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Flossies Blog. Thinking of adopting a dog? You need to read this!!

 

Heres is a diary of events for 'Flossie' written by her amazing new owner, who wanted to share her story to to help others see that rescue dogs CAN come with problems, but to not give up. Flossies future looked bleak after she developed seperation anxiety in her first home, causing her to be returned.

Her problem continued in her second home, and she came close to being returned for the second time. But with the hardwork, patience and love for Flossie of her new owner, she is now leading a fantastic new life.

I would like to take this oppurtunity to say a very heartfelt thankyou to Carolyn for her dedication in seeing that Flossie is happy and stress free. You are a true inspiration to us all, and through this wonderful blog, one message shines through......

Never, ever give up........

 

 

 

Dogs can’t talk – but they sure can communicate!
 
I have had dogs all my life, little ones, big ones and really huge ones; even two at a time, however there was one really special one, Dougal, who I had as an 8 week old puppy 17 years ago.  Dougal lived a happy healthy life until he was 15, and he died two years ago. He was the most fabulous dog, companion and friend; he had a great sense of fun, loved his walks and runs and was very sociable with people and other dogs.
 
Since that time, although my ex-husband has a Jack Russell – Little Ted, who I have had some shared custody of, I have been without a dog of my own for those two years and my house just isn’t a home without one.
In March I bought my new home, a tiny terraced cottage in Staffordshire, and it was following this that I began to think that the time was right to get a dog. I work partly from home so my dog doesn’t have to be left for long periods and I chose the house because it’s very close to excellent dog walking countryside, so I seemed prepared.
 
I began by looking on the numerous websites. So many dogs and so much to consider, size, breed, background and habits. I quickly eliminated all those who couldn’t be left alone; very large dogs (it is a very tiny house); those who needed other dogs around and those who required very intensive work following abuse. This quickly reduced the amount of dogs which might have been suitable for me. There were times, reading what had happened to many of these little souls that I cried for them, so distressing was their history but I knew I had to be rational about it, the dog had to be manageable for me, I didn’t want to take a dog and then put it through the upheaval of yet another unsuitable home.
 
I came across a little dog that seemed to fit the bill; a small 3 year old crossbreed called Comet. As soon as I read her details she seemed ideal, I quickly dispatched my application form (giving far more information that I’m sure they wanted but I was very keen). I crossed my fingers and waited. An email arrived from Kymm at South East Dog Rescue within a day or so to say that there had been a lot of applications for Comet and would I consider another dog. My sense of disappointment soon lifted when I saw the photos and read the details of the dog she was suggesting.
This was Flossie!
 
Flossie had been a stray, just days away from being put down when South East Dog Rescue took her in. She had been so distressed in the council pound kennels that poor Floss had eaten holes in her own paws and chewed the end off her tail. With the care and kindness she received from Kymm, Flossie soon settled and her true character began to show through. She is a good tempered, loving and affectionate sweetie! Keen to please, Floss has evidently had some training in her past; she knew many basic obedience commands and since she was living in Kymm’s home, found to be gentle and trustworthy with a small child too.
Flossie was soon found new owners. These new owners treated Floss like a child, took her everywhere with them and even slept in their bed which might have been fine if that had continued, but it didn’t. The owner’s circumstances changed and suddenly Floss was left alone in her crate for very long days and she became distressed, luckily these people returned Flossie back into Kymms care and another home was sought.
 
That home was mine.
 
 
One Sunday in August, my daughter and I set off on our 600 mile round trip to Kent to see Flossie (all my home checks had been done in advance so that if Flossie and I got on, I could bring her straight home). When I met her I could see that she certainly hadn’t been mis-described, I met a sweet, happy little soul with energy and bounce! We spent some time taking with Kymm about Floss and her habits and behaviours and I decided that she was the dog for me (actually Floss decided but I like to pretend it was my decision!)
 
Flossie’s bag was packed, put into the car and we set off on our long journey home.
 
 
 
 
A Catalogue of errors!
 
Arriving Home
 
We arrived at home and got into the house. Flossie was keen to explore every inch of her new abode and ran from room to room sniffing and looking around, all whilst happily wagging her tail. Seeing that she was strong on her lead, I’d had the foresight to borrow a halti from my daughter and decided that, as she’d had such a long journey, she needed a walk. So, with lead and halti on we set off for the fields.
 
I was told that Flossies recall was good, so soon after entering the fields I took off her lead to let her stretch her legs for a run, and run she did - straight to the nearest tree where, much to my utter amazement, jumped 5’ into the air attaching herself to branches and wouldn’t let go! After getting bark in her mouth, she let go and set off for the next tree, with a totally confused and worried new owner hot on her heels. She barked at the tree first then launched herself into the air over and over again; terrified that she would break her legs I tried to grab her collar but she simply ran around the tree, it was like a ridiculous game of hide and seek, and I was loosing.
I tried again, she escaped again grabbing a huge branch from which she hung, excitedly growling and shaking the tree trying to get the branch to give. After about half a dozen failed attempts, I finally got hold of her and got her lead on. I was shattered, horrified and scared all at the same time. I’d never seen a dog do this before, suddenly all these wonderful pictures in my mind of quietly enjoying our walks were destroyed – I had a dog that attacked trees! All the fields around here are full of trees. I made my mind up that we could keep the lead on and stick to the fields where there were less trees and I’d get some advice.
 
 
I had collected Floss on a Sunday and had organised my work schedule to enable me to be at home as much as possible for the first week, this would allow us to spend some time together and I would be able to get Floss into a regular routine.
 
 
 
In the morning it was up, dressed, food and walk. Since first arriving Floss had shown a marked resistance to even doing a wee in the garden (it’s not really a garden, it’s a decent sized enclosed courtyard with a small building at the bottom). I put this down to the fact that there wasn’t any grass, most dogs prefer grass. She would stand next to the gate and cry, needing to wee (how she knew this was a gate I still don’t know as it doesn’t look like one and she hadn’t seen anyone going through it), this stepped up my urgency to get her out for her walk nice and early.
 
I ensured that she was mostly on her lead except for one field which had no trees, however I underestimated her intelligence, and she has a terrific sense of direction and knew exactly the route we’d taken. Floss was having those trees come what may. For the next paragraph, just re-read the previous tree incident, it was the same!
 
It was then I realised that until I’d found out what to do about this behaviour that for my sanity (and her safety) we’d better keep to the lead and Flossie seemed ok with this. We played fetch at home a lot so she wasn’t really short of exercise.
 
 
  
 
Who’s the Mummy?
 
I’d been advised that as Floss was used to being in her crate when her owners were out that this might be a good thing to continue. As it ensured that she was safe while I was out I went along with doing this.
She went happily into the crate (which, owing to the size of my house was in my bedroom), and although when leaving her I could hear her rattling the sides and crying, she seemed to settle down quite quickly. The little I did know about training meant that on my return I would open the crate, not make any eye contact or speak until she settled down.
 
Apart from the first time I left her, Flossie always wee’d in her crate, this quickly progressed to also poo-ing. Each time I came back it was worse, the poor animal was clearly distressed, covered in poo and by the mess she was in it was clear she was also eating it. Every day would mean I had a mammoth cleaning up job to do, washing all her bedding, cleaning the crate, bathing Flossie; and believe me, she didn’t just poo, she managed to spray it through the bars in a projectile fashion hitting everything in its path.
 
Floss was so happy to get out of the crate I realised that this was a problem and I didn’t know what to do. She was only being left for a couple of hours at a time, and she had got to the stage where this happened if I even left her for half an hour.
 
Given the mess, I was afraid to leave her alone with the run of the house. On the one occasion I did she wee’d on an armchair, a good, big wee too, she didn’t miss the cushions either.
 My imagination was working overtime, at the very thought of leaving her in the house I saw every conceivable surface covered in poo and wee and I was at my wits end. I had booked two weeks off work to have my outbuilding converted into an office and thought that at least I can put the crate into the office, surrounded by plastic sheeting and although it wasn’t good, it might be better than in the house. Deep down I knew this wasn’t the answer and when talking about her to family and friends I quickly dissolved into tears of despair.
 
For Flossie’s sanity (I had lost mine by now), I went out very little during my holiday, when I did, I left her in the care of my builders doing the work on my house (they are also friends).
I rang the bull terrier rescue people for advice. The woman on the phone said, ‘I suggest valium’
‘I didn’t know you could give dogs valium’ I said
‘Not for the dog, for you’ she replied. Then I realised how desperate and anxious I sounded.
 
I finally emailed Kymm to tell her of my distress.
I’d failed.
I couldn’t cope.
This poor dog couldn’t be left alone, her last experience had scarred her and she was suffering severe separation anxiety. I would have to return her. There was nothing left for me to do. I was so unhappy, I loved this little dog and in every other way (apart from trees), she was wonderful. I told Kymm I would be bringing her back.
 
 
 
 
 
 
The reply I got was; if they could supply someone from Jan Fennels organisation (the Dog Listener) would I keep her. It was like a light coming on in the dark – why hadn’t I thought of that?
Years before I’d bought Jan Fennels books and had been fascinated by them. As I didn’t have a problem dog, very little I’d read had remained with me. I remembered I’d lent the books out and struggled to remember who I’d lent them to. When I did, a quick and urgent phone call later and I was absorbed in the story about a dog with SA, like Flossie, very distressed.
 
 
The beginning……
 
Reading Jan Fennels book it was quite evident that the problem wasn’t with Flossie - it was with me, or more accurately, how I was behaving. Even though I didn’t create her problem, what I was doing was making it worse.
What a revelation, shocking at first, then I realised that if the problem was being made worse by how I was dealing with her, then it was equally within my power to change it!
 
I was given the telephone number of one of Jan Fennels Associates, Carmen, and we had a chat about what I’d read and how I was going to put that into action. One of the first things she explained to me was why Flossie was so distressed when I left – Floss thought that I was the child, and she the parent. Her baby was out on her own, this explained her subsequent behaviours - she needed to make a noise in order that her baby could find it’s way home, she needed to wee and poo so that her baby could use the smell to find her way back! I was the baby and Floss was the parent, I couldn’t go out alone (obviously, what parent would let its child out alone?).
 
As Carmen was explaining all this to me I was taken back to 1977, my son was three and we lived in a large house surrounded by farmland with a farm behind the property. It was a chilly October day and my son, Jon, all wrapped up in his winter duffle coat and wellies was playing outside in the garden with our ridgeback, Bruno. I’d seen him through the window as I did my chores and it was a day just like many others, Jon played with his truck and cars and the dog followed him around. I’d prepared Jons lunch and went outside to call him in.
He wasn’t there!
I ran around the garden shouting for him, but nothing. My mother was staying at the time and immediately she too began looking. I ran through to the farm and found the farmer and together we frantically began searching the farmyard calling Jon but he was nowhere to be found. My husband was called and he returned home immediately and also began looking; after an hour of fruitless searching he called the police.
During all this I was aware that people were talking to me, asking me what he was wearing, when exactly did I last see him, had I seen anyone unusual around the fields? They were trying to get me to sit down and let all the people coming to our assistance hunt for Jon, but I couldn’t hear them, I could hear nothing. I was sweating, shaking, crying, shouting and running; All I could do was run around fields shouting and screaming for my little boy, I couldn’t think, hear or stay still. I almost tore the house apart just in case he was hiding somewhere; I was possessed! Nothing and nobody could get in my way, I had to find my son.
 
This story, I’m pleased to say had a happy ending, though Jon was missing for five hours, the longest five hours of my life. The dog had taken him for a walk! We had a call from a farm around 3 miles away to say they could see a small figure and a dog walking towards their yard (all the nearby farms had been alerted by this time and the whole area was searching for Jon). Ironically, the local police got there before we did and Bruno wouldn’t let anyone near Jon until I got there, he really was looking after him.
 
My purpose in relating all this is that I can very clearly remember what that felt like, and this is what Flossie was experiencing every day. I simply had to change this, and immediately. No person or animal should have to go through that.
 
Steps to changing the pack order
 
1.     I had to stop feeling sorry for Flossie. Seeing her as the sum of her past wasn’t helping, dogs live in the moment and it was the moment I needed to deal with.
2.     I had to behave like the pack leader, I had to walk, talk and totally be the pack leader.
3.     I had to take charge!
 
I began by assertively leaving the room, (not as previously, saying “just going upstairs Floss” and going slowly out).
I purposefully left! Shut the door and waited. At first just a couple of minutes (it was hellish to begin with hearing her whining on the other side of the door). These minutes were increased, 3 minutes, 5 minutes, 15 minutes – and then….. the really important bit –
 
What I did when I returned each time –
 
1.     Made no eye contact
2.     Didn’t speak to her
3.     Waited 5 minutes until she was settled and relaxed (or longer if necessary)
4.     Called her to me – and only then gave her a treat and a fuss.
Apparently it is very important that the dog settles before being made a fuss of. In the pack, the leader can come and go as they choose, they don’t need permission from the pack; the pack awaits their leaders return.
 
Pack leaders lead – they don’t follow, they are confident and assertive, the pack follows. Followers are calm, followers are happy dogs. I was taking away that terrible responsibility that Floss had taken on as pack leader.
 
I also had other things to do.
 
Feeding.
 
When feeding Floss I have a biscuit next to her bowl as I am mixing it, I hold her bowl before me with her food in it, and, not making eye contact with her, but in full view, eat the biscuit, then just put the bowl down where I am and walk away.
In the pack, the leader eats first, and only when the leader has finished do the pack get what’s left. As soon as she’s finished I remove the bowl.
 
Walking.
 
I take the lead, Floss has to wait at the door and only goes through after me. On the lead, if she tries to pull away, we stop, she has to sit, and then we carry on, her by my side, not leading.
 
Floss like many other dogs created quite a fuss when seeing a cat. There are a number of cats lurking under cars, walking the perimeter of the fields and just generally about the place where we walk. When seeing a cat, if she tries to pull, I snatch at the lead, she is not permitted to ‘fix’ on the cat. If she tries again, we stop, turn around and walk in the other direction – I’m the leader, I decide if we’re going to chase something!
 
Toys
 
Until I began thinking ‘dog’ I hadn’t realised that Floss was using play to ‘take control’. She would bring me the toys and I would play! Her favourite toy is her ball which she would force on me whenever I sat down anywhere. When I realised that this was just another form of her ‘being leader’ I took charge of this too. If she forced the ball onto my knee I simply picked it up and placed it on the floor and ignored her. This was my way of saying – ‘when I decide, not you’. Then, when it’s playtime, I instigate the play, if she won’t give the ball up, I walk away.
 
Now I’m not saying that all this has been easy, but her behaviour changed almost immediately. After a week of starting the ‘leaving’ work we rarely had any sign of distress when I’d been out, no wees or poo. She is a much calmer, happier dog. When I go out now there is rarely a whimper and she doesn’t follow me around the house. At first she had only the run of the kitchen when I was out, now the downstairs is all accessible to her. I have a child gate at the top of the stairs simply because I don’t want her jumping on my bed while I’m out! That’s my area, not hers.
 
On the lead Floss is now excellent, and she often puts other dogs to shame as they bark, pull and walk their owners! She gets just as much affection and cuddles, lots of play and plenty of exercise, it’s just that our roles have changed, I’m the one in charge, not her.
 
Whilst I’m simply a dog owner and certainly no expert, as soon as I began to think about Floss as a dog (not a rescue dog, or an animal which has suffered) and understanding that her behaviour is that of a ‘pack animal’ I began to fully appreciate and understand her behaviours. What I am finding most interesting is the effect all this is having on me.
 
To fully engage with this process the most important change I have to make is to become ‘calm and assertive’, at all times. When I ‘centre’ my calm (a feeling I get from the pit of my stomach that spreads through my body), I walk tall, I don’t hesitate, I go forward determinedly. I am now taking what I am learning with Flossie out into my life – with interesting results! (Maybe more about that at another time).
 
I can only say that, whilst all this is not for the faint hearted and Floss and I still have a way to go (we haven’t started on the ‘tree issue’ yet), I feel confident that we will be able to deal with this. We will need help from experts, and that’s fine too, we’re not alone, we all need help sometimes and good help is out there. I can say that Flossie is one of the best things that has happened to me, I am learning so much, and at a time of life when one wonders if there is much more we can discover about ourselves (I am in my 50’s!) and I’m learning loads.
Floss and I will have a good life together I know that now, but I’ll be the leader, she the follower and we’ll both be the happier for it.
 
This whole tale is not intended to encourage people to take on rescue dogs, but, if you thought you could I hope that this story demonstrates that it’s possible to overcome almost all the dogs ‘issues’, with good help and a lot of hard work and determination (if you’re not prepared for those – don’t bother, you’ll do more harm than good).
 
Flossie is no longer a ‘rescue dog’, she’s just a dog.
 
She’s a fabulous dog, a funny dog, a curious dog, a playful dog and a very affectionate dog.
Most importantly – she’s my dog!
 
 
I want to thank Kymm at South East Dog Rescue and all those who help and support her in her amazing work. I would also like to thank Carmen Cole, Dog Listener who probably hasn’t heard the last of us yet! And finally I’d like to thank Floss (in a calm and assertive way of course), for her co-operation which she gave gladly.
 
Latest update - November 2009
 
Flossie just wanted to show you what she got last week. She had started to be restless during the night and I couldn't work out what the matter was - until I realised - she was cold! I don't like heating in the bedroom and it didn't occur to me that it was a problem for her, but of course she has really thin fur, and it did get colder. Anyway, I went shopping and got her this new bed which she absolutely loves, she even has a big fleece in it too when it's really cold. (Of course I'm not spoiling her!).

I've also attached a photo of Floss waiting patiently at the level crossing (which is very close to our house) as we were on our way home from our morning walk, she's just showing off really, sits and waits while the trains go through (On her lead of course).

Her latest trick is lying down waiting for her food. I've been working with her to lie down rather than just sit, getting her to become a little more 'patient'. So far so good. She's also giving up her toy to me when we're playing throwing games too.