"Pogo Eats Strangers" from Melody Coulter's journal
submitted by Randi Bildner
The life of a Training Partner is a fascinating, although it’s not for everyone. It is a difficult job which one must be completely devoted.
In her own words, Melody Coulter of "GOOD DOG" Training tells the story of how she won the respect of her partner, Pogo, and how she is working toward the goal of getting him ready for a "normal" life.
From Melody Coulter’s Journal."Pogo Eats Strangers," so I was told. When I first met him he exploded, barking, growling, snarling, lots of teeth, lunging-- all the tricks that make scary people go away; and he was good at it! Then he added a 4 foot straight up in the air jump that explained why he was named Pogo.
He looks like a small red Chow: lots of russet hair, thick muscular body, curled tail, but with short Jack Russell legs that makes the jumping all the more impressive. It was obvious why he couldn't be adopted, he had bitten potential adopters, he wasn't bluffing, he would back-up these threats with teeth if necessary.
I had been flown to his shelter in New Jersey from Iowa by Best Friends Animal Society as part of their Trainer-Partners program. Best Friends matches dog trainers experienced in dealing with aggressive dogs with refugees (who need more training than most) from their incredible Hurricane Katrina effort.
Best Friends, which is based in Utah, was a major player in getting those stranded animals out of New Orleans. Other rescue organizations would put down a dog like Pogo, but Best Friends was determined, after all theses animals have been through, to give them another chance.
Pogo survived the storm alone for 3 weeks in those toxic, flooded streets before being rescued. It's hard to imagine how he did that. I look at him and think, "I wish you could talk to me buddy; the stories you could tell."
The busy shelter staff left me alone with him so I pulled up a bucket outside his run, sat down, turned sideways, tried to keep my body loose, a smile on my face and NO eye contact. Then I began gently pitching small pieces of canned chicken breast towards his feet. This is pretty heady stuff for a guy living on dry food and sleeping on cement. I had his attention.
It's hard to continue to be rude to someone who’s not moving towards you, who is smiling and is slipping you the equivalent of 50 dollar bills through the fence!
He stopped barking but wasn't going to be won over so easily. It took a half an hour or so just to calm down. It helped to throw some of the chicken to the dogs on either side of him making, him want my attention all the more.
The staff came in to clean this section of runs so I would walk around, talk with them and then stroll back over and give him a treat; he was reacting less and less to my approach.
Everyone was leery of letting him out to greet me because that's when he had attacked strangers before. I thought he'd be ok and was ready to throw a big chunk of chicken if he rushed me. He rushed me all right but it was for the chicken.
I made no effort to touch him, and that, as much as the treats, kept me safe. Had I leaned over him and tried to pat him on the head (like any adopter would do) he would have nailed me. He reminded me of a tough little street kid ready to take offense at the slightest thing.
Since we both passed that first all important test they brought me a 20' lead and we went exploring the grounds. Chicken didn't matter then; there was no time for goodies, too many incredible smells and sights, even squirrels. Who could blame him, for over a year Pogo had grown used to cement walls on three sides and had been staring out at a solid wooden fence that stood 8 feet from his kennel door.
A misty rain was falling and after 30 minutes of aerobics I sat down on a dry spot underneath a thick pine. He would come back to me occasionally, get a quick treat and be off to the end of the tether to smell some more. On one of these drive-by greetings I reached out and stroked him from shoulder to tail avoiding his head. He oh-so casually turned and came back by so I could do it again. My heart gave a flip. I was a stranger no more.
This is the beginning of my journal about rehabbing Pogo. . He's made progress, not ready for prime time yet, but a whole different dog. He's smart, constantly trying to make up for all that sensory deprivation, very trainable and has the personality of a true individual, and surprise -- he's very affectionate. This boy loves a lovin'; although he still reacts like a crazy man if surprised by a stranger.
This type of behavior takes time to change; it takes what's called counter-conditioning and desensitization. For example, if I was trying to help someone get over a fear of spiders, I wouldn’t dump spiders in their lap, we’d start with them across the room in a jar so they couldn't possibly hurt the person and they would feel safe. From there we would progress in small increments moving the spiders closer until the person became comfortable.
That's what I’d do with Pogo. The best place to find strangers is the park, but there's no one in the park right now. Things may go faster than I think once we can get out but he's pretty reactive so I'm not going to get my hopes up with everything he's been through. There are no quick fixes; but he CAN be fixed.
Melody summed up her thoughts with the words below:
I really hope to get the word out about this little guy. Once I get him into a good home, I will be very happy to meet a new partner who needs some help.