A tribute to the original and best blue merle boy

One cold November evening in 2004, a couple went to look at a litter of Border Collie puppies, in a bid to find their next working sheepdog. There were (I think) 8 puppies. One hung right back in the far corner, and one of the couple wanted her, but then the other (that would be me) looked down and saw a tiny little pink nose shoved through the mesh of the puppy pen, half the rest of the litter piling on the head of the nose's owner. On asking to take a closer look at the rest of the dog behind the nose, she was confronted by this bundle of cuteness.

Seriously, that nose was utterly irresistible!

That little face did its work, and there was no other option: he was coming home with us. He was settled snugly in a box with the fleece I'd been wearing as it was a cold night. He refused to sleep on anything other than that fleece for the first few nights.

Other than crying on the first night until I went to sleep in the living room with him, he really was the easiest puppy I've ever known. I slept on the sofa next to him for two or three nights, but after that he was happy to sleep in the kitchen. House training flew by with no trouble, and we even passed that pesky chewing stage losing nothing more than the tiniest corner of a wooden shelf and the back of one trainer.

He loved playing with our older working dogs and, when he was a few months old and we judged him big enough to have a look at some sheep, we took him out in the field with one of them. He stood with us watching as she started her outrun around the flock then, thirty seconds later, decided he was bored and took himself back to the garden in search of a ball. That was in the end the closest he got to being a sheepdog. I have NEVER known a dog with as little chase drive! Rabbits could erupt from right under his nose and he would barely give them a second glance. The only things he would ever chase were toys.

He gave us a worrying time around when he was a year old, when he kept getting persistent bouts of vomiting. He seemed completely fine other than the being sick and our vets were completely perplexed. We had weeks of syringing medicines down him several time a day, which left him for the rest of his life a bit grumpy about being handled - grooming was something that, no matter how hard we tried with positive reinforcement, we couldn't get him to relax with. In the end we reached a compromise where he would sit still long enough for any dreadlocks to be cut off then would give a mighty 'WOOF' in our faces and accept peace offerings of cheese. The mystery of the vomiting episodes was resolved a few weeks after it started (and just as the vets were starting to talk about x-rays and exploratory surgeries), when he brought up an entire ear tag that had obviously come out of a sheep's ear and which he had swallowed. To this day I have no idea how he swallowed it without choking! It was the only non-routine vet issue that he ever had in his 14.5 years of life, so he got the worrying stuff out of his system early on.

He always believed in making his voice heard

For various reasons, we left the farm when he was three. He stayed there in familiar surroundings with my mother. We lived just a few minutes away, although in a rented house where pets weren't allowed. Obviously we saw him all the time, even more so when Mum left the farm as well and bought a house just around the corner from us. When we moved from rented into buying a house, as soon as all of the furniture was in place, we brought Red to his new house, and he began his career as a lorry dog, going to work with his dad.

Red denying the assertion that he was sleeping on the job!

Over the years I've lived with a number of health issues that are the result of a bad accident I had back in 2002. In this town we'd moved to - or to be more exact, right around the edges of this town - is a beautiful walk, on the edge of farmland. It took a while to work out the fitness and get the pain levels down enough to enjoy much of the walk, but it became a habit. Every evening, after he came home from the serious work of sleeping in - sorry, I mean guarding! - the lorry, I'd clip on the lead and we'd go stomping along these paths. Just me, Red, whatever audiobook I was listening to at the time, and the birds and wildlife we could find along the way. I'd get twitchy if I missed a night, and Red would start dancing and sneezing with excitement as soon as I moved towards where his lead was kept. Those are and will always be some of the best hours of my life.

He was the absolute easiest dog to take anywhere. We took him to medieval fairs with cannon being fired less than 50 feet from us. He just looked around when they went off the first time to check what the noise was then resumed sniffing around. Nothing fazed him, with the exception of people that were scared of him. I remember at that same fair there was a little girl who stepped from one side of her parents to the other. I could hear her taking that sharp breath in as she spotted Red, and sidled away against her mum's side. Red noticed it as well. He sat down and kept repeatedly looking between me and this girl. When neither of us moved, he flopped down and started rolling in the grass, rubbing over his muzzle and eyes with his front paws. I didn't think much about what he was doing until I realised he kept stopping to peek around a leg at the girl to see if she was watching him. Gradually, the girl started to relax and Red sat up next to me. I was watching him rather than the display now, and I noticed the girl edging closer and closer until she touched his ear with the tip of one finger. When she moved away again, Red stood up and shook the last of the grass out of his coat and looked at me to see where we were going next. Job done in his mind. I'd write it off as just one of those things, but I saw him do similar with scared children more than once. If I could have my time with him over again knowing so much more as I do now, I think I'd have worked towards training him as a therapy dog. He'd have suited it so, so well.

Behold, a collie dog and his giant tennis ball. He got so excited on this day when he saw what I had for him!

Over time he started to slow down, as we all do. We moved house again, back to our original village. Our walks started to get shorter, although we both loved them being so much more rural.

I will never forget his expression when he first met the bundle of fluff and cuteness that was Finn at 8 weeks old. He looked at us with a face that clearly said "Really?!" They were never particularly close, definitely not as close as Finn would have liked to be early on. He flatly refused to allow Finn to snuggle up, although he would permit him to lay nearby. He liked Finn in his own way, and would look for him in the house when he came home from another day as a lorry dog. We made sure Red still got plenty of one on one time with both of us and that kept him happy.

One of these is far more impressed than the other!

In the last few months, changes at work meant that there was less chance for Red to go and spend his days in his lorry (and never doubt that as far as he was concerned it was HIS lorry!), so he spent his time at home with me and Finn. As much as I know he would have loved to be at work, part of me is selfishly glad as it meant I had time with him. It became very obvious that he was really slowing down, reduced from 2-3 hour walks down to a 20 minute bimble around the local bridlepath/country road block. He always enjoyed it and was always ready to go, but the days of taking him up on Ashdown Forest with the youngster were definitely over.

Something he'd enjoyed in earlier times

The older he got, the more soppy and cuddly he became. His hearing was almost totally gone and off-lead became a thing of the past as his recall obviously disappeared and he'd bimble off to say hello to anyone. As someone with a reactive dog who can't tolerate others approaching, that one time it happened was absolutely mortifying, and it was never allowed to happen again. His eyes weren't what they were. We suspect there was an element of dementia starting to creep in as he would sometimes kick off barking at nothing in particular. We took the decision some months ago that we'd pick quality over quantity when it came to time with him. Any medical problems that would require any length of treatment would result in the call being made. So long as he was happy in himself, we'd let him potter along as he wanted, being totally and utterly spoiled along the way. At 14.5 years old, he'd earned it!

All a collie dog needs is his squeaky pink pig!

The end came quite quickly. He'd been picky with his food over the weekend, but that was something that he'd do from time to time. He could be incredibly fussy and would only eat what he fancied at the time. Monday night he was sick a few hours after eating. As a one off, no big thing. He'd still take some treats, so we hoped it had just disagreed with him. I cooked some chicken for him on the Tuesday which he ate with enthusiasm, but returned it again late Tuesday night.

Wednesday morning he tried to take himself outside for his morning wee but tripped getting up and wouldn't try again. My husband carried him outside to the garden, where he did his usual toddle down the garden for a wee, so Daniel went to work (I was still in bed at this point as Daniel goes to work at stupid o clock in the morning). When I got up a couple of hours later, Red was in his accustomed place, laying at the bottom of the stairs. He lifted his head when I came down and I started to see it.

That look. The one that those of us who have had to make the call and say goodbye to our animals know. The one that says 'I'm tired. I'm sore. I don't feel well. I can't do this any more.'

I didn't want to see it, but I did. It's the last great responsibility we have for our animals. I made the call, we took him to the vet. Daniel was still at work but my brother came to drive us (and he was one of Red's favourite people as well which was a nice part to it, he was happy to see him). My comfort is that, as we made our way into the vets, he had a good sniff and peed and looked wobbly but normal. I hadn't left it too late for that. I sat with him waiting for the sedation to work, I was stroking him and talking to him as he went to sleep. It was incredibly hard and I was a soggy mess, but I was there with him for the very last time he needed me. Just writing this has me in floods of tears again, but I know in the future it's going to be a comfort to me that I did right by him. (I know not everyone feels they can do this last part and I make no judgement on that. It's something that I feel I owe to them and so I do it.)

And so now he sleeps. And in my mind I picture him on the other side of the bridge, running with those that have been and gone before him, forever pain free and in his prime. I will never not miss him, like I have never stopped missing Cass and Dillan, the girls we had before Red, and Wimps, my childhood dog. Red was truly a one in a million dog, a character the like of which I doubt I'll ever see again.

One of very many happy hours spent watching that jaunty tail trotting in front of me.

September 2004 - 20th March 2019

Sleep well boy, until we meet again 😥

The blank canvas analogy. Neither accurate, nor helpful!

'Every dog starts life with a blank canvas. If the portrait is flawed then look to the artist!'

I saw this on a Facebook post the other day. It made me reflect on how my life has changed since Finn came along. You see, once upon a time I'd have been nodding sagely and agreeing, completely unaware that, even with 30+ years of having dogs and training them to work sheep, I knew next to nothing about dogs. Thankfully, I have opened my mind to learning, and know realise there is so much that I have to learn!

Let's break the above statement down:

'Every dog starts life with a blank canvas.'

Is this true? In a word, no. We know that behaviour has a genetic component. The dog's genes are set as a combination of the parent's genetic material at the moment of conception, so it's already clear that there is no blank canvas. Immediately after conception, the environment and epigenetics start to come into play. Epigenetics describes the way in which outside factors can affect the dog's genes. Genes are switched on or off, changing the way that they are expressed, by a process called DNA methylation. Everything around us can potentially affect these changes by causing chemical modifications.

The outside environment at this point in a dog's life is the inside of the mother's body. While we automatically consider this as a safe place, and it mostly is, things occurring in the mother's body will have effects on the growing puppies she's carrying.

The most notable of these, particularly when it comes to thinking about reactive dogs, is how stress in the mother can be 'passed on' to the puppies in the uterus. Cortisol, the stress hormone, is released into the bloodstream when any animal is under stress. Obviously, in the case of pregnant mothers, nutrients and oxygen in their blood are also passed to their progeny via blood vessels in the placenta and umbilical cord and so some of this cortisol can pass through to the puppies. This can result in pups that are born prepared to live in a stressful world, and prone to reacting more than a situation might actually require. Is this the fault of the human that becomes the guardian to that puppy? Of course not. But when a puppy is born primed to react to stress in a way that could be considered excessive, this is not started with a blank canvas.

Finn the day we brought him home. Very much not a blank canvas by this point!

'If the portrait is flawed then look to the artist!'

Another question is which artist to blame? Do you blame the person on the other end of the lead? I suppose there is a chance that they might be a bad owner, who haven't raised and treated their dog right. On the other hand, they might be a dog walker or canine coach, called in to help a desperate dog guardian who accepts that they don't have the time and knowledge to fill all of their dog's needs, but who hasn't really got to know a new dog to them properly yet. They might be the dog's latest guardian after a string that have done things wrong. Then again, they may have done everything that they possibly could right, but been overruled by a combination of nature and nurture - genetics, epigenetics, experiences or lack of through nobody's fault, a single incident of the dog being spooked or attacked or any number of potential situations could have happened.

What of the dogs who unfortunately miss out on socialisation periods due to illness or injury? Recovering from surgery that requires a period of heavily restricted rest? Whose fault can that be proclaimed to be?

What of the dogs who, whether as adults or youngsters, are minding their own business on a walk and are spooked by a loud noise that scares the hell out of them. Or, much worse, are attacked by an out of control off lead dog, leading them to leap to defending themselves whenever they see another dog approaching? It can take just one of these events to lead to a lifetime of having to work through issues. Single event learning is very real - as a picture I saw a little while back put it so beautifully, it can take a second to instil fear. It can take a lifetime to deal with that fear. I'm really struggling to see how that could possibly be the fault of the 'artist', the guardian.

It can of course be argued that breeders have a big part to play. Obviously the puppy farm type breeders turn out puppies that have a massive chance of being fearful dogs, with their mothers being kept in stressful, unhealthy conditions, little to no attempt at any kind of socialisation or habituation to normal, everyday items and situations, and likely minimal healthcare, leaving the pups feeling ill and even more stressed. The onus is on the person finding a puppy to make sure that they source from the very best breeders they can find, if getting a puppy is what they want to do. This removes income from the puppy farmers and, as that is their only reason for breeding, can help to cut down on the numbers treating dogs in this abominable fashion. Even then, nothing is guaranteed, as dogs develop throughout their lifetime, becoming ever more a product of their experiences. Bad experiences are not necessarily the fault of the guardian - see the comment on single event learning etc. above.

These types of comments are least useful of all when talking about dogs that have been rescued and adopted. It's quite possible that any issues they may have are the fault of someone in their history, but not the person on the other end of the lead, which is who statements like this point towards as being to blame. I have a deep disdain for these kinds of blanket statements anyway, as seen in a previous entry, ''There's no such thing as a bad dog.' Who's to blame?'

Living with a fearful dog is not easy at the best of times. Incredibly rewarding when they give you their trust, yes. Never easy. These kinds of careless, throwaway, over-simplistic comments from other animal people, the kinds you would hope would try and be understanding as we attempt to do our very best for our dogs only make matters worse for the people trying like crazy to find the positives in life with their complicated dogs. They are the kind of things that are what make reactive dog guardians feel so very alone and helpless. Trust me, many of us in that position have spent plenty of time blaming ourselves, regardless of the actual situation surrounding our dogs' 'problems'. We can beat ourselves up enough about things that aren't actually our fault; we don't need your help to end up in tears.

If you find yourself agreeing with the statement, please read the articles on this blog 'The emotional toll of reactivity' and 'Things I wish I'd known before having a reactive dog' and see what those of us that share our lives with these tricky, draining, but so rewarding dogs that need us to be strong for them are dealing with. See what your completely unwarranted and unrequested judgement is doing, and how you are sabotaging the work that we are trying to do with our dogs to help them live with their 'flaws'. If you're one of those people that thinks their dog is friendly and so should be able to run up to other dogs, particularly those on leads, read 'Why loose dogs can be a problem' and make sure you have a rock solid recall coached with your dog.

One more thing - my dog is not flawed. He is complicated. He is needy. He is defensive. He is SCARED. None of those things are flaws. They are not things I'd wish for my dog to be or to have as part of his character. Then again, they make him, HIM. What is he? The most amazingly beautiful soul who loves his family and trusts us completely. It makes me sad that other people don't get to see that side of him, because they don't know him. Guess what? If you don't KNOW my dog, don't JUDGE my dog. You don't know me and the massive amounts of effort I have gone to to learn, to educate myself, and to try and show him that the world is a safer place than he views it to be. Not a great quality video, but this is Finn, reactive to dogs and people he doesn't know in a very loud 'Go Away!' fashion, at home with his family. This is the side of my dog that very few people get to see. There are no flaws here, just a much loved and very loving member of the family having a cuddle on the sofa with his dad.

If you think I have no idea what I'm talking about, I wrote a book (since this blog was originally published I've now written several which can be found HERE). It spends a chunk of its time bobbling around in the bestseller list in its category on Amazon UK (at the time of writing this article originally, it was sitting at number 2). Buy it, it's not bad. 😂😂 (Also now available as an ebook at other digital stores!)

And breathe...

Apologies for having got a little ranty there, but this kind of thing is the entire reason for this blog developing the way it is, it's the reason I study so hard and it's the reason why I wrote 'Fight or Fright?' in an attempt to give those dog guardians some kind of armour against the slings and arrows of outrageous bullshit* from people that don't have a clue!

*I apologise unreservedly to Shakespeare for stealing his line so horribly! 😂

Individuality. It's important.

The guest essay that I submitted to Dogs Today magazine has now been shared over 3000 times at the time of writing this. I'm beyond thrilled that the message is getting out to so many people that they are not alone, and that help and support is available for them, just as it is for their fearful dogs. I am rather bemused by some of the responses though, as I touched on in the blog entry 'Your experience is NOT my experience!' In these responses I have been told that I must put my dog on Prozac, must check out particular trainers, must do this, must do that.

I keep seeing this picture of my gorgeous boy all over the place!

I am always dubious when people start effusively recommending that I HAVE to contact a certain trainer. The global nature of the internet means that these people are often outside the UK but curiosity often drives me to check them out. I had a quick search online for the latest miracle worker and, sure enough, the very first thing I found from them was a video demonstrating the proper usage of prong and e-collars. The very last equipment that I am going to put on a scared dog!

I appreciate that many people that read the articles I write describing that awful lost feeling that I had in the beginning think that represents the place that Finn and I are in now, and they think they're offering help. Sadly, the trainers that some of them are pointing me in the direction of aren't offering help in the truest sense of the word. They are not even offering true behaviour modification. At best, they're teaching guardians how to suppress their dogs' behaviours and that is a very dangerous path to go down. Not only is the fear that the dog feels still in place, the dog will feel that they cannot turn to their guardian for support by communicating their discomfort early on. Instead, they will bottle it up for as long as they can until they can take no more. That never ends well for anyone, human or canine. Particularly for the canine involved.

Don't get me wrong, medication definitely has a place in the treatment of anxiety in some animals. It's not something I'm going to consider off the back of a comment on the internet from a person that doesn't know me, my dog, what techniques we've been working on, the progress we've made, or how the prescribing of medicines for animals may work in my country. It's something that would be embarked on after a consultation with my vet. We have actually already had the chemical help conversation, and my vet agrees with me that medicines are not indicated for Finn. He reacts to anything new and novel, but improves with repeated exposure. That means it's my job to introduce him to these new things in as calm a way as possible, and let him absorb and think about what he's seen by giving him time to chill out and relax afterwards.

The same goes for the person that stated I need to have his thyroid checked, because that sorted their dog out instantly. I'm pleased it worked for the person concerned, but that doesn't mean it's the answer for every single fearful, reactive dog out there. My stock advice for any behaviour change in a dog, whether that's reactivity based or not, is that they should have a check over by a vet. Dogs are by nature stoic. They don't show pain or illness if they can possibly avoid it. Being uncomfortable/in pain or feeling ill is going to have an effect on their mental and emotional state however, and that will have to show somewhere at some point. If in any doubt at all whether your dog is hurting or sick, consult a vet and at least then you can eliminate medical and health problems as causes.

Something else I've seen in the past day or two has really bothered me as well: the idea that nobody should ever rehome a dog because of reactivity. It's come up in a couple of comments, and it's something that I don't like to see.

Let me be clear - in my opinion, people that abandon dogs are scum. There was a heartbreaking video a few weeks ago of a dog being let out of a car and a toy thrown, then the complete arsehole got back in his car and went to drive away. The dog got back to the car before he moved off, and the confusion and distress was clear to see in that grainy video, and it was soul destroying to see. Happily for that dog, rescue came and I believe there have been several offers of homes. People that put their dogs into rescues for frivolous reasons are a little better in that they've made some effort to give the dog some sort of chance, but rescues all over the country are overflowing. In a lot of situations, just a little bit of work, training, management or compromise is needed to make it all come together, but these people can't be bothered. There are then the people that don't see any way to be able to keep their dog and are trying to give them the best chance. It's not ideal, but often is a highly charged emotional decision that they may well feel distraught about and, again, they are trying to give the dog a chance of a happy life.

Living with a reactive dog is hard. It's not something that most of us signed up for when we went looking for our canine family members. It's tiring and draining and emotionally incredibly difficult. Simply put, not everyone is cut out to be able to deal with it. I'm fortunate in that I can set my life up in a way that works for Finn. I don't have to put him in day care, or have a dog walker come in. I don't have to put him into situations he finds hard through lack of choice. There are many people that work outside of the home and so have restrictions that I just don't have. The triggers their dogs have might mean that the dog can't find peace properly, even at home. Grandparents whose dog starts to react to children, for one example. For the safety and mental health of all concerned, sometimes a well researched rehoming can be best for all concerned.

Here's what I wrote about rehoming in 'Fight or Fright?'*: 'A quick note on rehoming: this book is concentrating on the idea of working to improve the relationships and life for the fearful dog to be able to remain in his home with his guardians. There will doubtless be occasions when the guardian feels that, for whatever reason, they can no longer cope with the dog’s difficulties and surrender them to a rescue. So long as the dog’s well-being is safeguarded and they go to a responsible rescue, fosterer or new guardian, this is not a decision to be demonised. Living with a reactive dog is not easy by any means, and is not what the vast majority of dog guardians signed up for when bringing a furry family member into their homes. Changing the behaviour and mentality behind the reactivity is not a quick or easy process, and not something that every dog guardian will be able to follow through on without the emotional turbulence affecting them. Many that surrender their dogs in these circumstances feel bitter disappointment and grief at having to give up on their dog, but that they had no other choice. Again, so long as the dog is safe and well cared for that decision could be the best for all concerned, rather than both parties feeling worse as the problems intensify. If the guardian is unable to follow a behaviour modification programme that helps the dog there will be no improvement, and quite possibly the problem will become greater. In these cases, the guardian that realises this early on and rehomes the dog to a person or rescue that will be able to help the dog can only be praised for having the self-awareness and lack of ego to put the dog’s welfare above all else. It has to be stressed that the right rescue, rehoming centre or new home must be carefully researched and located. A good rescue will pair the reactive dog with a fosterer or new home that will be well placed to help the dog feel more secure with life.'

And so to the point of this article (at last, I know. I'm sorry, but this one has been tricky to write without heading off at tangents). Individuality. Every single person and dog is an individual, and needs to be treated as an individual. Everyone is different. Every person is different. Every dog is different. Every reactive dog's reactivity is going to be different. How they respond to any form of behaviour modification will be different. Some dogs will respond much faster than others, some will take much longer to show any kind of significant progress. It's important that we, the reactive dog guardians, come together to support each other and maybe offer thoughts and ideas. It's another thing entirely to proclaim that a guardian 'must' do this, that or the other. This is counter-productive, reductive of other guardians' experiences and knowledge, and shows little to no empathy. As reactive dog guardians, we know that empathy is one of the most important things that others can show us, to help us on our journey.

On the subject of empathy, a new feature has been added to the Blue Merle Minion Facebook page. We now have a group called 'Blue Merle Safe Space' and I invite you all to come and join this closed group. It's a place where we can gather to offer each other that empathy and support, have a vent about the bad days, celebrate the good days, and swap ideas and information on how we can make things easier for us and our fearful dogs.

*'Fight or Fright? A Reactive Dog Guardian's Handbook' is available on Amazon worldwide. The link here is to Amazon.co.uk but the book can be found in other Amazon stores by searching the title or author name (Jay Gurden).