I was so proud of my Alex, all 10 weeks of him.
I placed him on the floor of the examining room, fully expecting the veterinarian to crouch down and say hello. But what happened next traumatized me and forever changed my view of people and dogs, like my Alex. The veterinarian came into the exam room and promptly walked up to Alex, placed his foot firmly on his shoulder and forcefully shoved him across the floor. Alex hit the opposite wall with a thud and stayed there in a crumpled heap of uncertainty. His soft innocent eyes looked straight into mine and I crumpled inside. The vet then said, "That is how you treat dogs like that."
I was so shocked I was frozen in thought. I mechanically picked Alex up off the floor, placed him on the exam table and held him close while the vet did the exam. The vet spoke, but I didn't hear a word he said because my ears where ringing with the rage that had filled my veins as I watched him place his horrible hands on my puppy. I had to stop myself from visually searching the room for something to hit this man with or shape-shift into a werewolf. So I just repeated to myself, "Karma is going to get you for this."
When the receptionist asked when I wanted to come back I hissed, "Never!" This happened almost 20 years ago. My dog Alex was a Doberman. That memory came rushing back to me while I was working with a pit bull named Bentley and his owner. Bentley was a very large pit bull for seven months, probably the largest one I have ever met, with a head the size of a basketball. I joked as I rubbed his chest and said, "I bet people take one look at you walking towards them and cross the street, huh buddy?" We all laughed at that, Bentley too I think. I took Bentley's leash, gently slid my hand down it to meet the ring of the choke collar around his neck and he looked up at me with the innocence that is in all pit bulls before the harshness of uneducated human hands changes their souls. I had to catch my emotions as I felt tears brimming in my eyes ... Alex.
The emotions caught me off guard. I wasn't feeling unresolved anger about Alex but unresolved guilt for not doing something other than repressing my actions 20 years ago.
When I walked out of the vet's office with Alex I sat in my truck and cried with my 10-week-old puppy resting on my lap. I walked into that vet office trusting and respecting someone because of his profession and what I assumed would be a natural kindness towards animals. But what I got was fear, judgment and cruelty.
As I said, the event immediately changed my view of my dog and all dogs like Alex - dogs that have been labelled and judged because of their breed. I threw out the choke collar everyone said I would need for Alex and said, "No, there has to be a better way."
Back at the park, I unclipped Bentley's leash, took off his choke collar and replaced it with a martingale collar that I had with me. Bentley's owners nervously said, "He, he doesn't need a choke?" "No," I said, while smiling at Bentley's huge grin, "no he doesn't." If you have been following my column for any length of time, you would have gathered by now that I am open minded about all training methods.
I'm sure this will tick some people off, but each training method, even choke collars, has value when used with knowledge. As a trainer, I would rather teach with education than condemnation.
With Bentley it was clear that his owners had not been shown any other option. They followed standard protocol when it comes to owning a strong-willed dog, taking advice from people who they trusted knew better. Taking my cue from my experience with that horrible veterinarian, I chose to teach them without judgment that there was a different way.
Alex matured to almost 100 pounds of muscle and lived until he was 13. He was fearless, but with a big sappy heart filled with love.
Thank you Alex for this lesson. Love you!
Joan Klucha has been working with dogs for more than 15 years in obedience, tracking and behavioural rehabilitation. Contact her through her website k9kinship.com.
