RSS Feed

Monthly Archives: February 2013

A belly rub with fame

As I listen to a presentation on Different Thinking Styles, I’m reminded of a story from a few years ago when I was working for a construction contractor. We brought in a business consultant; an expert in planning.  He handed out sketch paper to the leadership team and asked them to create a picture of where they envision the company to be in ten years.

The construction managers, those who had oversight over the making of Dayton skyscrapers as they were, drew pictures of high rise buildings and cranes. Drawings of cities being reborn. 

The Finance guy made an organization chart.

I have no language-based thoughts at all. My thoughts are in pictures, like videotapes in my mind. When I recall something from my memory, I see only pictures. I used to think that everybody thought this way until I started talking to people on how they thought. I learned that there is a whole continuum of thinking styles, from totally visual thinkers like me, to the totally verbal thinkers. Artists, engineers, and good animal trainers are often highly visual thinkers, and accountants, bankers, and people who trade in the futures market tend to be highly verbal thinkers with few pictures in their minds. (excerpt from Thinking the Way Animals Do, by Temple Grandin, Ph.D., Dept. of Animal Science, Colorado State University, Western Horseman, Nov. 1997, pp.140-145

For anyone unfamiliar with the name Temple Grandin, a very nice bio can be found on Wikipedia, which is well worth the time to explore. Briefly, here’s a summarizing statement of Dr. Grandin from the Wikipedia website.

Temple Grandin (born August 29, 1947) is an American doctor of animal science and professor at Colorado State University, bestselling author, autism activist, and consultant to the livestock industry on animal behavior. She also created the “hug box“, a device to calm autistic children. The subject of an award-winning biographical film, Temple Grandin, in 2010, she was listed in the Time 100 list of the 100 most influential people in the world in the “Heroes” category.[2] 

What’s missing from that first Wikipedia paragraph is that Dr. Grandin was diagnosed with autism at age two. At a time when autism diagnoses were uncommon and resources available to families were frustratingly few. Temple Grandin is a woman commited to breaking through barriers for people with autism. She is an fierce advocate, speaking out to raise awareness and understanding. At the presentation I attended last week, she focused on how some of our visual thinking youth are being overlooked for employment in big business.

Euka II gets a belly rub from Dr. Grandin

Society must recognize that different people think in different ways, Dr. Grandin tells us. She believes that all minds, no matter how different, have something to contribute to society. And if different minds are nurtured and brought together, they should be able to solve new and complex problems.

In the business world, verbal thinking is not better than visual. Just as visual thinking is not better than analytical. We need to understand how each person’s view is critical to the success of a business.

Temple Grandin is a much sought after speaker and I was jazzed to be able to attend her presentation. Her website has a schedule of her upcoming presentations.  I encourage anyone who wants to understand more about Autism and Asperger’s to attend one of her talks.

So, speaking of different ways of thinking. You know I’ve never been the kind of girl to shy away from a bad decision. So it seemed reasonable to me that I would take Euka II with me to the talk. Sure, I knew it’d be about two hours or so. But Euka’s a good girl, so mature for her four months. Whenever she’s in the office, the pup sleeps much of the time. She’ll be fine.

In hindsight, I recall that while she does get some solid nap time in during the day, it’s only in the afternoons. This, after she’s spent all her energy in the morning being a four month old puppy.

Criminy, was she fidgety. In an auditorium of four hundred folk, she was happiest when reclining in the aisle way. Little Miss Curious, she wanted to check out every one of the faces behind us. At one point, I looked down to check on her and see her on her back, legs spread wide like the girly goods needed a close inspection. Oh my. 


A reenactment of her behavior in the auditorium

On the plus side, I see that relaxed posture as some serious confidence in the pup. I mean, really, who does that? In a filled auditorium, with the occasional outburst of robust applause, she’s got her soft belly exposed to all in a cocky bring-it-on attitude.

Dang, girl.  Ok, so duly noted and now let’s see how well you can do an Under, Euka. I bring her closer to my chair and under the table top. A service pup in training must be invisible at these events, I tell her.

To be honest, it was a struggle. The pup is convinced all these folk are here to observe the ethereal pale beauty that is Euka II. And to see the view from all possible angles. But after two hours of negating exhibitionist behavior, at least I’ve got a clear idea of what to work on next with the princess.

And like the parents who give their kids raisins at church to keep them still, I’m offering up dog biscuits as bribery.  Euka!, I whisper to her. If you put your legs together and lie down over here, there’s a cookie in it for you.

After the presentation, Euka worked on her calm greetings with folk passing by. She was so good!, they said, offering a palm up for a Shake. You wouldn’t believe she’s just four months old.

Huh. Well, I say. She does have her moments. I just hope the next presentation we go to is in the afternoon.

C’mon, you said to teach her everything I know.
My work here is done.

Wordless Wednesday: Master of the Hunt, Part II

I’m half German Shepherd and half bad ass.
That’s right, I’m 100% Booyah, baby.

On last Story Sunday, Master of the Hunt, we presented a challenge to identify any one of the breeds that you think makes up this funny lookin’ All American blend that is Jager.

From the comments left on the post and on the Raising a Super Dog Facebook Page feed we have:

fox terrier (2)
cattle dog (2)
border collie
Shetland sheepdog
Labrador retriever
Brittany spaniel
German shorthaired pointer

All fine guesses and the only thing I would add would be squirrel or raccoon and maybe a little bit of Kowakian monkey-lizard*.  The best part is that there’s nobody that can prove us wrong. So we can’t deny Jager’s claim to his German heritage. There might indeed be some rottweiler condensed into that little body.

My thoughts? Considering his early diagnosis of dermatomyositis, a congenital condition that is seen in collies and Shetland sheepdogs, there’s a solid chance of Sheltie in there. And I can see it around his ruff, so that’s easy to believe.  Then there’s the liver colored schnozzel pad and the orange spots that marks a Brittany spaniel.

But good grief, that attitude of his. Freaky and predictably unpredictable. Hyper alert to the unusual, like the neighbors getting home and closing their car door. Yapyapyapyapyapyap, says Jager.

All appearances aside, the dog has some terrier in there. It has to be true. All packed into his funky little head. You might say there’s inside that fuzzy exterior, there’s a terrier wanting to get out. Real bad, too.

Which does explain why he answers to the name of That’s Enuf Jager! Quiet, big guy.

 _____________________
*Star Wars: Episode VI – Return of the Jedi (1983) and About Jager

Master of the Hunt

My feet are cold.

Ok then, says Jager. I’ve got everything packed, think. Can you give me a ride to the airport?

I’m lost in a good book on my Kindle Fire, so it takes me a moment. Looking at Jager, our little All American Breed, I say, Say what? Holy cow, what are you on about this time?

I…think…I…have…everything…packed, he says slowly so I can understand him clearly this time. Got a chew toy and the squeaky tennis ball, but I might need some help carrying the dog bed. A couple of days worth of kibble too, but they should have more for me up there. 

Up WHERE?! I want to know. Are you going to Mars or something? There’s nobody on Mars with dog food, Fur Brain.

Not Mars, you cookie tosser, Jager says. He actually rolls his eyes at me. Alaska! Well, actually Anchorage to be on the spot with it. I’m going to run the Iditarod this year and need to finish my training before March.  These rockin’ abs aren’t going to stay in shape on their own, you know. Some stiff competition this year.

Oh my, I say. Ok, first of all, you were wanting to take your little self and go to Florida for the AKC/Eukanuba National Championship. And we had to have that awkward discussion about the necessities of being intact for such an event. As in “not neutered”. My head is still reeling from that fun talk. Never mind that your family lineage is so questionable that I wonder if there’s something other than canine in your DNA.


You know, my nose is a little kinda
cold too.

And now the Iditarod, Jager? They’ll be using a spatula to pry your frozen pampered terrier-ness off the landscape by the first checkpoint. You are not equipped for that kind of adventure and you know it. You, my love, are a house dog.

Oops, too far. Now I’ve hurt his feelings. I’m getting that Shrek Puss-in-Boots watery eye look. Behind that tough exterior is a delicate flower. I forget sometimes.

Jager is one of those who-rescued-who stories. We brought him into our home in our pre-puppy raising era. Back when I was still heartbroken over the tough loss of my beloved Dog of all Dogs, The Kaiser. I wasn’t ready to love again, but Jager showed up to show me how terribly wrong I was about that. He was a dog of the streets, rescued once then abandoned, and finally brought to a pet rescue group. He was moved around in no less than seven foster homes in a year’s time. One of those hard to adopt dogs with a nervousness about him that had folk wondering about his intentions. Even worse, a chronic medical condition that was the final deal breaker for potential adopters.

Then we met.  [Cue the theme from Love Story or that nice little tune from Dr. Zhivago. Whichever one makes you tear up a little.]

My kid saw him first. We weren’t at Petsmart for the adoption event, but still we stopped to look at the dogs anyway.  The hole in my heart left by Kaiser was not going to be filled by any of these dogs, I knew that. We can pet these dogs, give ’em some human loving and move on, I said. Then the kid wanted to see the freaky little terrier shaking in the crate. Seriously? Ok, not a prob, we’re big dog people after all. This thirty pound dog with the skinny noggin isn’t a fit for our family.  Fine, let him walk the dog for a few minutes and get it out of his system.

One scared little spotted dog

Right. I signed the foster application before we left the store and a week later we brought the quivering spotted dog home for my first and only rescue fostering experience. Oh yeah, you guessed right. We adopted Jager after the two week trial period. We have someone interested in Jager, said the rescue group. Oh, no you don’t, I said. We’ll be keeping him. I totally suck at dog fostering.

Ok, so now let’s fast forward to seven years later. Or we could measure the time in CCI increments instead. That would be four CCI puppies later, Jager is standing before me ready to defect from the Sword House.

I understand where he’s coming from. I do, I get it.  He went from Top Dog to Will you stop making those growly noises, Jager!  In all the hubbub about CCI puppy raising and Micron’s therapy work, well, it seems the spotted dog was moved into the background.

And with his seventh Gotcha Day coming up next month, this conversation about the Iditarod is making me feel pretty darn bad. The little spotted dog deserves better.

Ok, how ’bout this, kiddo? I say. Let’s put your skills to the test, shall we? You’re a hunter as your name suggests, right?


Snowflakes taste like . . . ok, they
taste like water. That’s pretty much it.

The flappy ears perk up. Yeah? He says. Yeah! I’m the Jagermeister. I am the Hunt Master, ja!  Oh! Oh! Can I catch another mole for you? I know where they live. It’s just a quick dig down to their evil lair and I can have get that hole dug up for you in a flash!

Indeed. I say. I’ve seen you in action on that one. That was remarkable, watching the turf fly. Let’s stay above terra firma today, ok? I have a different idea.

Squirrels? The tail is wagging now. Ooh, that nasty ‘possum with the jagged teeth living in the wood pile?

All good ideas, I say.  But too easy for a pro like you. A hunt master like yourself needs a real challenge. Go grab your squeaky tennis ball and let’s go outside to see how many times you can catch the thing.

Yes!! cries Jager and he runs to find his favorite ball.

Best day EVER! he says, making funny little growly noises.

I am Jagermeister, Master of the Hunt. There’s a ‘possum
back there in the wood pile and the nasty little bugger is mine.



Ok, what d’ya think? Want to try to guess the different breeds that make up this freaky little spotted dog? We’ve been around the fellow for a few years now and have our own semi-educated guesses, but we love to hear other folks’ thoughts, too.

What’s your thoughts about this All American blend? Leave your guess in the comments and let’s see how we all match up.