We Did It

May 31, 2025 – I realized in the morning that I’ve taken and passed this Pet Partners test, three times, albeit many years ago, twice with sweet golden Zenga and once with Boone the humble greyhound.

Zenga’s penchant for soft fleecy toys was challenged by the miniature Clifford-the-Big-Red Dog stuffed animal that he had to pass during the “Leave It” part of the test, and the evaluator admitted when we were done that she thought we “were a goner” as she saw his wide eyes and raised ears after setting it on our prescribed path. But he heard the unspoken underlying “and I mean it” in my “leave it” request and resisted the urge to grab the little stuffed setter as we passed by.

Boone’s colossally laid-back character made for a colossally stress-free evaluation. He was more likely to lag than drag during the loose-leash walking exercises; he welcomed interaction with people, none of whom he considered a stranger, and he because had no interest in other dogs, whether he knew them or not, ignoring the neutral dog came naturally.

But Ruffian’s big challenges would be 1. relaxing enough to politely interact with strange people in a strange place and 2. getting out of the truck so he could go into a strange place and interact with strange people, neither of which we’ve mastered despite countless trips and training sessions in strange places with strange people.

Appearance and grooming count for this test, so Ruff was subjected to the full spa treatment on Friday night, his resistance to which left me with a pulled hip muscle, but we wouldn’t lose points for a limping handler, so I took that one for the team.

To keep us (well ok, me) calm, we started our Saturday, as we usually do, with a walk in the park, followed by thorough brushing on the grooming table to remove any grassy remains before we headed for the fairgrounds.

Because this evaluation technically begins with the team’s arrival at the testing site, I prepared some strategies for dislodging Ruffian from the truck if he shrunk back to the dark side of his crate when I opened the lift gate and planned to park in a space a little obscured from the entry door.

Fear not, he was right at the front, perfectly placed to show me the deep brown wood tick burrowing into his bright white forehead. I picked it off and tossed it in the dirt, sparing it my usual tick-torture tactics, setting it free to drink on some other dog, then completed a cursory visual check and tactile inspection to make sure this parasite had worked alone, thankful for Ruff’s ivory fur that offers no camouflage for the little bloodsucking critters.

We entered the test building, a cavernous metal structure that houses agricultural exhibitions during the county fair, and as our evaluator reviewed our paperwork, Ruffian and I wandered around to get familiar with the place.

Ruff was uneasy but under control, though he did startle at the giant fan blades spinning slowly and silently on the ultra-high ceiling. The evaluator marveled that no one, neither she nor any of the teams that preceded us, had noticed them all day.

Great to be a pioneer.

We started a little rough, Ruff was obviously stressed, and we finished the first half of the evaluation on the edge of earning a Not Ready rating, which would’ve sent us home immediately. No passing Go, no collecting two hundred dollars, no green participation ribbon.

But Ruffian pulled himself together for his last-chance exercise and proved his Therapy Dog potential. Not only did he accept the hugging, petting and touching of the volunteers, but he looked around for more when they moved away. He showed interest in engagement with very volunteer and earned a “Very polite dog!” bonus comment on his “Offered a treat” exercise.

So, we passed the test. I couldn’t convince him to sit too close to the Very Scary ottoman that held his Certificate of Completion, but we’re good for the next 2 years, plenty of time to refine the skills and build the confidence to face his fears of ceiling fans and furniture.

Road Signs for Ruffian – Pet Partners Therapy Dog
Ten months ago
We faced our fears
With practice and a test
We passed and now
Repeat it all
In only two more years.

Obedience 1 for the Third Time

A little short on time, but needing a little training, I opted to combine my errands with Ruffian’s schooling, loaded him into the truck and headed “into town”, where I parked on the main block of the main street, poured Ruff out of his car crate and walked half a block to the post office.

As is his M.O., once out of the truck he moved along with me, sling-shotting between just behind my left knee and just in front of my left foot, where he doesn’t exactly pull, but neither does he walk with what would pass as the “loose leash” expected in our upcoming Therapy Dog evaluation.

In the post office lobby, we met two kind strangers who commented on his good looks and asked permission to pet him. Perfect practice for Exercises 2 and 3 in the Skills Assessment of the evaluation.

He sat readily and quietly for the head pats and ear scratches, and while he’d earn top scores for prompt response to, and maintaining contact with, his handler, based on the quivering of his hind quarters, he’d lose a couple points in the Relaxed Body Language category.

It occurs to me that I could stand strategically for that part of the test, to shield his shivers from the eyes of the evaluator, but
a. I expect s/he will be experienced enough to see through the screen, and even more,
b. I’d like Ruff to believe that he is safe when I’m standing next to him, even when surrounded by curious crowds in strange spaces with odd odors and novel noises.

We left the post office and despite his desire to beeline straight for the truck, walked around the block that is Main Street. We rounded the corner across from the fire station and I noticed the sign on the town’s newest business – a dog training center. Hmmm.

There is a QR code posted on the door, but I opted for an old-school laptop internet search when I got home, and discovered a new Obedience class had started the night before and would run through mid-April.

Mid-April would give us plenty of time to practice our freshly honed skills and even allow enrollment in a second short class to prep for our end of May evaluation.

So, I emailed the instructor who replied Immediately, and yada, yada, yada, Ruff and I are 4 weeks into Level 1 Obedience.

Again.

The third time seems to be a charm for our educational pursuits, and the magic starts once we settle in our space in the training center, but I’ve yet to crack the code for getting my comely coward out of the truck in any public space, without considerable coaxing.

He is slightly more amenable to leaving his safe spot, which is to say I no longer have to drag the whole dang crate, fully loaded with a reluctant retriever, out of the hatchback. But unless Rowdy’s with us to run reconnaissance, Ruff still hangs tight, hugging the blue nylon barrier that protects him from the menace that may forever remain a mystery.

Sometimes he’ll face the fear enough to stand in the opening of the front flap, but he’s yet to summon the courage for the daring leap to the outside world.

So, I tap the top of the travel kennel, jiggle it just enough to encourage him to exit the Explorer without the need to tilt the crate to a 45-degree angle, and after a few moments of soulful stares, reassuring ear rubs and reminders that we have safely completed this mission on at least 67 previous occasions, he takes the trust fall, gives me minimal time to press the close button on the tailgate and we advance post-haste to the entrance of the building.

Once inside, the anxiety eases as we make our way to our usual spot in the back right corner, first chair facing West – seems all the students, 2- and 4-leggeds alike, are creatures of habit who appreciate the comfort of consistency.

Our classmates include two darling doodles and a charming Chihuahua who hops his way around the room mostly on his hind legs. His owner’s objective is to teach him that the tiny toes on all four of his feet should touch the floor, and like the rest of us, she’s seeing some success in embracing instructor Kelly’s counsel that short periods of everyday practice pay dividends.

On a daily basis now Ruffian is sitting, lying, standing, staying, waiting, and loose-leash-walking up in the office, down in the family room, on the stairs, in the barn, on the driveway, in the park. We vary duration, distance and distractions, and all this thinking exhausts much of the mental energy previously used to fuel his desire to chew slippers, socks and throw rugs.

He still conducts the occasional raid of the clothes hamper in the closet, and sometimes grabs the bath mat in front of the tub, but it’s mostly for show or old-time’s sake. He drops them as soon as we make eye contact.

We’re still working in the low distraction zone, but I’m encouraged by our progress. Ruff seems to enjoy the engagement, he’s willing to try what I’m asking him to do, even if it means lying down at the back door or walking in heel position around the pool table.

I like where this is going.

I like the fun of dog training classes, being around people who like being around dogs.

I like learning new techniques from a trainer with a sense of humor.

I like listening to the sound of dog paws padding across a rubber matted floor.

I love watching the lights coming on as Ruff figures out the right response.

I just don’t like pouring seventy-five pounds of pup onto the parking lot.

Road Signs for Ruffian – Obedience Begins Again
We’re at it again
Another dog class
The test’s scheduled for May
Here’s hoping we pass

Practicing Peacekeeping

Despite a lifelong discomfort with loud voices and cursing, Rowdy has adopted an admirable response when he hears them.

No one celebrates the final play of the Super Bowl with greater gratitude than my gentle golden, who holds his breath, just a little, through the entirety of the NFL season. But swear words now invoke the superpower of his therapy dog spirit.

When he senses too-high tension in the tv room, Rowdy will launch a crusade for calmness, approaching the overly fervent fan with ears slightly dropped, tail slowly ticking back and forth as he gauges the proper proximity needed to successfully complete his mission.

A little scratching of that perfect spot behind a dog’s ears restores some semblance of reason to even the most passionate accusations of poor play and outrageous officiating.

Rowdy’s peacekeeping pursuits are not confined to the perimeter of Four Sticks, however.

We recently had a girl start her day with a major tantrum in the entry way of the school building. I’ve heard a few of these rants over the years, but this was top shelf vituperation, a full-on verbal assault of the perceived violation of her rights as a student, the injustices forced upon her at the school, including the totally intolerable situation of her having to be in the same room as another student she deemed despicable. It was a vitriolic tirade, born of incredible pain and sadness, punctuated with a remarkable number of F bombs.

As with many things in life, I believe there’s a time and a place for the F word, and I appreciate its judicious use. But 15 minutes of the tirade seemed plenty to satisfy a need to vent, so I left Rowdy in the office and walked into the hallway, not to counsel, just to offer a little moral support for the teacher who’d been monitoring the meltdown, and because sometimes the mere presence of a second, silent adult can nudge the emotional thermometer out of the red zone.

I said nothing, just stood quietly, and the student didn’t acknowledge me except to slip into her diatribe that she didn’t “need no fuckin’ dog.”

Message received.

Loud and clear.

But Rowdy begged to differ. The words had barely left her lips before he came around the corner, somehow knowing he was needed.

He walked past me, past the teacher, and very gently approached the student crouched in the corner. He touched her knee with his nose, and she reached for his head. He stepped a little closer, touched her just softly enough to make sure she knew he was there, and she started scratching his head, talking just a little quieter, just a little slower.

He stood with her, demanding nothing, only offering quiet connection.

After a minute or two Rowdy recognized that his work was done. He moved over to me, we returned to our office, where he accepted a well-earned treat and curled up on his bed to wait for his call to Study Hall.

He didn’t solve her problem. But within a few minutes she calmed enough to move out of the hallway and into a study space.

Unlike some of the other students, she doesn’t clamor for his attention when she sees him. But when he makes his rounds around the room at the start of Study Hall, sometimes she scratches his head, just a little, and talks to him, just a little, and smiles at him, just a little.

Just enough to keep her at peace.

Just enough to keep him in shape for Sundays in September, with their return of the purple jerseys.

Skol Vikes!

Back on the Therapy Dog Track

Well, I did it. I committed to a Therapy Dog evaluation on May 31, which gives Ruff and his slacker handler 75 days to do what needs to be done to present as a confident, competent team, capable of providing canine cheer and comfort.

Ruffian is still reluctant to leave the safe space of his crate when we’re parked in an unfamiliar parking lot so we’ve launched Operation Dare to Depart, a commitment to driving every day to a new place, waiting for him to leave the confines of his kennel so we can build his confidence while exploring new environments.

Our first foray was to the school where he will one day serve as Rowdy’s Study Hall Monitor understudy. Only 3-4 taps on the top of the crate convinced him he could safely exit the Explorer and head toward the building.

Ruffian is the first dog I’ve had whose energy drops with nerves rather than ramping up. He walked with me across the parking lot in a cautious jog, pausing to check out the scenery, continuing with cheerful prodding.

He willingly walked through the security vestibule, met a couple staff members, and submitted to the swarm of students who surrounded him in the hallway, though it was more frozen fright and less tempered tolerance and, as evidenced by the quaking feathers on his hind legs. Still, he accepted the love and offered a couple tiny pooch smooches in exchange for the many murmurs of admiration.

Then he Goldilocks-ed his way around our office, sniffed Rowdy’s relaxation spots on the carpet, drank from his water bowl and eventually laid on the dog bed he deemed Just Right.

We went to the Science teacher’s classroom and after a quick tour of the attractive aromas of plants, reptiles, amphibians and aquariums, he settled down for his first staff meeting.

Ruff refuses food rewards when he’s anxious, but during the meeting he took the crunchy treat offered in exchange for a down stay and even popped up a couple times for an intermittent reimbursement – a positive sign of getting comfortable in his surroundings.

Since then, we’ve spent two sessions in the parking lot of a local farm store, with the overly optimistic goal of getting out of the truck and meandering through the aisles of garden supplies, dog treats and farm tools.

Before we can get into the store, we have to get out of the truck though, so we’re still working on that.

Ruffian has yet to willingly jump out during our practice runs, even with Rowdy as his emotional support animal. During our inaugural trip he followed Rowdy out but instantly bounced right back off the pavement and into Rowdy’s car crate.

With a ridiculous amount of encouragement after a ridiculous amount of standing under an open tailgate in a northerly wind, we worked our way to a few small circles in the parking lot.

Next up, a city park with a playground and kids and cars and dogs and porta-potties. Ruff came to the edge of the back door of the truck quickly but was spooked by a teenage boy shouting the F word on his cellphone. Once convinced the profanity parade had passed, Ruff left the truck with only a bit of reluctance and only a bit of jostling of the crate.

He acknowledged the group of teenage boys playing video games (sans swearing) at the picnic table, allowed the petting of strangers, including two small spontaneous hugs from a little girl, and accepted the noises of kids on slides, spinners, swings, jungle gyms and merry-go-rounds.

My mom met us to walk the trail around the park, which provided practice in slow, mindful movement in the face of dogs barking behind fences, surveying stealthily from shrubs, and one group of three that snuck up on us from somebody’s backyard. After a few sniffs, they moved on, more interested in staying ahead of their owner than sticking around with Ruffian.

We were passed by boys on bikes, and we passed a flock of poultry. The Boss Hen made a beeline to the edge of the chicken run as we approached, a formidable, feathered foe that I suspect, had she been loose, would present a bigger challenge than even the monster mastiff, but we advanced without incident.

So, Team Ruffian is in spring training mode – practice, practice, practice. Nothing like the possibility of public humiliation to put the pressure on performance and we have 75 days to minimize the possibility of major meltdown.

And to maximize the joy of jumping out of the truck.

Road Signs for Ruffian – Therapy Dog Test Schedule
We’ll practice and practice
It’ll be a grand day
If we pass our big test
On the last day of May.

Road Signs for Ruffian

Bored by rain
And lack of sun
I logged on to Google
In search of some fun

Something happy
But what to do?
I looked at Ruff
And then I knew

I found the class
No time to tarry
Lest I lose the spot
With trainer Sherry

Eight hours from now
The class would start
Not long to decide
Am I being smart?

Ruff’s sweet and he’s social
With a couple of quirks
But he’s bright and he’s happy
Let’s see if this works

Two openings left
What incredible luck
I committed to going
Then hopped in the truck

With treats and some water
We left home at five
A brand-new adventure
A one-hour drive

He was a little uneasy
But jumped out of his crate
Without any coaxing
Without any bait

It’s fun to be back
In a dog training class
So fun there’s no fear
Of the test we must pass

One week into training
With a click and a treat
He’s happy to work for
A bit of dried meat

Some strangers are dangers
He still sometimes shies
Near umbrellas and paint cans
And frisbee-golf guys

This is only a start
Just a month and a half
But our teamwork’s evolving
He does make me laugh

We’ll see where we are
At the end of six weeks
I suspect we’ll continue
With classes and tweaks

But he’ll get there someday
This good-natured Ruff
A bringer of Joy
A canine cream puff

Some have no faith
Won’t they be agog
When Ruffian turns into
A Therapy Dog

First 4th

Twenty-five children with kazoos and flags.

25 Children.

With kazoos.

And flags.

Most of them under the age of 6, fingers still sticky with breakfast, little toes teeming with summer’s best barefoot bouquets.

Add an unfamiliar venue, a few strollers, a bunch of new friends, and you have Reading with Rowdy meets Marie’s Pre-School Storytime for a 4th of July celebration with the Maple Lake Library.

It was All Calming Strategies On Deck as the event started, and preliminary activities presented Rowdy and me an opportunity for some helpful Down-Stay, Heel-Sit-Watch Me-Good Dog! practice, along with a little work in appropriate greeting behavior, assisted by our now-veteran junior trainers, introducing their toddler siblings to the Very Happy Hooligan.

A group photo for the local paper provided a bit of a challenge, but if 25 youngsters could sit still long enough to be organized into 3 rows and have their names recorded for identification, it seemed reasonable to expect 1 golden retriever to do the same.

Which he did very nicely until we had to scooch in for a last-minute adjustment, bringing any kids within sniffing, snuffling or smooching distance directly into Rowdy’s zone of Too Much Temptation.

Fingers crossed that the shutter snapped during an acceptable Therapy Dog moment.

Our grand finale, the always-anticipated parade around the block, brought out a few cheering merchants, 25 kazoo-humming, flag-waving children, and one prancing pup, who handled the whole experience pretty well if you don’t count the part where he kangaroo-hopped across the intersection.

Next week we return to our regular programming. A smaller crowd, a single book, a few games.

And no kazoos.

Dog and flag

Enjoy a happy healthy Independence Day!

Peanut Butter Peace

Dog with kids in library

Another rainy Monday morning started with the potential for setback in our ascent to Therapy Animal superstardom, or even Therapy Animal suitability, but my slightly-damp dog eventually dried up and quieted down to hang out with the 11 young readers, who came out to Reading with Rowdy at the Maple Lake Library.

We began with something less that our best behavior today, navigating a few rough patches of vigorous back-scratching and insistent paw offerings, but once rambunctious Rowdy found his Good Dog gear, he settled in and chilled out.

It’s possible we benefitted from the plot of our children’s chapter book, which revolved around some missing peanut butter treats. Hearing the name of one of his many favorite snacks may have lulled the happy hooligan into a dreamy state of Skippy slumber.

Following our story and mystery message activity, the readers had an opportunity to practice proper greeting behavior with Rowdy, who was very happy to cooperate and (mostly) calmly accept several scratches under the ear.

Every week gets a little bit better, and next week we’ll face a whole new challenge when take a short break from our “Figure It Out” theme to join with the pre-schoolers story-time group for some Independence Day activities, including the annual 4^th of July Parade around the block. No fireworks or marching bands, but lots of red, white and blue, many children waving flags, several local merchants waving hands, and one golden retriever, excited to lead the festivities.

With a peanut butter chaser.

Dog dreaming

Slow but (Mostly) Sure

Just when I thought it was safe to go back into Barn Brain, I find myself once again steeped in the world of canine cognition. It’s all about Rowdy. Still.

Though we passed our Therapy Dog evaluation in January, I worried about Rowdy’s over-exuberant greeting behavior, so with visions of my eager young dog bowling over eager young readers in the children’s section of our local library, I enlisted the help of a private trainer.

Lynn Smoliak of Dogs Way Dog Training came out nearly a month ago and spent some time showing Rowdy and me the benefits of working from a softer, calmer frame of mind. Time to channel my inner Dog Whisperer. No more “Hey, Hey!, HEY!!” command for us.

With only a couple attention-getting little pokes, Lynn snapped her fingers and “Tsched” rowdy Rowdy into an acceptable social state in a matter of minutes.

I, of course, did not. My finger poke needed more “Settle Down Sir” and less “Liven Up Man!”, my finger snap needed more snap, and my “Tsch” needed more “I WANT YOUR ATTENTION” and less “I’ve got a secret”.

After a couple hours though, Rowdy and I showed enough potential for progress that Lynn left us with recommendations of diligent practice, and encouragement that I’d be delighted with the light-bulb moment sure to follow our daily commitment.

In a minimum of 3 weeks.

I hopped right on that road, so perfectly paved with good intention, only to be almost immediately set off course by a series of unfortunate life events, several unseasonable snowstorms, and a pinch of self-indulgent sloth.

Dog Sitting at Attention We haven’t practiced every day, and when we do it isn’t always pretty, but we’ve made some progress. Some. Slight.

Once in a while he’ll still run through his entire repertoire – sit, down, shake right, shake left, speak, rollover – with the occasional bonus behaviors of drooling, sneezing and smooching thrown in – while I wait for him to settle his little golden puppy brain. Which he does. Eventually.

Just often enough to maintain our motivation to keep slogging onward. Almost every day.

But Rowdy does finally seem to be developing a “quieter” brain. Possibly because his trainer is doing the same. I know we’re in this for the long haul, with much learning and training and imperfection and fun in our future, so I’m mindful of the small successes, appreciative of any accomplishments.

Loose-leash healing continues to improve, though I’ve not yet braved the challenge of the local Running’s or (even more daunting) PetsMart stores. We have, however, passed a couple dogs in the park without growling, howling, whining or other inappropriate, unacceptable and/or unattractive antics, which gives me hope.

His Stay-And-Wait-Until-Released ability has been relatively solid for a few months, and now he moves into the Release-part with more trot, less gallop.

Except for that recent goose-chasing incident, which occurred at breakneck speed, but given his genetic predisposition for getting game birds, and the fact that they were creating a raucous ruckus right there in our pasture, and that he responded to my (ok, 3rd) call to come, with the same swiftness, I cut him a tiny bit of slack. This one time.

Meanwhile, on the other side of that pasture fence, my big red beast and his potbellied palomino friend continue to enjoy what has become the winter of their great content. No pressure to perform, being asked only to mind their manners when entering and exiting their stalls for the daily snack-and-snooze period. Chicago and Biskit may be the biggest beneficiaries of the current canine boot camp – happy to be livin’ the life of Rowdy.

Dog and Horse in the Snow

But soon enough, the snow-filled arena will return to sand and I will exchange the leash for the lead rope.

Just a few more snaps of the finger.

rowdy Rowdy

Gatsby, Norby, Zenga, Boone – all dogs I have loved and successfully trained to be registered Therapy animals. Rowdy will be number 5, and the one I expect(ed) will be the best, which, for those who knew The Great One, is sayin’ something.

But here we are, 2 weeks into our Therapy Dog training program, with a solid hold on Bottom of the Class. Not that Rowdy’s a bad dog of course, he’s simply being Rowdy. In every way.

This is a positive-reinforcement-only program, using clickers and treats, a method with which we had great success in our early days together, as you can read about here if interested.

But before I get to the treat part, which (Spoiler Alert!) ended a bit badly, some background: our homework after the first class included instructions to compile a list of our dog’s attributes, framed in a positive context, which theoretically compels us to frame our training approach with a similarly positive perspective.

So while some may call him distracted, nosy and unruly, I think of Rowdy as aware of his surroundings, interested in the world around him, and eager to engage with others. Click and treat.

Week 2 played heavily into that Distraction piece, but Rowdy bypassed Aware and moved directly into Red-Alert, just this side of panic, when he saw a boy in a wheelchair, and a baby in her Mom’s arms. The big group meeting on the other side of the curtain in our training room, heard but never seen, added a little more angst.

But we persevered, clicking and treating for the slightest indication of focus on the tasks at hand, which happened to include a lot of “Wait” practice – waiting at the doorway for my a-ok to pass through; waiting quietly while I greeted a “friendly stranger” played by our instructor; and waiting for permission to visit a “potential client” played by another student.

We’ve done enough doorway-waiting at home for that to be standard procedure. But denial of the chance to meet a new friend is killer for my gregarious golden, and the only reason Rowdy didn’t jump full force into my classmate’s lap is because I violated the No Restraining order and pulled him away. It will be our biggest challenge in this process, no matter how high the treat ante.

Even Week 1’s incessantly barking goldendoodle demonstrated restraint this week, so Rowdy and I donned our proverbial dunce caps as we got in the truck. We rode home in silent reflection of the evening’s events, contemplating our motive for participation in this class, and the mindset and methods necessary for success.

At least that’s what I did. Rowdy was apparently working on the method of digesting all those many tiny bits of kibble, chicken and rabbit treats that he’d earned for limiting his liveliness. Twenty-four hours later I picked up the last canine cow pie, grateful that all but one made it to the dog yard, and that all systems had now returned to regular go.

Of course the single miss wasn’t on the easy-clean wood floors that cover the entire main level, but instead landed on the 8-foot runner in the front entry. And of course that rug is laundromat-large-capacity-machine-washable-only.

Fortunately, Nature’s Miracle Pet Stain & Odor Destroyer and my Little Green Machine cleaned it up pretty well. Equally fortunate, it’s a dimly lit room.

So, we carry on. We think positive. We practice. We mince hi-value treats into micro bits.

And I stock up on carpet cleaner.

Dog with tennis ball