When I'm Gone

OMGOMGOMGYOUGUYS, five more days! FIVE MORE DAYS!!!!!!!

So, next week I'll be at the Association of Professional Dog Trainer's annual conference in Spokane, Washington along with my friend/boss, Sara Reuche. After the conference, the Voice of Reason and I will be flying to Seattle for the first time to spend a week with friends. Well, he has friends in Seattle and will be making up for lost bro love time. I'll be hanging out with the Fremont Bridge Troll and the rest of Seattle.

I'm a little excited.

I want to share my experiences at the conferences with the rest of Bloglandia, but if there's one thing I've learned as a blogger, it's that I really suck at getting around to writing summaries of the various conferences I've attended. I do, however, write fairly reasonable notes at seminars. So what I'm going to try to do for the APDT conference is, at the end of each day, translate my notes into a paragraph or so about each of the sessions I attend. The summaries will be short and sweet, but hopefully they'll be better than what I'm currently doing, which is nothing. So, fingers crossed and stay tuned for the first day's summary on Wednesday, October 23rd!

One of the things I've already learned is that I have the Best. Friends. Ever. In the nine years of our relationship (did I mention our anniversary is October 31st?), the Voice of Reason and I have never taken a vacation together. This means that we've never had to send our dogs anywhere while we were gone because one of us was always home. With seven dogs to place, most of which have special needs, I was planning to have my work cut out for me. But lo and behold! with in a week and two full months before we planned to leave, each and every dog not only has a friend to stay with, but also a caretaker I am certain will be able to handle their unique needs. I hadn't hoped for anything this good!

So a huge shout out to Nicole and Steve (Marnie), Laural (Jai), Tom and Debbie (Piper Ann), Crystal (Maus - and a little Rubi and Allister), Michelle and Brian (Cannon), and Jenny (Allister, Rubi, and assorted little critters) - you're the bestest, and you've taken a huge weight off my mind. Thank you, thank you, thank you so very much!

Hike #6: Carpenter Nature Center

Carpenter Nature Center is one of my very favorite places. I have fond memories of going here on field trips in grade school, and their orchard store has the yummiest spiced peaches and caramel apples. Plus all the good work they do with conservation and wildlife rehabilitation. Considering how close I live to Carpenter, you'd think I'd get out here more often. Luckily for our ten hike goal, though, there are still several trails I haven't gotten a chance to explore yet.

Since today is Monday and a little dreary, I figured the trails would be a little deserted, so I decided to bring Jai along. Jai doesn't go on many walks because I'm not certain he likes them. He's never shown any hesitation to go on adventures, but once we're out, he tends toward hypervigilance. And his tail stops working. I'm not even kidding. It's not clamped down or curled under like you'd expect with fear. It just stops moving. I'm not sure what to make of this, and I have five other dogs in the house that would LOVE to go for a walk, so Jai spends a lot of time at home or running errands or going places where he can just sit still and watch the world move around him. Jai has always been very environmentally sensitive, and I think that on walks, the environment just changes too quickly for him, and it stresses him out.

No matter what Jai thought, it was a lovely day for a hike! The weather was just this side of cool, and the fall colors were in full swing. The boys and I started at the Self-Guided Trail and then looped around in sort of a figure eight to take the North River Bluff Trail. Carpenter Nature Center runs right up to the St Croix River, so even when it isn't fall, it's still a beautiful place to be.

One of the thing Jai and I have struggled with it his stamina. He tends to get more stressy and disconnected the longer he's out until he's just a muddled, miserable pile of pit bull goo. Currently, he needs about forty-five minutes to adjust to a new environment, then we get about twenty minutes of golden time where he can actually work before the goo sets in.

However, on today's walk, I was pleasantly surprised when Jai seemed to get more relaxed the longer we were there instead of more gooey. He even had two bouts of relaxed tail wagging about ten seconds long without any jollying along by me - and this was after we'd already been hiking for over an hour! (He also didn't freeze and get stuck even once in the whole two and a half hours we were there, but this is something he's been getting progressively better at on the walks we do take, and therefore less exciting to me than unprompted tail wagging.)

I think part of Jai's success was that we took A LOT of breaks so that I could take pictures - because every time we turned the bend, they was something new and gorgeous to look at. This gave Jai a great deal of time to take in what was going on around us. I think that it also helped that we weren't in the city. There is, as you know, a lot more stimulation in the city,or even in a more suburban neighborhood like where we live - dogs in yards, neighbors talking, kids playing, tree rats doing whatever it is that tree rats do. While there were a lot of smells and a few small critters to check out, for the most part, Carpenter Nature Center is a much more relaxed place to hang out.

I think that it also helped to have Maus along. Jai worships Maus, for some reason I can't quite fathom. (Most dogs that come into my house do. I want to tap them on the head and point out, "You don't want to be like him, he has the crazies," but they probably wouldn't understand what I was saying anyway.) This would not be the first time that Maus has exerted a stabilizing influence on Jai. Perhaps it is because they are rather similar - both shy and a little neophobic.

Of course, helper dogs are a bit of a double edged sword. For example, I suspect that Jai would really enjoy swimming if it weren't for the fact that Maus is horrified by large bodies of water. Jai is curious about rivers - until he saw Maus being afraid of them. Now Jai thinks rivers are scary, too. One of these days, I'll have to take him out with Allister. Allister thinks swimming is the Best Thing Ever, and maybe he can persuade Jai to at least drink out of the big, pit bull-eating river. Moral of the Story: choose thy helper dog carefully.

All in all, though, I was really pleased with our hike. If Jai is up to it, I'd like to take himalong out our tentatively planned May 2014 Superior Hiking Trail trip. I've thought about bringing him before, but I've always been concerned that it would be too much for him. We'd have to leave Maus behind - he thinks nature is a nice place to visit, but he wouldn't want to live there. Piper would be a great helper dog for him, though. She doesn't have the bond with Jai that Maus does, but she also doesn't have Maus's crazies, so it would balance out.

John Muir once wrote, "In every walk with nature, one receives far more than he seeks." It always seems to fall true. I went out today thinking that I would spend a little time with my boys and got much more than I planned for: a beautiful fall day and the chance to see how far Jai can go. It pleases me so much to know that places like Carpenter exist. Small, quiet areas in the world to remind us that we do not run on deadlines and cash and four wheels, but instead on softly falling leaves, lazy rivers, and the love of good dogs.

Cannon's Snort-ectomy

I knew when I adopted him that Cannon would likely need surgery. Like many brachycephalic squishy-faced dogs, Cannon has brachycephalic airway syndrome. Squishy faced dogs have been bred so that their facial bones, particularly their upper jaws, are shortened, creating that pushed-in look. This changes the way that the soft tissues in their airways are able to function. When their inability to breath significantly affects the dog's quality of life, that's when they have brachycephalic airway syndrome. Cannon had already had a soft palate resection when I adopted him, and since brachycephalic airway syndrome is a collection of defects, I knew there was a strong possibility that he would need further surgeries.

The soft palate resection drastically improved Cannon's ability to breath, but he still struggles. When I adopted him in July, it was warm out, and he was pretty much a wrinkly lump of bulldog due to his inability to cool himself (a side effect of not having being able to move air over his tongue - remember, dogs cool themselves by panting). Now that the weather has cooled, Cannon has really sparked to life, getting into all the trouble you would expect from an adolescent bulldog, and generally having ten kinds of fun doing it. But he still regularly struggles to breathe and do normal dog stuff, like walk or eat or sleep, at the same time.

So on November 7th, the CannonBall will be having his second brachycephalic airway syndrome surgery at the University of Minnesota Veterinary Medical Center. While he's under anesthesia, the (specialist) surgeon will look at his trachea to assess how narrow it is, as well check to see if there is tissue obstructing his windpipe. But the point of this surgery will be a stenotic nares resection.

A normal dog's nose will have two "nares," or nose holes that are well opened and easily pass air. This allows the dog to, well, breathe. Or in Rubi's case, easily gain enough air for screaming, jumping at squirrels, and general hyperactivity.

Rubi shows off her excellent nose holes.
And the bloody gash she got from running into a tree at full speed.

For Cannon and other dogs with brachycephalic airway syndrome, shortening their top jaw has narrowed their nostrils and can even cause their nostrils to collapse in when they try to inhale. This makes it almost impossible to breathe through their nose and can cause difficulties with everything from sleeping to walking around to eating. Compare Rubi's nice, open nose to Cannon's stunted schnoz:

So in November, Cannon will be having surgery to open his nasal passages, hopefully thereby removing his snort, purr, gasp, and other strangled breathing noises.

Not all brachycephalic, squishy-nosed dogs have brachycephalic airway syndrome, though. As a boxer, Piper Ann certainly qualifies as squishy-faced; however, aside from being a little more sensitive to heat (which is likely a combination of her facial structure and coat color), her altered face does not seem to really affect her quality of life.

One of the hot topics in dog culture right now is the ethics of creating dogs that require significant human intervention to do normal canine activities like breathe and breed. While I agree that brachycephalic dogs like Cannon are extreme, and I'm awfully glad I didn't give his breeder any money, I think that condemning dog breeds to extinction because of genetically selected for traits is a slippery slope. Is any amount of brachycephally acceptable? Piper Ann certainly doesn't seem to be suffering from it. And if it's a quality of life issue, what about, say, golden retrievers, with their predispositions to cancer or beagles with epilepsy? Both significantly effect the quality of life of these breeds, they just aren't genetic conditions apparent from looking at the dogs. And if we're getting rid of physically health conditions, should we look at mental health conditions that impact quality of life as well? Such as the border collie's tendency toward overstimulation or excessive guarding behaviors in Rottweilers? Should we end pure bred dogs altogether?

The thing is, I like purebred dogs. I like the temperament package that bulldogs seem to come with. And I love the overall genetic package that comes with the label "pit bull terrier." And I don't want to see them go away. The great thing about purebred dogs is that we have the ability to make them healthier instead of genetic train wrecks. There are French Bulldogs without brachycephalic airway syndrome and non-neurotic border collies. What is needed is not the elimination of purebred dogs, but more responsible breeders - breeders who are looking to the betterment of their breed both mentally and physically instead of breeding toward extreme characteristics while disregarding everything else.

Of course, it's all fine and dandy to leave all the pressure on dog breeders, but the truth of the matter is that breeders would not be creating sub-par dogs if people weren't buying them. And here lies the importance of research and education, not only of the breed in question, but also of the breeder. Poorly bred dogs like Cannon are not the end result of a handful of irresponsible people, but of a culture that promotes appearance over health and impulse over education. It is only by changing this culture that purebred dogs will be able to thrive.

Her Story

She didn't have a name when the puppy and her sister were dumped at a construction site, so the ARLP volunteer who found them in June of 2008 named her "Katie." Katie was an adorable little black puppy, and it didn't take her long at all to be adopted.

I don't know who took this picture, but it wasn't me.

Kate's new family renamed her "Lexis." Lexis grew up into a lovely dog. She was sweet with all people, but she particularly loved children. She gravitated toward the little ones like pit bulls to peanut butter. She also loved balls, and would play fetch until she fell over, preferably in some sort of water. Her new family taught her important things like sit and shake and to walk nicely on a leash.

But as she got older, Lexis became "aggressive" with other dogs. While she continued to get along well with her family's other dog, she started lunging and barking at other dogs on walks, and her family had difficulty managing her. One day while Lexis and her canine sibling were being walked by a friend of the family, the two of them lunged toward another dog at the same time and pulled their leashes out of the person's hand. The two dogs attacked the other dog, and in the process of separating them, the little boy who had been walking the other dog received two punctures - a dog bite.

Animal control was called, and Lexis's family sent her to their impound facility for quarantine. Then, they emailed ARLP to say that they were unable to handle her anymore and would the rescue please find a new home for her. ARLP doesn't typically take in middle-aged lab mixes with bite histories, but that is what Lexis grew up to be, and we take care of our own. So the Powers That Be went out to animal control to do a temperament evaluation on Lexis in order to better understand what her options would be.

Lexis breezed through her temperament eval with grace and aplomb. She seemed to be a biddable, eager-to-please, well-balanced dog, and food motivated to boot. The animal control officers that worked with her had come to like her. They hadn't had any trouble with her around the other dogs at the impound facility, and Lexis behaved like a normal, well-socialized dog around all the human staff. They felt, and the Powers That Be agreed, that Lexis deserved another chance, even if that chance was just a warm bed, a full belly, and a little love before she was euthanized as a compassion case.

Photo by Paige.

Here's where I come in, because, as Tyrion would say, I have a "tender spot in my heart for cripples and bastards and broken things." And Lexis came to my house a very broken dog.

She wasn't aggressive or overly anxious or behaviorally challenged; she was lost. She would pace around the house, looking out windows, scanning rooms, looking behind furniture for something - or someone - she could not seem to find. I would call her to me, and she would cheerfully come, receive some scritches, and then trot to the door as if to say, "Okay, can I go home now?" I didn't have a way to tell her that she wouldn't be going home again, and it was one of the most heart breaking experiences I've had nearly fifteen years of rescue.

But there was more broken than just hearts. It took me about a week to realize that there was just something wrong with the way this dog moved. Her back end wasn't put together like my other dogs; she had an odd, short-strided gait in her rear. So we packed her up and went to the vet where we learned that she has severe hip dysplasia.

So now we have a five year old, large, black, mixed-breed dog with a bite history and a severe health problem. On paper, she is unadoptable. I mean, who willingly signs up for a dog like that? But her statistics do not even come close to describing the dog she is.

We renamed her Marnie, because that is what she told be her new name would be for this next chapter in her life, and I don't know how to argue with that. She has the softest mouth. She loves, loves, loves to play with balls, even though the vet said that a dog with her hips shouldn't be able to stand steadily, let along run and play - no one told Marnie that her body was broken. She can be left alone in the house and not chew stuff up. Her behavior is normal and predictable. Her whole body lights up with joy at meal times. She is more social, better on a leash, and better behaved than the majority of my own personal dogs.

And Marnie is not even a little dog aggressive. For the first few weeks at my house, Marnie completely ignored my dogs; she wouldn't even look at them. Thanks to the two week staycation, Marnie learned that she did not have to interact with the other dogs if she did not want to. You see, Marnie likes other dogs, but she is worried that they will hurt her. While she can still run and jump and play on her own, having her hips bumped and jostled by other dogs hurts her. So she became defensive toward other dogs. Once she figured out that she could interact with dogs on her own terms, both at home and on walks, Marnie began enjoying interacting with the other dogs, and even solicits play. I have yet, in the four months that Marnie has been living at my house, to see anything that could actually be considered aggression or even reactivity.

Marnie in person is a very different dog than Marnie on paper, and her case lies in the hazy grey area between "unadoptable" and "should be euthanized." Is she a good candidate for adoption? Well, no. But I have a hard time saying that she should be put to sleep for being born black and with bad hips and for behaving like a normal dog in a dog fight (that could have likely been prevented). So last week, thanks to a grant from the University of Minnesota, we made the difficult decision to go ahead with surgery on Marnie's hips in order to relieve her pain and get her ready for adoption.

I believe that compassion is not something you are - it is something you do. But I admit that I am having a hard time being impartial and compassionate toward Marnie's first family. If your dog was displaying aggressive behavior, why wouldn't you reach out for help? Any why would you let some leash-dropper walk your "aggressive" dog? I mean, I get that behavior change takes time and resources, and hey, I've heard raising kids can be hard, but I feel like these people didn't even try. Maybe it's extra hard because I know firsthand how easy Marnie's behavior was to fix: don't let her get molested by other dogs - problem solved! There's a reason that we tell people to take their dog to the vet if they notice radical behavior changes. And if I'm handing out the benefit of the doubt, maybe I can hope that Marnie's family did this - and their vet just didn't notice severe hip dysplasia in an otherwise healthy dog? I mean, someone had to graduate at the bottom of their class, right?

I think that the fastest way to earn your burnout in animal rescue is to start hating people, but I want to be angry at someone. I want Marnie's story to be someone's fault. I want to place the blame on someone so that I have something to fix. Because if I just say to myself, "This is a shitty thing, and it happened, and it couldn't have been prevented," then I don't have a way to prevent this kind of suffering in the future. It hurts. And the hurting hasn't stopped yet. Marnie still has a hard journey ahead of her, and she deserves better than the hand she's been dealt. Marnie deserves the support of a family who loves and wants her as she takes the next steps on this difficult, painful road.

Photo by Paige.

The Road Less Traveled By (or) Shit Happens

Hey y'all - GUESS WHAT? We didn't die!!!

Each trip into the woods is a learning experience. You tweak equipment and style and technique each time, and you're always gaining new knowledge about the right - and wrong - way to do things. For example, I learned that my new sleeping pad was totally worth more than its weight in gold because that thing is super comfortable and light as heck. And I confirmed that my old rain gear is absolutely better than my fancy, expensive new rain gear. And I also came up with a new way to connect Rubi and Piper's leashes a la sled dog style so that they get tangled less frequently.

Not tangled leashes, very handy.

And then we learned that although Rubi has always been extremely respectful of barriers, she will, in fact, go right through the front of a tent to get to another dog. After which we learned that I have mad flying ninja dog-tackling skillz, y'all, and the NFL needs to recruit me right the hell now because I would totally take that team all the way to the Super Bowl. They should also recruit me so that I can have the money to fix the front of my tent.

Sigh.

Shit happens. At the end of the day, it's just stuff. And even if I'd known, I'd still have brought Rubi with.

No dogs were harmed in the making of this trip, even though he totally deserved it (according to Rubi).

The eighteenth of September, smack dab in the middle of our trip, marked Rubi's third Gotcha Day (that's the third anniversary of the signing of her adoption papers, in case you didn't know). Sometimes, I think I'm incredibly lucky to find a dog willing to let me yank her out of civilization and into the wet, mosquito infested, tree-rat laden woods for a week. Sometimes, I think Rubi is incredibly lucky to have found someone willing to take her blonde, bitchy, reactive ass anywhere. Needless to say, I think we suit each other well.

Rubi thinks we should go on vacation every year for her Gotcha Day.

Rubi was bounced around a lot before she landed at my house, and I always regard the perfect storm of events that brought her to my door as a bit of a miracle of coincidence. She is certainly not a dog I would have gone out looking for. I mean, who in their right mind goes to a rescue and says, "Yes, I would like the old, crazy-reactive dog, please. The worst one you've got." I mean, I'm not that insane (yet). But after three years, I've yet to seriously regret signing those papers. Rubi and I, we have a friendship that is completely unique and amazing and hard in all the good and bad ways. We have done things and seen places that many others will never even realize exist. Rubi and I have walked the road less travel by.

And that, of course, has made all the difference.

So This is Happening

In a few days, Rubi, Piper, and I will be heading out for a week with my dad and brother to hike the last half of the Border Route.

You might remember, we did the first half last year.

I've been really relaxed about planning this trip (and by relaxed, I mean I've procrastinated all over the place and just don't care). I think that part of it is just experience: this is my third trip with a dog, and I've lost count of how many trips into the woods my dad and I have done. Also, I finally own pretty much all my own gear, which means that I don't have to try and scrounge up stuff from other places. Oh, and all my worry is being taken up by the huge trip my husband and I are taking in October wherein I have to find sitter for all six dogs PLUS not kill my husband because he still hasn't found us a hotel in Seattle (I suspect we will be sharing space with the Fremont Bridge Troll).

Anyway, I feel like Piper, Rubi, and I are about as well prepared as possible for one of these trips. I know what I need to bring for the girls, and what's okay to leave behind, how to hold the leashes so they don't pull under the doggie backpacks, and what commands to polish up before we leave. That's not to say we won't get eaten by bears or kicked to death by moose, because these things happen, but at least the parts of the trip that respond to planning are well in hand.

Water proof boots for flooded trails? Check.

One of the hard decisions that came with this trip was whether or not to bring Rubi at all. At the end of last year, we found out that Rubi has arthritis in her spine. Since then, she's been getting steadily stiffer after hard physical activity - things like playing ball, or chasing her big orange back, or biking. I'm certain that by going on this trip, Rubi is going to get sore. It's going to happen. But on the other hand, Rubi LOVED our trip last year. She thought is was a grand adventure, even though there was rain and bugs and she fell in a lake. So is the enjoyment she gets out of the trip worth the pain I know is coming?

I hate to anthropomorphize, but I think if I asked Rubi, she'd say she would rather go than stay home on the couch and be bored.  I hope this isn't me projecting my feeling on her, because I feel the same way - I'd rather be out on the trail than sitting at home "taking care" of my knee.  Rubi has always been an adventure-oriented dog, and I like to think we're similar that way. Our bodies are simply a method of transport from one adventure to the next, and if they get a little banged up in the process, well, that's how you know it was a good trip.

So here's to the adventure! May we never run out of pain meds . . .

The Essentials

Recently, Two Pitties in the City asked their readership what they consider "canine essentials" - basically, what do you need to have to be a good dog owner? Now, it's no secret that I am a horrible, horrible dog gear junkie. I love dog stuff, and I'm much more likely to buy pretty things for my dogs than for myself (although I'd argue that buying pretty things for the dogs is very much like buying pretty things for myself). But after three years of working with Minneapolis and St. Paul's poorest dog owners, I've taken a more minimalist view of what is really needed to be a good dog owner . . .

1.) Purchase price: Probably the first price a new dog owner will pay is, of course, the purchase price of the dog (unless, you know, you do your research and buy supplies and whatnot before you get your dog, but who does that?). Generally speaking, the cheaper the dog is to buy, the more expensive that dog will be later on. You can get a German Shepard for $100 from the newspaper, but chances are that her hips will fall off in a year or two. You can get a dog for $50 from some shelters, but I wouldn't count on it being spayed or neutered or even up to date on its shots. That free puppy from your neighbor? Not so free when you have to count in the cost of vet care and supplies and equipment everything else that goes along with dog ownership.

"I am an f!ing expensive dog, but it's okay because I look like an alien."

2.) One time purchases: This is stuff that you'll buy once or maybe twice during the life of your dog, and it varies a bit from dog to dog. One item that won't vary is a good collar, leash, and ID tag. These three items aren't expensive (unless you want them to be), but as preventative items, they're worth their weight in gold. After that, this item list gets a little hazy. For example, the dog trainer in me says that you should get a crate, because crates are awesome tools for training and management, but what if your dog is an only pup and doesn't chew on inappropriate stuff? There are three dogs in my house right now who aren't crated on a regular basis, and they manage just fine (note: they're all separate when unsupervised, I don't want to come home to the aftermath of a dog fight, they're just not crated). Another example of home-specific purchases would be the fenced yard so many rescues seem to require. What if you live in an apartment, but you're really physically active and hike and run and everything? There are a lot of things that could fit into this category, but I think collar, leash, and ID are the big ones.

3.) Food, water, shelter: Food is a tricky one, and an issue it seems that everyone has an opinion on. When it comes down to it, I don't care what you are feeding your dogs as long as the dog is being fed consistently and its major nutritional needs are being met. You can have a good home and not feed raw or grain-free or super fancy. Your dog probably doesn't even care if the food is in a bowl. Clean water should probably be from a bowl, though. As for shelter, well, provide adequate shelter so that your dog is suffering from neither the elements nor loneliness.

4.) Routine health care: Core vaccines are cheaper than treatment for the diseases they prevent - if not in actual cost, then in heartache. It doesn't matter to me if you go to an exclusive private veterinarian or a low-cost shots fair: get 'em done. I'm also an advocate of yearly vet exams, but do I think you absolutely need to have them done in order to be a good dog owner? I suspect not. Heartworm and parasite preventative is usually a good idea, but I also understand why you might not want to put poison in or on your dog. Which brings up another subject: it's pretty easy the say that your should have enough money for routine vet care, but anyone who has owned a dog knows that they rarely need "just the basics" when it comes to healthcare. What is the minimum amount of money you should have in your bank account to provide for emergencies and unanticipated vet bills? The number I like the most is that you should have on hand the amount of money it would cost to have your dog euthanized. If you don't have the $1000 + dollars required for bloat surgery, at least have enough money to be able to end your dog's suffering humanely. Being poor doesn't mean you're a bad dog owner; it just means that you'll have more difficult decisions.

5.) Give a damn: When I look at the dogs around me, in classes or at shots fairs, I see a rather simple trend: dogs that are happy have people who care about them. There are, of course, exceptions to this rule (*cough*Maus*cough*), but in general, the dogs who seem to be enjoying life the most are the ones who have people to enjoy it with. The dogs don't necessarily need someone to love them. I've had plenty of fosters through my doors that I didn't love like mine own, and their quality of life didn't suffer for it. But if you care about your dogs, you do simple things like spend time with them, and work with them, and feed them, and try to make sure they don't play in the street. People who don't care about their dogs - well, I'll spare you the horror stories, but it's never pretty. Even if someone isn't caring for their dog properly, if they care about the dog, they'll try to change. We have someplace in common to start from. And that will go a long way.

So that's my list of essential items needed to be a good dog owner. What are some things you think are important to being a good owner to your dogs?