JULY 31, 2022

I was working with my buddy Kamino at a park this morning and two beautiful canines came down the hill pulling their human. It was the best part of the day and the dogs couldn’t contain their excitement about the adventure ahead. The human had a hard time getting them to wait, shouting for them to sit while he picked up their poop and took pictures of them. For me and my buddy who startles easily, the hoopla made for a welcomed training opportunity.

We stayed out of the way so they could get into the park, but they never entered. As soon as they arrived, they left again, this time the human pulled the dogs.

I cried for those pits today. I cried for them because they got tricked. They will be expected to behave without having their bodies or brains exercised by the person who signed up to do it. But they won’t be able to behave, and two beautiful good dogs, begging for their needs to be met, will take the heat. It’s not fair.

That, in a nutshell, is why I started Walk with Me.

Nevertheless, please say hello to Kamino. He’s an especially good boy who needs extra love, understanding, and patience after being in the shelter. We are working through reactivity to certain noises and freaky people, but he is so smart and eager to please, and he’s doing great. I love you, Kamino, you best boy!!!

AUGUST 6, 2022

Aussie on a log

AUGUST 9, 2022

People say they love dogs, but sometimes they mean they love dogs who meet their humanized expectations of what they’ve decided all dogs should be.

Canines are individuals of an entirely different species, a species that we’ve domesticated and bred to be our friends, protectors, partners, guardians. While bipeds require words to communicate with each other, the canine only needs body language. Growling, barking, showing teeth, and biting are all part of their native tongue. We are the ones who judge it. Some dogs have been bred to have certain traits favorable to the work they’ve done for generations. Dogs are animals with different instincts and rules, who complement and elevate our humanity, and they’re misunderstood by many.

Jax and I tend to draw a crowd when we’re out walking. His dashing good looks get him a lot of attention. Kids are enamored by him and Jax is eager to meet as many beings as he can.

Awe-struck kids: “WHOA!! Does he bite?”

Me: “yep! But he won’t bite you if you respect him.”

Kids:

Then ensues a lesson with the kids, who are now quite attentive, and Jax gets a lot of treats. I like to think of us as the wacky duo at the park offering unsolicited in-services on the canine rules of engagement to our unsuspecting youth. It takes a village!

The truth is that one would have to do unthinkable things to get Jax to bite, and then I’d say they deserved it. Jaxy’s former family loved and socialized him as a puppy, raised him with babies, and respected his physical being—he never had to protect himself from them. He came with no emotional scars; confident. Jax is a husky and was bred to pull light weight long distances and to withstand extremely cold temperatures.

Kamino, extra best boy in all the land, is a mini Australian shepherd—also a working breed, whose sensitivity to motion and sound has helped farmers protect their land and their assets for decades. Included in the package deal of herding skills, the breed uses their mouths to do part of their job. Working Aussies are trained to nip at the ankles of livestock to move them in the direction they’re supposed to go, and without established rules, they’ll herd people too.

Kamino is highly intelligent, loyal and eager to work, but he’s lacking confidence in himself and new to trusting humans. He’s insecure about his existence, threatened by oncoming/incoming strangers, erratic motion and the door, sometimes protecting himself and his space by nipping at people who violate his boundaries. If you’ve always been wrong, everything feels threatening. Kamino’s instincts, the very instincts someone bred into him, often come out in unfavorable ways when we don’t protect or advocate for our dogs. Kamino has innate skills which could be honed and revered, but without any guidance, they become “behaviors” for which he is at fault and punished. This begins the breaking of a spirit. Crazy Town is no stranger to hurting souls.

Hooch had a broken spirit too, and we all felt bad for him because he shrunk and was overtly pitiful and he didn’t bite anyone. Kamino deserves the same compassion because Kamino feels just as wrong, just as insecure about his existence, just as tiny as Hooch once did, but he has a different way of showing it — one that he is genetically predisposed to, is perfectly natural in the canine lexicon, but that the human ego takes personally and labels. It is a symptom of being a forgotten dog.

Kamino is brilliant and he’s happy and busy in foster care. He spends his mornings in nature with the mentors. He kisses me when he’s in my lap, he tilts his head and smiles at me and asks to earn treats — he’ll offer up every trick he knows until I agree. I think he loves hearing he’s a good boy, but the cheese doesn’t hurt. Kam enjoys going for walks and can sometimes be seen protecting local businesses. If you go by Raven HiFi at the right time, for instance, you might see him in the window, on the job, overjoyed to put himself to use. But he just looks like a cute, calm dog now, he doesn’t react, doesn’t even bark anymore… unless you pound on the glass.

The boy has stolen my heart and every day he’s a little more comfortable in his own skin. I’m as excited to tell his come-up story as I am honored to know him.

I love you, Kamino!!!

SEPTEMBER 10, 2022

Crazy Town was at capacity for some time, but in early July I met a 5 year old mini Australian shepherd who was having trouble in the shelter and nipping at people. Thanks to Croix The Croix The Very Best Boy (now Roy,) I have a special love for herders and knew how to meet such a dog. Kamino and I were fast friends.

While it’s true that I formally signed the contract and took Kamino on his freedom ride, my friend Brooke is the one who fostered him.

At the time, my baby potatoes were positive for coccidiosis and I was immersed in a loop of medical care and decon procedures. I felt my Crazy Town was not ready to receive a dog who needed to rest and decompress from shelter life, and I was just sure every canine was about to get sick and the orphanage was on the brink of a diarrhea pandemic.

Brooke, who’s had an empty lap since his beloved dog, Dewey, died a little over a year ago, said “bring him to me” after hearing of my dilemma. I gratefully accepted his offer to begin the foster. We decided I’d take Kamino to Crazy Town when things became less turbulent, and until then I’d visit every day…sometimes twice.

Kamino and Brooke hit it off. It was as though Kamino saw in him a savior, and Kam, as Brooke began to call him, made the kind, bearded man his person immediately. I’m still the mom after all, so on their first night I got them settled in, gave too many instructions, and then I strangely went back to Crazy Town without my foster—this dog that some people would label “a biter.”

But … you know I checked up.

In the first report, they were “playing chase.”

In the second, a selfie of the pair in bed accompanied by Brooke’s observation that Kamimo is affectionate and playful, a description of the morning poop, how our best boy was doing on the leash, and an update that he hadn’t eaten breakfast.

Kamino settled immediately into Brooke’s lifestyle, and the biped reveled in having a dog around. In the evening, Kam would initiate playtime with his new friend, and that came to signal the end of the workday. At night he couldn’t resist bedtime snuggles with Brooke, but at lights out it was time to work, to keep a watchful eye from his sentry post in the big window downstairs while his human slept safely above. And at the first sign Brooke was awake in the morning, Kamino was by his side, ready to greet the day.

It didn’t take long to see that Kamino is loyal, eager to please, agile, intelligent, playful, snuggly, and FULL of personality. He dishes out butt wiggles and kisses and manufactures joy for the ones he loves. He is a true thief of hearts and he stole Brooke’s as fast as he stole mine. He also came with a few “behaviors” we needed to understand, so….we studied.

We noted on our first walk that Kam didn’t come with leash manners and he was reactive to oncoming (perceived) threats. He was suspicious of everything that moved and he was so busy looking for bad guys that he forgot to sniff! I knew we’d need to work on that first. One stroll doing engagement exercises and it clicked: “OH! You want me to ignore all that crap and you’ll pay me for it?!” After that, Kam was a delight on the leash. He is a quick study!

Early in training, he reacted to a kid who came bounding around a corner, moving erratically as she approached us. Kam barked her off. The little girl said “he’s scary” and I said, he’s SCARED. Kamino was not wrong to correct her; she was rude! But my job is to help Kamino succeed in our imperfect world, so after that, I put my body between him and all approaching disrespect and that spoke volumes to our misunderstood boy. Brooke did the same.

The fact is that Kamino doesn’t want to know everyone; he’s not that kind of dog. He trusted us to protect him from the awful people and we enjoyed many nice walks together. He and Brooke leashed up several times every day, each walk with a great report.

Brooke hadn’t looked in his “dog walk bin” since Dewey died and he giggled as he pulled it from the shelf one day, motioning for me to appreciate what he’d discovered within its contents: all the empty poop bag rolls which collected there over the cairn terrier’s long and wonderful life. He shared with me their old morning ritual, that Dewey would sit on the step while Brooke filled his back left pocket with poop bags and his front right pocket with “cookies.” Then they were out the door and off to start their day in beautiful downtown Fredericksburg.

Kamino fell right into the old morning rhythm, waiting on the floor just below Dewey’s step while Brooke retrieved the bin to start the ritual that happens right …before … the walk! Brooke seemed elated to be back on dog time, just as I was when I got my first foster who had diarrhea and needed a mom. I could see Kam probably wouldn’t make it to Crazy Town.

Kamino spent his days at work with Brooke in his shop where I’d visit and get to know him and take care of mom things like getting the mats out of his ear fur, clipping dingleberries from his butt fur, and figuring him out. I noted Kamino’s safe bubble is of critical importance around people he doesn’t know or trust. We learned early that he resorted to nipping at strangers who threatened his personal space and that he is highly sensitive to motion. He’s a 5-year-old herder with shrewd instincts which never got to put to work as they were intended. This is the result.

Brooke was a natural protector and advocate, and he never asked Kamino to be someone he wasn’t. He set him up to succeed in every environment. Each day, before members of Motoworks trickled into the shop, they’d read instructions Brooke posted on the door. Eventually, he had a plate of treats at the entry and everyone was asked to throw one to Kamino and ignore him as they passed by. It’s hard for dog lovers to follow such instructions, but they did it, and with the purest hearts. Some of them even made friends with Kam over time, but Kamino never loved them the way he loved Brooke and me.

In the mornings the boys walked early. Sometimes we’d meet Ellen and Jax at the park for play dates, hikes, and slogging through the mud. Kamino enjoyed fun with the pack, but he belonged to Brooke and, to some extent, me. I suspect it was during our trips to the park that Brooke saw a need in Kam that he felt unequipped to fulfill long-term. I imagined him experiencing a familiar heartbreak when he realized Kamino’s needs exceeded the limits of his city life and that adopting him, which Brooke was inclined to do, felt selfish. Sure, Kamino might have had a decent life with Brooke, but decent is below the mark; it’s average. Brooke keeps higher standards, and he believed Kamino deserved more. In this case, loving meant letting go. It takes emotional courage to fall in love with a dog knowing you’ll be abdicated by a better candidate, but Brooke didn’t ever guard his heart. There was no ego attached to his love; he was in it for Kamino. He was as devoted to Kam as the canine was devoted to him.

Brooke was honored to be in Kamino’s tiny circle of trust and I was too, but it comes with a big responsibility. If Kamino nipped to defend himself, I’d bite to protect Kam, but Brooke’s approach was a little…softer. We scrutinized adoption applications and despite what I felt was a decent pre-screen, we had our first meet and greet, which, let’s just say, brought oodles of life lessons and I hope the universe led those folks to just the right cat.

During the “meet and greet post-mortem,” it occurred to me that Brooke gave Kamino an advantage in that our boy was NOT destitute and desperate for any ol’ home. We weren’t looking for just anyone to adopt him — we were looking for a lifestyle upgrade and humans who would love and protect Kam as we did. Brooke was in no hurry to say goodbye to Kamino. He could have stayed a year in foster if that’s how long it took to find the right home, so the next wave of applicants received a carefully written email that candidly described Kamino and HIS needs. I asked them to reply if they felt they met the criteria hoping to intimidate everyone but good candidates, and it worked a treat. The next applicant who was particularly interested in Kam’s medical history didn’t even respond.

But there was this one applicant… She made it past the revised pre-screen, and her response to my email was more than I could have hoped. She told me all about her former (herding breed) dogs and her lifestyle, and she just couldn’t be deterred; she was confident. “Come on, Ani, gimme a chance!” is how the email read. Her name is Mary and she’s exactly who I was calling; she found us. I knew it after we spoke at length on the phone. She learned all about Kamino and I learned all about her spirit and depth for love. Mary lives with her 92-year-old dad, and they were eager to know Kamino.

On the day we were scheduled to meet halfway, it was pouring rain. I’d been feeling in my gut that Kamino would be more likely to shine if we traveled to their house just past Richmond, and Mary welcomed the idea. Brooke agreed it was the right thing to do but was unable to make the reschedule the following day. He realized it might be his last night of playing chase with Kamino, and he texted me about how it felt—the opposing feelings that accompany the impending departure of a dog with whom he fell in love. The happy-for-them/sad-for-you feeling that I have to believe is ubiquitous among fosters. The comfort comes from knowing the adopters offer a BETTER life, but so does the hurt. And there’s a little proleptic grief as the mind imagines the absence of routine, the handing over, the letting go of a dog you vowed to protect. I understood.

There’s much to love about Kamino’s family, my favorite being their ability to love and accept him as he is. I feel confident they deserve a dog as special as he and I know they will respect him and advocate for him and appreciate ALL that he is. I am certain he’ll keep them smiling until their cheeks hurt. It was a meet and greet I’ll never forget, and not just because Mary fixed me lunch and made my dead heart feel soft.

Kamino laid at Tom’s feet as Mary shared with me that they’d fostered some dogs, but none of them bonded with her dad. Tom is a kind and caring man who met Kamino perfectly: he let Kamino meet him. “He’ll meet me when he’s ready,” he told Mary, music to my ears. During lunch, Tom gave me instructions about how to get home and he hugged me after walking me out to my car. I got on the interstate, the gift bag from Mary in Kamino’s seat, and I lost it thinking about the kindness in our world; beauty I would have never known if it weren’t for dogs. Mary nurtured us both. She loved two labeled dogs that day, and I knew for sure that Kamino was safe.

In the weeks since adoption, Mary and I have become friends. Kamino (who now goes by Polo) is doing GREAT and I have found new opportunities for supporting special needs dogs and their extraordinary families. It won’t be the first time Kamino has made me improve my programs! Mary has shown exceptional judgment and is excelling as a special needs dog mom, and I feel like she’s a gift from the heavens.

It’s quiet when Brooke’s shop door opens now. Members enter confused about the absence of the note, the bark, and the plate of treats, yet they are happy to know Kamino found a home among on-earth angels. They ask the inevitable “are you gonna [foster] again, Brooke?” but I notice they’re subtly dumbfounded by the change in atmosphere—they can all feel the dip in energy. They’re taking part in the grief we feel when a canine leaves, looking around at what’s left—the water bowl, the toys, the cushy bed—evidence of the foster. The loveseat that once belonged to Dewey which became an integral snuggling spot/backstop for Brooke and Kam’s end-of-the-workday game is now merely furniture, and the shop is how it was before it met this best boy. Except it’s not. For a little while, the old normal feels a little empty, a little out of rhythm, a little uncomfortable.

The comfort is in knowing that Kamino and his new family are experiencing precisely the opposite.