Mudder's Tale

This is Mudder's Tale. In horse racing parlance, a 'mudder' is a horse who runs well on muddy tracks. Mudder did not race well on muddy tracks; In fact, we're not sure if Mudder raced at all. You see, Mudder was not a race horse, he was a dog - a greyhound - a greyhound with personality.

When Mudder first came to the adoption kennel, he was a very shy youngster, afraid of everything that moved and most of everything that stood still. When prospective adopters came to the kennel Mudder cowered at the back of his kennel. No one could get near him. And so Mudder was declared 'un-adoptable' and it was unknown what Mudder's fate would be. And Then.... along came Helen. Helen was a dog trainer who specialized in rescue greyhounds. Helen DID NOT believe in an 'un-adoptable' dog; and so Mudder went home with Helen. Thus began a new chapter in the lives of Helen and Mudder.

For the first two years of their relationship, Mudder literally lived in the closet. Helen could not get him to come out willingly. However, once out the door and in the yard, she couldn't get him back in. His whole personality changed and he became a happy go lucky fun loving dog. He played with the other dogs, he played with toys and he ran, and ran, and ran. Anytime Mudder was approached he ran with a twinkle in his eye. When he was outside Mudder was free of all inhibitions. Mudder knew nothing could hurt him because nothing could catch him. He was a greyhound. Helen spent many late, rainy, cold nights trying to catch Mudder and bring him back in.

During this period Helen was continuing to learn and grow as a trainer and behaviorist. Mudder was both her student and teacher. Together they went to seminars and workshops with some of the greats. They learned calming signals from Turrid Rugass, they learned confidence building from Suzanne Clothier, they learned TTouch and Bach Flowers from Copper Love. Mudder went to all Helen's training classes and to every workshop and seminar she could find. Helen applied everything she learned and everything she read to Mudder's training. Mudder taught Helen to think outside the box and to develop her own training philosophies. For three years they had a siy
symbiotic relationship of teacher and student, student and teacher. Then it was time for Mudder to move on and there I was.

I met Helen and Mudder when I adopted my first greyhound, Bingo. (Thus began my love affair with greyhounds. But that is a different story) I knew that rescued greyhounds were a little different than the average dog and I wanted Bingo in an obedience class taught by someone who understood greyhounds. The rescue agency recommended Helen and we signed up. At every class I would see this beautiful,red greyhound lurking on the fringes. As time went by, Helen and I became friends. While Bingo and I learned, Helen also assisted me with my crazy boy, Toppie. Soon Helen and I had formed a friendship; she was my mentor and I became her apprentice. It was about this time that Mudder was ready for a new home and I was ready for another greyhound. And so Mudder came to live with Bingo, Toppie and me. And a new chapter began.

(to be continued)

Feisty Britches

A long time ago, in a past life I was a girl scout leader. I remember one of my kids telling me about her little terrier dog, 'Feisty Britches'. I never met 'Feisty Britches' and have no idea what actual breed she was, just that she was a terrier full of spit and vinegar. So why am I writing about a dog I never met. Well it's all because of my doctor.

The other day he was telling me about his 88 year old mother's dog who is a
'Feist'. At first I thought he was referring to the dog's personality, as in
'Feisty Britches'. Not at all, Doc was telling me about a dog breed, a 'Feist'. I had never heard of a Feist and thought maybe it was a made up word; But No! A Feist (aka Mountain Feist, Treeing Feist), is a small hunting dog, developed in the rural southern United States (Doc. says North Carolina). So I went home and researched 'Feist'. TheFeist' is small dog, at least compared to what lives in my house. They are generally under 18" tall, and 20 Lbs or less. Even though they are a hunting dog by nature, they make excellent house dogs, watch dogs, and can be good with kids. They need some exercise, but not really more that any other breed, about 30 minutes a day. Doc says he grew up with feists on a farm in N.C. and they were great dogs. However, they do have that little dog bark.

So I ask myself, since I have never heard of this breed, it must be a new breed, maybe one of those designer breeds? But NO! This dog goes back centuries. Reference to them is included in George Washington's diary in 1770. OK, so they must hunt small vermin like the 'Rat Terrier' who was, incidentally, developed from the 'Feist'. But NO! These little guys were used in bear hunts. And they can be found in literature, in William Faulkner's "Go Down Moses" and his short story "The Bear", and in Marjorie Kinan Rawling's "The Yearling". Abraham Lincoln wrote a poem fraturing Feist dogs called "The Bear Hunt".

It is thought that the Feist descended from Native American dogs crossed with small terriers from Britain and were kept as far back as the 1600s. So wouldn't that make them one of Americas oldest breeds, if not the oldest breed. So then why isn't this breed recognized by the A.K.C.? It is recognized by the U.K.C. (United Kennel Club), the N.K.C. (National Kennel Club).

HMMMM!

Who's The Boss; Dog..Cat..Human????

This is not really a simple question.At one time I was possessed by no less than three greyhounds and a GOAD (Good Ole American Dog). As far as the dogs went, pack leadership was clear; ME, Toppie (THE GOAD) and then everyone else. Why was Toppie higher than everyone else, because they knew that if they crossed over what he considered "The Line", he would beat the tar out of every one of them. Why was I higher than Toppie, because all good things came from me, namely FOOD, shelter, unconditional love (that's a two way street you know) and protection. (Toppie's story is the first in the line of blogs below). Why was Toppie NOT the boss, because he used force and intimidation to control. Believe me, the others never came when Toppie called. They never looked up to nor respected him: they feared him. In short they had no personal relationship with Toppie. They simply stayed out of his way.

After Toppie left us, pack hierarchy became a little less clear. When it came right down to it,
I was still pack leader, however the rest of the hierarchy depended on the circumstances. Kitt thought he was leader because he thought he had stepped into Toppie's place as the pushy one. But in reality, when I wasn't around. Mudder was the boss. (Mudder also has an interesting story, but that is for another time).

So now the question of dominance and force comes in. Why was I the undisputed leader of my pack? I did not "alpha roll"! I did not use choke chains or force! I did not take my meals first ! I did not hit them! I seldom yelled at them and then only in an emergency to get their attention. So why then, was I, and why am I still, the undisputed leader of my pack. Because from me, "all good things come". I provide food, love, shelter and protection. For a dog, it's really that simple.

So the answer to the question is really very simple. Who's the boss?


THE CAT!

It should be noted: I do not own nor am I owned by a cat. Maybe because I want to be BOSS.

'Tiger' becomes 'Tigger' But Still A "Tiger" of a Cat

Tigger lives in Palm Beach County, Fl with Joanne (Mom), Jim (Dad), and Meowse and Friend. He loves protecting the house, strolling with his Mom & Dad and sunning down by the lake. This is his story.

Tigger came to us about a year ago, skinny, very hungry. It was hard to resist his plaintive, demanding cry each morning to be fed. We could not get over how unafraid he was. For three years we already had two indoor-outdoor cats. One was a Hurricane Katrina rescued kitty named Meowse and the other was Meowse's friend,named Friend. Those cats use a cat door at will and depending on the day or how fast we moved, are still wary of us. But Tiger liked people, especially ones who would save him from starvation. As time went by he became less emaciated, growing more muscular and stocky. His personality began to emerge. He wanted to be top cat. I sometimes wondered if he wished that Jim and I would disappear and he could just take over the house.
His swagger demanded respect and began to cause a problem with the two cats who were already tenants and us, who were watching.

He intimidated Friend the most. Soon he was confronting him, making eye contact and zoom-Friend was running for his life. With Meowse, who is 1/3 his size, it was a different story. Meowse never met his gaze, rarely acknowledged his presence unless swatting at him in exasperation.
Meowse knew in his soul who was top cat and there was no argument. Soon Meowse was standing guard so Friend could come for food.
We began to look for another home for Tiger, who by this time we called Tigger. We hoped his personality would become less aggressive after having him neutered. After a period of time post surgery we noticed no change so continued to look for another home for Tigger. We knew that in a single cat family he would be a wonderful pet. He would love being #1 and would be loyal and affectionate. Wouldn't this be best for him and for me who was exhausted trying to keep altercations from occurring. At the same time we were also trying different strategies to help him fit in. We fed him on one side of the house, hoping he would recognize his space there away from the other two. We tried with a squirt bottle of water to discourage him from the other side of the house. But his loyalty tugged at our heart. One time while having a garage sale in the drive, a potential customer with a ridgeback, came into Tiggers drive. He had been laying on the side unnoticed until he pounced on the back of the large dog with all claws, standing in attack on the dog's backbone. Fortunately, he quickly jumped off leaving only claw puncture wounds. He began to take walks with us, following us around the block, or if we walked further, waiting for us to come back by and pick him up. One time we visited some friends and he waited outside for 3 hours to walk back home with us. We were beginning to become attached.

So now we have accepted him into the family-sort of. He does understand he eats on a different side of the house and that is supposed to be his space. But he often runs around to the other side to swagger around and try to intimidate Friend. Friend has learned of a good spot on the porch that is protected and often lays there. Meowse still guards Friend. Early in the morning all three cats are on the non-Tigger side door peering in, looking for breakfast. Tigger allows the other two in first, then heproudly crosses the Florida Room and is let out to his space where he eats breakfast. Several times a day or night he shows up to cross the Florida Room and be let out the other side. Then he wants someone to follow him out to keep him company while he eats a bite. I am thinking of putting up a sign that says 'Cat Crossing'. He is very healthy; big and seems to have found a nitch.
Friend has accepted his guarded life style and does not seem to feel banished. King Meowse is confident of his hallowed place in the family and accepts his new responsibility ofprotecting Friend. Tigger seems to know how far he can go and that he will never be King, nor replace Friend in Meowse's heart, but does have a place in ours.

~Joanne Kelly~

Know Your Pet

It is a little known fact that I am a retired dog trainer. (See me teach Casper to play scrabble!) When training, the thrust of class #1 was always body language and calming signals. The homework assignment was to watch your dog closely for one week in his/her normal, stress free (we hope), home environment and report your observations at the next session.

It is our responsibility to protect our furry and feathered friends from harm, not just harm to them, but possible harm they might inflict on others. To do this we must know how to understand what our pet is telling us; Know what frightens him/her; Know how he/she reacts when stressed; Know how to recognize, alleviate and remove the stressor. It is extremely important that we be able to read body language, for that is the language of animals. But, like any language, it can be easily misunderstood when taken out of context. For example, my sister had a pit bull mix who frequently barred his teeth. Considering the bad rap this breed has taken in recent years, someone observing this behavior could leap to the conclusion that those teeth were a warning sign. They could fear that Leo was about to pounce. In reality, this was the way Leo showed pleasure and happiness. He learned to show those teeth when my sister performed his nightly tooth brushing which was always followed by a treat.

We have removed animals from, and changed, their natural environment. By leashing and confining them we have taken away some of their natural coping methods. (I'll write more on this later.) Therefore, it is our responsibility, our duty, to know them and protect them. This is the least we can do for those we love.

Good articles on Calming Signals and Body Language:

'Cat Body Language -''Talk To The Tail" '
www.a-house-full-of-cats.com/catbodylanguage.html

'Calming Signals - The Art Of Survival' ~Turid Rugaas~
www.canis.no/rugaas/onearticle.php?artid=1

'Body Language' ~Ian Dunbar~
www.dogstardaily.com/training/body-language

A Cats Prayer

Now I lay me down to sleep,

The king-sized bed is soft and deep...
I sleep right in the center groove
My Human can hardly move!

I've trapped her legs, she's tucked in tight
And here is where I pass the night

No one disturbs me or dares intrude
Till morning comes and "I want food!"

I sneak up slowly to begin
My nibbles on my human's chin,
She wakes up quickly, I have sharp teeth -
And my claws I will unsheath

For the morning's here and it's time to play
I always seem to get my way.
So thank you Lord for giving me
This human person that I see.

The one who hugs me and holds me tight
And sacrifices her bed at night.
~Author Unknown~

"There was an old owl lived in an oak The more he heard, the less he spoke; The less he spoke, the more he heard O, if men were all like that wise bird"
- Punch