Wow, it's been almost two months
since my last blog entry. Maybe that's a cue that I need to be
doing more training, or at the very least working Glindy more
often.
Ever since I wrapped up my last work project, Glindy and I haven't
been working much. I tend to spend a lot of time at home when I'm
between jobs, which means that Glindy often spends a lot of time at
day care. She
really needs the socialization, exercise, and mental stimulation to
keep her on an even keel when we're not working; if she doesn't get
enough work or play, she gets a little wacky.
Since she spends so much time romping with other dogs, and has even
been used at one day care facility as an introducer for new
puppies, you'd think that she wouldn't have issues around other
dogs. If that were true, I wouldn't have anything to post today,
either.
Heading into the weekend, Glindy had been home for several days
without day care, and was getting a bit emotionally off-balance.
So, for the past few days I've made it a point to at least go out
for dinner with her in tow to ensure that we were giving her brain
(and nose) at least a minimal workout. On Friday night, I also took
her with me to a friend's house for games night, and thus a blog
entry was born.
Taking a service dog to someone's home is a bit different than
taking one out in public. For one thing, there's no law that says
that friends have to let dogs (service or otherwise) into their
private homes—although I suppose if they won't accept that
Glindy and I are a package deal, they aren't really my
friends.
For another thing, people may have dogs of their own. Even if
Glindy were a perfect angel around other dogs, there's no telling
how other people's dogs might react to her presence in their
territory. For example Glindy's unexpected presence might cause
someone's fearful dog to submissively urinate on a prized Persian
rug.
So, I generally make it a point to ask if it's okay to bring Glindy
to someone's home, even though my real friends are unlikely to say
no. If they have dogs, they can decide for themselves whether to
put the dogs away, roll up the Persian rug, or trust their dogs and
hope for the best.
On Friday, my friends opted for the latter option. Their dogs are
both pretty mellow, and I was honestly more concerned about
Glindy's beta behaviors triggering a problem than anything
else.
When we got there, Glindy immediately started whining. She seemed
torn between her desire to run over and examine these new dogs, and
her desire to shrink back out of the way. I'm sure some of her
confusion and stress came from being linked to my waist, which
dramatically reduced her physical options and ability to deal with
matters on her own terms. Since those terms usually involve
scent-marking whenever she's off-leash, I simply couldn't release
her in my friends' house; I've learned that lesson the hard
way.
Eventually, the dogs all completed their proctology exams, but by
this time Glindy was growling and peeling back her lips whenever
the host dogs tried to return her sniffs. I interpreted this as
beta behavior: she thought she had the right to sniff these dogs
and enter their space, but she became fearful or anxious because
they weren't respecting her imaginary prerogatives.
The top dog there was named Bear. This guy was simply massive; I'd
guess he weighed at least 120 pounds of solid muscle, but it could
have been much more. That's more than twice Glindy's mass, and I
could tell that she was a bit intimidated. Bear wasn't overtly
aggressive, but was perhaps a bit rude; he kept encroaching on
Glindy's space in the full confidence of his size and status. But
instead of presenting calming signals, Glindy peeled back her lips
and growled warningly whenever he got too close.
When I shooed Bear away, he'd watch Glindy from across the room,
and then Glindy would whine. It was very strange, because it was
more of an anxious whine, rather than a fearful one.
As the evening wore on, Glindy settled in, but she never really got
comfortable with the other dogs. Several times, she and I had to
walk past Bear. Each time we did, Glindy would hang back as long as
possible, and then sprint past him in an effort to clear his
personal space as quickly as she could. It wasn't just canine
politeness, though; her body language almost shouted "slinking in
fear" the way a person's might while hurrying past a dark alley at
night. Even though Bear seemed calm and stable to me, I think
Glindy was genuinely anxious about being that close to this
particular dog for reasons I couldn't identify.
It was a difficult evening from a training perspective. I verbally
corrected Glindy a few times for growling when I felt it was
unwarranted, although I didn't really want to punish her for
expressing her discomfort in a non-physical way; I'd much rather
she growl than bite, after all. I also tried reinforcing her when
she seemed calmer, although it was complicated by my desire not to
reinforce her anxious behaviors by mistake.
On the plus side, despite her anxieties, Glindy did her job well
the entire evening. Fearful or not, she walked with me each time I
passed Bear to get to the restroom. And she even managed a nap,
with the requisite loud snoring, when Bear was safely lying down on
the other side of the room.
Most of these canine interplays are invisible to non-handlers. We
spent almost seven hours there, with Glindy at my feet or by my
side the entire time. I received a lot of compliments from my
friends about my incredibly well-behaved dog. I was proud of that,
of course, but also aware that this is an ongoing issue with no
simple solutions.
I'm very glad that Glindy is stable enough that the level of
anxiety these situations create remains manageable for the both of
us. It really is a huge testament to both her and the working
relationship we've developed. I wish I were able to do more to
reduce Glindy's anxiety in these situations, though. In the
meantime, I just have to keep doing the best that I can.