Life on the Leash

We’re rolling.

We shot the show opening on Friday at gorgeous Vessels Ranch in Bonsall CA and it was quite a huge production. The crew, the equipment, the location – it was almost overwhelming. The opening we were filming sounds really simple on paper (a single sweeping shot introducing all of the people on the show), but once we started working on it we discovered little devils in the mix.

Like my portion, for example.

I had to walk towards the camera with this amazing dog weaving through my legs with each step. Easy, right? When I practiced it it was flawless, but things got tougher when we started filming. I had to look at the camera (not down at the dog) avoid tripping, stop on a specific mark and then smile at the camera.

But I have this thing.

I can’t hold a smile on cue.

I don’t know why it’s such a challenge for me – I smile like a maniac with no problem during my everyday life – but that whole “look at the camera and hold a realistic, relaxed smile for 15 seconds” thing trips me up. So frickin’ weird.

We managed to get a few really good takes, then did some “here’s the whole cast standing still and smiling” shots (well, they were smiling, I was probably making some sort of pained smile-like grimace), and called it a day.

On Saturday I headed to the Helen Woodward Animal Center, a shelter in Rancho Santa Fe, to meet the dogs I’ll be using for my shoot on Monday. Oh, oh, oh the adorableness. So many wonderful dogs and cats living there. I was happy to see that the place was filled with people looking for their new best friends.

Fingers crossed that these amazing shelter dogs will be able to “hang” on camera (meaning, work happily) with me tomorrow!

(Yes, it’s back to crappy camera for the week.)

… with an aching in my heart.

Zeke, Zeke, Zeke.

I’m leaving for California today to begin work on season 2 of Faithful Friends. I had an absolute blast last year, and I’m looking forward to more of the same this time around. I’ll be updating throughout the week with fun behind-the-scenes stuff, and if all goes according to plan I’ll be including some … video. That’s a big “if” though.

I can’t wait to get to work, but I’m worried.

Zeke.

Stay well while I’m gone, little man.

I’ve been putting off doing a Zeke update because I deal with stress by not dealing with stress. Denial is my friend.

We headed back to the acupuncturist two weeks ago, and after working with Zeke she gently suggested that I take him to see a neurologist. Turns out his back leg “weakness” has moved to his front right leg as well, and he’s now knuckling on it:

Knuckling, or standing on a turned over paw, can be a sign that something is going on in the brain.

We saw a neurologist the next day, and her tentative diagnosis? Glioma. A brain tumor.

Wha?

We’re waiting for the results of one more blood test (”ionized calcium run,” anyone?), and from there it looks like it’ll be palliative steroids. Denial, denial, denial. Everything is fine with my baby doggie.

Reasons I know that Zeke is still Zeke:

1. He’ll still tug like a madman

2. He’s ready for a walk whenever I am

3. Breakfast and dinner? Yes, please!

Reasons I know that Zeke is changing:

1. He can’t keep his balance while he tugs

2. He wears out quickly during walks, often stopping and waiting for me to carry him home

3. He’s still eating his meals, but he turned down a cracker yesterday.

4. He trips on curbs and low steps. He won’t even attempt the staircase.

5. He sleeps. Lots.

6. He doesn’t come running when I’m scraping the dinner plates.

7. He allows me to do this all the time:

We’re taking it one day at a time. I’ve shed many tears thinking about the inevitable lurking around the corner, but for now we’re fine.

Has anyone else out there dealt with Glioma?

Taking a page from the Mommybloggers, it’s a birthday letter to Sumner …

You’re nine today, Sumner.

You’re getting old, my friend, but not mellow. And I don’t mean that in a good way.

I call you “my project” when I’m mentioning you to my clients, which is polite dog trainer code for “my embarrassment.” It’s been eight years since we brought you home, and though you’ve improved exponentially, you still humble me nearly every time we walk out the front door. I’ve learned so much about reactive dogs from you, and I feel great empathy for my clients who live with dogs like you (“I’ve been there,” I tell them, “I know exactly how you feel.”) but there are times when I just wish you were … normal.

I wish that I could stop and chat with a neighbor when we’re out walking instead of having to worry about keeping a safe buffer between you and all other life forms. I wish that you could hear a car door slam without looking back at me, wild-eyed, hoping for reassurance that the person emerging from the car isn’t coming to kill you. I wish that you could pass another dog without keening. I wish that we could just stroll the streets without having to worry about who or what is coming around the next corner.

The fact that you’re stunning compounds the problem. People want to admire you. Just last week a man stopped his moped in the middle of the street, turned to us and said, “You have a gorgeous dog!” It makes me sad because I want people to be able to meet the sweet, silly, affable dog that you truly are, instead of the frightened, ever-on-alert lost soul that you are out in the real world. You have a gigantic heart. The people you love, you love completely. There are only four of us; me, Tom, my Mom and my Dad.

Tom and I often wish that you could have been with us from puppyhood. Would that have changed things? Would a healthy dose of socialization and training from eight weeks on have made you confident? Or is your nervous, socially handicapped nature a genetic mishap that no amount of care could “fix”?

Sumner, you frustrate me, you embarrass me, and you make me question my skills as a dog trainer.

But I adore you.

Here’s to more Barkdays, and the eventual mellowing that time will bring that no amount of training can.

I met these two cuties when I sat down for a lovely outdoor linner (late lunch, early dinner) after PFW last Saturday:

The pups were charming, and their people were a hoot. I regaled them with tales of the canine couture I’d just witnessed and they gave me some insider gossip about life at the Oxygen Network. (Let’s just say that one of the stars on Oxygen has a diva complex.)

Hey Guys – call me when Oxygen is ready for a dog training show!