Dargo’s evening task is to go get Sean for dinner. It goes like this: I open up his pen and tell him to “go get Sean!” Since we’d introduced Dargo to “Find Sean” and “Find Sonja” pretty much as soon as we brought him home, this is a natural extension for him, and was very easy to learn. Now, given his “go get” command, Dargo just loves to run upstairs and find Sean.

It helps that Sean understands that when Dargo shows up at his desk, it means it’s time for dinner, and that he gives Dargo a piece of chicken jerky on arrival.

My next task is to figure out how Dargo might communicate or deliver specific messages. The most logical step is to introduce a PVC tube into the process in which I insert rolled up paper messages. But, I’ll be honest, we’re just not there yet with Dargo’s training. Odds are, he’d take the PVC tube and chew it until he got the paper message. Then he’d eat the paper. As far as Dargo is concerned, nothing beats paper.

The answer, it turns out, is yes.

Dargo was one of about 30 corgis present at Shepherd’s farm on Sunday for the Golden Gate Pembroke Welsh Corgi Fancier’s Club annual Herding Instinct Test.

I was in great distress. I hadn’t a clue what to do. Did I pull too hard on the collar? Is his larynx collapsing? Never mind all that, what do I do to help?

Fortunately for me, Dargo’s episode lasted about four or five seconds during which time I stroked his back and tried to whisper reassuringly (ha!)

And then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped. Dargo looked up at me, a little unsure of himself, but breathing fine and looking handsome as ever. I assumed I had witnessed my dog’s first ever asthma attack. I was wrong.

When I reviewed the respiratory ailments listed in my Home Veternary Handbook, I discovered a condition called Laryngospasm.

Laryngospasm, also known as reverse sneezing, is manifested by the dog laboring to effectively inhale - Dargo’s exact symptoms. Reverse sneezing is generally considered to be an uncommon condition in dogs, but it is not unusual to see it in corgis and beagles. My theory is that it’s because they’re both inveterate sniffing breeds.

So what’s to be done when it happens? Sure, it was very sweet of me to stroke Dargo’s back, but according to the vet manual, I would have been more help if I’d massaged his pharynx, the area in the front of his neck, just below the jaw. Apparently that’s one of the ways to help end an attack. Another suggestion is to place one’s hand over the dog’s nostrils for “an instant”.

Great. I can see it now. My dog can’t breathe and there I am stopping the minimal airflow through the nostrils. Sounds like a recipe for disaster. However, it’s propbably what I will try. After all, it is a much easier proposition to pop my hand in front of his nose for less than a second, than it is to try to find the pharynx of my alarmed, underoxygenated and wiggly corgi, and attempt to massage it.

He was moving pretty fast. As soon as I spotted him coming our way, I turned my body to face him, picked up Dargo and stared right at the wild dog, making low, loud gutteral sounds — a cross between a cowboy’s hollering “Whoa!”, and a growling Tom Waits song, circa the Rain Dogs album.

I could feel Dargo’s heart thumping powerfully against mine. He stayed still and quiet in my arms.

About 30 or 40 yards away the coyote stopped and looked at us. I continued with my Cowboy/Tom Waits noises until the coyote went into a relaxed sit. It probably took no more than 10 seconds for him to settle in, but it’s a long time to wait when you have no idea what the next move is going to be.

Dargo still in my arms, I backed away slowly along the track, keeping my eyes on the wild canid whose stillness gave him the demeanor of a distinguished spectator. That didn’t do much for my ego, but I’ll take that over an aggressive stance any day.

He never once let me out of his sight. Even when large bush came between us, and I thought “Here comes a breather”, he came around the side of it to continue watching.

It must have taken about a minute for us to get far enough away that I felt safe. So when the road curved and we went out of his sight a second time, I dropped Dargo to the ground, turned my back to the field, and we walked purposefully towards the parking lot.

I think Dargo enjoyed the excitement. He looked up at me a number of times with his happy face as we walked back to the car. “That was cool!” I can hear him say.

Heck, he’s an adolescent boy, of course he’s going to like excitement.

Addendum
I emailed the Preserve about my coyote sighting.

They replied that this is normal coyote behavior, nowadays. These are curious animals who should be afraid of humans. Unfortunately some folks actually feed them, which of course means the canids lose the fear that keeps the natural equilibrium, and everyone safe.

The Open Space rep also pointed me to this link, useful for anyone who walks in coyote lands.

http://www.openspace.org/preserves/highlight_coyotes.asp

Dargo loves the beach.

Water, digging, running. What’s not to love?

The great thing about running on the beach, like herding, is that it wears him out completely. He’s been napping all afternoon, which is why I’ve actually had time to post this!

And if you’re curious to know what it means to have a high energy dog, take a look at what he runs like when he’s tired.

See the difference?

Exactly!

He wouldn’t know when to stop. We have to put him in his pen so he remembers to sleep. But once he’s out, he’s out.

It was his first time encountering goats, but he knew just what to do. I could barely keep up with him.

I failed miserably. Dargo howled like he was in profound despair, and wiggled so much I couldn’t get a single nail clipped.

This was his second trim, so it’s not like he’d ever suffered any pain from it. No, it was more like a genetic predisposition to be mortified by the notion of someone messing with the nails. “You don’t understand,” I can hear him say. “If you trim my nails I’ll suffer great pain and die! Please have mercy and stop now!”

I finally gave up on the “dog on the lap” strategy and now I stand him atop his crate. I start by giving him a good grooming, complete with frequent treats. He loves getting brushed, so it puts him in a good mood, and generally makes for a positive association with “stuff that happens on top of the crate”.

Once I’ve brushed him, I’ll start with one of his back feet, which he’s less stressed about than the front ones. I clip one nail on the back paw, and I give him a treat. Then I take a front paw, clip one nail, and give a treat.

If I trim all the nails on his back feet, there’s a high likelihood that by the time I want to get started on his front paws, he’s going to wiggle up a storm and make further trimming impossible. So I alternate: off one nail from the back feet, then one from the front.

After having trimmed the first nail on the back and front paws, I go back to the back paw and do a second nail there. I give another treat. Then I clip a front paw nail, and give him another treat.

Depending on how wiggly he is, I’ll start scaling back on the treats. Once I was even able to do one treat after each foot, rather than each nail. Some days are good like that! But I don’t worry if I have to give out more treats sometimes. As long as the daily food intake is managed, what’s the harm in giving him treats so he can at least get some enjoyment out of something he has to go through anyway?

The bottom line is that I quickly learned not to feel inadequate in my abilities just because Ian Dunbar and his gang say if I can’t get a Great Dane to lie across my lap and lick my face while I clip all his nails then clearly I’m far too incompetent to own a dog.

The last two times I went to groom him, Dargo actually got very excited as he watched me clear off the top of the crate. He started yelping with joy and jumping around eagerly. He just wanted to get up there and get the party going!

I have no illusions: I know he’s excited about the brushing, not the trimming. But by combining the two activities, I’m able to make the top of the crate a fun place to be, which means he’s a lot more relaxed when I bring out the nail clippers.

Once he’d gotten that far, I upped the ante. I’d pickup the food again if he went for it before I put it down. Sure enough, four days ago, Dargo waited until the dog dish was on the floor of the crate and I had withdrawn my arm. Then he looked up at me.

“Okay!”

What I really wanted to say of course was “I just love you my wonderfully smart puppy! Look at you, waiting for breakfast! You’re just the smartest one of them all!”

But “Okay!” is the cue to get food, so that was the one he was listening for.

It helps that I’ve been doing two of these sit-stays at once. I also ask him to wait when I open the front door for our morning walk. He’s figured that one out, too.

It’s amazing to me that a young pup of five and a half months is doing so well.

Welcome to the joys of puppyhood.

It turns out, puppies will eat anything. Add to that the incontrovertible fact that corgis, also, will eat anything, I guess it was inevitable that I should see my pup eat a cash register receipt, a little piece of red cellophane from a Christmas cracker, a cigarette filter from the sidewalk, dirt in the back yard, horse poop on the hiking trail, and pretty much anything else he can fit in his mouth.

The diarrhea started ten days ago, on Wednesday. We switched him to a bland diet and thought we would wait it out.

By Friday he was puking up bile, so we rushed him to the vet that evening. “Dietary Indiscretion” was the diagnosis. After a stomach X-Ray revealed nothing, we left with a prescription for Famotidine (Pepcid) and Carafate (another medication to soothe the stomach).

The vomiting didn’t stop, and within 2 days had progressed from consisting of mere bile to including the complete contents of his undigested and apparently un-masticated meals. The washing machine was working overtime, processing all his crate blankets, and I was getting increasingly concerned.

Going from throwing up bile to throwing up dinner is not much of an improvement in my book. Tuesday, we were back at the vet at 7:30 am. This time, it was suggested Dargo get an ultrasound. Our pup came home with a shaved belly, but no more meaningful information than we had gotten from the X-ray.

We opted to stop the Carafate, and the vet replaced it with an anti-emetic. (A what? An anti-vomit.) We also decided to cut out the dairy, and replace it with banana. The vet suggested we add chicken to the mix, which we did. Since his vomit showed he hadn’t been chewing his food, we put everything through the blender before feeding him: if he’s not going to chew, we’ll take care of that part for him.

Huzzah! After that Tuesday visit, he stopped throwing up. Today, Saturday, we finally started adding a few bits of kibble in his rice and chicken mash. We’re going to gradually re-introduce him to his regular diet. We expect it will take a week. Fingers crossed, we may finally have turned the corner.

Unintended Consequences

One of the side-effects of this adventure has been that Dargo now sleeps in a crate in our bedroom at night.

It had always been our intention to have him sleep in our room, but for some reason, he took a long time to warm up to the upstairs of our townhouse. Since he always got worked up when we brought him into our bedroom, we never got around to moving him in for the night. When it became essential to keep an eye (or in this case an ear) on him as we slept, we finally made the transition.

It was very strange at first, and neither the pup nor I slept very well. We were both keenly aware of the other’s presence and we were trying to keep track. I wanted to make sure he got a relaxing and restful night, and he probably was getting used to the new noises and smells that come from sharing a bedroom with other living things.

Sean, for his part, snored through the first nights like a log. In the end, I think that helped us all. Dargo and I benefited from the model of sound sleep. Since the dog has stopped vomiting, I’m now out for the count at night. The dog’s adjusted well, too. When he got tired last night, he walked into his crate on his own initiative.

Here’s to silver linings.

A friend of mine who has a Border Terrier recounted to me how he had taught his dog to tell his toys from one another. I thought that would be a fun thing for Dargo to learn, and I started on it when Dargo was about 3 months. I did not anticipate how important it would become to help me manage my corgi as he grew.

Corgis were bred to think and work independently. Dargo is true to his breed, and has a strong, willful streak and a desire to be the boss. When things get out of whack, he’s sure to let me know, but that doesn’t mean he gets to be, or wants to be, CEO of the home.

Ultimately, I think he sees himself as a pro-active middle-manager. Sometimes he’s very rude about it, and it warrants a time out. But most of the time, he just needs what I call a “redirect”.

If Dargo’s wildly running around the house, he may be trying to tell me that he’d rather be outside doing a job like chasing squirrels, digging holes, or hiking up the trail; but, guess what? I run the house, and right now’s not the time. But, Dargo, how about a sit?

The first time I thought to try to interrupt his wild race around the living room, I really didn’t think it would work. He was on his third lap around the couch and I faced him as he emerged from the side. I raised my hand as he moved toward me and with a firm and clear voice said “Sit!”

Sure enough, Dargo sat.

Huh!

“Down!” And down he went. “Stay.” Dargo’s fantastic at stays, so that always buys me a little time when I’m not sure what I want him to do next. At the same time, I knew he was full of energy, so I couldn’t wait too long. After about 4 seconds a lightbulb went off in my head. I said “Dargo, Get Blue!”

Blue is Dargo’s little soft blue stuffed dog and Dargo’s comfort toy. We put it in his crate every night, and, frequently, he’ll calm down as soon as he grabs it. It was the first toy I taught him to get, and that day, it had the ultimate payoff.

Dargo looked around, saw Blue and dove towards it. He then promptly laid down, happily chewing on Blue.

You’d never have suspected that less than 20 seconds before, he was in full stride around the couch.

This game is a stop gap, of course. If the reason Dargo is rambunctious is because he’s not had enough exercise that day, I give him a few minutes with his toy, and then consider taking him for a walk, or initiate a rousing game of fetch.

Teaching “Get Your Toy”

“Get Your Toy” is a very easy trick to teach. The key thing is to start with a toy your dog loves. If you can start the game when he’s playing with the toy, all the better.

Go up to your dog, take his toy in your hand, make sure he’s looking at it, and toss it a few inches from his face while saying “Get Blue” or whatever name you want to use for the toy.

As soon as your dog goes for it, even if he just sniffs it, praise him heartily, and play with the toy with your dog.

Repeat 2 to 3 times, and then let him keep the toy and play with it for awhie. Try another session again later in the day.

Over the following days, toss the toy further and further.

Also, whenever you see your dog going towards his toy, even if you’re not “playing the game”, say “Get Blue” as he grabs it.
After you’ve been doing this for about a week, wait until the toy is somewhere on the floor within range of your dog, then say “Dargo, Get blue”. He’ll go for it.

After awhile, try a few more things:

• Start saying “Get Blue” when the toy out of sight, and your dog will go looking for his toy.
• Start saying “Get Blue” when the toy is near other toys, and praise and play with him when he picks the right one. If he picks the wrong one, I softly but actively repeat the command: that way he knows he’s not done.

I don’t feed the dog treats for this trick, it just confuses the dog. Playing, petting and praising are all the reward he needs to enjoy the game. Especially at the beginning, I considered a sniffing of Blue as a praiseworthy event. He walked over and found it, but he just wasn’t in the mood to play, which I figured was good enough.

Over time, as he understands the game better, if he just walks over but doesn’t grab the toy or if he picks the wrong toy, I’ll softly but actively say “No. Get Blue!” to help convey that the game isn’t over. If he really isn’t getting it, I leave him alone and let the game phase out. I really don’t want this game to be stressful for him since I use it as a calming tool.

I started with two sessions a day, and now I do it often, but not on a schedule. I may go a whole day without doing a “Get Blue” and then I might do three on the next day.

Having picked a toy that my dog really loves, I find he doesn’t tire of this game. But I don’t push my luck, either: I don’t do this so often that he gets bored with it.