Is it my imagination, or is a plague of ticks currently in effect? Everywhere I go with my dogs these days, they come back crawling with ticks. I use Frontline on them, though I’ve used Advantix in the past – as well as apple cider vinegar rinses and essential oil sprays and Skin-So-Soft wipedowns. For whatever reason, Frontline seems to work better than anything else on my dogs, in my area, though I hear contrary reports from other dog owners in other places. I’m seriously considering making a line of Tyvek canine coveralls, instead.
Due to the tick plague, I have to allot extra time for walking the dogs, or rather, for combing them after walks. I pour a glass of water, put a little dish soap in it to reduce the surface tension, and drop all the ticks I find into it as I work. The little insects immediately sink, waving their tiny legs, but not for long.
Every time I have ever mentioned dropping ticks into water, I get letters from people who insist that you can’t drown a tick. I invite you to do some “citizen science” and put your own ticks in a jar of water, and follow this fun activity with observing the results. You can even dry out their little dead bodies afterward to see if they “come back to life.” Trust me; ticks drown.
They can also live without food for a week or two (but not forever) in a jar that contains no water. Ask me how I know.
You can Google these things, but sometimes you just have to see for yourself. Like, when I was reading about ticks the other day (I’m mildly obsessed right now), I kept coming across the stated fact that ticks can’t jump. I just can’t fathom how they are so damn successful at getting all over my dog, who runs like the wind the whole time we’re out on walks, if they can’t at least launch themselves quickly toward something. So, after combing and pulling ticks out of Otto’s coat on our last walk, I saved a few individual ticks in a dry jar, and ran a few trials. I released one tick at a time onto a white plastic folding table (so I could be sure to spot and apprehend any escapees from my “test lab”). They sure do ambulate faster than I could bear to watch for long, but I didn’t observe any jumping activity – but then, I never let them get close enough to the table’s edge for reliable data regarding jumping off something onto someone. I guess I’m going to take Google’s word for that bit of trivia.
There’s just one bit of good news on the tick front: I have discovered the world’s best tool for removing ticks, one that surpasses all previous favorites. It’s called the Pro Tick Remedy, and it features a V-shaped slot that narrows tightly enough to scoop up and pull out even the tiniest, most freshly latched-on tick. It comes on a keychain paired helpfully with a small magnifying glass, so you can confirm that you really did get the whole thing. I bought six, so I could have them stashed everywhere I might happen to be petting Otto and feel a tick. I’ve never been so grateful for something that costs so little (less than $5).
It’s very disconcerting when your well-housetrained dog suddenly starts having accidents in the house. It may be human nature to think he’s doing it to spite you, but that’s not the case – a well-trained dog doesn’t just start soiling indoors on a whim. There’s a legitimate reason it’s happening, and you owe it to your dog to find out why.
Here’s what you need to do:
1. Explore possible medical causes of your dog’s accidents.
Something as simple as a urinary-tract infection or as complex as diabetes (causes increased thirst and water consumption, which causes increased urination) can be the cause of your dog’s indoor puddles. There are many common medical causes of increased urination. Gastrointestinal distress, which causes anything from slightly loose stools to liquid diarrhea, can prompt your dog to defecate indoors as well. Any dog can have an accident, but if yours has uncharacteristically started house soiling regularly, get thee to thy veterinarian as soon as possible for a complete workup.
2. Check if medications are causing your dog to soil the house.
A number of canine medications used to treat common health conditions can also cause increased water consumption followed by increased urination. Prednisone, used to treat a variety of ailments, is a prime example. Other medicines can cause gastrointestinal distress, which can also result in house soiling. If your dog is on any medications, ask your veterinarian whether that could be the cause of his break in training.
3. Look for possible stressors for your dog.
Urination and defecation can be a dog’s response to stress. Check your environment to see if there’s something going on that might provoke this stress response in your dog. Construction next door with loud machinery? Neighborhood kids who have discovered it’s fun to bang on your door to tease the dog? A watch alarm beeping in a drawer? Set up your laptop camera or nanny cam and see if you can make a correlation between stimuli, stress, and soiling. If you can’t find a specific trigger, then evaluate your dog’s total stress load and see if removing as many stressors as possible can help him return to his prior fastidious habits.
4. Evaluate your routine.
Are you working overtime a lot? Stopping on the way home at a local pub for some face time with your new honey? Perhaps your dog was just barely holding it with legs tightly crossed before, and the extra time it’s taking you to get home now is just more than he can handle. If so, and if you can’t return to your prior schedule, then make arrangements with a neighbor or family member to let your dog out at midday or late afternoon, or hire a good petsitting service to do it.
5. Revisit basic housetraining lessons.
It’s worth putting serious energy into discerning the cause of your dog’s house soiling. If you discover and remove the cause of his problem, your dog may immediately return to his former pristine ways.
Or he may not. If that’s the case, or if you simply can’t find a reason, it’s time to go back to basic housetraining. You probably won’t have to implement the puppy “every hour on the hour” routine, but you do need to make sure he gets outside more often than he has to go. If you work all day, this might mean putting him back in a crate or exercise pen until he is successfully retrained, and hiring a professional petsitter (or arranging with a friend or neighbor) to let him out for a potty break at least once, preferably two or even three times during the day.
Just keep in mind that there’s a reason your housetrained dog might eliminate indoors – and neither spite, anger, jealousy, nor any other human emotion we might blame has anything to do with it. It’s up to you to find the reason and help him return to spotless living.
As Frodo learned all too well, messing around with someone’s eye can be asking for trouble. And while administering ophthalmologic drops or ointment to your dog isn’t quite as hairy as tangling with the Red Eye of Sauron, it still can be an unpleasant experience for both of you if you are unprepared.
Eye drops and ointments are prescribed for a variety of ocular conditions in dogs, including glaucoma, corneal ulcers, and recovery from cataract surgery. Even a minor eye infection like conjunctivitis – what the kids in your grade-school days called “pink eye” – can require regular administration of drops.
But when it comes to putting anything in their eyes or those of their dogs, “people are naturally freaky about it,” says Dr. David Maggs, professor of veterinary ophthalmology at the University of California at Davis. “And it’s just difficult to aim: You’ve got a wriggly dog and a very small target.” It doesn’t help that eyes in need of medication tend to look very off-putting, to put it mildly: Even a superficial scratch of the cornea, which in many cases will resolve in a few days, can make your dog look like something out of a low-budget horror flick.
If you’re feeling trepidation, your dog probably isn’t looking forward to the experience, either. Most would rather be somewhere, anywhere, else rather than getting a generous splash of wetness plopped into their eye, which likely isn’t feeling so great to begin with. “Depending on the dog, they can be very sensitive, especially if they have ulcers in the eye, which are extremely painful,” says Dr. Tomas Infernuso, of Veterinary Traveling Surgical Services in Long Island, New York. “And they associate any kind of contact with pain.”
That said, there is something worse than having to deal with a dog’s resistance to getting eye medications: Having matters escalate to the point where you can’t give them at all. “I’ve seen dogs who have lost an eye because people couldn’t medicate them,” Dr. Infernuso says. And that’s really not an option.
Find a Technique That Works For You
Ask 10 veterinarians, and chances are that you’ll hear 10 different (and sometimes contradictory) recommendations on how best to give eye medications. The following are some tips to make the process a little smoother; pick the ones that work best for you and your dog.
Ask 10 veterinarians, and chances are that you’ll hear 10 different (and sometimes contradictory) recommendations on how best to give eye medications. The following are some tips to make the process a little smoother; pick the ones that work best for you and your dog.
Cornered! Dr. Brad Holmberg, a board-certified ophthalmologist at the Animal Eye Center in Little Falls, New Jersey, likes to position the dog so she can’t back away: For small dogs, that’s on a table or countertop, with the dog’s rear against you – “butt to belly,” as he puts it.
Dr. Holmberg recommends straddling large dogs (who need to stay on the floor) with your thighs and elbows, and maneuvering their backs into a corner so they have no way to escape.
“Place your left hand on their chin and angle their head up,” he explains. Rest your right hand on the dog’s forehead, with the applicator ready. Using the thumb of the left hand, which is still steadying the chin, pull up the eyebrow – not the eyelid – to expose the white of the eye, and apply the drops.
Lessrestraint. Dr. Infernuso, by contrast, prefers not to restrain the dog unduly. “I usually start by rubbing the dog on the head, so he knows I’m not just going for the eye,” he explains. “Then I gently massage the area around the eye,” being careful, of course, not to put any pressure on the eye itself.
Restraining a dog, he notes, usually will mean that she will resist you. “They learn that when they’re held, something’s going to happen, so it usually turns out to be more of a struggle than an easy way out, and usually you get the opposite of what you want.”
Instead, with most patients, he offers food with one hand and administers the medicine with the other. (In a variation of this, a dog rescuer recently exulted on Facebook that she had found the perfect distraction: peanut butter smeared inside a yogurt cup, then held high to induce a helpful head tilt.)
I’ll take Ointment. Dr. Infernuso prefers ointment, because it lasts longer, and administers it by using his thumb to pull down the bottom eyelid, then deposits the medication on the pink tissue, or conjunctival sac. “You don’t have to open the eye that much, and you don’t want to touch the cornea,” he says. He administers drops this way, too.
Going steady. Take a tip from the manicurist: If you’ve ever gone to a nail salon, you might have noticed that the technician stabilizes the hand she holds the nail-polish brush with by resting her pinky against the table; it gives her more control and accuracy. Use that same technique with the hand that holds the eye medication.
“Resting your hand on your dog’s head is important – you don’t want to be holding the bottle above his head,” says Dr. Jacqueline Pearce, an assistant professor of comparative ophthalmology at the University of Missouri in Columbia. “Hold the medicine bottle or tube with your thumb and forefinger, and rest your pinky on the dog’s forehead.” Use the fingers of your other hand to hold the dog’s eyelid open.
Don’t telegraph your plans. Dr. Pearce also advocates the element of surprise, bringing the bottle from behind. “Move your hand along the dog’s neck toward the back of the head,” she advises. “That’s better than if you come straight at them with the bottle.”
Hands Off. Administering eye medication is a tricky little dance: You have to get close enough to ensure that the liquid or ointment actually gets into the eye, but not so close as to let any portion of the applicator make contact with it. With eye drops, hold the applicator about an inch from the eye, and be conscious of where it is at all times. “I’ve seen people rupture the eye by holding it too close,” Dr. Infernuso warns, “or the dog turns his head and basically perforates the cornea.”
Though you might be tempted to squeeze ointment on to your finger before applying it, don’t: No matter how well you clean your hands, you will transmit bacteria into your dog’s eye. Again, with ointment you don’t apply it to the eye itself, but rather to the strip of pink tissue behind the eyelid. Once placed there, the ointment will dissolve and distribute itself across the eye.
BePrepared. “Get your drops ready,” Dr. Holmberg says. “Remember to take the top off before you start.” To soften ointment so that is more viscous and easier to spread, put the tube under your armpit or in your pants pocket for five minutes. “It will be more like a gel than toothpaste,” he explains.
If you’re short on time, you can also run the ointment under warm tap water for a minute or so, Dr. Pearce adds. She notes that eye drops rarely have to be refrigerated, but if yours do – or if they have been in a cold car or storage area for any length of time – leave them out for ten minutes so they warm to room temperature. Overly cold liquid is uncomfortable for your dog.
Helpwanted. If at all possible, have a capable helper on hand. One person can help support the head and body to keep the dog still, while the other person focuses on holding and administering the medication.
Accentuate the positive. “One thing that’s really helpful is to reward the dog after he gets eye drops, so he associates it with something positive,” says Dr. Pearce of the University of Michigan. “I’ve had clients who say their dogs remind them it’s time for their drops.”
Tough Customer?
Oh, to have a pliant and pleasant Lassie who lifts her comely head to you in trust and deference as you administer those all-important drops. But the reality is that some dogs are simply not willing to follow a script when it comes to medical procedures, and if you want to get the job done, some vets offer more compulsory methods to consider. This may go against your personal philosophy in handling your dog, but, as always, measure it against the potential repercussions of not being able to medicate at all.
Several veterinarians suggest giving the antihistamine Benadryl, which can have a subtle settling effect, about a half-hour before applying the eye medication. (The recommended dose is 1 milligram per pound of body weight.) Dr. Infernuso notes that because many eye conditions are painful, it can be appropriate to have the dog on some pain medication to manage that discomfort to begin with.
“Sometimes, a soft muzzle will preoccupy a dog” long enough for an owner to administer the medication, Dr. Pearce notes. And sometimes that kind of mouth restraint is required with dogs who may be unhappy or panicked enough to attempt to bite when the bottle draws near.
Dr. Holmberg notes that wrapping a small dog in a towel is sometimes very calming, though this may have more to do with the dog being immobilized rather than any more relaxed emotional state. Following this train of thought, consider using a pressure wrap such as an Anxiety Wrap or ThunderShirt. Tight-fitting garments made of elastic fabric that distributes pressure across the body, these wraps can decrease anxiety for some dogs, though of course they will do nothing to physically restrain them.
Dr. Maggs of UC Davis suggests putting the dog “in an area where he is not emotionally sure of himself – where he tends to freeze and be still.” For large dogs, he suggests an elevated area such as a table – provided you have enough help and control to keep the dog there during the process – or a bathtub; for smaller dogs, a sink often does the trick.
In the interest of “getting the job done,” using compulsion can seem like the most logical and expedient choice. But remember that once a dog is “wise” to your tricks, things can escalate, and you are put in the position of using even harsher measures to get the same effect. In the interest of preserving and building the bond you have between you, keep your interactions as positive and rewarding as possible. The results might not be as immediate, but they will very likely be longer-lasting.
Strike that Balance
It should go without saying, but let’s say it anyway: Be gentle. In particular, don’t put too much pressure around eye and be mindful of hurting your dog if he is so unruly that he’s bucking like a bronco. At the same time, don’t be so tepid or unsure that you communicate this to your dog. Remind yourself that this is a simple medical procedure that even the greenest layperson can do with the proper technique. And you’ve just learned it.
The problem with eye medication is most dogs don’t have a chance to be introduced to it in a gradual, positive manner: Instead, the need for it is often instantaneous and unexpected, and owners simply don’t have the time to build up a positive association, the way they would with other potentially invasive procedures such as nail trimming or bathing.
But if your dog develops a condition that requires long-term daily administration of ophthalmologic drops or ointments, it may be worth it to you to you to take the time to condition your dog to love the eye-drop bottle or tube. Veterinarian, trainer, and author Dr. Sophia Yin recommends systematically pairing the bottle and progressively intense handling with food rewards over the course of a couple of weeks.
To start, use an empty drop bottle smeared with canned cheese or peanut butter, and “let the dog lick the treat off,”
Dr. Yin advises. “It’s best to spread it flat and thin so the dog has to lick repeatedly instead of sucking up the entire treat with one quick roll of the tongue.”
Once your dog is consistently happy to see the bottle, Dr. Yin recommends starting to pair food with touching the dog’s face, systematically and gradually approximating how you will touch it in order to give the drops, such as parting the eyelids. Once she accepts that, you reintroduce the treat-smeared bottle, allowing her to lick the food off the bottle as you mimic the steps of administering the medicine, eventually quickly moving the bottle into position above the eye before returning it to a place where she can continue noshing.
“Keep switching back and forth, systematically increasing the length of time that you hold the bottle above her eye,” Dr. Yin explains. “When you’re consistently able to hold the bottle above her head for three to five seconds, you’re ready to administer drops. Switch the fake practice bottle out and replace it with the real bottle of medications. Administer the drops, and then hurry and follow with treats.”
Denise Flaim of Revodana Ridgebacks in Long Island, New York, shares her home with three Ridgebacks, 10-year-old triplets, and a very patient husband.
When my husband asked me to come to the shelter where he worked to meet the 8-year-old Australian Shepherd he had fallen in love with and wanted to adopt, of course I said yes. When Paul first met Missy, she threw herself on her back at his feet, and he was hooked. When I saw her striking red merle coat, her stunning “odd eyes” (one brown, one blue) and her delightful personality, I was smitten, too, and didn’t need any arm-twisting from my husband to agree to add this beautiful girl to our family. She slipped into her place in our home with barely a ripple, just as did Mandy, an 8-year-old tri-color Rough Collie and my first senior adoption, some 30 years prior.
If you are embarking on a senior adoption adventure, you’re likely to have many questions about your new old dog. What should you expect? How active will he be? How much management will he require? Should you plan to do any training with him? Will he need any training? If so, how much, what kind, and when? We asked several different trainers to share their wisdom on senior-dog adoptions.
Realistic Expectations
While adult-dog adoptions often go as smoothly as Mandy’s and Missy’s, they don’t always. There can be immense benefits inherent in adopting a dog who may already be housetrained and well beyond the puppy chewing and adolescent stages. However, because senior-dog adoptions aren’t always trouble-free, it’s safest to make no assumptions about your new adult canine family member.
Cindy Mauro, CPDT-KA, of Cindy Mauro Dog Training in West Milford, New Jersey, is very familiar with the rewards and challenges of older-dog adoptions.
“I have adopted many senior dogs. The last two were 13-plus years, and I’m expecting a senior girl to come to me in a couple weeks from a puppy-mill rescue,” she says.
“I keep in mind that training may require changing old habits, which requires patience. I never assume that the older dog is already trained, so instead of setting myself up for disappointment, I start off as I would any new dog – with a plan in place for training and management as soon as she comes in the door. I am pleasantly surprised and pleased any time things go easier than I thought they would.”
Absent solid information to the contrary, behave as though your new dog is not housetrained. He may have belonged to someone who forced him to soil indoors so he thinks carpeting is the appropriate substrate on which to eliminate, or maybe he spent the first eight years of his life with only shoes and sofa cushions for chew toys. Or, although he may be physically capable of “holding it” because he’s a mature adult, he’s lived outdoors all his life and never learned rules for indoor living.
Plan on implementing a senior-dog training and management plan that will set him up for success, by using an “every hour on the hour” puppy housetraining protocol. Also, practice diligent puppy-proofing – putting everything away that your new dog might view as a potential chew object. With a little luck he will quickly show you that your precautions are unnecessary and you can relax your standards. If, however, your precautions are justified, you will have set him up to succeed by not allowing him to be reinforced even one time for unwanted behaviors in his new environment. This will help him to learn new rules and appropriate new behaviors much more quickly.
My standard practice of keeping small Tupperware containers of treats in every room will serve you well with your senior adoptee, as will a never-ending supply of cookies in your pockets. You don’t want to miss a single opportunity to reinforce him for doing the right thing as the two of you create your relationship.
There’s No Hurry
This sort of proactive management will help you and your new dog get off on the right foot, but when it comes to actual training, it’s wise to take it slow with your senior adoptee, unless he makes it clear he’s ready for a fast track. Christine Danker, CPDT-KA, KPA-CTP, PMCT3, of Hemlock Hollow Dog Training in Albany, New York, offers these useful tips:
Give the older dog a quiet place to settle in for a few days. This should be located somewhere that enables her to see and/or hear everything going on in the house, or to retreat without disturbances if she prefers.
Plan on being home, or at least reduce your regular schedule considerably, so you can observe the new senior. Will she be afraid to be left in a room behind a baby gate? Will she be comfortable in a crate? Is she housetrained? Does she have hearing loss or mobility issues?
Slowly integrate the new senior into a house with other dogs. Was the new dog living alone? With other dogs? An active younger dog could be too rambunctious for a senior, but if their sizes are similar, the senior may really enjoy interacting with another dog.
Remember, a mature dog who lived for many years in one home can take longer to adjust to the sudden changes in his life than a younger dog might.
“Be mindful that a senior dog may have formed a strong bond with his former family,” says Dawn Kalinowksi, CPDT-KA, of Poised Pups, LLC, in Norfolk, Virginia. “Realize that he may even be mourning the loss of his beloved humans and the familiarity of his previous home. Don’t overwhelm him. It’s important to go slow and allow him time to bond with his new family and settle into this new environment.”
Susan Sarubin, PMCT-2, CPDT-KA, of Pawsitive Fit LLC, in Easton, Maryland, is in total agreement.
“Dogs who are re-homed later in life may need a more extended period of adjustment to a new home, given their longer history of behavior in their old home. Many older dogs come with additional fears and anxieties that extend beyond just normal adjusting to a new environment or new humans. For those dogs, the best way of dealing with this may be to just give the dog space, allowing him to choose where he wants to be, and when he wants to be with you and your family.
“Sometimes I think we’re in too much of a rush to teach older adopted dogs the behaviors we ultimately want them to learn to successfully assimilate into the family. Unless behavior is truly problematic and needs immediate attention, allow time for the dog to view you as predictable, safe, and the source of wonderful things (petting, treats, toys, walks, etc.). Teaching new behaviors will be easier to train once your new dog is less stressed and trusts you. Be patient, capture the behaviors you like, and forgo dedicated training sessions until your dog is happily interacting with you and appears calm and relaxed in his new home.”
Getting Along With Others
If you already have other four-legged family members, helping your new old dog adjust to his new home includes careful introductions and a management plan that protects your senior adoptee from the unwanted attentions of younger, more active dogs.
Here are some recommendations from Sharon Messersmith, owner of Canine Valley Training in Reading, Pennsylvania, who says, “If you are adding a senior dog into your household with younger dogs, specific training with all dogs will help with the transition.”
Teach all dogs to wait at steps to allow your older dog to go first, or vice versa.
Give each dog her own space and teach all your dogs to respect each others’ spaces.
An older dog might not be able to tolerate constant play all day. Give her a crate or room that is just for her when she needs some alone time.
Be Considerate of Physical Needs
Finally, keep in mind that your senior adoptee may have mobility issues that impact his daily routine in your home. Past injuries or simply age-related arthritis may dictate that you assist him with getting into vehicles, going upstairs, or even navigating the small raised threshold of a doorway. While Missy was able to climb our stairs to the second-floor bedroom for most of her time with us, for the last year of her life I routinely assisted her. In her final few weeks she slept downstairs, as it became too much of an ordeal to ask her to climb. Make sure water bowls and beds are easily accessible for your mobility-challenged new old dog, and consider installing ramps where possible to make life easier for the oldster.
Training an Old Dog
You may or may not need or want to (or have to) invest much energy into training your new old dog. Your own preference as well as your individual dog’s personality and abilities can guide you here. If you win the adoption lottery and your new family member is already housetrained and has decent manners (like Missy and Mandy), you can slide on the training.
You may also discover that your adoptee has some mobility issues that limit his physical capabilities. When I first met her, I noticed that Missy had a slight limp. When we had radiographs taken we found that her right hind leg was an inch shorter than her left due to a prior broken leg injury that hadn’t been properly treated. If we had ambitious goals for her, this might have been disappointing. As it was, since we only wanted her to be a happy farm dog, it wasn’t devastating – it only meant that we needed to watch for arthritis as she aged and alleviate her pain as needed.
Most trainers recommend taking a slow training approach with senior adoptees – slower than you might with a younger dog. Peaceable Paws trainer Laura Nalven, PMCT, shares an experience she had with a recent client:
“I’m reminded of someone in my classes who adopted a senior dog (probably 10 years old or so) just a week or so before class,” she relates. “She wanted to start training immediately because she remembered how much fun her previous (and much younger) dog had and how much it helped them bond.
“The old boy couldn’t see anything more than about eight inches from his face if it wasn’t moving, and his owner hadn’t realized this limitation in the short time they’d been together. Hearing or vision problems, coupled with general achiness, can make group classes full of bouncy adolescents an overwhelming experience. The class environment just stressed this dog out, and his owner felt like she wasn’t doing enough to bond with him.
“I’d suggest that you allow older dogs a longer period to adjust to their new home than you might a younger dog. If they’re peppy and eager to do training games, go for it. But if they’re laid back and just want to sit in the sun all day, let them.”
Clean Slate? Or Highly Experienced?
Nan Marks of Silver Spring, Maryland, is a Peaceable Paws Academy graduate who trains at Capital Dog Training Club in Silver Spring. She is also a veteran adopter of mature dogs. She shares her thoughts about training:
“This topic is near and dear to my heart. In recent years I have adopted a Rough Collie, Robbie, at age 8; a large bronze (Golden/Chow/Newfoundland?) mix, Bruce, at age 10; and most recently another 8-year-old Rough Collie, Lucy.
“All three were basically outdoor dogs; two of the three had been tied out their entire lives. These dogs have taught me two primary things: first, never assume that they won’t learn and enjoy learning just because they are older; and second, let their behavior, not their age, tell you what they are willing to try. All three became delightful companions, trained and active therapy dogs, two of the three learned some agility, and one competed and titled in obedience and canine freestyle.”
On one hand, your senior dog may come to you will little or no training, as did Marks’ dogs, described above. On the other, he may have had some training with the less-than-positive methods that are still all too common in the real world.
Peaceable Paws Academy graduate Jackie Moyano trains at WOOFS! in Arlington, Virginia, and Coventry School for Dogs in Columbia, Maryland, and also volunteers at the Animal Welfare League of Arlington, where she enjoys matching prospective adopters with appropriate senior dogs. She suggests having fun with your dog while introducing him to a new training relationship with humans based on mutual trust.
“While your mature dog may come to you knowing ‘sit’, ‘down,’ and ‘stay,’ you may not know the training methods used to teach these cues,” says Moyano. “Why not take a positive-reinforcement tricks class? Not only could this provide mental stimulation for your mature dog, it could accelerate your bonding!”
It Depends
So, the best answer to any question about a “new old dog” is . . . “It depends.” He may come to you already trained, or you may need to do a lot of management while you find out who he is and how you can best meet his needs. You may be able to jump right into a training program, or he may need time to settle in and take training at a slower pace. In any case, be prepared to fall every bit as deeply in love with your senior adoptee as you have with previous puppies and younger dogs who have been part of your family.
Just last year we said sad goodbyes to our beloved Missy when, at age 14, her injury-related arthritis finally dictated that we let her go. Although we were her humans for only six of her 14 years, it was as painful a loss as any we’ve experienced. When you adopt a new old dog, since you don’t have as much time to look forward to, you learn to treasure the years you do have with them.
Senior Successes
There is an endless supply of “new old dog” happy-ending stories like Missy’s and Mandy’s. Twelve-year-old Scooter is a beloved member of our family. We adopted the little Pomeranian five years ago when he was on the euthanasia list at our shelter after he failed his assessment due to his resource guarding (easily managed in our child-free home).
Trainer Susan Sarubin tells of her most recent adoption:
“The transformation in my 7 1/2-year-old adopted Rhodesian Ridgeback, Andy, has been quite remarkable since we adopted him over a year ago. There have been many ‘firsts’ in his behavior that have brought me tears of joy. Until recently, I spent little time with him that was dedicated to training – he experienced only the training that goes on with normal daily interaction, with rewards for desirable behavior. He has blossomed into the dog that he was never allowed to be in his previous life. We accomplished that in large part by letting him to come to it on his own. We have done 16 months of informal shaping, really. Now he learns behaviors on cue quickly – and most important, he’s a happy boy.”
Sometimes people worry that they won’t be able to bond with an older dog when they’ve missed out on the puppy and young-dog sharing experiences.
Trainer Nan Marks puts those fears to rest with these beautiful words:
“I remember early on fearing I would not love these older guys as much. Boy, was I wrong! For the most part I’ve found them easier to bond with quickly because they are more fully who they are already and not surfing the waves of puppyhood and adolescence.
“I also remember fearing that having only a short span to share with them would be too painful. I can only say that for the two who have now moved on, they were with me for three and four years, respectively, and those wonderful, loving years felt gloriously long to me in all the things that make having dogs meaningful.”
Pat Miller, CBCC-KA, CPDT-KA, is WDJ’s Training Editor. She lives in Fairplay, Maryland, site of her Peaceable Paws training center, where she offers dog-training classes and courses for trainers. Pat is also the author of many books on positive training. She has a terrific brand-new book, How to Foster Dogs: From Homeless to Homeward Bound.
Two years ago, my friend Pam’s six-year-old Akita, Bruino, was diagnosed with bone cancer. Bruino had had his share of health issues during his short life; he was born to a rescued and severely malnourished and neglected mother, he developed several skeletal disorders before he was a year old, and he later required surgery to repair the cruciate ligament in his left knee. Still, throughout all of this, Bruino remained an easygoing and friendly fellow, getting along well with people and dogs and never quite seeming to realize that he greatly outweighed his owner and the majority of his canine friends.
When Bruino started to limp during a walk one day, Pam assumed that either the surgical repair to his knee had failed or that he was developing arthritis in that knee. Unfortunately, x-rays revealed the problem to be something much worse: a bone tumor located in his femur.
We are fortunate that we live in a university town with a veterinary college and an excellent cancer-care clinic. Bruino was examined the next day by a team of board-certified veterinary oncologists. Information was presented to Pam about the disease, its prognosis, and several options for Bruino’s care.
Although amputation is frequently the treatment of choice with osteo-sarcoma, Bruino’s large size coupled with his mobility problems made him a poor candidate for this option. After consulting with the veterinary oncologists, the orthopedist who had performed Bruino’s knee surgery, her own veterinarian, and her training friends, Pam opted to provide Bruino with several palliative rounds of chemotherapy and also to enroll him in a clinical research trial that was testing the effects of a bone-salvaging drug for dogs with osteosarcoma. Pam and I also discussed Bruino’s diet, and she made some changes that were designed to support his body condition, reduce inflammation, and possibly slow tumor growth.
Bruino responded well to treatment. His pain and swelling were reduced, and his quality of life continued to be very good.
During this time, Pam was in contact via email with a number of dog folks whom she knew from being involved with Akita rescue. One acquaintance – we will call her “Jane” – took it upon herself to inform Pam via email that feeding Bruino a commercial diet during his young life had almost certainly led to his cancer. Further, this woman proclaimed, if Pam would just start to feed Bruino the homemade diet that she recommended, plus a concoction of nutritional supplements that she would provide, this would slow progression and could even cure his cancer.
Like most of us, Pam would do anything possible to help her beloved dog. She considered changing Bruino’s food and purchasing the packets of supplements. Pam trusted that this person was sincere in her claims. This was a known dog enthusiast who clearly believed in her own words and in the results that her prescribed diet and supplements could bring. (I would add that I like to think she never intended to be the source of the emotional pain that her words caused to Pam.)
After more thought, and more discussion with me and with Bruino’s team of veterinarians, Pam decided to stay with her planned course and declined to use the diet that Jane promoted. During our last discussion about this, Pam commented, “Well, if her diet works so well, wouldn’t there be studies showing that it worked, and wouldn’t more people be using it?”
Yes, indeed, that is certainly the right question to ask.
Mistakes Were Made…But Not Intentionally
The woman foisting unsolicited food advice upon Pam was probably sincere (though arguably insensitive). She believed that feeding her homemade dog food and providing a nutrient supplement could prevent cancer from developing in healthy dogs and cure disease in diagnosed dogs. Most readers will agree that this is a pretty extravagant claim. Yet, she insisted with conviction, and Pam, in a state of emotional turmoil, considered giving it a try.
We all hear and read such claims in the popular press, on the Internet, or when talking to Joe next door (who happens to know a lot about dogs). Why is it that we, as supposedly the most intelligent species on the planet, are so susceptible to believing such claims and often make decisions in response to assertions that are accompanied by little or no supporting evidence? Why do we sometimes make a choice that seems to be a good idea (i.e., it feels right) but in reality has no actual evidence supporting its benefit or superiority?
In Chapter 1, I discussed how our emotions – important and essential as they are – not only influence our behavior but also frequently do so without our conscious awareness.
Additionally, our brains efficiently process information using a set of mental shortcuts called heuristics that enable us to rapidly observe a scene, extract meaning from it, and react in what is (usually) an appropriate manner. And, as with the emotional input, all of this mental work takes place beneath the surface of our consciousness. It is only the result of processing the incoming information (the action or reaction) that we are consciously aware of. It does not feel this way because we are also masters at “back-reasoning.” If asked why we made a particular decision or choice, we can immediately explain why.
However, at the time that the choice is made, functional MRI (fMRI) studies have shown that the processing is much too rapid to have allowed us to work through the series of logical steps to reach the choice – at least not consciously. Again, the benefits of this subconscious system are its processing speed and efficiency.
But with every benefit there is a cost. The price that we pay for rapid-fire analysis is that our brains miss details – details that may be essential in certain situations for reliable decision-making. And, just as with emotionally influenced choices, we are unaware of these missed details. Before reaching the conscious level of “Act now, do this!” our brains fill in a set of details for us, using our unique set of beliefs, experiences, and expectations.
For most processing and decision-making, this system works well because past patterns often accurately predict current patterns. However, the system is also biased by our opinions and beliefs, and so can make mistakes. As a set, these mistakes are referred to as cognitive biases, predictable patterns of thought and behavior that lead us to draw incorrect conclusions. Similar errors called logical fallacies refer to faulty arguments that lead to errors in logic – again, without our awareness – usually because we are highly invested in supporting a particular answer or solution.
Happily for us, psychologists, neuroscientists, and behaviorists have been studying these biases and fallacies for many years. Although we cannot completely prevent them (that subconscious mind thing again), we can be aware of the existence of these traps and their potential to lead us astray when making choices. Just as many of us are talented dog trainers, we can also become effective “mind trainers,” teaching ourselves to avoid or correct for these traps when making decisions for our dogs’ health (and for other important things in life).
Cognitive Bias & Logical Fallacies
The following are some specific types of cognitive biases and logical fallacies that may unduly influence us as we try to select foods, choose the best feeding approach, and make decisions for our dog’s nutritional well-being (each of these are discussed in more detail in the book):
Confirmation bias is the tendency to seek out and remember information that matches what we already believe, and to ignore or discount information that is not in agreement with our preformed views. As just one example, confirmation bias is at work when we become convinced that a dog’s itchy skin is caused by the chicken meal in her diet and then attend to only those signs that confirm this belief (itchy skin, commercial food containing chicken meal) and ignore signs that her problem skin may have other causes (seasonal allergies, parasites, flea allergy dermatitis).
Post-hoc fallacy, formally called post hoc, ergo propter hoc, translates to “after this, therefore because of this.” This common logical fallacy is the cause of many superstitions and false beliefs. We commit a post-hoc error whenever we assume that because two events occur together, with one following the other in time, that the first event caused the second event.
We are especially prone to these in nutrition precisely because we can easily change the food that we feed and because we tend to change foods only when our dogs experience a problem. If the dog’s condition improves after changing her food (and the timeframe encompassed by “after” may be days, weeks, or even months), then the improvement is immediately attributed to the change. However, if no positive change is observed, diet is still not eliminated as a cause. Rather the change may not have been the right diet. The owner moves on to another food, another supplement, and another dietary approach. (Because of confirmation bias the misses are also often not noticed, while the hits are celebrated.)
Illusion of control: Because as owners we actually are in complete control of what our dogs eat and when they eat it, the jump to assuming (hoping) that we can control our dogs’ health entirely by what we feed to them is pervasive. Proponents of nutritional trends that make extravagant claims exploit our deeply ingrained desire to be able to control health changes in our pets through what we choose to feed them. It is no wonder that we fall for these claims, given our strong desire to help our dogs and the natural tendency of our brains to convince us that we have a universal ability to do so.
The availability error is rooted in our natural tendency to attach greater significance to events that are easily brought to mind or remembered (i.e., are “available”). Like most cognitive biases, the availability error has its roots in a heuristic that our brains use for speed and efficiency when evaluating incoming information. It can lead to errors in judgment when we would be better served to take our time and evaluate information more objectively.
Examples of the availability error include the belief that shark attacks, child abductions, and plane crashes are far more common (and present much greater risk to individuals) than they actually are. An unfortunate but common example occurs when people believe that all Pit Bull Terriers are dangerous because of sensationalized media coverage of dog bites that focuses repeatedly only on this particular breed or breed type.
Negativity bias refers to the psychological phenomenon in which we naturally pay more attention to and give more weight to negative rather than positive experiences. It is this unconscious bias that causes people to be more hurt or discouraged by insults or poor work performance reviews than they are pleased or encouraged by compliments or shining performance reviews.
The negativity bias can affect the attention that we pay to our dog’s health and wellness. We tend to wait until we see a change in weight, the development of itchy skin, or the onset of a serious health problem before we react. In human medicine (and increasingly in veterinary medicine), efforts to train ourselves to focus on wellness and disease prevention as opposed to disease treatment are a reflection of recognizing and trying to combat negativity bias.
Jane’s Claims
These are just a few of the ways in which our mind’s tendency to think rapidly and use shortcuts to form opinions and rules of thumb to make decisions can lead us to make errors in judgment. Let’s return for a moment to Jane’s insistence that her diet and supplement would cure Bruino’s cancer.
Upon further investigation, Pam discovered that one of Jane’s dogs had died of cancer several years previously and that Jane had changed the dog’s diet several months prior to the diagnosis. This led Jane to believe that “diet causes cancer,” examples of both post hoc and availability errors. Because she spent many hours and a great deal of effort in the development of her nutritional supplement, Jane understandably was highly invested in believing in the efficacy of her approach. Therefore, these feelings could lead her to pay more attention to dogs who responded positively (or did not suffer from it) and to ignore cases in which the dog’s condition worsened (confirmation bias).
An additional post hoc fallacy was committed when she assumed that a dog’s change in status was due specifically to her remedy because the change in condition followed feeding the remedy chronologically (regardless of how long that time period was and ignoring the effects of other treatments that a dog may have been receiving).
The fact that Jane’s remedy (and her beliefs about it) had not been shown to be effective through controlled scientific study does not discount the fact that her remedy might be helpful or effective. The point is that we just don’t know. The claims that Jane made for her nutritional approach had never been tested and the risks of succumbing to a variety of potential biases make her claims at the very least unfounded, and at the most highly suspect.
Why Dog People Need Science
So, what is a dog person to do? Are our minds, while highly efficient at processing loads of information and helping us to react quickly to changing circumstances, at the same time sabotaging our attempts to weigh evidence and make well-reasoned decisions? Well . . . yes. But when it comes to our dog’s nutritional health and well being (as well as to many other important decisions in our lives), we can use science as a rational and reliable tool to help us to avoid these traps, evaluate information objectively, and choose well.
At its most basic, science refers to a systematic approach to acquiring knowledge. The system of science uses observation and experimentation to describe and explain the natural world. And – this is important – science is specifically and intentionally designed to prevent the biases and cognitive traps that come along with being human, traps that will almost always trip us up in one way or another if we simply go about willy-nilly making decisions in response only to how we feel and without any type of system or plan.
One of the best things about science is that, by definition, it is testable. Science is designed to evaluate the validity of the stuff that you think/ponder/learn to make sure that your beliefs actually reflect reality as opposed to being flawed, misleading, or an outright falsehood.
In most disciplines, including nutrition, science is put into practice through use of the scientific method. Most of us learned the steps to this method in high school, and some of us have had the opportunity to put it into practice later in college and in our careers. There are four primary steps to the scientific method:
1. The investigator notices a natural phenomenon or a problem and takes the time to observe it closely, trying to learn as much as possible about it.
2. The investigator considers one or more possible explanations or causes for the phenomenon and typically selects a favorite for testing: her hypothesis. Now the fun begins.
3. This is the essence of the scientific method. A study is designed, data are collected and analyzed, and conclusions are drawn. The results of the first study may suggest a second, and understanding grows.
4. Following study replication (preferably by unrelated groups of researchers), the hypothesis is either rejected as false (and you start all over again), accepted, or judgment is withheld pending still more study.
A key difference between the scientific method and other ways in which we learn about the world is that it is designed to protect us from inherent biases and mistakes in reasoning. In Chapter 3, we will see how the use of well-designed studies can support or refute claims that are made about a particular pet food, ingredient, nutrient, or feeding method. For now, let’s return one more time to the issue of diet and cancer in dogs.
The Scientific Method in Practice
The scientific method provides a systematic approach to testing ideas about “how things work” that protects those doing the work (and those who stand to benefit from it) from making errors in judgment. Jane promoted a feeding approach and nutritional supplement that she was convinced would slow the progression of Bruino’s cancer. Her convictions, while sincere, were based not upon scientific evidence but upon personal experience. As we have seen, personal experience can lead to flawed conclusions. Yet, as I mentioned, we did change Bruino’s diet.
The food that Pam chose for Bruino included an increase in fat and reduced levels of digestible carbohydrate (starch). Protein was moderately increased. The type of fat was also modified to include a high proportion of a class of fatty acids called the omega-3 fatty acids. These are commonly found in certain types of fish. When included in the diet in proper amounts, omega-3 fatty acids have varying degrees of anti-inflammatory benefits to different tissues in the body. The reasons for these changes have to do with changes in the way that animals with cancer are able to use energy-containing nutrients from their diet (fat, carbohydrate, and protein) and also how being affected by cancer influences body weight, body condition, and an animal’s interest in eating.
Most animals, including humans, experience certain changes in metabolism (the way in which the body digests and uses nutrients) during cancer. These changes become most pronounced during the later stages of cancer and can also be influenced by cancer treatments such as chemotherapy and radiation.
It is known that most tumor cells preferentially use carbohydrate as an energy (fuel) source and use fat and protein far less efficiently. Therefore, feeding an animal who has cancer a diet that shifts its energy balance away from carbohydrate and toward fat is designed to feed the patient while starving the tumor. Because tumors grow fastest when using carbohydrate for energy, depriving them of this form of energy may slow their growth and slow the progression of the cancer.
An additional benefit to increasing dietary fat is that fat improves a food’s energy density and appeal to dogs, which will both encourage a dog to eat and will help to maintain body weight during treatment. Increasing omega-3 fatty acids in the diet has anti-inflammatory benefits in the body and may also help to limit tumor growth. Finally, many dogs with cancer lose weight and specifically show a loss of muscle mass and strength. Increasing protein helps to conserve the body’s lean tissue and reduce this decline in body condition.
These recommendations arise from our understanding of both canine cancer and nutritional science. Still, an approach to feeding dogs with cancer that uses this nutrient matrix must be tested (scientific method, remember) if we are to accept that a diet switch could help Bruino. Is there scientific evidence?
Indeed there is. Although there are not mountains of it, there is enough to suggest that these dietary modifications may be beneficial for dogs with cancer. (Editor’s note: the published research is referenced and described in the book.) These studies provide the science that was needed to make a decision for Bruino’s wellness and quality of life during cancer treatment.
Happily, Bruino’s new diet at the very least supported his body condition and muscle mass during his treatments. Bruino experienced a high quality of life for almost a year following diagnosis. While we cannot know if the dietary intervention slowed his cancer progression as an individual case, we do know that a dietary matrix that includes increased fat and protein, reduced carbohydrate, and increased omega-3 fatty acids has the potential to do so. And, because the food that he was fed was formulated to be nutritionally complete and had been tested, we also know that we did not harm him by feeding it.
Linda P. Case, MS, is the owner of AutumnGold Consulting and Dog Training Center in Mahomet, Illinois, where she lives with her four dogs and husband Mike. She is the author of Canine and Feline Nutrition, as well as three other books and numerous publications on nutrition for dogs and cats. Her blog can be read at thesciencedog.wordpress.com.
Editor’s Note: Dog Food Logic examines the types of available scientific (and not so scientific) evidence about canine nutrition that you can use to make evidence-based decisions for your dogs’ health and wellness. Further chapters include information about dogs’ nutritional requirements, how a dog’s age and activity level should affect your choice for his diet; how the pet food market and the companies that make up that market are changing; pet food marketing; label claims and how to analyze them; and pet food oversight and regulation.
It never fails: Im concentrating, reading or writing at my computer. Otto is snoozing on the floor or loveseat behind me. Time flows. The outside world fades from my consciousness. And then, from right behind me, WOW WOW WOW WOOF! As I pull myself off the ceiling, I realize that once again, and from a dead sleep, Otto heard a FedEx or UPS truck round the corner several doors down from my house. He just has to announce its imminent passage by our door or, even more outrageous, its stopping in front of our house, and the entry through the front gate, of that guy, the one who leaves packages on the porch.
Why oh why do dogs get so riled up about delivery trucks? And why cant Otto make the connection between the arrival of so many tasty treats and toys for him to try, and the nice people who deliver them? My only theory is that he does it because it works; the trucks leave very quickly when he barks. Of course, the trucks also leave very quickly when he doesnt bark, so maybe thats a bad theory. It must be the unpredictable entry of the stranger through the gate and THUMP of packages on the porch. Especially because he doesnt bark at the garbage truck, the water meter readers (they dont come in the gate, the meter is out under the sidewalk), or the local buses that pass by every hour or so and sound a lot like the delivery trucks (to me).
Otto used to wait for and bark at the postal delivery people, too, but since the folks who have our route started carrying dog treats, now they get the benefit of Ottos doubt. He wags his tail and whines, instead, when he hears the sound of the mail cart being pushed down the sidewalk. When the postal workers leave packages on the porch, they almost always detour off the porch and give Otto a cookie through the chain-link gate at the side of the house. They have to go out of their way to do it, yet they almost always do. And that once-in-a-while cookie has made all the difference.
If Im paying attention to the sounds of the outside world, and by some luck, I hear the truck before he does, I can say, Otto! to get his attention, and reach (or get up to go find) a treat. This completely forestalls the sudden loud WOOF!, although he still will look toward the door and make a soft growling noise in his throat as he crunches his cookie. The problem is, Im usually not paying attention to the sounds of the outside world. During FedEx and UPS delivery hours, Im usually working and deep in thought, completely vulnerable to the sudden WOOF! Hes a big dog, and has a BIG, deep voice, and I swear its shortening my life.
What sets off your dogs alarms? And what have you done about it?
Its amazing to me that even people who have fairly serious allergies themselves often fail to see the similarities between their own condition and their dogs allergies. Many people are quite experienced at avoiding the substances to which they are allergic but dont realize that it would help their dog considerably if they would invest some time in trying to identify the substances to which their dog is allergic and limiting the dogs exposure to that allergen.
Im not judging, believe me. I had an allergy-ridden dog for years before I ever suffered an allergic reaction myself; thats my excuse for subjecting poor Rupert to dose after dose of steroids to quell his itching (and antibiotics for secondary skin infections caused by relentless scratching and chewing). This was long before I learned that it would be far easier and healthier for Rupe! to manage his environment in such a way as to prevent the allergic reaction that caused the itching in the first place.
Through my work at Whole Dog Journal, Ive learned a lot about canine allergies and how to prevent and/or manage them. I know the most common allergens in dogs (flea bites, and environmental allergies such as pollen and dust mites), and the difference between a food allergy and food intolerance. And today, though the dog I currently share my home with has seasonal allergies, he has never had a hot spot, ear or skin infection, or steroid.
On April 22, at 7 pm EDT, Ill be presenting a 60-minute webinar about canine allergies to interested Whole Dog Journal readers. Ill be discussing:
* Five things any owner can do to help an allergic dog, no matter what the allergy.
* The three most common types of canine allergies, and why they get worse as the dog ages.
* How to distinguish a food allergy from a food intolerance.
* 12 ways to reduce your dogs exposure to fleas, dust, and environmental allergens.
* The importance of observing where on your dogs body he scratches, licks, or chews the most when hes suffering from allergies.
* The risks and benefits of corticosteroids.
After my presentation, Ill answer questions online about your dogs allergies. Wont you log onto your computer and join me during this free event?
Addisons disease, called The Great Pretender, is often misdiagnosed because it resembles so many other illnesses. Patients with Addisons are often erroneously diagnosed as having gastrointestinal diseases such as inflammatory bowel disease (IBD), infections, parasites, cancer of the gastrointestinal tract, or poisoning. Acute renal failure, liver disease, urinary blockage, pancreatitis, insulinoma, hyperparathyroidism, and protein-losig enteropathy are other common misdiagnoses.
The most dramatic Addisons symptom is the endocrine emergency called Addisonian crisis. This occurs when the dog goes into shock due to circulatory collapse, and it can happen so quickly that a healthy looking dog is suddenly, within a few hours, close to death.
For many dog owners, the crisis is their first sign that something is wrong. About 30-35 percent of dogs with Addisons are initially diagnosed during a crisis.
For more information on the diagnosis and treatment of Addisons disease, purchase and download Whole Dog Journals ebook, Addisons Disease.
You know its spring when you start looking for your tape rollers, or your face lights up when you see them at the pet supply store register. When you start coordinating your work wardrobe with your dogs coat. When it seems like you vacuum or sweep up enough hair to make at least a small dog every day.
I told a friend recently that we should switch cars: she has beige upholstery in her car, but two dark-colored dogs; I have buff-colored dogs and dark upholstery. I had my car before the dogs, but darn it, at some point in life Im going to coordinate these things.
I have both types of shedding dogs in my family: the kind whose hair comes off every time you touch him, and the one who never seems to be shedding but whose hair is everywhere anyway.
Ottos hair plugs up the Furminator with every pass, floats off of him as he walks around, and concentrates in your hand at the end of every stroke of petting. When he wakes up in the morning, walks into the kitchen and stretches and then shakes in that morning sunbeam, I just about have a nervous breakdown seeing the loose hair float and fly about. Why cant he wait until hes gone 10 more steps and shake outside? I am using the Furminator on him every day, but the job of getting rid of that layered winter coat just seems endless.
I cant use the Furminator or any other brush on Tito the Chihuahua. Because instant hysteria. He defends himself thoroughly against any potential harm or discomfort. Fortunately, he loves being massaged, so I can still use my fingers to scrub and loosen his hair, and then sort of wipe it off, but its not nearly as effective as using a brush.
Dyson came out with a dog brush attachment for its terrific Animal line of vacuums, but even when paired with high-value treats, my dogs hated being brush/vacuumed. At least now they leave the room when I vacuum, instead of being underfoot. Did anyones dogs not mind that experience?
I’ve written previously about my aversion to letting veterinary technicians take my dogs “in the back” for blood draws and other quick procedures. My main reason for not wanting to send Otto in the back is that he has an irrational fear of slippery floors. As soon as he thinks a floor is slippery — it doesn’t even seem to matter whether I find the floor to be slippery or not — he starts to walk like Bambi on a frozen pond, scrambling in such as way as to ensure that he will fall.
He’s actually made a LOT of progress, largely because I’ve never dragged or forced him across a floor that freaked him out (contrary to LOTS of advice from the kind of trainers I don’t listen to). He may quail for a moment at the entrance to a pet supply store, when he steps off the entry carpet and finds himself on a sea of tile, but then he will gather himself and walk cautiously along with me. His turns will be wide and wobbly, and he will pant a bit with the effort of staying upright, but he’s game, he’ll go. That’s hard-won progress — and admittedly, I don’t put him through it a lot, or for no good reason. Any time we have to navigate a super slippery place, I make it as rewarding — and brief — as possible for him.
Veterinary clinics almost always have tile or other hard, smooth floors — they are the easiest to keep clean. But they present a challenge to Otto, and knowing this, I protect him as best I can by telling the techs, as they lead us to exam rooms, “I need to let him go slow and pick his own path; he’s really cautious on slippery floors.” And — usually — I don’t allow them to “take him in the back”, because they don’t know this behavior as well as I do, and I don’t want him to backslide. If he gets scared and puts the brakes on for a second, I can encourage him with a word and he will start walking again. At clinics, they will almost always respond to a dog locking up by just dragging the dog — gently, but dragging nonetheless! — through the door into the back. Most dogs are afraid to leave their owners and are fine (if not better behaved) once the door between the “back” and their owner is closed. Otto is happy to go with the techs, he likes them! Inconvenient though it may be, it’s really all about the FLOOR.
My son was visiting over the weekend. He was delivering his young dog, Cole, to me to dog-sit while he and his girlfriend take a short vacation (spring break). We took both of our dogs to the vet on Sunday. Eight-or-so-month-old Cole needed to be weighed again (he’s growing like a weed) to make sure we are giving him the right amount of heartworm preventive, and to receive said preventive; and he received his first rabies vaccination. (It was given later than usual, as we have been sorting out his immune response to his other vaccines.) Otto needed his annual examination to renew his prescription for heartworm preventive. I also wanted the clinic to take a blood sample to send off for his annual vaccine titer test. (He hasn’t been vaccinated for anything but rabies since I adopted him in 2008; his titers come back strong and positive every year.)
As usual, Otto hesitated at the door of the clinic, and then walked into the waiting room carefully. He happily got onto the scale, which was covered with a paper advertisement for some veterinary product, and which made the scale less slippery than the floor. And within a minute, we walked into an exam room. He was doing GREAT, for him. He started panting a bit, but otherwise looked happy enough to be there. The tech came in and greeted both dogs, and took the temperature of each, and administered Cole’s rabies vaccine. Then she asked if she could take Otto in the back for the blood sample.
I hesitated for a moment, but he was doing great, and she seemed to have a good handling technique with him. I actually considered for a moment that I didn’t want to come across as nutty and overprotective. So I broke my own rule, and said, “Sure, you can take him in the back.” To my credit, I also said, “Please just let him take his time, don’t pull him if he stops for a second, he’s just REALLY cautious on the slippery floors.” She said, “No problem!” and she chirped at him, and he went with her through the door into the back quite cheerfully, no hesitation or balking — though with the usual “walking on ice” gait he uses on slippery floors.
They were gone a bit longer than it takes to take a blood sample, and my son and I were discussing what might have gone awry when the tech and Otto walked back in — accompanied by the unmistakable odor of released anal glands. My son quickly pulled his shirt over his nose and mouth, as I asked, “What happened?! He’s usually good with blood draws!” The tech said, “Oh, he was really good! He did that right afterward, for some reason. We tried to clean it off . . . do you want us to bathe him for you?”
I answered no; I didn’t want him back out of my sight again! And I was instantly so mad at myself. Why is it so hard to trust one’s own instincts, and just gently request (then insist, if need be) that the procedure be done right there, not “in the back”?
On the way home (with the car windows open), my son and I discussed what we thought probably happened; we were both certain that he must have stalled on the floor at some corner and someone tried to pull him along, forcefully enough to panic him, if just for a moment. The tech said that he was good for the actual blood sample, and I would expect him to be; I’ve been present many times for the procedure with him, and he’s never seemed to notice or mind either the restraint or the needle.
I know that veterinarians and technicians have many good reasons to prefer the dog to be “in the back” for routine procedures, and in some cases, it might be truly necessary. However, this was a reminder to me that I need to insist, every time, that for simple things like blood samples, Otto stays in the exam room with me.
Otto is mature enough now that I don’t think the scary event will scar his sensitive psyche; he was perfectly cheerful and comfortable with the veterinarian’s exam immediately after this. And he was due for a bath anyway. But I feel like I failed him — and it could have been worse.
What’s your policy on this practice at the vet’s office?
Last month in this space, I mentioned that my son’s puppy (Cole, now 7 or 8 months old) had presumably received all the “puppy shots” a puppy his age would ordinarily receive, when a vaccine titer test revealed that he lacked circulating antibodies to distemper. Thank goodness we had asked for the test – apparently, the first one that anyone at that veterinary practice had ever ordered – because without it, we wouldn’t have known that Cole was still absolutely vulnerable to becoming seriously ill should he ever encounter the distemper virus out in the world. He was vaccinated again, and three weeks later, we ran another vaccine titer test, and this time, the results came back as quite positive; he now has circulating antibodies to the distemper virus in his blood.
I said that I would discuss vaccinations, vaccine titer tests, and Cole’s situation in the April issue, but this article will actually appear in the May issue. For reasons that I will explain further next month, it took weeks longer than expected to receive the test results (I actually received them just a day before I am writing this) and I wanted to discuss them, whichever way they turned out, in the article that you will see next month.
Speaking of grandpuppies: I mentioned a few months ago that my grandson, Liam, was coming to live nearby. I’m still adjusting to how ridiculous it is that I could possibly be a grandparent – someone who is now referred to daily as Nana! . . . I mean, that was my grandmother’s name! – but I’m not the only one adjusting to daily visits from an almost-two-year-old person. Tito the Chihuahua could not be more excited to see Liam every day; he screams with joy, wags himself in two, and races to find a ball. He doesn’t bring the ball to anyone, but he loves being chased when he has a ball, and Liam loves chasing him, in the lurching, uncoordinated way that human toddlers chase anything.
My big mixed-breed dog Otto does not like being chased, and what’s more, he does not particularly like kids. When we adopted Otto in 2008, when he was about 7 or 8 months old, Otto was afraid of a lot of different types of people – tall ones, loud ones, deep-voiced ones, men who wear big boots, people with gardening equipment, and pretty much all children – and I’ve worked hard over the years to help him form more positive associations with all humans, particularly the ones on his “no fly” list. He’s solid with about 99 percent of all the adult humans he meets now, but truly comfortable with only about 50 percent of the older kids he meets, and not yet predictably okay with any toddlers.
I’ve already admitted I’m a grandparent now; it follows that at my age, I’ve had only sporadic access to toddlers with whom I could conduct counter-conditioning sessions with my dog. They are all around, and yet you can’t just borrow one that is a third of the size of your dog for the express purpose of training the dog! Unless they are related to you. Then, it seems, the parents are all, “Sure! Yeah! Take him! We’ll see you in a couple of hours!”
So, it’s taken almost six years, but we’re finally working on this gap in Otto’s education and experience. Glory be, he’s coming around beautifully. It helps that Otto loves food, and is well-accustomed to working for food and being very patient and self-controlled around it – and that Liam is often surrounded and splattered with various kinds of food (as is his stroller and car seat), and that he loves dogs. I’m stacking the deck in everyone’s favor by literally showering Otto with treats when Liam is nearby, and today, Otto’s face lights up with happy anticipation when he spots Liam and Liam’s mom at the gate. You’ll see; Nana’s excessive photographic proof will appear here soon.
Osteosarcoma is by far the most common form of bone cancer in dogs. About 75 to 85 percent of tumors occur on the legs, but can develop in any bone. Middle-aged and older large- and giant-breed dogs are most commonly affected. The first sign is usually limping, which may start suddenly, or develop gradually, and is often accompanied by swelling at the tumor site. Within one to three months, the pain will be constant, and the tumor can cause the bone to fracture. Radiographs (x-rays) are usually all that is needed to confirm the diagnosis.
Because osteosarcoma has already metastasized (spread) in 90 to 95 percent of cases before it is discovered, treatment is aimed at prolonging life and improving quality of life, primarily by reducing pain. Surgery is the first line of treatment, including amputation of the limb, if practical. Surgery is rarely curative, but amputation leaves the dog pain-free to enjoy life for a time. Chemotherapy following surgical removal can prolong that time. Palliative therapies such as radiation are used for pain relief, especially when amputation is not an option. Drugs called bisphosphonates can be tried to inhibit bone destruction and relieve pain.
About half of dogs treated with surgery and chemotherapy will live for at least one year, and up to half of those will be alive after two years; occasionally, some dogs will be completely cured. Dogs treated only with amputation or palliative radiation therapy live on average about six months after diagnosis.
Now, new therapies are emerging that offer hope for prolonged life. Dr. Nichola Mason, an assistant professor at the University of Pennsylvania School of Veterinary Medicine, is conducting clinical trials using immunotherapy to treat dogs with osteosarcoma.
Immunotherapy is the term used for vaccines that stimulate the dog’s own immune system to destroy cancer cells. The vaccine Dr. Mason is using consists of genetically modified bacteria designed to express a tumor marker known as “Her2/neu,” which is also expressed in approximately 40 percent of canine osteosarcomas, as well as other types of cancers. If the vaccine triggers the immune system to attack the bacteria, the expectation is that it will then go on to seek out and eliminate any tumor cells remaining after chemotherapy. The vaccine is given intravenously once a week for three weeks following amputation and chemotherapy. As of this writing, 12 dogs have been treated with the vaccine therapy. Side effects have been minimal, consisting primarily of short-term fever and sometimes nausea.
Of the first six dogs who received the vaccine, one dog who received a low dose of the vaccine had developed lung metastases, while the other five remained free of cancer a year later. Three of those dogs remained alive and cancer-free in November 2013, 500 or more days after initial therapy.
Dr. Mason hopes to include dogs unable to undergo amputation in future trials. She is also looking at the possibility of using the vaccine to prevent osteosarcoma in certain breeds at particularly high risk of the disease.
Palladia (toceranib phosphate), a drug approved in 2009 for treatment of mast cell cancer, has also shown promise in treating osteosarcoma. Studies are currently underway at Colorado State University and the University of Pennsylvania to evaluate the effectiveness of toceranib for the treatment of dogs with osteosarcoma.
Another clinical trial using targeted treatment for canine osteosarcoma in dogs is being conducted in Portland, Oregon. Doctors at the Keller Laboratory at Oregon Health and Science University have teamed with veterinarians at Oregon State University and Colorado State University to study osteosarcoma treatment in dogs, hoping it will lead to better treatment for children with this disease. The goal is to develop personalized treatment by testing dozens of drugs on a tumor to determine which is most effective for that individual. Wally, the first dog treated in this manner, survived for 29 months after his treatment. Dr. Keller hopes to find more than 40 dogs with osteosarcoma to participate in the clinical trial.
For more information:
Canine cancer studies at the University of Pennsylvania:
tinyurl.com/vet-upenn-studies
tinyurl.com/vet-upenn-trials
Canine cancer studies at the University of Colorado:
tinyurl.com/vet-colo-trials
Canine cancer studies at the OHSU’s Keller Laboratory:
tinyurl.com/vet-kellerlab
A couple of days ago, I received a text from a dog-training client, wondering about a video she had just watched—and which she linked in the text. “Is meat meal bad for dogs?” she asked. She followed that message with, “I get that she’s selling her own pet food, but is it (meat meal) that bad?”
