Naughty Dog's Day

Gully's Big Weekend

Well, not so big to a "normal" dog, but pretty big for him.  He got to meet his new friend, Reggie, another rescued Leonberger, at Riverside Park in Ann Arbor.  It was snowing, and he looked so handsome with a light layer of snow dusting his face.  While Reggie had herself a fine time running and sniffing and playing with abandon, Gulliver walked quietly, although he seemed fairly content.  He even approached Al and Diana several times.  Just a quick sniff of their hand, but it was him going to them, which was pretty big.  We walked until he started to act overwhelmed, losing the little cool he has, tucking his tail.  Then I loaded him up and took him home.  I wanted him to have a happy memory so that he would look forward to another visit to the park with his friends.

He was pretty tired when we got home, and couldn't wait to get to his bed.  It snowed pretty hard on and off throughout the day, and Gulliver doesn't like anything to change so it just wasn't his kind of weather.  He has a hard time adjusting to things most dogs take for granted.  Like a previously bare sidewalk which is now covered with snow.

On Sunday I started adding a couple of things to my approach-click-treat routine.  I went to the dollar store and bought a variety of sunglasses in different shapes with varying lens color.  I also bought a couple of hats.  Now when we're working I sometimes approach him with no sunglasses or hat, sometimes with either a hat or sunglasses, and sometimes I wear both.  It feels a little silly, but it's a good way to accustom him to such bizarre human concepts as sun protection with someone he already knows.  It's something he's going to encounter in his every day life, and he needs to be desensitized to them. 

Much of the work I'm now doing with Gully is, technically, a concept frequently abbreviated to d/cc - desensitize and counter-condition.  It's a fancy term (dog trainers seem to love their fancy terms!) for a simple action, and can be used in many situations where your dog is fearful.  All it means, essentially, is that you gradually accustom a dog to something which scares it and then work in a reward so that it begins to look forward to, or at least tolerate, interactions with the formerly scary thing. Since Gully is, essentially, afraid of everything, it's going to take a long time. We can't work on everything at once, so some things he's just going to have to suffer through for awhile.  A simple example of d/cc would go something like this:  You have a dog who, for some reason, is afraid of stop signs.  Instead of forcing him to approach the sign, you would take him to a point where he notices it, but hasn't started to exhibit much fear.  Over a course of days, you would approach the sign until you could walk right up to it without the dog showing fear.  That's the desensitization part. If at the same time you conditioned your dog to a clicker, and every time you worked with him on approaching the sign you clicked him and treated him, eventually he would start to associate the sign with tasty treats, and look forward to seeing it, since it means something good is coming his way. That's the counter-conditioning part.  It's elegant, easy, and fairly non-stressful for the dog when done correctly.  It can be applied to many situations. 

My dog Tug, who's been with me since he was three weeks old, is such an easy dog to desensitize to scary things.  On one of our walks a while back, there was a large football helmet which had been a prop on a float, sitting near the sidewalk.  Tug took one look at it and his eyes got big and he rocked back on his haunches in fear.  Talking to him in a soothing voice, I walked up to it and put my hand on it. That was enough for him. He walked right up, gave it a good sniff, and that was that. Subsequent walks brought no reaction other than a desire to maybe lift his leg on it (luckily "Not There!" is a command he's well versed in). This is the combination (and culmination) of an outgoing dog who's been trained with love and care using positive methods.  I would never ask him to approach something like that if I thought there was any way possible it could suddenly move or otherwise startle him.  His trust in me is extraordinary and not to be taken lightly.

The really good news for me this weekend was that when I took Gulliver out for his mid-morning walk on Sunday, he walked right up to my truck.  I like to think he was hoping we'd go back to the park and so, of course, soon, we shall.  At this point, especially since he wants so little, whatever Gully wants, Gully gets.

Gully: Being OK 101

I love that name for Gully's training program. Gully's (and my) friend Diana came up with it, and it just sums up our goal perfectly. She's got a way with words, that woman!

If my dog Tug is, as my friend Wendy says, the James Dean of dogs, I think Chester is the Gregory Peck.  He's a sweet, handsome, black lab, with an easy going disposition who gets along with everyone.  He's calm and easy, and I'm lucky to have him staying with me this week because I think he will be the perfect walking companion for Gully.  I thought maybe walking with another dog, especially since it's been windy here the last day or two, might ease some of Gulliver's fears when he's out in the open.

So last night, after the other dogs left and things settled down a little, I put Gully's harness on, leashed up Chester, and off we went.  At first, Gully wasn't sure why the heck Chester was going along with us.  He didn't know where to walk (in front of me, as usual, or behind me), he kept throwing Chester little sideways glances, like a kid who wishes his friend hadn't tagged along.  But then he slowly started to watch Chester.  Became a little less spooked.  I'm hoping that if we continue to walk together, they'll become friends.  Chester tried to initiate a meet and greet, but Gully just wasn't interested. He wasn't the least bit aggressive, just behaved more or less like he does with people.  He ignored him. Still though, I think it's a positive thing, and I've learned Gully is a bit of a copy cat.  He could find worse dogs to emulate than the stellar Chester.

In keeping with our gradual exposure to new situations, I went out last night and purchased a baby gate.  When Gully first arrived, he had the whole dog room to himself.  It was the easiest place to keep him where I could control exactly how much he was exposed to. That's not an option for the long run, so I moved his bed into the office a couple of days ago.  The first day I just closed the door and let him get used to the commotion of a group of dogs who are perfectly at home in a place called "Naughty Dog".  Last night, I set up the gate so that he still has his "space" but can view and interact a little bit with the other dogs. I figured it would be a week before I could get him to walk through it. Fortunately, he must have had experience with a similar gate at his previous home, and he's been willing to walk right through. One less thing to worry about!

As far as our clicker work goes, Gully has gotten so he enjoys our sessions.  He likes it when I sit on the floor to pet, click, and treat him.  He likes the "approach and treat" game.  He's still apprehensive when approached outside of our sessions, and frequently won't eat the treat I give him if he's not sure what the outcome of my approach will be (Is it time for a walk?  Is she going to brush me? Is it going to be something bad?).  He worries. What can I say?  Overcoming that apprehension on general approach is one of my next goals. 

I discovered that if I am in the dog room alone with Gully and access to the office (and, heaven forbid, his bed!) is closed off, he paces and frets a little bit, but eventually there he is, parked against my leg. I would like to start rewarding him for this behavior.  It's a very good thing for him to understand, that next to me is a safe place to be.  The problem is that he's stressed.  He won't eat a treat under those circumstances.  Our progress in this direction will be very slow if I can't find a reward that makes him want to repeat the behavior both on a more frequent basis and because it makes him happy.  Right now he only does it because there's no place else he's not afraid to be. I want him to do it because he likes it there. So I ran down to Bivouac, hands-down my favorite outdoor goods store in Ann Arbor, and purchased a couple of squeeze tubes.  If you're not familiar with these, they are open on the bottom so you can put things like peanut butter into them, then close that end off.  The other end has a cap with a smaller opening.  Tonight I'm going to once again load a clicker, this time using peanut butter in the squeeze tube, since this is something Gulliver seems to really like.  Now that I have an easy way to handle it, I'm hoping he likes it enough that he'll take even a little bit when he's where I want him to be.  If he won't eat the peanut butter, my next option is either a can of Kong Stuffing or squeeze cheese.  I'm afraid the sound of the can will scare him, but when I go up to the pet store tonight, I'm going to grab some, just in case.

Gulliver's Progress, Training and Life

Halfway through Gulliver's second week, he is starting to settle in.  He's developed a habit, when something spooks him, of backing toward me and pressing his body against my legs.  The fabled Leonberger Lean. The reason they're sometimes referred to as "Lean-on-bergers".  It was a very happy moment for me. It was the first time since he arrived that he had given me even the smallest inkling that he was bonding with me. 

In order to keep a routine for him, something that is quite important to most dogs, and especially to a dog like Gulliver, we walk the same route every time we go out.  Yesterday as we were rounding the corner toward home, he decided he wanted to keep going.  He walked partway down the block, then stopped, looked around, turned back and headed home.  At least he wanted to explore, even if just a little bit. For a dog with such fear issues, this is actually a pretty big step.  With a dog like Gully, you take your victories wherever you can find them, and celebrate each one.

Merrick's Grammy's Pot Pie.  One of the most ridiculous names I've heard for a dog food, but Gully loves the stuff and will even eat it with some warm water added. It's kind of like that other food that makes gravy, just a much better quality.  It's a high quality food, with a reasonable protein content (23%).  High protein diets have been shown to exacerbate behavioral issues such as aggression and shyness in some dogs, so that was an important consideration when choosing a higher quality diet than that which he had been eating.

But that's the boring stuff.  The fun stuff is the training. When approaching and talking to Gully, we don't make a lot of direct eye contact, which many dog's regard as a threat (or, given a wildy different personality than this boy, a challenge).  We don't approach him dead on, but try to come in a little bit sideways, again to be less threatening.  Any visitors must remove sunglasses, hats, and big coats, and only a lucky few have been allowed to pet him. It's all about making him feel comfortable and not threatened in any way.  This is part of his training.  To learn that he won't be cornered and made to feel defensive.  Every day, several times a day, I sit next to him, petting him and while I am petting, he gets frequent clicks and treats.  He's the type of dog who chews even a small piece of food to death, so it's slow going.  We also practice approaches.  I walk toward him, pet him, and while I am petting him, I click and treat.  We repeat that 7 - 10 times in each session, or until he begins to be disinterested in his rewards.  I've already seen improvement. He now looks toward me with a relaxed, open face, not making any move that might be construed as happily anticipating some attention, but at least he no longer looks afraid. Another little victory. Now that he is more relaxed about being petted, I've started teaching him to "target".  This simply means that when I hold my hand up, he touches it with his nose.  Right now, it's very easy.  I put a little peanut butter on my hand (which he refused at first, but now thinks is pretty tasty) and hold it up.  When he sniffs it, click/treat.  Eventually, I'll expect him to touch my hand whether it's low or high, easy to reach or a little bit harder. Later, we can build on this to teach him some other behaviors.  For right now, it's just something he can succeed at easily.  Another little confidence booster.

On Monday, Gulliver visited the vet.  He seems to enjoy a car ride, but I'm not sure it was his ideal destination! I'm lucky enough to have a fantastic veterinarian who not only trains her dogs extensively, she has also done a good bit of work with rescue dogs and has a thorough understanding of fearful dogs.  She examined Gulliver and drew blood to check for heartworm and general organ function.  We talked about his current state and whether it was better to give him some relief using medication or just keep working with him.  Given his extreme fear and withdrawl, and the success of many dogs before him, he was prescribed a low dose of an anti-depressant, with the idea that once he had made some progress, and had a little more confidence, he would be weaned off of it.  The bloodwork was necessary to make sure that his internal organs were up to snuff and would be able to metabolize the medication properly.  It's a difficult choice to make, and definitely not the right choice in most circumstances.  This type of medication is a tool to be used when a dog is in such a fearful state that not medicating him when safe alternatives are available is more detrimental than the alternative. It isn't a magic pill.  You can't rely on it to solve the problem.  Consistent, careful, kind work still needs to be done every day with the goal in mind that medication is a crutch and not a cure. I don't really like it.  I prefer the natural method, but a homeopathic remedy formulated just for him did absolutely nothing and being with him, watching his fear and how hard life is for him, medication seemed the lesser of the two evils and also the kindest choice.  This type of medication takes approximately a month to see full effect.  After being on it just a short time, Gulliver has actually already changed, even if ever so slightly.  He's slightly more comfortable, slightly less reserved. A good indication that this is the correct choice for him? Time will tell.

Hemi's First Week: Training

From now on, Hemi will be referred to as Gulliver or Gully.  Don't be confused, it's the same dog!

In order to move forward with Gulliver's training, I need to have something he wants - a reward.  Toys aren't it.  He will play with the toys I have given him, but not with me, only when I leave the room.  It's got to be food, because praise doesn't mean much to him now.  For praise to be a significant motivator, your dog has to care whether or not you're pleased.  Gully doesn't.  Yet.  Plus, the last thing I'm going to do is speak to him in a voice that sounds like anything other than approval at this point, so how is he supposed to differentiate? So food it is, but what does he like? He's been pretty picky so far, turning his nose up at just about anything other than a bowl of dry kibble. I start trying some different things.  In the end, he likes steak (well done, please), toast (buttered, no jam, no crust), pizza (but not just plain.  He likes it with pepperoni!), and baby swiss cheese.  Well, it turns out he only likes the cheese if it's just been freshly cubed.  He doesn't like chicken, liver, or hot dogs, the favorite old standby's of trainers everywhere. He also likes Snausages, which are pretty portable. So, though it makes me cringe, Snausages for training it is.  Hopefully soon I'll be able to find something without a bunch of artificial goo, something nice and natural for him, but right now, if he wanted foie gras I would find it for him, because I need a way to tell him "That's right!  You did it perfectly!" in a way that he understands.

In a moment both surprising and wonderful, I discover that Gully doesn't mind the clicker.  We're going to be using positive reinforcement training for him, which, in a nutshell, means that I will ignore non-responses or incorrect responses from him, and reward correct responses and spontaneous behaviors I want to encourage.  Gully is naturally very well behaved.  He needs some work to understand basic commands, but he doesn't do anything "bad" like chew up the sofa or pee on the rug. Our goal for the near future is to build confidence and a bond.  I'm already incredibly bonded to this troubled foster dog, and can't imagine him not being here, it is he who needs to begin looking to me.

The first step is to "load" the clicker.  This is our goal for the week. All that means is that you stand, or in this case, sit, since it's less intimidating, in front of your dog and click, treat, click, treat.  It just teaches them that when they hear that click, a delicious morsel is about to come their way.  For most dogs this happens very quickly. A few repetitions and they are on their way.  Not here.  We're battling fear and apprehension.  A basic mistrust of humans who act all nice and sweet, and then turn into ogres.  So we spend several days just clicking and treating.  When Gully begins to look at the clicker, hoping it will "click" and a treat will come his way, I can begin to move on.  For this week, I've achieved that goal, and I'm just hoping he enjoys the whole process and begins to look forward to the next session.

Hemi's First Week: Living with Hemi

So what's it like now that Hemi is home?  "Present in body, but not in mind".  This, right now, is Hemi.  Who, by the way, we are calling Gulliver.  Every rescue dog with a checkered past needs a new name, in my opinion.  You never know what the association with the old one will be.  Other than potty breaks and a picture taking session for our newspaper, Gully was left pretty much alone his first day back.  I wanted to give him a chance to rest, sleep without worries, find his center again with as little stress as possible. Well, what I really wanted to do was hug him, coddle him, snuggle and soothe him.  Bask in the glow of his being as happy that he was found as we are.  Ha! Unfortunately, past history in his former home has taught Gulliver that humans are not his friends, and under no circumstances are we to be trusted.  No matter how good our intentions, he'd rather we didn't bother him.  But he's a Leonberger. Bred to love people, among other things.  He wishes us no ill will. He'll allow himself to be petted, and tolerates a gentle hug, but I think he tries to pretend we just aren't there.

And so our life together begins. He lies quietly on his bed in the corner, eating and drinking only if no one is watching. No matter how encouraging the words, he refuses to approach.  Any activity outside the window causes him to startle.  Curtains were hung and he feels more at ease. Approaching him causes his breathing to quicken and his body to tense, yet he doesn't try to move away. I gave him a few stuffed toys, and he looked at them with interest.  When I leave the room I sometimes hear them squeaking; I'm happy he's entertaining himself.

Our trips outside require quite a routine for the first couple of days.  Taking his collar to ask Gulliver to rise causes him to tense and his eyes to widen, showing their whites. Rather than forcing him, I snap a lead to his collar and he willingly comes along.  Once he's up, a harness with a long line is added.  I tie the long line around my waist (it's not gonna happen again!). Out the door we go.  The first day every trip in and out caused him to panic, so now I know he's afraid of doorways. I was told he is afraid of confined spaces, but this is not the case.  He actually feels quite secure inside and when he has his back to a corner.  He's afraid of the transition. We made a lot of trips the first few days since he was holding his urine for 24 hours at a stretch. Every passing car, paper flapping in the breeze, or human walking by causes him to startle and swing around, watching. It's this, actually, which gives me hope.  If Gulliver cowered and shook, I would believe that he's just shy, a condition which is much more difficult to overcome.  But he doesn't. Even though he's afraid, he maintains his dignity and watches what frightened him with a solemn air, sometimes lifting his nose to investigate the scent. He's a dog who is being overwhelmed by new experiences, something he wasn't given as a puppy. On Sunday, his second day home, we practice going in and out of the door until he no longer worries. After several days I begin to omit the short lead, and he walks on a tracking harness (very secure because it adjusts both around his neck and around his body so you get a good fit) with the long line, which I still tie around my waist.  A flexi-lead was suggested, but for a dog like Gulliver, they can be problematic.  For one thing, they maintain a constant tension, which is why it can be hard to teach a dog not to pull while walking on one.  For a dog like Gulliver, who doesn't pull, that could be intimidating.  For another thing, they are a little bit noisy.  Not an issue for most canines, but for a dog like Gulliver?  It would be just one more thing to frighten him.

And so the first week passes.  He eats, he drinks, potty's outside like a good boy.  He rarely moves from his bed unless asked. Never barks or wags his tail.  Never asks for anything, but he continues to tolerate small shows of attention. It's a bit stressful.  Every movement must be steady and predictable.  Voices must be quiet and upbeat.  New things must be added slowly.  After all, "flooding" or immersion therapy (are you afraid of spiders?  If so, cure by flooding might put you in a locked closet chock full of the nasty little critters) frequently backfires, and with a dog like this, just about anything new is a "flood" to him! And above all, Gulliver's sense of personal space must be respected. This is probably the hardest part. We humans, even the more repressed among us, are a bit touchy. We show our affection by putting our paws on others.  This is not the natural way for a dog.  It's something they learn to enjoy.  With a dog who's been taught that touching isn't a good thing, it's even harder. So, I'm sure someday he'll wag his tail when I approach, but for now I try to keep my shows of affection at the level on which Gully is comfortable.

We'll cover our beginning training in another post. 

Finding Hemi

A while back, I wrote a post about finding a lost dog. I had no clue I would soon be putting this experience into practice in my own life.

Here's what happened:  It was early to mid-January when I received a call from our rescue, asking if I would be willing to take on another foster dog.  My mouth said "Sure!" while my brain said "NO!"  Fact is, though, of course I would take him.  I knew he didn't have a great past, and everything told me this dog was going to be something special.  Plus, I just can't resist a broken dog.

Hemi was relinquished to one of our other foster worker's, and after great effort, a four-leg trip was arranged to transport Hemi from his home out west to Ann Arbor, MI.  He arrived here on February 1st.

Here's Hemi at the pick-up point on the last leg of his journey:

I met the person who drove the last leg of his trip, 9 hours each way, at a truck stop.  When we finally got Hemi out of the car, he submitted to a good bye hug and allowed me to adjust his collar (so he wouldn't slip it and get away. Guess the joke was on me), then, without looking back, he quietly walked over and climbed in to my open vehicle.  Wow.  I had been told he was shut down.  That was dead on.  This dog had absolutely no interest in anything other than quietly moving on to the next step in his journey.  I wondered if he cared about anything anymore.  When I got him home, I took him out for a walk to stretch his legs.  Brought him inside where I had prepared his bed, fresh water, a bowl of food.  With a few words I left him to get some sleep.  By this time it was about 4 a.m.

The next morning, about 8:30, I hooked his lead onto his collar and walked him to the door.  He stood quietly while I opened it, then walked through.  As I turned to close the door, I'm not sure what spooked him.  The next thing I knew he had yanked the lead out of my hand.  For a split second, we stared at each other in shock.  I went for his lead.  He took off. Around the corner, in a ground covering trot he went.  I hopped in the truck, passed by him and got out. Almost caught him but the lead was only 4' long.  He's about 30" tall.  There wasn't much to grab.  He got by me, ran past a police officer sitting in his car, climbed over a snow bank, hit the railroad tracks, and was gone.  I jumped back into the truck, and raced away to try to head him off, but it was like he had disappeared. And my week long nightmare had just begun.

I knew I needed help, this wasn't your average pet who was lost.  He was not only in a new environment, he was scared of everyone who could save him. I immediately started making calls. Within an hour, people were looking. Flyers had been made up and were being posted.  An ad was placed on craigslist, police had been notified, and we were trying to notify bus drivers, cab drivers, pizza delivery guys and every person we crossed paths with.  All day we searched with no sight of a gigantic dog dragging a leash.  I spent a restless night, closed my business the next day, and again, spent the entire day looking. 

We continued to try to spread the word.  I took flyers to our local homeless shelter thinking that these people were the type that went to the kind of places a scared dog might go, spent a lot of time walking, and to whom the reward could make a huge difference. In the meantime, I, and many friends, continued searching.  It was so cold.  Nights were dipping well below zero.  He had no food but what he might scavenge.  We didn't know if he had access to water.  And the cars.  I worried about traffic constantly.  I checked on renting a plane, and discovered that for under $ 200.00 an hour, we could rent a plane that could carry three people in addition to the pilot.  I started rounding up people for an air search.  We had no clue where he could be, and this seemed like a good way to cover a lot of ground.  It was then, Wednesday, that I received a call that he had been sighted the day before in an apartment complex a few miles from my house. We searched the area.  No sight of him, maybe some tracks. Then, on Thursday, a friend drove through the complex and spotted him.  Our very own ninja dog.  We gathered, wondering what to do.  He wouldn't allow us to approach.  There were only four of us, not enough to surround him.  We took another Leonberger out and let him watch her eat some delicious chunks of liver (to each his own delicious-ness!) while I tossed more pieces into the woods.  Finally, rather than scare him into leaving the area, we left.  One of the hardest things I've ever done.  I contacted a reporter from our local paper who agreed to do a story on him. Once the story came out, "sightings" started pouring in.  I could barely keep up with the calls. Most didn't pan out. On Friday, a local news station came out and I suffered the horror of appearing on camera, hoping it would help.  Arriving home after the filming, I had received an e-mail that a dead dog had been seen along a highway not far from where Hemi had been sighted.  It was maybe a fifteen minute drive from my house, and yet it seemed to take hours.  Over and over I prayed it wasn't him, but I was sure it was.  Thankfully, though a coyote lost its life, my dog was still alive.  That's when I finally cried.

By this time our town was saturated with flyers.  We contacted pet detectives and tried to find a tracking dog who might be able to locate him. Seemed like everyone we talked to already knew about Hemi.  He was on facebook and twitter.  E-mails had flown far and wide. We printed off ariel maps of the area we knew him to be.  Organized a group of people to gather at noon on Saturday  to search.  I made signs on fluorescent posterboard to put along the roads in the area warning of a loose dog, hoping people would drive more carefully in case our search scared him in to the road.  Spending a sleepless Friday night, I kept trying to talk to Hemi, telling him that we were coming to get him.  That no one would hurt him.  That he would be safe.  And that what we really needed was for him to be in a fenced yard. 

The following morning, Saturday, I received a call about 7:30 a.m. One more call telling me that my dog was in someone's backyard.  Hopeful but ready for disappointment, I headed to the home.  Rounding the corner of the garage, there he was.  The most beautiful, terrified dog I have ever seen.  Tucked into a corner of the yard, against a stockade fence. He had walked a couple of miles and crossed three streets to get there.

I called a friend and fretted about the best way to go about catching him.  The yard was mostly fenced, but there was an unfenced area about 8' wide that needed to be blocked.  When Wendy arrived, we discussed options, and finally decided to just go for it.  Since I had almost caught him twice, I was worried that he would be more afraid of me than of her.  Slowly, through deep snow, my intrepid friend backed across the yard.  When she finally reached him, the lead was wrapped around him, she had to fish it out.  Once she had it, I, too, slowly crossed the yard.  I took the lead with one hand, his collar with the other, and off we went.  Wendy walked ahead of me, asking the gentleman who had found him to stay back where he wouldn't be seen, and opening my truck doors.  Once he saw the open doors Hemi had a one track mind.  He wanted nothing more than the safety of that vehicle.  The feeling of relief as I closed the door was indescribable.

Finding Hemi was a huge undertaking.  I discovered that I had the best friends a person could possibly hope for.  They were unflagging in their efforts to both look for Hemi and prop me up. Everywhere we turned, people cared. While I tried to keep the search for Hemi in the forefront of everyone's mind so they wouldn't quit looking, people from our rescue group called our local shelter every day and talked to everyone they could think of to aid our search.  I refused to give up until he was home with me.  When I wasn't actually searching, I was trying to think of new things to do that would help find him. 

Hemi has been back for over a week now.  It was one of the worst experiences of my life, though he seemed to go through it unscathed.  He is, unfortunately, the same dog now that he was when he arrived.  And that's what truly breaks my heart.  Because he will never know just how many people care about him and want him to be happy.  Put their time and effort into a dog they had never met simply because he needed help.  If he could just understand that, I think it would change his world.

And to you, my tireless, wonderful friends, both old and new, I can't tell you how much you all mean to me.  How grateful I am that you were there.  How, no matter what I say, I can never thank you enough for helping to bring this fantastic dog with the broken spirit back to me.