I recently discovered I have haemochromatosis. I’d never heard of it before (and I still frequently get the syllables in the wrong order and call it ‘haemotomachrosis!) Anyway, it’s an inherited condition, not especially rare (I think) when your blood cells carry too much iron. The opposite of anaemia I guess. Mostly it doesn’t really matter that you have too much iron, but over time the body stores the access iron in unhelpful places, like the pancreas and liver, which causes problems. If you look online at the type of problems it can cause, the list is grim—so if you’re diagnosed with the condition, I recommend not looking.
I am not thrilled to have the condition. I feel that I had my ‘thing’ when I had the brain tumour, and I’m still coping with the after affects of the craniotomy, so having another thing just seems unfair. But life is often unfair, and as we get older I guess there will be more and more ‘things’ to cope with, and in the grand scheme of things, a benign brain tumour and a condition that loads iron, are not terrible.
When I heard that genetic haemochromatosis (GH) was in the family, I dutifully went to my GP and asked for a blood test. They don’t, in the UK, test for the gene unless your ferritin levels are high, so first of all they test for that. Ferritin is a protein, and if the iron stores are high, there will be lots of the protein (I am assuming they can’t ‘see’ iron, so they test for indicators instead). Anyway, when they found high ferritin levels, they then did another blood test, looking for the gene (HFE—for Hereditary FE—Fe is the symbol for iron) . I wasn’t too chuffed by this, as I dislike giving blood, and feel slightly wobbly when I have to have a blood test, so I felt they could have just jumped straight to the second stage. However, for someone who dislikes blood tests, everything was about to get worse.
The treatment for GH, when caught early enough, is simply to remove the excess iron. Unfortunately, this isn’t done with miniscule magnets, it’s done the old fashioned way—they remove blood. It’s called a ‘venesection’ (not a vampire, nor leeches—but the principle is the same). I find the idea of this very grim. Very grim indeed.
My GP referred me to a haematologist, who I met last week, and she informed me that they will scan various organs to check there’s no damage, but my levels are in the hundreds, not the thousands, so it’s extremely unlikely I will have a problem. I will then have weekly venesections until my iron levels are down to about 50, and then every 3 months after that (I assume forever). She sounded very cheerful while telling me this. I did my best to sound cheerful in response, but between you and me, I am absolutely dreading it. I have always wimped out of giving blood to a blood bank, and now I have to do it every week! How vile. (I believe the blood can be used, so am hoping it won’t be wasted.)
I think I will have a venesection every week for about 10 weeks. 10 weeks! I just nodded in a sensible manner when she said that, but inside I felt sick. Now, I know that it’s not really a big deal, and other people have much worse things to cope with. And I know that after a couple of ‘drainings’, I will be completely comfortable with venesections, and view it as a chance to read a book or chat to someone new. But currently I am very unhappy about the situation, and waiting makes it so much worse.
I will let you know how I get on. If you know any vampires, give them my number…You can now refer to me as Iron Woman.
Hoping you cope well with any unpleasant things in your life this week. Thanks for reading. Take care. Love, Anne x
Hello, and how are you? Have you had a good week? Mine was very mixed–which I guess is normal (and as I get older, I am aware that ‘normal’ is very precious!)
My main emphasis has been my M.A. dissertation, which is so nearly finished and ready to submit, but not quite. I have a feeling the ‘not quite‘ stage might last a very long time. I am currently proofreading, and checking things like spellings and references. Every time I discuss the work of another scholar, I have to write a footnote, so my claims can be checked. The first footnote has to have their name, and all the information of the book/paper/article, plus the page number. Subsequent footnotes can just have the author’s name and the page number. My problem is that over the months, I have edited my work and various citations have moved around my document, so the first footnote (with all the picky details) is now near the end, and a later footnote (with no details) is near the beginning. I therefore need to check that the relevant information is attached to the correct place, and this takes much longer than you would think. However, despite interruptions from the puppy and Husband and life, I feel as if I am almost there. Hopefully it will be submitted this week. I will then have completed my course, which seems to have whizzed past in a flash. I would love to continue, and maybe study for a PhD, but we’ll have to see if anyone will take me on (I am pretty old now).
The week has also been dominated by medical appointments–both taking my mum for checks, and sorting my own. Medical appointments are always a hassle, and in my experience they are often cancelled at the last minute–especially MRIs for some strange reason. I was supposed to be having my routine MRI to check the brain tumour hasn’t grown back (no reason to assume it has, but they like to check regularly, just in case). But then, after I had worked out train times and arranged for Husband to look after the animals, it was cancelled. Apparently the machine has broken. This has happened in the past (last time I was actually on the train when they called to cancel). Are MRI machines particularly fragile? Do they break often? (Or, slightly cynical view, do they bump non-urgent cases to make space for urgent ones and prefer to give an excuse that cannot be argued with? I would prefer they were honest if this is the case–I would happily forgo my session in the crash-rattle-tube if someone needs it more.) I also had a blood test cancelled, which was slightly stressful as I truly hate having blood tests, and I was actually on the way when they called to say they couldn’t find the paperwork so not to come until next week. These things happen.
Some fun news is the Goose is definitely female, and has started to lay eggs. She made a pretty pathetic nest by pulling a few sticks into a heap, and laid an egg on top. This has improved over the week, and she has now stolen all the hay from the chicken’s box and made quite a decent nest. I don’t have a gander, so the eggs will be infertile, but she seems happy enough. I started to take the eggs as she laid them, but then one day I lost her. When I searched the garden, I found a new, not very professional, nest hidden behind the oak tree, with Goose sitting on 3 eggs. I had to pick her up and put her back in her cage, before the fox found her. I have now left her with one of her eggs and a chicken egg (which might be fertile). I think the goose eggs will make nice rich cakes. We scrambled one, and the yolk was very large. One egg is about the size of 3 chicken eggs, with a very tough shell.
My only other news is that I have bought a new coat. I hate shopping, but it has been so wet, and it always pours with rain when we go to the woods. There is a woman who I sometimes see in the distance, who has a very long flowing coat that reaches her wellies, and I have been coveting it. Today we went to a garden centre that has lots of equestrian stuff, and there were long, flowing coats for horse-riders. I do not ride, but I rather fancy looking like I do, so I bought one. It’s wonderfully practical, with a hood and pockets and reflective stripes for wearing in the dark. I shall swoosh around the woods looking like I have lost my horse, with mad dog in tow. Perfect.
Hope you have a good week, with not too much horrid stuff and a few little treats, so you can feel that life is ‘normal.’ I also hope it rains (it probably won’t rain for months now, and I won’t be able to test my coat). Thanks for reading. Take care. Love, Anne x
Yesterday we went to see the man who trained police dog handlers, and now helps people like me. It was an interesting experience. We arrived in a quiet country lane, and he asked me to walk Meg up and down so he could watch what we had done. I prayed that a car wouldn’t pass (and kill us both as she lurched towards it) and set off, feeling nervous. I had fresh turkey in my pocket, and made sure that Meg knew it was there. As we walked, I praised her while she was walking with me, as I’ve been instructed to do, and fed her snippets of turkey. When she pulled, I told her no, telling her: ‘With me!’ (the words I use to keep her on track). We turned after a few metres and returned to the man.
I could see in his eyes that I hadn’t done well, so smiled and asked him to tell me what I needed to change. (Husband told me that while I was walking, the trainer and his partner had watched, making comments about how lovely Meg is, and how like one of their previous dogs, and what a great animal she was. I didn’t know this until afterwards.)
The trainer said I was completely muddling Meg, and she wanted to please me but she didn’t have the first clue what I wanted! He said the constant praise/feeding while we walked made me a food-machine, not a leader, and she didn’t associate the praise with walking well, nor the corrections with pulling. He said I was producing white-noise, and all Meg knew was that when we walk, I talk a lot!
He asked why Meg was wearing a collar and a harness, with the lead attached to both. I explained that she’s too strong for me, and it enables me to control her with both arms. I didn’t say it was what I had been instructed to use at puppy classes, because I didn’t want to waste the lesson with a long diatribe against other trainers. He asked permission to switch the harness for a slip-lead.
A slip-lead is a canvas lead, with a ring, that slips easily both ways making a noose that tightens and releases. I explained that Meg currently has a lovely disposition, and I didn’t want to use pain as a training method in case it encouraged aggressive behaviour. He explained that he also would never use pain, that the fashion in the 80’s of using electric-shock collars, and choker-chains was terrible, and he considered them wrong. He actively disliked owners who train with pain. However, he said a slip-lead was a brief corrective discomfort that released as soon as the dog was in position, and it let her know where to walk. He then showed me.
The trainer took Meg, and walked down the lane. He didn’t speak. Meg walked quietly next to him, and I wondered whether he had hypnotised her. Then she got antsy, and jumped at him. The trainer didn’t react, he waited, completely still, until she was calm, then walked again, and Meg walked with him. A couple of times she started to pull, and he gave a brief tug, Meg self-corrected and the walk continued. They walked calmly down the lane and back again. For the first time, I witnessed Meg being the dog I wanted and the feeling of relief and hope was palpable. Husband and I stared at each other, and laughed. How was this even possible?
The trainer returned, and explained that he hadn’t talked at Meg, because she’s a dog, and dogs don’t talk when they walk together. Nor do they like being touched when outside, and by offering physical affection, I was forcing her to cope with an unnatural behaviour. He also pointed out that after being corrected, Meg had shaken (like she was wet) and he said that was her ‘resetting’ herself, ready to walk how he wanted. He assured me that Meg is a ‘classy bit of kit’ and I just need to learn how to handle her.
The lesson then moved to a small field. He told me to release Meg, which made me very nervous (there was a horse in the next field, and I didn’t know how close the road came). He assured me that Meg is a pack animal, she would be fine, I simply need to behave like the alpha-dog in the pack. We walked away from Meg, and she followed, never going too far. I was taught how to call her, moving my hands to in front of me when she arrived, and then feeding her treats while she sat. I then decide when the sitting would end (not her) by touching her face and ‘walking through her’ when it was time to move. I should not tell her to ‘wait’, instead she must learn that when told to sit, she stays in position until released. She did this for him (recognised his authority) but not for me (recognised I am flakey).
He explained a few facts about working GSD, and why I have been having such problems, and how to solve them. While he spoke Meg went and barked at the horse, and then came and dug a hole at our feet. He said to ignore her, it didn’t matter, and periodically we moved across the field, never calling her, knowing that she would follow because she wanted to be with the pack.
In a nutshell (you can decide for yourself whether you agree) this is what he said:
Working GSD (and I suspect other ‘working’ breeds) are closer to natural animals than pets, and should be treated accordingly. Therefore it’s important to understand something about how packs of dogs function, and to communicate in ways they understand. Chatting to Meg is apparently wrong (I have always chatted to my dogs, I feel it’s important they know I’m going to the shop!) as this becomes ‘white noise’ so they get used to tuning me out. (Pretty sure husbands do this too.) All eye-contact and greetings and petting should convey the message that I am the alpha dog, and not Meg. So in the morning, she should return to her crate after toileting, and then I should ignore her until I am ready to ‘notice’ her and fuss her. Having alone-time is important, as it will encourage her to want to please me when she’s with me.
He commented that lots of people my age struggle with a new puppy, because it’s much harder to behave like a pack animal when there aren’t children in the house! When Kia was a puppy, 17 years ago, I had children who needed taking to school and clubs, and I was working part-time, my life was generally busier; so the puppy had to fit in. She didn’t have as much attention, she was used to me giving a command: ‘Everyone get in the car!’ and the whole pack obeyed—so being part of that was natural. I didn’t have to assert my authority, because when I shouted that it was dinner time, or we should leave, or it was time for school, the puppy watched the whole pack respond. However, Meg has become the centre of my world, I plan my day around her exercise and training, and she has responded accordingly. She has learnt some ‘tricks’ but does not expect to change her behaviour. This needs to stop. It’s not simply a matter of training her to walk on the lead, I need to be the boss.
He gave me some homework. When Meg behaves badly (biting the lead, jumping at me, pulling) I should simply stop, stand still, avoid eye-contact and ignore her. When she stops, and looks at me, I then resume what I am doing—she has to learn she is not important. If she’s being completely stupid, and won’t stop tugging at the lead or jumping, then I stop trying to train her, and put her back into the crate. I do not allow any behaviour I do not want, because repeating things makes them normal.
I have to stop putting her into situations where she will fail (like the park, or near traffic) and teach her to walk on the lead. When she can reliably walk on the lead properly, I then introduce different situations that I want her to ignore. So, when she can walk on the lead in the garden, we then walk on the lead in an empty car park. And then in a quiet road. And then in the park, and then the High Street, and so on.
I need to do the same with her recall (so when I shout ‘Come!’ she comes, immediately, and sits in front of me until I release her). I can work on her ability to wait, by gradually increasing the amount of time I leave her—from literally 2 seconds (so not even turning properly away) to being able to walk out of the room and come back 10 minutes later. Again, first somewhere boring, then when she has solidly learnt it, repeating the same behaviour somewhere more difficult. He made it look and sound very easy. We left feeling very positive, and full of hope. I am prepared to work at this, but I need to know I will eventually succeed, and for the first time I began to feel less depressed about the whole situation.
Hope all is going well in your world. Thanks for reading. Take care. Love, Anne x
I am beginning to despair of ever being able to walk Meg on the lead. The last couple of times I have tried, when a car has passed, she has fixed on it and then been completely deaf to any attempts to break her focus, ending in a full-body lurch towards the traffic, which hurts me and nearly gets us all killed. It is deeply disappointing. We have contacted a man who has trained police dogs and therefore must be familiar with working GSD. Am hoping he can help, otherwise I really don’t know what to do. I am in despair.
If I evaluate what we have achieved, the picture isn’t completely gloomy (it just feels like it is when you have nearly been dragged under a lorry). I will do a quick recap of what Meg has learnt since November:
Being calm—she will now sit and chew a toy next to me when I want to read. When I cook, she brings a toy and ‘dances’ with me, and then sits somewhere close, watching while I work.
Being alone—Meg is great with this, and is always willing to go into her crate. I try not to leave her for too long during the day, but in the evening she goes in about 6pm, and other than a couple of toilet trips, she is fine to be ignored until morning.
House-training—this has been excellent since the first day, and we have had very few accidents in the house.
Car travel—I have taken her out most days, and she hasn’t been sick for a while. She is very good about walking up the ramp into her crate, and settles down while we drive.
Biting—after a few weeks, Meg understood that biting us was wrong, and when she’s excited she will now collect a toy and chew that while playing with us. She never snaps her teeth at me now, and even when she has caught escapee ducks, she has been very gentle.
Animals—Meg still barks at the poultry, and the cats, and chases them if she can. But she has never appeared vicious towards them, and will happily stay in the same room as Milly, my cat. (When she jumps up to the work surface, Milly slaps her face!)
Walking on the lead—in the house and garden, if zero distractions, Meg understands that she should walk near me and not pull. She can do this for several minutes. The teeniest distraction, and she forgets I exist. She is stronger than me, and hurts me when she pulls, and potentially could pull me into traffic.
Looking at me—she is getting better at this. I have been feeding her in the park every day, and she will look at me while she is fed, though I can see she is feeling tense. She can cope with mobility scooters going past, and children, and shopping trolleys. Other dogs and traffic are a real challenge. She’s very friendly to passers-by, and wants to greet everyone, so I think she has a lovely nature.
Sitting/waiting—this is excellent. I can ask her to sit in the hall, and she will usually still be there a minute later (as long as there are no distractions).
Lying down—she can do this to command.
BUT, the not being able to walk her on the lead is a huge problem, especially as she needs more exercise. Last weekend we met friends for lunch. We drove for an hour, and Meg was fine in her crate in the boot (wasn’t sick). But when I exercised her on the village green I nearly had my arm pulled off, and there was no way we could have taken her into the pub because she would have barked at the other dogs. She was fine left in the car (we checked her regularly, and she just slept, wasn’t frightened) but I want a dog I can take places.
Soo, lots of progress. But mostly I feel like I am failing. I really hope this man can help, otherwise I don’t know where we go from here. Not sure I can cope with a dog I cannot walk.
Hope you find the help you need this week. Take care. Love, Anne x
Meg in the Car
anneethompson.com ******
Meg is fairly good with not going into certain rooms . . . but sometimes her ‘naughty ball’ rolls over the threshold by mistake! *****
19 Weeks: The beginning of this week was very disappointing. I took Meg back to the place we practise lead-walking, and she completely lost it. She was lurching at everything that moved. She’s too strong for me now, and I could barely control her, which was dangerous for her and meant I hurt my back and shoulder. Such a shame.
Meg also pooped in the house, which she never does. I am allowing her more freedom, and so was in the dining room, where there is a rug on the floor. The kitchen and hallway only have tiles, so maybe she thought the rug was grass, and therefore okay to toilet. Who knows? I cleaned it thoroughly, and moved the rug upstairs, and will be more careful in the future when carpets are available.
Other than those (fairly major) setbacks, Meg has been lovely. She’s such a happy little thing, and loves to play. She wags with her whole body, and reminds me of our Labrador when she wiggles towards me, with her ears back and some huge toy in her mouth, ready for a game. She’s also very naughty, and uses the cat flap to throw things outside that she knows she’s not allowed (like slippers, the rubber feet of the cat bed, and leaves from my houseplants).
I don’t quite know what to do with walking her on the lead. She’s great in the garden, if there are no distractions, and knows to walk beside me, barely pulling. But the first sign of a person or animal, and she’s off. I guess we’ll just keep practicing and hope the world becomes less exciting. There’s a seat in the High Street, and I’ve starting taking her there each day, to feed her a meal. She’s fully aware of the traffic and people passing, but she’s hungry, so stays with me, looking at my face, while I hand-feed her the food. I’m hoping in time we will progress to be able to walk up the High Street. Maybe 2026?
The Duck Incident
We were walking in the garden—my favourite thing to do with Meg—she’s so happy, and skips about collecting sticks while staying close to me as I walk around the garden. One of the ducks had left the pond enclosure and was sitting on the lawn. Unfortunately, Meg noticed before me. She was off before I could stop her, and any stick-waving-shouting-commands was completely useless. Meg is completely deaf once she fixes on something, and my poor white duck was fully fixed-upon!
The duck tried to escape, running into a bush, but Meg ploughed through it, trapping the duck between both paws. The duck dived over a paw, tried to force itself through the fence, ran around the enclosure. Meg was really enjoying the game now, and raced after it. I gave up trying to bribe/command/entice Meg and instead went to open the gate to the pond, deciding to at least help the duck if I couldn’t control my dog.
Meg pounced, trapping the duck between her paws again, the duck squiggled out, and rushed towards the gate, squeezed underneath and made a dive for the pond with Meg seconds behind it. With a final flurry of feathers, the duck flew onto the pond, Meg rushed to the edge of the bank and stopped. She stared for a moment at the duck, considering whether the water was as wet as it looked (she doesn’t like wet). Then, a miracle! her hearing returned—she picked up her stick and carried it to me for praise.
I closed the gate to the pond, and decided to give Meg a treat. Afterall, despite several opportunities, she had never used her mouth on the duck, and although it was at serious risk of being bounced, there was nothing vicious in the game. In time, I hope to teach Meg to help me round up escapee poultry—Kia was a brilliant help when a duck escaped and directed it back to the pond. It was less exciting than this encounter, but the principle was the same.
As you know, I am currently writing the dissertation for my MA. One thing offered by my college is symposiums—nothing to do with music—where people present their work, and everyone makes helpful comments. They’re useful—partly because you hear some interesting presentations and everyone helps to improve the final dissertation—but also because writing a research paper is rather isolating. Lectures have finished, and we are all in our own bubble, and it’s really good to see each other again, and to hear how we are progressing.
Anyway, one happened last week, and one of the presenters (Rebecca—I can’t remember her last name) is writing a dissertation on people coping with health conditions, and she made a very interesting point: Before Jesus healed people in the New Testament, he often asked them what they wanted. Then the blind man said he wanted to see, and the lame man said he wanted to walk, and the lepers wanted to be clean—and so on. But why, if he was able to heal them, and already knew their complaint, did Jesus ask? Afterall, a blind man begging must have been obviously blind—did Jesus think perhaps he wanted to be blind? Or was something else going on?
It was suggested Jesus probably asked as a way to empower the person. They were choosing whether they wanted to be healed, able to voice their need. I found this very interesting, because it reminds me of a personal experience. Soon after being diagnosed with a brain tumour, I was at a church meeting, and when I spoke about my tumour and the constant pain, someone announced that they would pray for healing. I remained sitting, and the group stood around me, with their hands on my head, praying for healing.
Now, here’s the thing. I had not asked them to pray for healing. I was not at all sure that it was in God’s plan for me to be healed (because I recognised that I was a better person with the tumour, and daily asking him to help me was a good thing). But here I was, in the middle of a ring of very kind, well-meaning friends, praying for something that I didn’t know if I actually wanted. But I couldn’t really voice that—I couldn’t politely tell them ‘no thanks, I’m coping okay and I’m not sure it’s in the plan for me to be healed,’ could I? A bit awkward. So silently, in my head, I changed the prayer. You see, there were other, more important things that I was struggling with, and I felt as if I was sinking and really wanted/needed God’s help with those. And although I had prayed about them, I wondered if perhaps, in some way that I didn’t understand, God was more likely to act if these people all prayed on my behalf. So in my head, I asked God to use their prayers to please help me with this other thing, this non-health-issue thing, and could he please heal that instead?
I cannot justify the theology of this. Nor do I know whether those prayers were the trigger for God to answer my prayer. But he did. And my life would be worse today if he hadn’t.
Maybe sometimes, people praying for healing for others might not necessarily be what their greatest need is. Perhaps we should remember that often Jesus asked before he healed people. I find it rather thrilling that God doesn’t just know what we need, he listens to what we think we need too. Perhaps learning to walk with God—learning to be like God—is about listening to other people and understanding their needs rather than what we assume their needs are. Sometimes, we need to ask.
Thanks for reading. Have a great week. Take care. Love, Anne x
(Spoiler Alert!) We went to the cinema this week—I haven’t been to the cinema with Husband for years. I had forgotten how chatty he is. Our local cinema is very nice, with fairly small theatres, and nice comfy chairs, and they offer a menu of food and drink, which they bring to the seat. I think perhaps it was too much like watching telly at home, because Husband gave me a running commentary on every advert (and there were lots) just like at home. Mainly he discussed how many adverts there were, and how misleading the ‘start time’ had been, and how he was ready to leave now, he’d watched enough. It was a lot like I had taken Meg with me (how did I manage to choose an antsy dog and an antsy husband? You would think I would learn!)
He ordered a coffee, which perhaps didn’t calm him down, but did give him something else to talk about. It was, apparently, very good coffee, but probably not worth the price.
The film began, and the commentary next to me stopped (thankfully). The film is very well made, with actors who make you believe in them, and the story is wonderful—about an ordinary man who manages to import lots of Jewish children before the war begins.
I was struck by two things. Firstly, I hadn’t realised what a complete cut-off the declaration of war was. I had assumed, because the Nazis were gradually moving across Europe, that travel between countries had gradually ceased. But it wasn’t like that at all. Access to much of Europe, including Germany, was possible for normal people with a visa right up until war was declared—and then it all stopped instantly. Hence there were British people in places like Czechoslovakia right up until the day we declared war—and they then had to leave pretty fast before the borders closed.
The other thing that struck me, was that the hero of the film was just a normal man. He wasn’t a great campaigner, not a particularly charismatic figure; he was just a banker. He was ‘good with paperwork.’ Yet his skills managed to save hundreds of children, because he was passionate about what he was doing. There is a lesson here. None of us can say there’s nothing we can do, because we all have skills. Whether it’s admin, or teaching, or baking cakes—I bet there’s something you’re good at. The challenge is how are you using it? Is there a way that your skill can help other people? Because surely, that is what life, real life, is all about.
Of course, there were lots of other ‘heroes’ in the film who hardly appeared. Some families took Jewish children, and cared for them for life. That takes some courage, a bit of risk-taking and a lot of stamina. They weren’t part of the film though, they were barely mentioned. Sometimes the real heroes are the ones who we don’t notice.
I definitely recommend you try to see One Life. But do try to go with someone quiet.
Thanks for reading. Have a good week, and take care. Love, Anne x
A friend invited me to puppy classes. It’s at a farm I didn’t know, so I shoved Meg in the car the day before, and we went for a reconnaissance. It’s lucky I did. The farm is up a dark lane, and is bisected by a dirt track used by lorries working at the quarry, which looms to one side in a very scary manner. We managed to not drive into the quarry, but also to not to find the farm, so I contacted my friend, and she agreed to meet me there.
At 7pm, we set off. Driving in the dark is not my favourite thing, so getting there was an adventure, especially as the roads were icy. But we made it. The next adventure was walking to the barn, through a stable of horses. Meg was great, and walked past them with interest, but no barking. Then we entered the barn, and all went to pot. There were other dogs, and Meg decided that snarling and barking was completely appropriate (because she is a German Shepherd dog, and that is what they do). The other dogs mostly ignored her, and the owners gave me sympathetic smiles. All the other dogs were older/better behaved/already perfectly trained in comparison. The barn had thick sand on the floor, and I assume is where the horses are trained.
The trainer met me, and expressed surprise that I had bought a working breed of gsd. I told her that most of the litter had gone to the police, and she asked why Meg had been sold as a pet. I wanted to explain that actually, she has improved loads since I have had her, and I have absolute belief that one day she will be great. But the last few weeks have been undeniably tough, so I said nothing. She told me that Meg would always want to work, always be completely hyper, and would be very difficult to control. I already know this. I also know that she is brave, and happy and incredibly friendly, and when she remembers that I exist, she is good company and lots of fun. The rest we will work on.
The trainer switched my dog lead for a sort of double one—clipped onto Meg’s collar and to her harness. She then directed me to walk round the barn, using the double lead like reins leading a horse. We made it round the barn a few times, though I’m not sure who was leading who. It was much easier to control Meg though, and I didn’t feel like my arm might be pulled off, which is how it usually feels.
We then all had to stand in a big circle, and tell our dogs to sit. Meg sat (I felt stupidly proud). The trainer showed me how to use a toy to play, stop, play, stop—keeping Meg occupied so she stopped concentrating on the other dogs. The other dogs all had to practice lying down when commanded, and then sitting still while their owned left them, walked round a cone, and returned. I wanted to tell the trainer that Meg can do this too—and in fact I can tell her to sit while I go upstairs with a load of washing, and she won’t move. But at the time, she was turning in circles like a wild thing and eating as much sand as she could get into her mouth, so I decided we would continue with the task we had been given.
By the end of the lesson, Meg was able to play with the toy while all the other dogs and owners walked past us. It was actually a strangely bonding activity. I felt like Meg and I were a team, working together while the rest of the class was one step ahead of us. (More than one step, probably!) As we left the barn, Meg decided to bark at the horses, and then at my friend’s dog, so it wasn’t a complete success. But it was an excellent first lesson, and hopefully we will improve. And eat less sand.
Having a puppy is a lot like having a new baby. One similarity is that the whole world has an opinion about how you should be raising them. Complete strangers will give their views. Another similarity is that all the ‘expert’ advice tends to contradict. For example, I need to find a way to stop Meg fixating on passing cars and lurching at them when they pass. It’s dangerous. I looked online for help. One ‘expert teacher’ said that the prey-instinct is very strong in some dogs, therefore I should discourage all chasing. No chasing cats, sticks, balls, toys. Eventually, I will supress the instinct. Great. Sorted. Except, a different ‘expert’ told me that because I want to stop her chasing cars, I need to encourage the prey-instinct in other areas—so lots of games with balls, sticks, toys. (Though not cats; chasing cats is always wrong.)
I think it’s important to do what I did when I had babies: choose one or two people to trust, and follow their advice but ignore everyone else. I suspect different things work for different dogs, but the advice-givers are so certain they are correct. It undermines my confidence (just like when I had a new baby).
I therefore decided to trust myself (which is important, because I have raised/trained two wonderful dogs previously, plus taught a myriad of naughty boys with ADHD, which is not so very different). I also messaged the woman who is raising Meg’s sister as a pet, and listened to her advice, plus a couple of trusted people. I have also enrolled in ‘puppy classes’ but this is mainly to socialise Meg, because I know from past experience that dog trainers also offer varying advice.
One thing I started to try this week, was regular walking near a busy road where Meg can be slightly removed from the traffic. In our country lane, every passing car comes very close to pedestrians, which must seem like a taunt to a shepherding dog. My plan is for her to get so used to traffic at a distance, that she will gradually cope as they become nearer. I also stopped trying to bribe her good behaviour with food, because it doesn’t work, and the woman raising her sister said a tug-toy works really well as a training bribe. Off we set.
I parked at a little station car park (near enough that Meg didn’t vomit in the car—another issue I need to solve). We set off, walking round the residential streets, near a main road but not on it. Meg was great, glancing at cars on the main road, but not trying to chase them. We gradually went nearer. Eventually, we were walking on the path beside the road. Meg was great, for about 2 minutes, then decided the cars were too much, and started to lurch towards them. We went back home.
The following day, we repeated the exercise, and Meg was much better. She walked holding a tug-toy (which is my toy, she is never allowed to play with it by herself—a tip from my father-in-law). She held the toy the entire way, making sure I couldn’t take it from her—which is still bad behaviour, but much less bad than chasing cars, and I am all for compromise. We walked about 400 metres , turned round, walked back to the station. A train of school kids had arrived, so the walk back involved walking past school bags, and lots of legs, and even boys bouncing a football. Meg was great (if you don’t include the fact that she thought she had stolen my toy and was concentrating on not giving it back!) This will now be a daily activity, and gradually, as the traffic stops being an issue, I will be more fussy about who carries the toy.
As Meg has grown, she has become too heavy for me to keep lifting in and out of the car, but big dogs need protecting when they are young, as too much stress on their joints can result in arthritis when they are old. I therefore bought a ramp. It arrived, and I attached it to the boot, and directed Meg to walk up it. She looked at me like I was stupid, and sat down. I tried tempting her with food, so she barked at me. Carried the ramp into the house and leant it against a stair, so the incline was very shallow. Meg walked up it, ate the treat, walked down it. I made it steeper, and she walked up it. I repeated the exercise, until it was the same incline as the car boot. Then I took it outside, and attached it to the car. Meg looked at me as if I thought she was daft, and sat down. But then, gradually, I persuaded her up the ramp, gave her a treat, down the ramp. We did this a few times until she was walking up and down confidently. I love this about Meg—if I find the right way to teach her, she is incredibly quick to learn.
Hope you stay safe on the roads this week. Thanks for reading. Take care. Love, Anne x
We took Meg to Camber Sands. She was sick in the car (she is always sick in the car). It was really windy, and walking to the beach involved lots of sand being blown into eyes, which she wasn’t keen on. When we finally made it to the beach, she just stopped—all four paws firmly planted—and stared at everything.
We started to walk, and she was very good—interested in everything but not frightened, even when other dogs approached her wanting to play. We kept her on the lead, because if she decided to run off we would never catch her, and I don’t trust her with other animals.
She hates having wet feet, and tried to go backwards when we walked on the wet sand! Totally unimpressed by the sea, much too wet.
We only walked for about 30 minutes (I am still protecting her joints) but she was exhausted afterwards. It’s the first time I have seen her properly tired. She slept all the way home.
We also left her for a night. My daughter and son-in-law kindly agreed to have her, so we took Meg and her playpen, toys and food to Coulsdon. She was completely unfussed by being left. Daughter said she was mostly very good, though she did check with Daughter whenever son-in-law told her something, to see whether she needed to obey or not! They found a water-squirter was a good deterrent for going on the sofa, so I will copy that.
The worst thing about Meg is her insistence on chasing cars. It’s very dangerous as she gets stronger, because she fixates on them, and then lurches with all her strength. She is also terrible on the lead, and pulls very hard. It’s a lot like being behind a dog-sleigh, but without the sleigh. Daughter said they tried all sorts of treats, but nothing really distracted her from the cars, even though they were further away than when she encounters them in the lane. It’s a problem we need to fix.
17 Weeks
Meg is mostly very good now, though her energy exhausts me. She has also become very disobedient about coming when called, but as she’s bigger, I don’t worry about leaving her in the garden for a little while, so I just shut her out (which she hates, and tries to squeeze through the cat flap!)
I bought a ‘halti’ lead. It has a nose muzzle-thing, and the lead attaches to this, so if she pulls it turns her head. We practiced wearing it for short periods in the house, and then used it to walk on the field. Meg hates it, and tries to remove it, but it stops her pulling and lurching at cars. I am hoping it will break the cycle of strong pulling, so we can stop using it after a while. I am also taking her into the garden regularly, with treats and no distractions, to practice walking to heel. She is good until she loses concentration (about 4 minutes). After that, it’s not worth trying.
Not keenLearning to cope
She has got very tall and thin. I am increasing her food, and adding meat to the kibble. I assume it’s just a lanky growing phase. She moved out of her little crate for sleeping this week, as we decided it’s now too small. She mainly seems to sleep on her back, with all four legs stretched out. She snores like a trooper! Not very elegant (nor is it very scary-police-dog!) She still sleeps on folded towels. At some point I will buy her a bed, but she would eat it currently. I also cannot leave her with a bowl of water, because after drinking she flings it round the room. I have to give her drinks, and then remove the bowl. She managed to get her lead, which was a mistake…
Not so useful.
The breeder puts regular videos on Facebook of her training her own puppies. I try to copy some of the exercises with Meg. She’s good unless there’s a distraction. What I really need to find is a competition for grabbing a sock out of the tumble-dryer and racing up the garden with it—we would win that for certain! I do feel that she’s trying to fit in though. When we load the dishwasher, she collects her chew and dumps it in, like she’s trying to help, which is very sweet. She’s also a happy little thing, and loves to join in when I dance to the radio, running circles round me with her toy. She’s very friendly when we meet people, and greets all the gardeners (at face-height) with wagging tail and licks—which is not exactly ‘calm’ but at least she’s confident and friendly. Hopefully this will last—but in a calmer manner.
Hope you are making progress with your latest project. I must say, writing my dissertation is MUCH easier than puppy training. Thanks for reading. Take care. Love, Anne x
Learning to cope with a new puppy takes many forms…
Anne E Thompson 