terror and merely looked miserable. Poor puppy. But boy did she stink.

So now she's clean, her collar is cleaner (although methinks I detect a lingering memory of the event), my bathroom is a mess, my clothes are changed, and—between her and Jake—there goes another hour and a half out of my day.

Oh, BTW, I debated taking a picture of the Before state, but then decided that that was something that I never wanted to look at again, and didn't. So instead I have substituted a photo of all my children trying to behave for me to get their portrait.

What We're Learning

Thurs--Day 1 a.m.: Stairs are interesting. When we first arrived home, I put Boost on her leash and walked her into the house. The first thing we encountered was the five steps leading up from the bottom floor to the kitchen. She stopped dead. With a little urging, tentatively put one foot onto the first step. Very cautiously pulled herself up. Very cautiously scaled the remaining steps. Her breeder lives in a slab-foundation one-story house, so I'm not sure whether she had ever encountered steps before. On the way out to the back yard, there were the five steps going down from the deck. Down is a whole different thing, but she negotiated them cautiously. By the end of the day, she was blasting up and down the stairs as if she'd been doing them every day her whole life.

Day 1 p.m.: Tunnels are fun. While walking on her leash to go potty, Boost stuck her head into one of the C-shaped tunnels, ears perked, and then trotted in to the middle. I leaned down and peered into the other end, where I could see her just peeking around the corner at me. Like a toddler playing hide and seek, she pulled back and *raced* back out the way she had come.

Day 1 p.m.: Tika is fun to chase. Tika is being very good about the puppy. Not immediately friends, still cautiously accepting, but not hostile. Boost likes nothing so much as to chase Tika around the yard as Tika flushes out all possible offending wildlife from nearby fences and trees. So I let Boost loose (with leash dragging) while I played with Tika and her toy and did a little agility. At one point, Tika blasted through one of the tunnels, and Boost blasted through right behind her.

Day 2 a.m.: Jake is an unpleasant experience. Tika abruptly decided she was done playing and raced into the house, Boost hot on her heels. I followed, thinking it was OK--but no. As I reached the kitchen door, I could see that Tika had completely vanished and Boost was racing straight towards Jake who had remained cicumspectly in the front hall. Jake landed on her, snarling, and she started shrieking like she was dying. I hauled Jake off by the scruff of his neck; he just doesn't seem to get it about letting up on a puppy who cries uncle. While I told him off, Boost fled back out the door to the deck, wailing and shrieking as though the entire universe had abandoned her. I went out and held her and comforted her (usually I don't like to "comfort" my dogs--let them figure out what the world is about and they're less likely to be neurotic about it, IMHO, but this seemed like a special case). Eventually she stopped crying, but she really nestled miserably into my arms and lap. I found absolutely no sign of damage.

After that, she became quite concerned about Tika, too. Every time Tika turned in her direction, she ran and hid behind me. It's 24 hours later as I write this, with lots and lots of Tika interaction, and she's only now getting over being worried about Tika. (Although it didn't take her much time at all to get over *chasing* Tika.)

Day 2 a.m.: Herding is in my genes. The baby Border Collie does the Eye, the half-crouch, the circling of Tika as Tika gets ready to run because I have a toy in my hands. When she's not running full out to catch up with Tika, she's doing the herding moves on her. Wow. Tika definitely has Aussie herding behavior, which is the heeling thing rather than the heading thing. She loves to chase Jake and slam against his sides; she poises with rapt anticipation to catch his every dodge and move as he runs. I thought that the heeling herding move was going to cost me a dog Wednesday night. We were up at the Woodside horsepark, in an area where dogs can run loose. Someone came up the hill behind the cars with a large (draft-looking) horse, and I didn't see them until they came around the vehicles, right in front of Tika. Tika ignored my frantic call and went right in behind the horse and started barking and dashing at his heels. One of my agility friends lost an agility dog to a solid equine kick in the head, and I saw my agility life flash before my eyes before I got Tika away from her. Thank the gods that it was a mellow, experienced horse more interested in going to a new pasture than in any boring barking dog. Jeez.

Day 2: Ready...get it! One of the motivational things that many of us do with our dogs is restrain them (e.g., holding collar or hands around neck) while we do something to get the dog excited in front of them, then realease them. We often use "Readyyyyyyyy..." as a cue word that itself will become an exciting thing. Boost definitely has toy drive. I'd hold her collar, toss a toy across the floor, say "Readyyyy... get it!" and release her, and she'd fly across the room to get the toy. I don't think we'll have any problems with toy motivation with this dog.

Day 2 and 3: There are many scary things in this world but they mostly turn out to be OK. If you throw a toy against the kitchen door, and the puppy crashes into the door because it's not very coordinated yet, the door makes a loud booming sound about which one must then be very cautious the next few times the toy is thrown. If you throw a toy against the baby gate, and the baby gate isn't as securely fastened as you thought it was, the baby gate crashes to the ground with quite a clatter as the puppy bumps it. (No comforting here; just moving calmly to the gate and carrying on the "Wow, that was interesting, huh? What was that? What it a big noise?" conversation. Sometimes when it's dark outside, another puppy that you don't know suddenly appears in the sliding glass door and if you bark a scared/warning bark at it, the other dogs leap to their feet and join in the warning to the perceived threat. The puppy seems to go away when mom opens the sliding door. Same puppy appears sometimes behind the mirrored closet door in mom's bedroom. Fortunately, following mom (safely behind her legs) over to the door and looking carefully around it seems to make it go away.

Day 2 and 3: Crates are your friend. I've been too tired to think clearly about crate training in an energetic and positive way. Just pick her up and put her in and reach in and praise her. She's accepting but it's not something she'd do on her own. I *finally* found my notes from Susan Garrett's lecture last year at Power Paws Camp on crate training. The idea behind most training is to try to get the dog to make choices and reward them for the correct choices--of course it's good if you can limit the availablility of wrong choices so that they can succeed.

So I plopped Boost down in front of the open door of the small crate and waited for her to go in, holding her on a very short leash. She was having nothing of it. After a couple of minutes, I limited her choices more: Supported her in a standing position facing the crate, just a few inches in front of it. She couldn't sit because she'd get caught halfway down and readjusted; certainly couldn't go left or right; tried to go *over* the crate but mom got wise to that, too. Couldn't lean on mom or get onto her lap, either. Might have taken 5 minutes before she decided to try going forward into the crate, at which point she received lavish praise and dog goodies. Door closes.

Now--to associate the sound of the door opening with a treat (a pleasant feeling) *without* the dog surging forward. So, open the door and toss a treat into the back of the crate, then close the door. Repeat several times. So now, when the door is opened, the puppy's first thought is *not* to rush forward, but to wait and see what happens. So you can treat & praise the dog for staying there, and close the door. Repeat several times.

Decided that the goal would be for the puppy to sit when I open the door and not move forward out of the crate. If the puppy lies down, I can toss a treat into the back again to get her to get up. If the puppy stands up, I just have to wait for her to sit, pop open the door, treat and praise.

I decided to try to use the release word "Break" for Boost; "OK" has been a problem for me all along with Remington and Jake (you don't realize how often you say "OK!" when you don't mean it as a release for the dogs).

So, after she has stayed in the crate a few times, I can leave the door open and then say "Break!" At this point, she likes being in the crate so much that I have to pat my knees and encourage her to come out.

OK, it's not even 24 hours since I started this. The puppy goes into the crate when I open the door and put her in front of it. She stays in the crate when I open the door. She waits until I say "Break!" and then comes out. Crud. Another too-smart dog.

Day 2 and 3: Sit for your supper. It's so easy to get a dog to sit when she's focused on the bowl of food in your hand and you move it over her head. Then, as you move it down, praising, if she stands up, you just repeat the maneuver. Then "break!" when the bowl is on the ground and it's OK for her to get it. This puppy is only 3 months old and is learning all this stuff instantly! Well--OK, we're just scratching the surface of these things, but what a joy.

Day 3: Lie down while mom fills the dog bowls. This is fairly easy because I kneel on the deck to scoop food from the bin into the bowls. I put a kibble in my fist, show it to the dog just enough so she can smell it and lick it but can't take it. Put my hand on the ground. As soon as she lies down to get at it (which she does eventually), she gets the treat. I quickly scoop some dog food. Repeat the actions; she goes down much more quikcly the second time. I scoop more; she stands. The third time, she drops almost immediately and stays there (with me feeding her a kibble every several seconds as reward).

All days: I have no excuse. This dog learns everything so quickly when it is presented to her properly. Bad behavior won't be blameable on anything but my incompetence as a trainer. Sheesh.

Day 3: Fleas and baths. Boost has been biting enthusiastically from time to time since I got her home. Yup, I finally saw a flea this morning. She got a bath--which she needed anyway because she was quite dusty from her previous life--and about which she was not tremendously happy. Other dogs got their doses of FrontLine. I've been switching the dog bedding back and forth to try to get all the dogs accustomed to each others' scents more, so I had to wash all the bedding--this probably also means they've been sharing Boost's fleas. Tomorrow I can put some Advantage on the baby, too. We should be fine.

Day 3: Vets: You seen one adventure, you've seen 'em all. Boost was most mellow on her first trip ever to the vet. Vet said her heart rate was completely calm, not at all elevated. She just lounged on the table during the exam. I fed her a few treats here and there, but she hardly needed them. I hope she stays like this. Tika, on the other hand, is so overwrought when we go to the vet that she couldn't care less whether I have a treat in my hand. If she ever has to stay overnight at the hospital, she might have to be sedated. Terrible. The vet tried to torture her alive several times, e.g., by taking her temperature, giving her a couple of shots, and other appalling human behaviors.