Rolling Dog Farm Blog

This is blind Billy sleeping in his favorite place — the top of the stairs. If it's not this set of stairs leading up to our offices on the second floor of the people wing, it's the stairs going to the room above the dog wing. He started doing this almost from the day he first arrived. 

A lot of people will naturally fret and wring their hands over the idea of blind dogs navigating stairs, but the truth is, blind dogs can do fine with stairs. It all depends on their self-confidence and their zest to explore. I was working in my office one evening just a day or two after Billy arrived, and suddenly I heard him sniffing his way along the floor under my desk. I had left the gate at the top of the stairs open, and he had decided to see where the stairs led … and kept on going once he got to the top. He's been sleeping on the steps ever since.

Owen, the blind Beagle just adopted by Marcia S., was a big stair guy, too. He'd come and go from the room above the dog wing, up and down the carpeted stairs throughout the day, often to steal toys we stashed up there. In fact, as I told Marcia, Owen could come down those stairs faster than I could walk down them. No, really. He had an amazing ability to "glide" down them, front feet far out, feeling for each step below. He had his body balanced over two steps at any one time — rear feet on the step above and his front feet on the next step below, and he traversed them like this all in one fluid motion. It was really quite something. 

Most of our blind dogs won't try to navigate steps, so each has his or her own comfort level. 

For Owen, stairs were for climbing. For Billy, stairs are for sleeping. There's just something about being up high he really likes.

—

When my phone rang on Thursday at 1 p.m., I knew immediately who it was. When I answered, all she said was, "He can see!"

Followed by, "And he's a pistol!"

It was our veterinary ophthalmologist, Dr. Sarah Hoy, who had just performed cataract surgery on Max, the Dachshund who arrived a month ago. We realized in retrospect that when he first came, he was able to get around so well with just very limited peripheral vision in one eye. But in the month he had been here — and in the three weeks since Dr. Hoy had first examined him — he had lost the rest of his vision and was walking into walls, missing doorways, and acting lost. 

When I drove over to Burlington early last Thursday morning to drop him off for surgery, Sarah had noticed how much he had changed since she saw him. She looked at him and said, "It's amazing how fast cataracts can grow sometimes."

When Alayne drove back on Friday to pick him up, Sarah's vet tech Patty brought Max out to the reception area. From a distance of about 15 feet, Max saw Alayne, processed the information, then realized who it was and began wiggling and wagging. Alayne said, "You could see he was trying to put the visual information together with my voice, and it suddenly connected — oh, it's you!!!"

(He's already a minion, so getting his first real look at the Minion Leader was a most exciting moment.)

After leaving the eye clinic, Alayne took Max over to our internal medicine specialist, Dr. Tanya Donovan. In the month he's been here, Max has had urinary incontinence. At first he had a bladder infection, which we successfully treated, and although the follow-up urinalysis gave us the all-clear, the incontinence not only continued but has become worse. So we wanted Tanya to ultrasound his bladder and kidneys, do a neuro exam, and anything else she thought necessary to figure out what was going on.  

Ever since he arrived we noticed Max had a slightly odd gait in his hindquarters, so we suspected the all-too-common Dachshund disc issue as the source of his incontinence.

Tanya found all of his plumbing looked great, and he didn't have crystals, stones or other obstructions. But she determined he most likely has chronic spinal disease that is the underlying cause of the incontinence, and at this point there isn't much we can do about it. We will need to do routine urine cultures every 1 to 2 months because he is at increased risk of urinary tract infections. But the main fix is, well, diapers!  

That's the blue band you see in the photo above, and here's a better view:

We haven't had much success with diapers on other dogs in the past, because they tend to get pulled, chewed or ripped off in a few minutes, but Max is actually tolerating his very well. I think he's trying to strike a deal: "I'll leave the diaper on if you take the confounded cone off!"

He'll wear the cone for a couple of weeks, and he gets multiple eye drops throughout the day. Dr. Hoy will recheck him in two weeks.  

Yesterday afternoon I noticed blind Sophie the Dachshund and Max heading straight for each other in the yard at a rapid clip. It was like watching a head-on collision just about to happen (we've seen this movie before). But at the last minute, Max simply veered around Sophie and kept on going. Yes, I think that boy can see.

—

In other good medical news, I took blind Penny the Yorkie back to Dr. Donovan last Thursday to recheck her blood work. Last month her pancreatic enzymes were sky high, in the absence of pancreatitis or pancreatic cancer. Well, this time her bloodwork was normal, which means we must have had a lab error of some sort earlier. So now we're focused on just trying to get her to gain weight.

—

Thank you for your votes! 

 

We were taking photos for the "farm letter" in our spring/summer print newsletter, and as usual there were some outtakes I thought you'd enjoy seeing. Mitch, our blind Husky who recently had his eyes removed, was our subject, and Kate was the photographer.

This first set of photos were all taken in the same sequence, one right after another, starting with the one above. In that shot you can see Mitch is looking down and has leaned forward, pulling Alayne with him. She's trying to pull him back into position. She must have said something to Mitch (like "you big oaf, get back here"), because in the next frame, Kate captured him giving Alayne an "I'll make it up to you" smooch while she dutifully remains focused on the camera:

Me, I'm obviously reacting to the serious breach of photographic protocol. I was probably saying something like, "C'mon, dude, we've got 54 more photos to go, so get with the program!"

Which Mitch immediately does (that's my boy!), and he snaps to with this expression:

According to the camera time data for that photo, it was literally just 2 seconds after the previous shot. 

Alas, he couldn't stay with the program for very long — as in, 4 seconds — because he then wants to give me a kiss, too:

To make up for this further breach of protocol, he then offers us this next shot, which becomes the one we end up choosing for the newsletter:

The bonus photo, which happened towards the end of the shoot, was this one:

You can tell that neither Alayne nor I had any idea what Mitch was doing right there in front of us. We just kept smiling at the camera, oblivious to the Cujo in our midst. Once I uploaded the photos to the computer and saw this shot of Mitch, it reminded me of those stuffed wolves on display in an exhibit at a natural history museum, where they're trying to show just how ferocious wolves can be. (Click on photo for larger image.)

But, he's not a stuffed wolf, he's just a goofball Husky.

—

Thank you for your votes! 

 

 

Now that's a photo I wasn't sure you'd ever see.

When Bugsy arrived on a Sunday evening a month ago, we had expected a lovable cuddlebug of a dog. That's how he had been at the foster home in North Carolina where he had stayed for weeks until our transport could pick him up. He had been that way during his trip, with the driver telling us how sweet Bugsy was.

When the van pulled in to the farm (I was out of town visiting family at the time), blind Penny and Max were also on board, along with Bugsy. Alayne had already put all the other dogs up so there wouldn't be any one else in the front yard. Alayne and the driver unloaded the three dogs and put them out in the yard to do their business. The driver had really fallen for Bugsy, so he asked Alayne if she could take a photo of him holding Bugsy. Alayne went over, picked up Bugsy and handed him to the driver, then took the photo. Then Alayne held Bugsy while the driver took a photo of her with the dog. Photo session complete, Alayne put Bugsy back in the yard, and the driver packed up the van and headed out of town.

About 20 minutes later, while I was in a restaurant in Washington, D.C. having dinner with family, my cell phone rang. It was Alayne. I could hear the shock and fear in her voice. Without any warning, Bugsy had attacked her when she went back out to bring him inside. He had repeatedly lunged at her, snarling, teeth bared. And he kept coming. She managed to stay just one step ahead, and retreated into the house. She was stunned. 

She let him cool down for a few minutes, then tried to approach him again. When Bugsy heard her coming, he growled then charged once more. She fled for the house again. That's when she called me. "It's like somebody switched dogs on me," she told me. "One minute I'm picking him and holding him for photos, and the next minute he's attacking me."

I was in shock listening to this on the phone. This was not the dog we thought we were getting. I had seen photos of the wonderful lady who had fostered him, Jacqueline H., holding Bugsy in her arms … of Bugsy in her home, surrounded by her other dogs … of Bugsy sitting on her husband's lap. This was not the dog the transport driver had taken into his hotel room so Bugsy could sleep on the bed with him.

And, of course, I felt helpless being hundreds of miles away, with Alayne alone at the farm dealing with this situation. I asked her to call in our employee Kate to help, but above all to not put themselves in danger. 

By the time Kate got to the farm that evening, Alayne had already managed to get Bugsy in a crate by placing some food in it. But as she slammed the crate door shut, he turned and lunged at it, trying to bite her hand through it. Kate helped her carry the crate into the house.

For the next couple of days, Kate and Alayne carried Bugsy in the crate to and from a separate yard, where he would be by himself. At that stage we didn't know how he would react to other dogs. He would venture out of the crate to go potty, then return to it. When Alayne or Kate approached, he'd growl from inside the crate — even when they brought him food — but not go after them. They'd close the crate door and carry him back to the dog room for the night.

When I returned Wednesday evening, I went out to see our new arrival, who growled as I approached. I talked to him, but his body language was all about fear. An hour later, Bugsy happened to be outside his crate in the yard when I took him his dinner. I talked to him, shook the bowl in my hand so he could hear it was food, and crouched down to place it on the ground in front of him. In an instant he lunged for me, snarling. I grabbed the bowl and used it as a shield to block him, holding it in front of his face as I backed away.

Egads. I wondered what we had gotten ourselves into.

We knew Bugsy had suffered enormously before coming to us. His eyes had literally been knocked out of his head from trauma of some sort. Someone had called the local animal control to report they had found Bugsy in their yard, with his eyes hanging outside the sockets. Really.

Jacqueline, who had first contacted us about him while he was still at the shelter, sent me some photos of what he looked like. This is truly graphic and disturbing, so don't click on that tiny photo to see a larger version unless you can stomach it.

We wondered whether Bugsy was having some kind of canine version of post-traumatic stress disorder breakdown, or whether he was one of those very rare dogs with 'canine rage syndrome,' or perhaps a brain injury from the trauma that could cause unpredictable behavior. Whatever it was, he was clearly frightened of us, and we were now frightened of him.

The strange thing was that no one had seen this in him before. He had been in a vet clinic for a few weeks, having his eyes removed and receiving other medical care, which had been generously paid for by a New York-based group called Last Chance Animal Rescue. They work to save dogs in high-kill shelters, and this was the group Jacqueline was volunteering for when she asked if we could take Bugsy. The vet clinic hadn't experienced any problems with him. And then Jacqueline had fostered him for weeks with no aggression issues.

So what could cause him to flip out like this?  

Knowing Bugsy needed professional help, I contacted Dr. Lisa Nelson, a veterinary behavior medicine specialist in Vermont. She was on vacation, but when she learned about our situation, she graciously offered to do a consultation with us and develop a treatment plan.

While she couldn't explain why Bugsy would suddenly switch from lovebug to terror on arrival here, Dr. Nelson did say that the last thing Bugsy now needed was any more change in his life. Coming here might have been that one step too far for Bugsy and it sent him over the edge. Based on our description of the events, his body language, and his overall behavior, it appeared we were seeing fear aggression. She gave us a set of to-do's and not-to-do's in working with Bugsy, and we set out to follow her plan.

Among them: we needed to get Bugsy to associate us with yummy things, so whenever we went into the yard he was in, we'd toss him a treat or two. We never approached him, but let him set the distance boundary he was comfortable with.

Dr. Nelson said the one mistake too many people make in dealing with fear aggression is trying to force the dog to engage. If the dog doesn't want to engage, all you end up doing is triggering another round of fear aggression. So the goal is to let the dog decide on his own when, and how, to engage.

One other thing we had already done by that point was put another blind dog in with Bugsy, this being quiet and gentle Willie the Beagle. After a supervised introduction, we could tell Bugsy was going to be fine with Willie as a companion. We learned long ago that dogs model other dogs' behaviors, and the best way for fearful or skittish dogs to get over their distrust is to have other dogs jumping up and down for our attention. Dr. Nelson thought this would definitely help.

And then, of course, there's the passage of time — or as our vet in Montana, Dr. Brenda Culver, used to call it, "the tincture of time." 

As the days ticked by, Bugsy became more comfortable, but he still spent most of his time hiding out in his crate in the big dog house in the yard. We'd carry him out of the house in the crate every morning, set it down and open the door. In the evening, he'd be inside the crate so we'd close the door and carry him back inside. But he was no longer growling at us.

Then we added another and more exuberant blind Beagle, Louie, to the mix. Every day, Bugsy would hear Willie and Louie eagerly greeting us at the gate. He could tell Louie would be happily jumping up at us when we went into the yard. Every evening, of course, back in the dog room he could hear us interacting with all the other dogs. We could see him sitting in his crate, head cocked, listening to the happy sounds.

After a couple of weeks, we noticed Bugsy was finally starting to spend more time outside in the yard and not in his crate. That was a very good sign.

He started to get excited when we brought him his dinner, and though still in his crate, he was clearly happy and expectant when we showed up. 

He stopped retreating into the crate whenever he heard us approach, and began staying outside in the yard while we were there — though he'd keep his distance.

The breakthrough came about a week ago. I went into the yard to scoop the poop, and knelt down to make over Louie. Bugsy was just about two feet away, listening to Louie getting loved up. Slowly … very slowly … Bugsy crept closer and closer. Finally, he was right next to me, then leaning against me, sitting down. He lifted his head up and "looked" at me. I carefully … very carefully … reached down to pet him. He rolled slightly away — at first I thought he was leaving — but then realized he was trying to get me to scratch his tummy.

Wow. My heart stopped. 

Day by day from then on, he began to approach us. He'd let us both pet him. He'd lick us. He'd let us pick him up. He'd wiggle and get excited when he'd hear us coming out of the house. Now there were three very happy dogs at the gate.

As if to prove it, he even licked Alayne this morning when we were taking these photos:

We realize Bugsy may have a setback or two ahead, but he has come a very long way in a month.

—

Thank you for your votes! 

 

Yes, funny boy Owen was adopted yesterday by none other than Marcia S., who adopted blind Suzi from us in November 2010!  Suzi is doing just great, and over the past 18 months Marcia has kept in touch with us about potentially adding another blind dog to her family down in Connecticut. A few weeks ago Marcia felt she was ready, and we suggested she consider Owen (and not because we were tired of remaking the bed in the dog room every day or putting the boots back in the mud room!). 

Owen thought it might improve his adoption chances if he personally showed Marcia how he could collect footwear from one room and move them to another room, and this he did while she was here yesterday. He also thought some facetime with a surprise kiss or two might help too:

Marcia emailed us this afternoon to say, "Owen rode so well all the way home – we were here by 7:45 greeted by the most gorgeous sunset. He IS a character – Suzi is having a bit of an adjustment but the other dogs play with him and all have embraced him into the "crew." He has to learn the difference between dog toys and MY toys, but I'm home today working on it. He slept real well last night in his kennel with Mr Ducky and other toys. Do you think he has some vision? I swear he's looking at me and he gets around so well – he has found every piece of furniture! He's so full of pep and such a cutie!"

Her question about whether Owen has any vision is interesting, because he is so bright and so well adapted that he moves faster than most blind dogs we've had. And he does have an uncanny ability to look right at you so intently that you can think he is seeing you. But he is focused on sound and smell, and he tracks really well. Owen is a high IQ dog, and I joked with Marcia yesterday that she'd better hide her car keys from him because you just never know what he might do next.

Marcia, thank you so much — and good luck with those beds!

Meanwhile, Billy is off sizing up other potential gladiators — plenty to choose from here!

—

Thank you for your votes! 

During our visit to the ophthalmologist the previous week, Wilbur also had his follow-up exam after his lensectomy surgery. The results were great — Dr. Hoy loved how his eye looked, and he passed all tests with flying colors. I may not be quoting this exactly right, but at one point she said something like, "look how beautiful that retina is!"

Here is Patty holding Wilbur while Dr. Hoy is testing his eye pressure:

The only thing we've noticed Wilbur struggling with is depth perception, because of the absence of the lens. Now that he can see again, Wilbur wants to go exploring inside and outside. Whenever he sees us near a door, he pops up and heads over so he can go out. When he gets to the bottom of the ramp, though, he stops. Even though the vertical drop from the edge of the ramp to the lawn is literally less than two inches, he can't tell how close it is. He goes back and forth along the end of the ramp, trying to figure it out. So we pick him up and help him navigate it, showing him it's shallow enough that he can easily manage it. We'll hold him while we physically walk him off the edge and step down onto the grass. Ironically, this is what we'd do with a blind dog who is hesitant about something, too. A few of these "training sessions" and I think he'll have it.

We will continue to give Wilbur a couple of different eye drops three times a day, and he will have another follow-up exam in a few weeks. But for now, all systems are go! 

—

Thank you for your votes!