My Dog Is Not The Dog I Expected.

I was supposed to be doing writing of a different kind today, but here I am…and I feel compelled to share a very big secret with you.

Jolene Josephine Matthews has fairly severe anxiety.

For those who don’t know her, she’s a dog.

Now, to be fair, I ALSO have anxiety but felt VERY much reformed UNTIL I started working on Jo’s anxiety.

Ma’am.

Some would call her reactive. She is.
I would also add on that she’s anxious and scared. Also true.

I’m going to be even more honest and admit something controversial…this is NOT the dog I thought I was getting.
When I decided it was finally time to adopt a dog, I knew I wanted it to be a rescue.
I’ve had four dogs before Jolene and THREE of them were rescues.
I had a very concise list (VIRGO) of things that were deal breakers for me. It’s hard to really fulfill a list such as this when you’re getting a rescue BUT I tried very hard.

SHARRON’S LIST OF DOG REQUIREMENTS
Small…under 20 pounds.
Short haired.
Not food aggressive.
Good in the car.
Little or no separation anxiety AND/OR barking when alone.
Good with other dogs.
Good with people.
Cute as fuck.

When I saw Jo’s picture and her own list of things on her adoption posting, MY whole list was covered.
All my VIRGO boxes were checked.
But life? Is nothing if not funny with a very odd sense of humour.

On one very cold January day in 2022, I drove to St Catherines…the home of the rescue I got her from…and when I met her, she jumped in my lap.
The foster mom seemed surprised and I, of course, felt hubristically like a dog professional, having already shared my life with four dogs of varying sizes, shapes and temperaments.
My biggest was a 120 Mastiff who was terrified of the vet to the point that walking him into the office was akin to trying to manipulate a powerful 120 pound four legged drunk.
I had this.
I loved her immediately and she seemed to dig me right back.
There was another dog…a HUGE DOG AT THAT…in the house and the foster mom said Jo and this dog spent a lot of time together…so I was heartened. JO was now a dog’s dog in my eyes. FEARLESS.
What I didn’t pay attention to was how she ignored the other dog. She didn’t engage with the other dog. She pretended it wasn’t there.
Hindsight and all that, am I right?

ALSO, I want to write before I go one word farther, that I love JO.
I really love her.
I mostly love every complicated part of her…just keeping it real.
Jokingly, I tell people that she’s 82% GIFT from the universe and 18% TEST from Jesus.
And no matter how hard I’ve tried, it’s not changed.
The 82% is so very wonderful.

The 18% is challenging as fuck.

Firstly, I’ve never lived with a dog in a building on anything higher than the first floor.
AND I live way higher than that…#elevator
But she was so small, I thought it would be a piece of cake. If it was hard for her in the beginning I would pick her up.
Sure!

The first time I took Jolene…my little Texan rescue…out for a winter walk in Liberty Village, I ended up carrying her back to my place by the top of her puffer coat.
She was terrified and I was a bit shook.
She was scared of sounds. Of ankles. Of cars. Of big dogs. Of small dogs. Of people. Of of of of.
She was FINE as could be in my place…a little needy, but no surprise there…but as soon as we left our little safe-from-the-pandemic world, she was terrified.
I’d never had a rescue who’d reacted to the city this way before.
And the elevator was a small tuna tin of death for Jo.
Oh, the things we take for granted.
I’ve considered moving about one hundred thousand times in the last two years JUST because of Jo’s feelings about the elevator.

When JO and I are alone, she’s a love bug.
But from the beginning, I was careful with her, no doubt. She’s a rescue after all. No one knew what her life was before she got to Ontario. She showed me what she did and didn’t like. I stayed away from her face  and I still do when she’s melting down. I don’t pet her too hard…she HATES that. I don’t blow on her face or body. I don’t try to move her over physically if she’s in a spot I wish her not to be…she’s smart…I point and ask her to move, and she does. Thankfully.
AGAIN, SHE’S VERY SMART.
Yet, all this time later, she still starts a bit sometimes when I pet her…even when she’s looking at me.
Jo’s seen shit, that’s clear.
She ALSO LOVES my friend Ari, my friend Mike and his dog Maxine…and I have Mike to thank for that, he was DETERMINED that Maxine and Jo would like each other, and then orchestrated their whole meeting with physical boundaries and treats and love..she loves my sister, her two walkers, and most people who I invite into her life.
But when I do…and I’m choosy about who I do have over, usually dog people…do it VERY carefully.

Also, I want to say that I don’t blame the rescue for not knowing ANY of these reactions. It’s hard to tell what a dog who’s JUST come from Texas the month before, straight to a small city, will act like in downtown Toronto.
AND six of the eight things on my list stand…although one of the six is shaky.
I also DO NOT REGRET adopting a rescue.
I will say that I do…at times…wish she was a bit easier.

I tried every tool and trick I’d used with all my other dogs, but soon realized that JO was beyond my HUBRISTIC capabilities. I needed help.

It was near the end of the pandemic proper, and there were no indoor classes as of yet. I ended up meeting the trainer I’d found on the internet (he was much lauded) on his porch in the freezing cold.
Jo wore not only the same puffer coat I’d hauled her home in BUT a very wary attitude.
He spent a ninety minutes ($250.00) teaching me to check her.
To say no to her and put her in her place.
He told me she was a bite risk and needed a lot of tough love…suggesting that I give her to him for a month to socialize her. ($3500.00 or more)
I decided to keep working on my own but, not knowing any other way at this desperate point, I followed his method.
And I followed it for almost two years with varying degrees of success.
Some days she was awesome…other days not so much.

Now, AGAIN with the hindsight, I can see I kept putting her in the same situations over and over again…with tough love…expecting her to “get over it”…never for one moment considering if that method had EVER worked FOR ME!!
SPOILER: IT DID NOT WORK FOR ME. NOT EVER.
Her world got smaller as did mine BUT I kept pushing back, trying to make it bigger.
We traveled to Manitoulin. We camped. WE went to stay at friend’s cottages. We hiked. We went on long walks.
Some days were perfection…and she mostly loves being out and about…but my eyes were always peeled. I was always on guard for her to be on guard.
And while she made some strides, I never knew when she might have a melt down.
Things that I was sure she’d gotten over…people walking close to her, for instance…would suddenly reappear as problems.
AND her reactions and melt downs…embarrassed me.
It made me feel like a terrible dog owner.
I felt like screaming out to a world that was giving us MUCHO side eye THAT I WAS REALLY FUCKING TRYING. WE were really fucking trying.
I cried a bunch.
I learned to say SHE’S A DOG, I’M A HUMAN to myself over and over again.
One of my neighbours told me that while Jo seemed lovely, we ALL have to share the hallway.
Oof.
Like I didn’t know that.
Like I wasn’t going OUT of my way to make sure she never ran into other people or dogs.
And…let me say that I wholly understand anyone’s fear at a lunging dog. I do.
TWO THINGS AT ONCE.
I would pull her back from these humans and dogs, saying SORRY, explaining that SHE’S GRUMPY.
AND as we walked by the same people over and over again as JO barked and lunged…with them serving me judgement face…her continued reactions started to really lean on my shit.

Do you know what I mean by this?

Basically, when I told my therapist about how upset it was all making me…how I felt like a total failure…an embarrassment…incapable of helping her find happiness…not worthy of anything…if I couldn’t help her how could I ever be MY best self…my therapist looked at the camera, started writing in her iPad and said the following:

“Huh, it’s funny, I thought these were the kind of things you would work out in a human relationship but how wonderful that you’re doing it all with your dog!”

Wow.
NOT WRONG.
HER issues lean on ALL my issues.
What a discovery.
AND WHAT A RECIPE FOR THE OCCASIONAL SHIT SHOW!!

I coasted along with that little fucking nugget for a while, till Jo had a particularly scary reaction to a person who, if I’m being totally fair to JO, appeared out of NOWHERE and then stuck herself right in JO’s face…which is a BIG no no with any dog.
I thanked the universe that Jo was indeed under 20 pounds.
I went back to the same behaviourist.
I know…doing the same thing and expecting a different outcome…insanity.
But JO and I kept trying.
Soon after, the consultant’s methods started to wear away at my heart…and started to have absolutely no effect on JO.
Jo was now becoming immune to checking…to intimidation.
One day about three months ago, Jo surprisingly lunged at a dog I had not clocked and I checked her hard. Jo looked so terrified that I burst into tears.
Again.

I took Jo home, she let me cuddle her and I started pouring over the internet and signed up for a very expensive (to me, maybe not to all) reactive dog course.
It’s all about replacing your dog’s negative reaction with a positive one.
I was hopeful but still worried that I was failing.
Yes, I still really took a lot of her problems very personally.
THEY STILL LEAN ON ALL MY SHIT.

BUT I’m really working on it…we’re working on it.
AND This forward movement is a two being collaboration.

And I will tell you this…while the new philosophy for changing JO’s mind is so much more positive…it’s fucking hard.
The first few months of ENCOURAGING Jo to make better choices led me to more frustrated tears a number of times.
One day, I realized I had to change our relationship to the outside world…I had to change MY relationship with JO and the outside world.
I’ve had to ENDLESSLY remind myself that her reactions are not who I am.
AND I had to learn to give both of us ENDLESS AMOUNTS OF GRACE.

While I pride myself of working hard, I’m going to make another admission to you…I hate process.
I wish shit would go faster.
I wish it was easier.
I HATE process.
But writing has taught me that process is the thing.
First draft, second draft, third draft and on and on…some get good, then bad, then good again, then questionable, then you might have to scrap it and start again.
Trust the process.
Trust the stupid hard well-meaning, fuck-off process.

So, we’ve been working for the last two months with this new method.
It started hard, then it got good, then it got hard, then it got good, then it got gooder…then today, we went for our sixth and penultimate in-class experience. This morning, I was SO excited to take her to class.
I broke up a million high value (very desirable and delicious) treats while I danced to Donna Summer music.
I cut up some chicken pieces JUST IN CASE.
I put her emotional support balls in my fanny pack.
I was ready. WE were ready.

AND Jo got in the car fussed and never calmed…and I have no idea why.
She was a level 7 when we lunged into class and never dipped below a 5.
She barked for about two hours by the time we got home.
She was so emotional that she could not even do the simplest thing.
And everyone in the class was watching us.
AND THE LEANING ON MY SHIT COMMENCED. THE BARKING DID NOTHING TO HELP THE LEANING.
One of the trainers tried to help us.
I tried to breathe through it.
I tried to calm her down.
BUT we stood in our little cubicle for an hour…and I felt my inside writhe.

I could barely keep it together as the class wound down.
The head trainer said something as I left but we just barrelled out…Jo barking all the way.
I got into the car and could not leave fast enough.
After driving about three minutes, I pulled over and fell apart.
From the car I called Patricia who’s all the way in Edmonton and then Ari who’s in Stratford.
They both had helpful things to say…they’ve been with me every step of this way… I greatly appreciate that they let a single challenged dog parent vent…while Jo lurked in the back seat of the car wondering what the fuck.
While I unloaded I realized this:

While Jo was a level 7…so too was I.
It took me about a hour longer to get there, but get there I did.
Learning grace during this process has been my biggest lesson…but the second one I’ve embraced is one that I forgot today…instant forgiveness.
INSTANT FORGIVENESS.

I WAS ALSO A LEVEL 7.
And while Jo unwound and didn’t judge herself for it…and I have learned to not check her for it but let her be…I’ve not given the same grace to myself.

I went over our wins.
Jo’s great on the street now.
I know her threshold.
I know when to get her out of a situation and I know the tools to use…and we continue to work on them.
I’ve found a way to operate in the building with elevators…One of my walkers told me to get out and get on at the second floor. GAME CHANGER!
There is NEVER anyone waiting on the second floor AND when the doors open I can calmly choose whether to get in or not. AGAIN, GAME CHANGER.
Jo and I have worked in the hallways so hard that she’s used to getting treats there and cannot wait to do ANYTHING I say.
She’s really doing well with not reacting 90% of the time.

I’ve read a lot about positive reinforcement training…because VIRGO…and a lot of it applies to humans.
You have to replace undesirable behaviours with desirable ones.

JUDGEMENT – INSTANT FORGIVENESS
ANGER – GRACE
WHY WHY WHY NOW – WHY NOT, THIS WILL PASS
WHY DO I FEEL LIKE THIS – OF COURSE I FEEL THIS WAY

This course is teaching me to treat BOTH of us in a way that starts with love.
BUT it’s still a fucking level 7 some days.

GRACE.

After the very bad day, I took Jo to the park and we played ball, I sat at a picnic table and did some breathing…she waited for me to throw the ball again.
I took her home, fed her, cuddled her, and left to have my first scotch in months and write this.

I gave us both the gift of peace.

This is one of the harder things I’ve done…and while it would be very WRAP-THIS-SHIT-UP-IN-A-BOW to say it’s a gift…I’m not gonna say that.
I will say that it’s an offering and it’s up to me what I do with it.
Me and JO.

Thanks for reading.
I hope you’re ALL having a great Saturday.
Just know that I’m in a bar and the World Cup is loud…but not as loud at JO.
Who I love.

Namasté.

UPDATE: I’m so glad I wrote this. I’m so glad that when I was thinking about writing it and mentioned it to my ride-or-die Patti Zentilli, that she encouraged me heartily. AND mostly, I’m so thankful for all your responses…on here and on FB and Insta. I woke with an angst hangover…the worst…I think Jo did too…which I tried to breathe out. BUT our first trip to the elevator sent us one bull dog (we declined) and then a HUGE BLACK DOG (her Achilles heel) OFF FUCKING LEASH. Then because it was so hot I drove her to the VERY secret place where we play ball and when I turned off the car at the destination she barked like I was leaving her for a month.
Don’t EVER say the universe doesn’t have a sense of humour.