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Author Archives: Donna Black-Sword

Micronition

 

What can Micron do? asks a co-worker. How many commands does he know?
 
Well, I say. That’s two entirely different questions now. 
 
Like many of my cube partners, she knows that in his prior life Micron was in the Canine Companions for Independence puppy raising program and went through an impressive three months of Advanced Training to be a service dog. Though he was later released due to . . .  well, I prefer to say that he just loves people too much.  CCI’s official word was Micron exhibited a high level of distractibility.  He was unpredictable in his unpredictability, I was told.  If the golden boy determined that someone wanted to greet him, and who wouldn’t, he would drag his trainer across the room to see said person.  Hi! he would say. I’m Micron-DON’T. And I think you love me.
 
And that, people, is not becoming behavior for a service dog.
 
So he was released from the service dog program and CCI graciously allowed us to adopt him as our beloved pet. But considering the eighteen months of raising him to be a service dog and adding in those three months with a professional trainer at CCI, you would expect him to recall the thirty-some commands he was taught.
 
And you would be mistaken. Because you see, recalling and performing are two different kinda things.  Micron has three commands he will do with proficiency:  Sit, Down and Extreme Down. 
 
Look at his back legs. No, I mean, just look at them. This dog is like a
Black Belt in Relaxation.
Naw, just kidding.  He knows Speak, too. And sometime you can get a Shake from him, if the mood strikes. Everything else requires inspiration in the manner of a dog cookie. Pull out a favorite treat and he’s your wingman. Robin to your Batman. Tonto to . . . .well, you know . . . he’s your ever-lovin’ partner. Just putting my hand in my right jeans pocket, the magic treat pocket, allows him to instantly recall all thirty commands we taught him.  On his best days, he’ll perform a series of them all in a loop, too.  Sit … Speak … Down … Sit … Shake … Speak … and so on until you give him the treat or he short circuits.  Either one.
Past experience suggests that problem
solving may not be his strongest skill set.

So we say that Micron has a hidden intelligence, even with hints that he is edging towards cleverness.  My co-workers share their beliefs that Micron actually worked it out to arrange himself the honorable discharge from CCI.  He wanted to be your dog, my cubemates say. So he flunked out on purpose. That’s how smart he is.

Ah, my flunkie dog. Yeah, but we don’t call it that in the CCI world, actually.  Micron is a Change of Career Dog. 

But are they right, my friends at work? Is Micron using more canine brain cells than I’m giving him credit for? 

Wouldn’t it be interesting to take a closer look and understand more about how the neurons are clicking in that gorgeous golden noggin of his?

I think so.

So I signed Micron up for sessions with Dognition*, an online program designed with a set of activities with your dog to give insight on how they see their world.  This isn’t just some silly personality test that you see on Facebook, I want to be clear on this. The developers of the program read like a Who’s Who of experts in canine cognition.  My respect of these folk are giving this a solid dose of street cred, in my humble-ish opinion.

From the Dognition** website:

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What is the Dognition Assessment Toolkit?
Each online Toolkit includes: observations you share about your dog through your canine personality questionnaire, science-based sets of games to play with your dog and a friend, and your dog’s resulting Dognition Profile report. The report details the strategies your dog uses to solve everyday problems and tips on how you can apply this new perspective. See more in How It Works.

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The Dognition program has five components: Empathy, Communication, Memory, Cunning and Reasoning.  Each set can be completed in a comfortable time frame, but Dognition recommends breaks between. Even performing the activities should be spread over more than one day to avoid fatigue.  And on this I would agree. 


Dang, I hope there’s no math on the test.

After completing Micron’s profile and initial questionnaire, we got things rolling.  Empathy is the first evaluation.  No prob here, I think.  My dog’s got him some mad empathy skills alright. He’s a certifiable pet therapy dog after all. 

Micron has this remarkable thing he’s done enough times to show that it’s not just something I’m imagining. When among a group of people, he places himself nearest to a person who is stressed.  I’ve observed this in meetings when I’ve allowed him to walk freely about the room. He’ll work the room, greeting folk for a few minutes, then will flomp his mass down on the feet of a chosen troubled soul. Even if they are a self-proclaimed “not a dog person.” 

Sure, I have no idea if this is the most stressed-out person in the room, it’s not like we’re taking blood pressure readings or something. But the person is usually sharing their frustration with the goings on of corporate life.

And the dog knows. Even more awesome, he wants to calm them. Something in Micron’s deep psyche is sensitive to human emotions.

You’re gonna ace this Empathy session, I tell Micron. No worries.

Dognition is clear on this though.  There are no right or wrong responses to the exercises.  Ok, got it, I understand. The Empathy session starts off with the Yawn game which evaluates if Micron will catch a contagious yawn from me. We try this as I pull off a few rather impressive fake yawns when real one shows up. I caught my own contagious yawn. That’s how empathetic I am, people.

The mighty Micron, not so much. He stares at me until he gets bored enough to lie down. But no yawn.

Now when I tell the kid, a double major in Psychology and Sociology, about this non-event, he tells me sociopaths don’t catch other people’s yawns. Because they can’t feel empathy. And maybe Micron’s a sociopath. I tell him that’s not very funny and yet I wonder why my sensitive and he’s-not-a-sociopath dog didn’t pick up on the yawn.  A curious thing.

The next step in this session is Eye Contact. Oh, we’re big on doggie eye contact around here. I figure if the dog is looking at me, then he is listening as well.  So I’m not surprised that Micron makes it through the exercises never breaking our staring competition. He did wink his left eye a couple times, which had me wondering if I should wink back. And about half way through, Micron got a little uncomfortable with thinking maybe he should be doing something other than looking at me.

I don’t understand what you want!, he thinks. Maybe it’s Speak.  Is it Speak you want me to do?  GerWOOF wuff wuff WOOF! Or Shake? You wanna Shake?  And he smacks my leg with his paw a few times. While barking.

The dog is confused on this one. To his credit though, outside of the occasional wink and blink, he never once looks away. 



Keep the coffee comin’. I’m gonna be up all
night cramming.

So is this proof enough of our bonded relationship?  I’m vexed he doesn’t care enough about my feelings to yawn, yet he did feel compelled to lie down.  What could that mean? Well, we’ll have to await the final results to see how this comes out.

Four more modules to complete for his Dognition evaluation.  Next up is Communication when we’ll evaluate how Micron interprets my gestures for making choices. We’ll use hand pointing and foot pointing to give instructions for his dog brain to work out. The results will be on a scale from Self-Reliant to Collaborative. 

What’s my prediction for Communication, you ask? A good question, that.  Keeping in mind there’s no right or wrong results, there’s only Micron, let’s say Self-Reliant is a 1 on the scale and Collaborative is 10.

I expect Micron to fall in at about a 7 on the Communication scale. I think the foot pointing, which is not something I do much in spite of my professional pedicure, will throw him off.

Stay tuned for the next blog post to see how this plays out.

 
No idea, really, how the dog will do, but
I should ace the Foot Pointing exercise
just for style alone, right?

_____________________________________
* When I mentioned Dognition to the kid, he said it sounded like “ignition” like starting a car. Which led us both to making rerrrr rerrrr rerrrr growly sounds like a car struggling to start, but sounding like a dog too. She won’t roll over, says my son.  We laugh and laugh like the geeks we are.  I know, you kinda had to be there.

**CCI puppy raisers and Graduate Teams, contact me if you think you want to sign up for Dognition. There may be a discount available for CCI folk.

Hope there’s no math on the test

Micron overheard something about a cognitive evaluation coming up for tomorrow’s Story Sunday dog blog post. He’s trying to play it cool, but I think he might be just a little bit worried.

I’ve tried to tell him that studying is not necessary.  He just has to be himself.

And besides, Micron reading about the derring-do of Rin Tin Tin is like me watching American Idol or something. 

We both can casually wave a paw or hand and say, sure I could do that.  But the truth is a harsh mistress. And like the proverbial “kept woman” she’s a tough bird to kick out.

So, just be you, Micron.  And it will be just fine, you’ll see.

Wordless Wednesday: Grasshoppa

Hey Grasshoppa, says Bodine.  Quickly as you can, snatch the pebble from my hand.

Ain’t gonna happen, says Micron.

No, really, says Bodine. When you can take the pebble from my hand, it will be time for you to leave.*

You know what, Master Po-dine? says Micron. The last time I tried playing tennis ball with you I got shredded.

Because you’re too slow. That’s all, says Bodine. You just need to practice more, my young student. Here, try to take the ball from me. 

Food Lady says I can’t eat you because you’re made of fat and gristle and you’d just give me gas, says Micron.  

Hahahaha! Wait, what?, says Bodine. Whatever. You have no competitive spirit, that’s what’s wrong with you, Microbe.  I need a challenge here.

Hey Jager! calls Bodine. Grasshoppa, quickly as you can . . .





________________________
*Kung Fu (1972-75) Back when we had four channels (2, 7, 22 & 45) to watch on television and you didn’t need a remote to change them because that’s what our parents had kids for.  Well that, and adjusting the foil on the rabbit ears.

VYPMRDFV5BGP





Air conditioning doesn’t come in a can

Micron representing Miami Valley Pet Therapy Association
at our home town annual Fine Arts Festival.

Um, Food Lady? says Micron. Do you have a minute? I don’t want to complain. I mean, this is nice enough house and all, but I can’t find the air conditioner vent to lie on.

House? Air con . . . what? I ask. I’m rummaging in the pockets of my tote bag looking for Micron’s trading cards to set out for the kids. Micron, look around you for a sec, big guy.  We’re not in a house. Do you see any walls?

Well, no but, Micron says as he looks up. We got a roof, so this has to be a house, right? A house has to have a woof, everybody knows that. And did you get a chance to smell this carpet? Seriously. Come down here and check this out. We should put this stuff in the living room at our place.  Lookit, there’s crawly bugs and grass and [sniff sniffle snort] wet dirt! But it’s too hot here, doncha think? Go ask if the people will turn the air conditioner up.

He pauses and closes his eyes. Or is it turn it down?

I always did get confused on that one myself. If you turn the air up, is that to raise the temperature to warmer? Or are you turning it up to be more colder? See, even basic grammar gets boogered on this.

Micron, that wet dirt of yours is what others consider common mud, I say. See where you put your paw on my knee earlier and left a mark? Do you really want to replace the carpet in our house and have everything all mucked up and stinky? Right, never mind on that. Anyway, this is a just canopy overhead to keep the sun off us this afternoon.

Well, that’s the last thing I need a can of, says Micron, rolling his eyes. Why can’t you get me a can of air conditioning instead?



I am, says Micron, a remarkable piece of fine art.
Out standing in my, well, you know. 

Because we’re outside, you goober, I say. As in out of doors, in the fresh air, au natural.  Wait, maybe not that. Anyway, your job today is to greet people and help answer questions about pet therapy. Do you think you can avoid heat exhaustion for a little while? At least since it’s only 75 degrees and we’re in a nice shady spot with plenty of water for you working dogs.

Do you need me to drink lots of water to keep the canopy filled up? asks Micron with a straight face. Is he making a joke? I don’t get dog humor sometimes.

With the assistance of his peers, Micron does his best to make a positive impression on folk coming by our meet and greet booth for Miami Valley Pet Therapy Association. It’s just another gorgeous day at our hometown Fine Arts Festival and we found ourselves assigned a shady spot to set up our table and info material. I’m rather pleased to not have to drive far for once. This is just down the road from us, so to make up for what I’m saving in drive time I’ve volunteered to work the booth for both days of the festival. Yep, that’s how my mind works.



A pre-meeting among the canines before
things get started up. It was a unanimous
vote for turning up the AC.
From top: Beamer, Zoe, Micron, Mazy

No prob for me, really. To take on a shift both days, that is. Pretty much because the dogs do the lion’s share of the work at the booth.  Sure, I’m glad to field the occasional question between bites of an ice cream sundae, but it’s Micron and his canine friends that have most the intel on what we do in pet therapy.

We human beans can talk all day about lowered blood pressure and finding that oh-feels-so-good sense of well-being when in the calm presence of a pet therapy dog.  But mere talking ain’t gonna bring those happy hormones your way. You need to be there.

By that I mean, someone needs to be there to hold the leash. Because there’s not much else to be done on the human end of the thing. This kind of work is all on the canine, like Micron. 

This isn’t some sort of supernatural thing, this human-animal bond happening before us as the dogs greet one person after another.

Yet it is hard to understand it on anything more than a basic level. Well, at least for me. What is it that draws two strangers together, these people and our dogs? Is their love of dogs a remnant from a positive past experience and our furries bring up wonderful memories? Sure, maybe for some.



Cordell and Micron are all Team Golden at the booth.
 

But what about our dogs? What is it that’s rolling around in Micron’s brain that has him, fully equipped with a wagging tail and doggy smile, walking up to a individual he’s never met before?

Hi!, says Micron. I know we just met and this is crazy, but here’s my belly. Rub it maybe?*

Every blessed time. He has a golden gift, my dog. But then so does Cordell and Mazy and Zoe and Beamer and . . . well, all the dogs volunteering with mvPTa.  They are doing exactly what they’re meant to be doing.

They do love their jobs. When I grab Micron’s blue bandana from the kitchen counter, he does his special Happy Dance. Wherever we’re going, whatever I’m going to ask of him, he’s sure it will be the best ever. Because he gets to go somewhere and interact with someone who is craving his presence in their life.

Mazy and Micron have decided to do a Kissing Booth for
money. They’ll pay you up to a quarter for each lick. A
full fifty cents if you’re wearing sandals.

And I have the honor of being the chick holding the leash while this magic happens right before me. I must have done something right somewhere along this lifeline to be so blessed with this gift.

Ugh, but enough with the touchy-feely stuff, let me share something I learned in our pet therapy training. We were told – and reminded over the ten weeks of training – that our first responsibility is always the safety and well-being of our dog.

No exceptions. We are to be aware of signs of stress happening in the canine psyche of our beloved poocher.  To be honest, not such as easy task in the mighty Micron.  My dog will compensate for aches and pains, as well as stress.  His signals are frustratingly subtle. 

So during our Day Two shift at the booth, I see that Micron is not as engaging with folk. He’d rather be behind the table instead of seeking out that elusive belly rub from a stranger. And then, yep. 

There ya have it.  He turned away from a head pat.  Even in my distracted state of talking with folk, I see that one.

Put a fork in this hot dog, he is done.

Micron, I say.  Let’s go home and get you back in the air conditioning. Ok with you?

Dibs on the AC vent in the kitchen, he says.

Micron, photo circa July 2010.  Three years ago, people.
Nothing has changed here.

_____________
* I should apologize for that one. Really, I know. 

Wordless Wednesday: What day is it?

Micron pauses to ponder the mysteries of the natural laws. Like gravity, fer instance.

The mighty Micron wishes you a Happy Wordless Wednesday here in the great dog blogosphere. 

Or perhaps for the likes of us as we prepare ourselves for another workday on the cube farm, we would send out Happy Hump Day greetings. 

My cube partner to the due south of my office is Mike. Micron’s nickname is Mike. Micron goes to the office with me every day where we share our general space near cubemate Mike. I talk to Micron throughout the day, sometimes with cutey dog talk. Other times to correct a certain behavior.

The dog spies an anomaly outside the office window that is determined by the ever alert canine noggin as something needing immediate attention. A robust gerWOOF by Micron rings out the alarm. Meanwhile cubemate Mike is talking with someone at his desk.

Mike!, I say like I really mean it. Quiet!

[crickets chirping] 

bwahahahaha. This never gets old. It just doesn’t.

So a Happy Hump Day to y’all today.

Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike, what day is it, Mike? Wuuhahaha.