Squeaky Dog

Squeaky Dog
Dog trio serves as sweet distraction from grief
When cancer claimed my father in 1990, my mother, at the age of 54, suddenly found herself widowed, lost and bewildered. Married since she was 18 years old, she was now alone for the very first time in her life. Well, almost. Because Mom later confided in me...
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Teachers a everywhere, and occasionally they come with four legs.

Hugo was a mutt, Golden Retriever and Newfoundland. A few years ago he suffered his third idiopathic vestibular incident. It's a mystifying syndrome without a clear cause, but just picture a dog who looks like he's had a stroke and you'll get the right idea: stumbling in circles because legs on one side have stopped working, drooling out of one side of his mouth (instead of both sides for a change!), temporarily blind in one eye, bouncing off inanimate objects he doesn't see on that side.

The first time it happened it was terrifying. By the third time, we knew it for what it is. Most vestibular incidents resolve in a few hours to a few days. This time it took over two weeks.

OK, so you've got the image of a giant black dog who looks like he's had a stroke. Now add the image of a tall contemporary house with four half-floors and the main living area-kitchen, dining room, living room-on the top floor, essentially up in the tree canopy.

Ah, now you're really getting the picture. Many, many stairs. Big black dog who can't get the legs on one side of his body to work properly. Oak floors in the entire house, not great for claw traction. Special trips to the acupuncturist due to the back injury from attempting to carry said dog up and down the stairs rolled in an old sheet with just his head peeking out (don't even ask). Other dog trying to stay out the way so he doesn't get stepped on. And cats involved in the way cats always are.

Believe it or not, there really is something about this story that has to do with difficult situations and problem solving.

Eventually, Hugo got his legs and paws working approximately right. But by now the stairs freaked him out. So, our normally silent and stoic Gewfie became The Whimperer. For days he stood at the bottom of the stairs, whimpering in a way that's particularly pathetic when you weigh about 100 pounds and have paws the size of ponies' hooves. We attempted to harden our hearts and appealed to him by way of his stomach, usually an effective strategy with the Mouth That Ate Manhattan.

Finally, going up got to be a generally non-traumatic event. But going down remained a 15-minute event. Even the harness we bought to help hold his weight. Down was out.

Then, one morning when I was in a hurry to get to work, Hugo got stuck several levels up. He wouldn't even come close to the edge of the stairs going down. He just picked up his red and yellow squeaky toy (think Linus' blanket) and stared at me dolefully. Have you ever attempted to get a 100-pound dog to do something he doesn't want to?

I cajoled. I cheered. I ordered. I clapped and danced. I told him I knew he could do it. I flaunted a fistful of biscuits, which only served to get the drool really going. Finally, I grabbed the harness and started gently pulling him toward the stair edge. He put the brakes on and his landing gear collapsed, the two legs on the stricken side splaying outward. I helped him back up, trying to keep Hugo hair off my lovely knit skirt and pulling my scarf back from his lip, where it had stuck to the biscuit-tinted drool.

Hugo, who normally goes down the stairs on the right side of the staircase, stared at me as I stood on the left side of the landing. He walked over and nudged me to the right with his snout. Then he stumble-ran down the stairs to the next landing, moving diagonally from left at the top to right on the bottom.

Of course he needed to go diagonally. His right side wasn't working properly so everything he did was slightly diagonal. By standing where I was, I had actually been preventing him from doing what I was asking him to do.

It was a stupid-human moment. But Hugo was very graceful in his treatment of me afterward, never lording it over me, kind soul that he was.

If you're supervising someone at work, someone with a history of problem behaviors or poorly handled conflict, make sure you're giving them the right space, support and tools to achieve what you're asking.

Dr. Tammy Lenski offers more tips for untangling conflict and getting back on track at work and home with Find Your Conflict Zen, a 5-part series delivered by email. The series begins with The Conflict Zen Guide to Talking It Out in Ten, a worksheet and mini-guide designed especially to help you think through your most important conversations before you have them. Grab your own copy of the tips and worksheet today: http://lenski.com/talking-it-out-in-ten/

(c) Copyright by Tammy Lenski. All rights reserved worldwide.

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