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Instead of boring you with a blow-by-blow account of all the stuff we did on vacation, I thought I'd make a "Superlatives List" kinda like we did in the senior yearbook (way back in high school).

Dog Who Had the Least Fun at the Lake: Talos 

Dog Who Had the Most Fun: Lily (fished all day, every day)

Scariest Moment: Nemo fell off the boat, thought he could touch, and sunk about 12 inches before my husband grabbed him and pulled him up.

Funniest Moment: Nemo swam to shore from the middle of the lake…to pee in the water. Apparently Nemo thinks his feet must be touching the ground in order to relieve himself in the lake.

Most Breathtaking Moment: Watching two Bald Eagles fight over a fish. The fish finally fell back  to the lake. Another very cool moment: watching the Eagle skim the water with his talons looking for another fish for lunch. 

"I Think I'm in A Circus" Moment: In downtown Charlottesville with three Great Danes (two pups). 

"I Love Vacation" Moment: Sitting on the dock, all day, watching the dogs wear themselves out, and then catching a little nap in the shade.

We wouldn't dream of going on summer vacation without the dogs. It's too much fun to have them with us. It's over for another year, but at least we have the memories…and the pictures.

Summer means vacation! Vacation means Lake Anna, VA. We (me, husband, and the dogs) have gone to Lake Anna for the last eight years. We go for many reasons: My parents have a place there so it's very cheap (free!); it's very dog-friendly; the dogs LOVE the water (except Talos, more on him later); and it's fun for both the people and the dogs.

This year, we had an extra dog with us which was a total of five dogs. That's a lot. An awful lot. My parents also have a dog, Copper the Rottweiler, so our doggie grand total was six dogs. Wow. It was, well, messy. Fun, yes, but very messy. Dog hair and wet dogs everywhere all the time. And feeding time! Wow, that was an adventure. Here's how much food we took for our four dogs (Rocky came with his own):

 

With five dogs, the Honda Element was needed. The Dodge Ram pickup just wouldn't hold three Labradors, and two Great Danes. This is what it looked like in the Element on the way to vacation:

 The dogs had plenty of room and slept nicely the entire drive. They were excited to arrive – I think Lake Anna is one of their favorite places – and wanted to run to the lake at 11:30p. We made them wait until morning.

Morning arrived and the dogs knew what was waiting for them – the lake!

 

To be continued…

I saw this post on a local dog-trainer's list. It's long, but if you love dogs, you don't want to miss this. A few rules first (you'll thank me for these):

1. Have some tissues at the ready (it's a happy ending, don't worry, but that's why you'll need the tissues).
2.  Don't read this at work unless you don't care if people ask you why you're crying at your desk.
3. Hug your dog(s) when you get home.
   

They told me the big black Lab's name was Reggie as I looked at him lying in his pen. The shelter was clean,and the people really friendly. I'd only been in the area for six months, but everywhere I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and open. Everyone waves when you pass them on the street.


But something was still missing as I attempted to settle in to my new life here, and I thought a dog couldn't hurt. Give me someone to talk to. And I had just seen Reggie's advertisement on the local news. The shelter said they had received numerous calls right after, but they said the people who had come down to see him just didn't look like "Lab people," whatever that meant.They must've thought I did.

But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys almost all of which were brand new tennis balls, his dishes, and a sealed letter from his previous owner. See, Reggie and I didn't really hit it off when we got home. We struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too. Maybe we were too much alike.

For some reason, his stuff (except for the tennis balls – he wouldn't go anywhere without two stuffed in his mouth) got tossed in with all of my other unpacked boxes. I guess I didn't really think he'd need all his old stuff, that I'd get him new things once he settled in. But it became pretty clear pretty soon that he wasn't going to.

I tried the normal commands the shelter told me he knew, ones like "sit" and "stay" and "come" and "heel," and he'd follow them – when he felt like it. He never really seemed to listen when I called his name – sure, he'd look in my direction after the fourth of fifth time I said it, but then he'd just go back to doing whatever. When I'd ask again, you could almost see him sigh and then grudgingly obey.

This just wasn't going to work. He chewed a couple shoes and some unpacked boxes. I was a little too stern with him and he resented it, I could tell. The friction got so bad that I couldn't wait for the two weeks to be up, and when it was, I was in full-on search mode for my cellphone amid all of my unpacked stuff. I remembered leaving it on the stack of boxes for the guest room, but I also mumbled, rather cynically, that the "damn dog probably hid it on me."

Finally I found it, but before I could punch up the shelter's number, I also found his pad and other toys from the shelter. I tossed the pad in Reggie's direction and he snuffed it and wagged, some of the most enthusiasm I'd seen since bringing him home. But then I called, "Hey, Reggie, you like that? Come here and I'll give you a treat." Instead, he sort of glanced in my direction – maybe "glared" is more accurate – and then gave a discontented sigh and flopped down. With his back to me.

Well, that's not going to do it either, I thought. And I punched the shelter phone number. But I hung up when I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten about that, too. "Okay,Reggie," I said out loud, "let's see if your previous owner has any advice…"


Whoever Gets My Dog: Well, I can't say that I'm happy you're reading this, a letter I told the shelter could only be opened by Reggie's new owner. I'm not even happy writing it. If you're reading this, it means I just got back from my last car ride with my Lab after dropping him off at the shelter. He knew something was different. I have packed up his pad and toys before and set them by the back door before a trip, but this time… it's like he knew something was wrong. And something is wrong… which is why I have to go to try to make it right.

So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes that it will help you bond with him and he with you.

First, he loves tennis balls…the more the merrier.
Sometimes I think he's part squirrel, the way he hordes them. He usually always has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in. Hasn't done it yet. Doesn't matter where you throw them, he'll bound after it, so be careful – really don't do it by any roads. I made that mistake once, and it almost cost him dearly.

Next, commands. Maybe the shelter staff already told you, but I'll go over them again: Reggie knows the obvious ones:

"sit," "stay," "come," "heel." He knows hand signals: "back" to turn around and go back when you put your hand straight up; and "over" if you put your hand out right or left. "Shake" for shaking water off, and "paw" for a high-five. He does "down" when he feels like lying down – I bet you could work on that with him some more. He knows "ball" and "food" and "bone"and "treat" like nobody's business.

I trained Reggie with small food treats.Nothing opens his ears like little pieces of hot dog.

Feeding schedule: twice a day, once about seven in the morning, and again at six in the evening.Regular store-bought stuff; the shelter has the brand.

He's up on his shots. Call the clinic on 9th Street and update his info with yours; they'll make sure to send you reminders for when he's due. Be forewarned: Reggie hates the vet. Good luck getting him in the car – I don't know how he knows when it's time to go to the vet, but he knows.

Finally, give him some time. I've never been married, so it's only been Reggie and me for his whole life. He's gone everywhere with me, so please include him on your daily car rides if you can. He sits well in the backseat, and he doesn't bark or complain. He just loves to be around people, and me most especially.

Which means that this transition is going to be hard, with him going to live with someone new.

And that's why I need to share one more bit of info with you…His name's not Reggie. I don't know what made me do it, but when I dropped him off at the shelter, I told them< his name was Reggie. He's a smart dog, he'll get used to it and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt. But I just couldn't bear to give them his real name. For me to do that, it seemed so final, that handing him over to the shelter was as good as me admitting that I'd never see him again. And if I end up coming back, getting him, and tearing up this letter, it means everything's fine. But if someone else is reading it, well… well it means that his new owner should know his real name. It'll help you bond with him. Who knows, maybe you'll even notice a change in his demeanor if he's been giving you problems.

His real name is Tank. Because that is what I drive.
Again, if you're reading this and you're from the area, maybe my name has been on the news. I told the shelter that they couldn't make "Reggie" available for adoption until they received word from my company commander. See, my parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could've left Tank with… and it was my only real request of the Army upon my deployment to Iraq, that they make one phone call to the shelter… in the "event"… to tell them that Tank could be put up for adoption. Luckily, my colonel is a dog guy, too, and he knew where my platoon was headed. He said he'd do it personally. And if you're reading this, then he made good on his word.

Well, this letter is getting to be downright depressing, even though, frankly, I'm just writing it for my dog. I couldn't imagine if I was writing it for a wife and kids and family. But still, Tank has been my family for the last six years, almost as long as the Army has been my family.

And now I hope and pray that you make him part of your family and that he will adjust and come to love you the same way he loved me. That unconditional love from a dog is what I took with me to Iraq as an inspiration to do something selfless, to protect innocent people from those who would do terrible things…and to keep those terrible people from coming over here. If I had to give up Tank in order to do it, I am glad to have done so. He was my example of service and of love. I hope I honored him by my service to my country and comrades.

All right, that's enough. I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter off at the shelter.

I cried too much the first time.

Maybe I'll peek in on him and see if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth. Good luck with Tank. Give him a good home, and give him an extra kiss goodnight – every night – from me.

Thank you, Paul Mallory

I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Sure I had heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even new people like me. Local kid, killed in Iraq a few months ago and posthumously earning the Silver Star when he gave his life to save three buddies. Flags had been at half-mast all summer.

I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the dog.

"Hey, Tank," I said quietly.

The dog's head whipped up, his ears cocked and his eyes bright. "C'mere boy." He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. He sat in front of me, his head tilted, searching for the name he hadn't heard in months.

"Tank," I whispered. His tail swished.I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood him. I stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried my face into his scruff and hugged him.

"It's me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me. Tank reached up and licked my cheek. "So whatdaya say we play some ball? His ears perked again. "Yeah? Ball? You like that? Ball?"

Tank tore from my hands and disappeared in the next room.

And when he came back… he had three tennis balls in his mouth.

There’s a big difference between a dog who is with you and a dog who wants to be with you.

As I wrote in my previous post, I run across dogs who just wish they were anywhere than with their people. If you want a better relationship with your dog, if you want to matter to your dog, there are some things you can do.

I asked my husband to get a picture of Talos and I.

As you can see from this outtake shot, it was hard to get just Talos in the shot. That’s Lily and Nemo trying their best to get in on the action.

When we’re around, the dogs want to be with us.

Sure, they like to sniff the ground and chase the birds, but they want to do it with us. They aren’t straining at the leash, oblivious to our presence.

How did we manage to do that?

1. We are always safe. The dogs know we’re always a safe place to be. No matter what. Even if they have a dead squirrel, a chewed up shoe, or the remote. We’re never to be feared. Ever. We also teach them that we’ll keep them safe. If there’s something scary, we’ll protect them. They know that we’ve got their back.
2. We make the fun even better. If the dogs are playing nicely together, sometimes I’ll join them. I’ll run around the yard with them, chasing them, being chased, feinting left and right. Sometimes I’m crazy and unpredictable, other times I run straight ahead – an easy mark. Sure, they have fun playing together, but it’s always more fun when I decide to join in the mayhem.
3. We engage the dogs in activities that require us, the people. Fetch, tug, chase. It’s hard to play any of these games by yourself if you’re a dog. We make those games come alive!
4. We engage in those activities often. Not just on weekends. Not just when we have time. We make time every day to partner with our dogs and enjoy something fun together.
5. We are the gatekeepers to all things good. We are the ones that put the leash on, open the door to go outside, throw the ball, put food in their bowl, rub their bellies. Make good use of the access you afford the dog: ask for a simple behavior, sit for example, before doing any of these things for your dog, and you’ve automatically made yourself a rock star in your dog’s eyes. Wow, they think – you are SO cool! YOU let me go outside. YOU let me sniff that bush. YOU put my leash on. YOU put food in my bowl. YOU play with me.
6. We are consistent in our behavior and our rules. We act the same every day. The rules never change. Predictability is a good thing to a dog. We don’t let a dog jump sometimes, and then other times reprimand him for jumping. We don’t sometimes let them bolt through the door and other times correct them for running out. Our expectations are clear, unchanging, and known to the dog.
7. Every now and then, we just sit together. That’s it, that’s all. Nothing fancy. Just sit and watch the world go by. I like to sit on the grass with my dogs and watch all the different ways their noses move. Or their ears. When we were at Lake Anna last weekend, I doggie paddled next to Tango out to a floating dock, maybe 100 yards away. Just him and I, swimming in tandem. He’d occasionally look over at me as we swam, checking me out. It was one of the coolest things I’ve ever done with him. And I’m pretty sure he enjoyed it, too.

I look at the dog, straining against the leash. I can read his mind: "Oh, if this leash weren't clipped, I'd be gone. Free. On my own!"

Another dog stands quietly, tethered to his humans, staring silently out the window. He responds to their cues, mostly, but doesn't have fun doing it. He looks away from them or – when they put their face in his – he politely looks right through them, as if he doesn't even see them.

Neither dog thinks very much of his person. Their worlds do not intersect, save for the fact that they happen to occupy the same house.

It's hard for me to see dogs this detached from their people. Because I know how rich a dog-person friendship can be. I know how fulfilling each can be for the other.

The dogs I described above have no connection with their people. They're not on the same page. They don't find their people exciting, interesting, or even likable. 

Take a look at the picture: that's Nemo, sans leash, enjoying a quiet moment at Lake Anna with my husband. They're just hanging out together, enjoying the sunshine, taking in a moment. Both are enjoying the day – and each other's company.

Stop for a moment and think: what would your dog do if he slipped his collar and were free to go wherever he wanted? Would he take off without a glance over his shoulder at you? Would he take a few steps, then wait for you to catch up? Maybe he'd dart out 100 yards, then rush back to you, excited to begin exploring his new found freedom with you?

You want your dog to care about you: where you are and what you're doing. You want them to want to be with you, not count the seconds until you walk out the door.

How do you create a relationship, a connection, with your dog? Just like you would with a person. Find out what interests them, what their idea of fun is. Spend time just watching your dog…at rest, at play, all the time. Do you know if your dog likes his ears rubbed or his tummy rubbed? Which one does he prefer? Did you know that some dogs don't like being petted. Is your dog one of those? Have you ever stopped to watch your dog when you pet him to see if he's really enjoying it or merely tolerating it?

Spend some time with your dog, just hanging out together. I don't mean multi-task and pet your dog while you're watching tv. Nope, that's not nearly good enough. I want you to take 15 minutes and just be with your dog. Watch him, pet him, interact.

I'll write more about this topic in my next post. I've got to go outside and hang out with the dogs.

This is the best time of the year in my opinion. Especially if you're in the mid-atlantic where we've had the most pleasant July I can remember. No humidity, temperate days – it's a fantastic time to be outside with the dogs. We have Labradors (Lily, the black Lab and Tango, the yellow Lab) who love the water. 

When we're at Lake Anna in Virginia, it's not unusual for them to spend 8 – 10 hours in the water each day. No naps, no rest – just go, go, go! 

And  Nemo, our Great Dane/Hound mix is also a water lover. His favorite past-time is racing Tango to the retriever toy – he's taller than Tango, so he very often beats Tango to the object because he can run through the water much further than Tango before he has to actually swim.