Adagio’s incision from his recent surgery has fully, beautifully healed, but his digestive system was disrupted last weekend, so we decided to skip the puppy “social” held out in Santee last Saturday, just in case his gut problems were contagious. Happily, he’s back to normal after being dosed with Pro-Pectalin, the pills recommended by CCI that are a mixture of doggy probiotics and clay (kaolin). They stopped him up nicely.
But I feel sorry about all the confinement he’s had to endure recently. There was no puppy class scheduled for this past Monday night, and to my astonishment, I missed it! Although many of the classes have been tedious, over the years, they’ve gotten markedly more fun and interesting since Kay Moore became our regular instructor. Kay likes to shake things up. For our class 10 days ago, although the day had been sweltering, she goaded us all into going for a little outing.
We usually work outside in the parking lot for at least a part of every class. But on this occasion, we strolled for a few blocks through the residential neighborhood adjoining the building where the class meets (on Aero Drive, across from Montgomery Field).
We were able to practice several CCI commands along the way. There were interesting things to go Up on, for example:
At an intersection, we had the dogs Sit on the bumpy surface of the wheelchair access ramp.
Back in the parking lot, we practiced having all the dogs respond to “Here” commands from handlers other than their regular people. It was all entertaining, and the time sped by.
Adagio had to be neutered (last week). Brando (our third CCI puppy and the only one, so far, to graduate) also underwent castration at a tender age. That’s unlike Tucker, our first CCI puppy, whom we adopted when he was released for distractibility. (He’s now approaching his 14th birthday). Tuck wasn’t neutered until after he was in Advanced Training. Like him, none of the 5 female CCI puppies we’ve raised had to be spayed until after they left us.
Why the inconsistency? What we’ve been told over the years is that all female CCI puppies — whether they’re pure-bred labrador retrievers or golden retrievers or some cross of the two — may be chosen for CCI’s breeding program. The decision about whether birthing more CCI puppies will be their mission in life is not made until after they’ve reached the advanced phase of their training. In contrast, CCI only uses purebred labs or goldens as studs, and Tucker (100% labrador) was the only male we’ve had who met that qualification.
But why only mate purebred males with all those cross-bred females? Steve and I had never heard any explanation for that until yesterday, when we attended a presentation by Esther Molina, the director of CCI’s national breeding program, based at CCI headquarters in northern California. Since she was in town, the staff at the Southwest Regional headquarters in Oceanside invited local puppy-raisers to a potluck dinner and informational program featuring her.
A 23-year veteran with the organization, Molina has both raised CCI puppies and served as a breeder-caretaker before taking over direction of the national breeding program. She told us that some 70-80 females are producing litters at any given time. The girls require the services of only 29-40 males.
From what Molina said, it sounds like the decisions about who to mate with whom are exceedingly complex. But the organization now has vast amounts of multi-generational data to help guide it. A top priority is doing everything possible to breed healthy dogs. Any hint of a predisposition to hip, heart, or eye problems will disqualify the animal for reproduction, and advanced genetic testing is now enabling CCI to eliminate certain problems common in labs and goldens (e.g. exercise-induced collapse and progressive retinal atrophy).
Producing dogs with the perfect personality to be service animals is even more of a challenge. To do that more consistently, Molina said CCI is now testing canine cognitive ability and assessing the results across generations. It sounds like this is very much still a work in progress.
During the Q&A session, I asked my question about why only studs have to be purebreds (and not the dams too). Molina’s basic answer was that this policy simplifies life and makes it possible to preserve the characteristics of each of the two breeds used by the organization. If CCI bred lab-golden crosses (LGXs) with other LGXs for generation after generation, the results would soon be a separate LGX breed — a breed whose characteristics were less well understood than the original two.
At least I think that’s what she was saying. Molina spoke for a disappointingly small percentage of the program time. Steve and I had the impression that the large audience of puppy-raisers happily would have peppered the breeding program director with enough questions to make for a fascinating hour beyond what she was.
Adagio, on the other hand, found our outing a bit taxing. He maintained a Down position nicely while we ate our servings from the potluck, but during the presentations he popped to his feet far too often. He’s been suffering from some minor intestinal upset, so it may have been that which made him want to jump up and go.
The good news is that Adagio seems to be recovering beautifully from his neutering surgery Monday. When I went to his kennel Tuesday morning, he sprang to his feet, tail wagging in spite of the cone. The woeful, crying animal of the night before had vanished — and has not reappeared since.
Equally encouraging news is that Adagio recently overcame his terror of walking up the open-tread stairs in the building where our friend Alberto lives (and to which Adagio accompanies us almost every week for our movie-night gatherings). A month ago, he was still cringing and digging his feet in, rigid with fear when asked to ascend “the Tower of Terror,” as Steve referred to it. But two weeks ago, some invisible switch flipped. He had made progress going up a limited number of stairs at puppy class a few nights before. Maybe the lesson learned there stuck. Whatever, the reason, he sashayed up the two flights of condo stairs as if no problem had ever existed:
We’re proud of him — and relieved. His half-sister Beverly never overcame her fear of those same stairs. It’s nice to know this, at least, will not stand between him and eventual success.
The small amount of bad news, such as it is, is that Adagio supposedly will have to continue wearing the cone for another week or so. (Our vet’s post-surgical instructions said 10-14 days.) He doesn’t seem to mind it that much; seems actually less resistant to our putting it on than to his cape. But it can’t be pleasant to bash into things, which happens a lot when he’s wearing it.
We’re starting to give him limited amounts of time out of it when we can watch closely to make sure he’s not licking or biting at the stitches. And we’ve seen none of that behavior so far. Maybe if this persists, life will be almost back to normal for Adagio — minus the stair fear — soon rather than later.
Adagio looks like a black Labrador Retriever, but he’s actually one-sixteenth Golden Retriever. Because he is not a purebred, he had to have his testicles removed today.
That seems unfair, doesn’t it? Not to mention smacking of eugenics (except that so-called “science” was designed to improve humans, not dogs.) Females chosen for CCI’s breeding program can be a mix, so the girls are almost never spayed before they go in for their Advance Training (in the course of which, the decisions are made about who will be chosen to be a breeder). The situation is different for the males. I’m not sure why, but CCI has developed a policy dictating that only purebred labs or Goldens can sire CCI puppies. Next week Steve and I plan to attend a lecture about the breeding program, so maybe we’ll understand it all better after that.
What we have understood for months, however, is that we would have to get Adagio neutered when he reached his 8-month birthday. That milestone came last Thursday. We had called his vet the week before and were told the doctor didn’t recommend castration until dogs reach their one-year birthdays. So we called CCI to ask more directly about this timing. The puppy program assistant manager told us yes; the organization has come to believe the males’ personalities develop best if the boys lose their little reproductive organs at eight months, rather than later.
So it was that this morning at 7:30, Steve took Adagio in. Our pup walked into the office perky, wagging his tail. Steve retrieved him around 5 pm, and the sight of him as he stumbled across the patio upon their return broke my heart. His eyes were bloodshot and drooping. He was moving slowly, looking dazed. Worst of all, for a week or so, he will have to wear the dreaded cone to prevent him from licking the surgical site and pulling out his sutures.
We are hoping he will perk up tomorrow. He should be able to begin eating normally then. I will be very happy to have this behind us.
Steve and I have lost count of how many times we’ve marched in the Coronado Fourth of July Parade with CCI puppies. Did we first do it with Tucker, our first pup, 13 years ago? It feels like we’ve participated forever. Nonetheless we signed up to do it again yesterday, with Adagio (our 8th trainee), and we were happy we did.
We parked our van a good mile and a half away from where the CCI contingent was assembling. Adagio seemed excited to be out and about, and certainly the day was beautiful, the streets of Coronado as festive as always. (Folks there are nothing if not ardently patriotic.)
We met up with the group a little before 10, when the parade officially starts. But our group was #56 in the line-up, which meant we didn’t stand up and begin to move until well after 10:30. This wait is pretty boring for puppies, since they’re not allowed to socialize much with each other, but at least we waited in a shady spot. And Adagio got some hugs he seemed to enjoy. Marching at last, I felt the burst of adrenaline I always get from the experience.
The most exciting moment comes when we turn onto Orange Avenue, where thick crowds invariably line both sides of the street.
We only ran through our traditional drill routine a few times, which was all for the best. (Adagio is still weak on the Down Stay). Mostly we strolled, and the humans waved to the throng, and sometimes we took our dogs over to the curb to be petted. Adagio seemed to like this at first…
…but after block after block of marching, he was noticeably flagging.
Toward the end, all the puppies looked tired. This was something of an illusion, as this year’s parading was followed, as it has been for many years, by a rollicking party at the home of a CCI supporter (and former puppy raiser) who lives almost at the end of the parade route. He welcomes the dogs to swim, and many of the pups adore this. Adagio doesn’t; he’s not a swimmer. Yet he was thrilled by the opportunity to play.
Back at home, later in the afternoon, we hosted a small party for friends. It was way more boring, Adagio thought, whenever he was conscious. Mostly, he was asleep.
Adagio has a new hobby! Suddenly, he has gotten the notion into his brain that it is fun to extract papers from the recycling bin in Steve’s office, rip them into shreds, and strew them about. He attacks them with a gusto startling in a fellow who normally prefers to spend so much of his time sleeping.
In the thick catalog of possible puppy sins, I know this is a peccadillo. Also, Steve and I appreciate the fact that it’s the worst thing Adagio has done in his short (not-yet-8-month-old life). He could be destroying important papers stolen from our desktops. He could be gnawing on our shoes or our appliances. Instead he’s targeting items that are already slated for destruction.
Still, it’s annoying to have to sweep up the shreds, plus destroying any household item is precisely the sort of thing CCI puppy raisers are supposed to train their charges NOT to do. We understand we must nip this in the bud. Steve argued at first we should try stern verbal corrections. Adagio is such a docile fellow, that seemed like it might work.
But we’ve tried it now for a couple of days, with no success. So now Plan B is to set him up to sneak into the office, spy on him until he begins his attack, then jump out and blast him with our squirt bottle. (It has water in it at the moment, but if necessary, we can add vinegar to make it more repellant.)
This plan will require us to give the problem more discipline and attention than we’re accustomed to directing at Adagio. But we know our duty. Stay tuned for a report on the results.
I thought we passed a milestone last week, when I took the my Toileting Errors log sheet off the refrigerator and stuck it in Adagio’s file. He had not had one accident since April 27, and I confirmed that his record with the puppy-sitters while we were traveling was excellent. No accidents.
I was feeling a little smug Saturday morning when I took him to Costco with me. When I ordered him to Hurry in one of the parking lot planter/islands, he complied immediately and copiously. Closer to the entrance, I took him to another good spot and issued the order again. After quite a bit of sniffing, he pooped on command. I disposed of the little blue baggie in a trash bin, and we sashayed into the warehouse, confident.
We loaded jerky treats into our cart, then I picked out a nice piece of fish for our Father’s Day dinner. I was about to head for the vitamin section when I thought to check on what was available in the way of berries. Adagio seemed a bit resistant to entering the chilly produce room with me, but I wasn’t paying too much attention to him. And then I was — noticing the large puddle of urine that was materializing directly underneath him.
Of course I had no clean-up tools with me. A kind shopper, noticing my distress, asked if she could help me by looking for a Costco employee. I told her I was on it, and after a moment, I found a worker entering the store’s dairy section.
“Uh, my service dog puppy trainee just peed in the produce department,” I said. I couldn’t resist adding that this had happened despite my having him pee right before we entered. The guy stared at me, impassive, as he reached for his walk-talky and spoke into it. “Rob, can you go to produce with a mop? There’s a wet-spill cleanup.”
I liked that euphemism. Adagio and I slunk through check-out and out the door. In the parking lot, I ordered him to pee again. And he did!
Clearly he was having one of those days where he seems to need to urinate every 10 minutes. Yet they’re fairly rare, and he had no more accidents for the rest of the day, even though he later accompanied Steve to four grocery stores. Later in the afternoon, we went out with friends to two art galleries then had dined at a restaurant together. Adagio came with us, and he received many compliments on his excellent behavior. We felt proud of him, and I’m not going to put the Toileting Error sheet back. (But I’m not going to take him to Costco again for a while.)