Yesterday was a big night at the McLaughlin household because it was the first night of Growl Class. This is a dog class for pooches with anger management issues. Strangely enough, Artie was the star of the night which we haven’t quite figured out.

We adopted Artie about a year ago from the Oregon Humane Society. One morning, they opened their doors to find a man standing outside with Artie. He was hitting him and telling him to shut up. The reason for giving him away? Chewing and digging. Hello, he’s a dog! Of course he’s going to chew and dig. We gave him an unlimited rawhide supply and a stretch of dirt and he’s a happy boy. But when he was first processed, the workers figured out he came from an abusive owner pretty quickly. He totally ignores yelling – just goes deaf and pretends not to hear anything and when he gets scared, he shuts down. Literally. Reminds of a bad Lifetime made for TV movie were the abused woman curls up and rocks back and forth muttering to herself. He’ll lie down, tuck his tail and paws underneath him, and won’t budge or look at you for anything. You pretty much have to leave him alone until he unwinds and is ready to interact with the world again. Because of this unusual background, he had the dubious privilege of being one of the longest guests at the Humane Society. He was there over 3 months before we came and rescued him. Thankfully, our shelter is a no-kill shelter so they’ll hold dogs indefinitely if needed.

We’ve worked really hard with Artie at home and he’s overcome a lot of fear. He trusts us and feels very comfortable in our neighborhood. As he has gotten comfortable, he’s regained quite a bit of spunk. He now barks at strangers and tackles other dogs willy-nilly. So we decided our next step was to begin socializing him with other dogs. We don’t like the park because you get a pack of 10 dogs running rampant into the street and terrorizing small children. Next, we tried to enroll Artie in doggie daycare but he failed the entrance exam by barking at the dogs. The owner of the daycare, however, suggested her Growl Class which is a way to learn to control your dog around strangers in a controlled environment. It sounded good to us!

So Kev & I left work early yesterday to get the pooch ready for his first day of class. First, each dog must wear a t-shirt. Supposedly, it helps calm them down having a shirt hugging them that smells like home. Next, each dog must wear a GentleLeader which is a special head collar that works just like a horse harness. It loops around their snout and allows you control of their head. As we have learned, most dog fights start with staring. If one dog doesn’t look away, it’s a sign of aggression. The GentleLeader allows you to control your dog’s head so you can break eye contact and avoid most scuffles. After the GentleLeader, each dog has to wear a muzzle. Artie doesn’t like this but so far he’s been a sport and let us get away with it. Then, you have to have two leashes – one attached to the GentleLeader and the other to his collar. Finally, a third leash is attached to the collar only this rope is also bolted into the wall at the school. Each bolt is spaced so that the dogs can’t reach each other. Finally, you don’t feed your dog dinner before class and you bring lots of “high value” treats. Artie got chicken breast sauteed in a light olive oil with rosemary. Yummy.

It was so interesting to watch! They walked each dog in one at a time and bolted them to the wall. Once the dog settled, they brought in the next one. Every time a dog entered the room, every dog in there went crazy, barking and lunging. If they weren’t bolted to the wall, there would have been one wild dog fight last night. Every time one dog moved, it set off every other dog in the room.

Every dog but Artie.

That’s right, our pooch decided he wanted none of this craziness. He curled up under our chair and never made a sound. Not a single bark or lunge. We were stars. After a couple of minutes, we started putting him through the paces. Sit, lie down, shake, roll over. He was simply awesome. While the other dogs were straining their leashes trying to eat each other, Artie was calmly watching us, waiting for the next piece of chicken to fall. By the end of the night, I was sort of hoping he’d act up. I mean, the whole reason we were there was to learn how to curb him correctly. It was as if he sensed this and decided to go against the grain. Instead of being his usual trouble maker self, he was docile and obedient. I have a feeling that after a few more classes, he’ll feel comfortable enough to start acting out.

But I have to admit, it felt good to realize that even though he is a spaz, he isn’t that bad. And, of course, it was pretty cool to have everyone commenting on what a good boy he was. Our dog? A good boy?? Yup. That’s my dog!

I have to stop drinking tea before I go to bed. It seems like a good idea to curl up with a pot of warm tea and a book or a bad made for tv movie but my poor bladder just can’t make it through the night. This wouldn’t be that big of a deal except in my crazy house.

So I’m lying in bed and it’s 4am. I’ve been having dreams where I’m trying to find a restroom but not having any luck. – – Random side note, I’m constantly amazed how your brain can take present environments and put them seamlessly into your dreams. My brain can meld buzzing alarms, radios, lawn mowers, even trash collectors into my dreams which allows me to sleep through just about anything. Ask Kevin, he can attest to this one.- – So after a few minutes of dreaming about restrooms, I decided to put my bladder out of its misery and opened my eyes.

First thing I saw was Artie. He was sitting right next to me. He’s a big dog so when he sits next to the bed, he’s eye to eye to anyone lying on the bed. Now I found this to be a little weird. I mean, why is my dog watching me at 4am??? (He was also smacking his lips but I think he was trying to get rid of his morning breath which, believe me, is pretty horrendous.) But I was pretty groggy and didn’t give it much thought. I rolled out of bed and headed for the nearest bathroom.

In my house, the master bedroom is a converted attic that takes up the entire top floor. It’s a pretty big room but there isn’t a bathroom up there. You have to go down the stairs to the main floor to find the nearest toilet. We plan on someday adding a bath upstairs but it’s pretty low on the to-do list.

Now, I believe there are two types of night people. Those who will turn on the light when they have to get up in the middle of the night and those who prefer to stumble around in the dark. I fall into the latter category. I’d rather keep the lights off and bang my shins than suffer the bright harsh light. This means, in my sleepy state, I took the stairs down to the bathroom very slowly. By the time I had gotten down the stairs, tinkled, and groped my way back to bed, it was too late. All I could think of was that line from Simon & Garfunkles’ CECLIA… I got up to wash my face, when I come back to bed someone’s taken my place…

Yup, you guessed it. Artie was sprawled out right on my side of the bed. As I said, he’s a very big dog and there simply isn’t enough room for myself, Kevin, the cats and the dog. I tried to wedge myself pack in and subtly schooch him off but he wasn’t falling for it. Since he clocks in around 90 lbs, when he wants to stay put there isn’t much you can do.

After my futile struggle to regain my spot, I did the only thing I could. I stumbled back down the stairs and slept in the guest room. Blitz joined me – she’s the only one who really loves me. Kevin didn’t start looking for me until 7:20am. What can I say, Artie is a great snuggler – obviously I wasn’t missed.

So learn from my mistakes. If you wake up in the middle of the night and find your dog watching you, whatever you do, don’t get out of bed.

Made an interesting discovery about Artie this weekend. It turns out, he hates motorcycles. I always thought he didn’t like the loud sounds they make. But this weekend, it was confirmed. He actually hates the cycle, not just the noise.

Now, you maybe asking yourself, how do I know what my dog is feeling? To assuage your doubts, I offer the following pieces of evidence.

One of our neighbors has a Harley. He always offers to give me a ride when he sees me but so far I’ve turned him down. (You can rest easy mom). Anyhow, it’s all shiny and has black leather and these big pouches of the side. I know nothing about Harleys but it sure looks cool to me. Anyway, if you own a motorcycle in Portland, your riding window is very narrow if you don’t enjoy riding in the rain. So lately, he’s been revving around on his bike. This weekend, he parked it right on his front walk that leads up to his front door.

Enter Artie. We we heading out for our walk, same as normal, when all of a sudden he went into “kick ass” mode. This behavior is mostly seen when a bigger dog approaches or someone who is smoking. (Did I forget to mention he also hates cigarette smoke? A dog after my mother’s heart.) Anywho, the hair on his back is sticking straight up, his tail is out, teeth barred, ears back, down low and mean to the ground. I’m looking all around for either a) another dog or b) a cigarette and am totally baffled.

Looking rabid, he launches into what I like to call Attack Mode Alpha. This involves loud barking, snapping, and a dancing back and forth in front of the bigger dog/cigarette smoker. Only, much to my surprise, his target is the parked motorcycle. Now, the motorcycle isn’t idling or even moving. It’s just parked there. But Artie doesn’t care. After snapping viciously for a few seconds, he moves into Attack Mode Beta. This attack is used when the physical display doesn’t work and the dog/person hasn’t fled in terror.

I think Artie was a little ticked that the motorcycle wasn’t impressed by his display of dominance. I, however, was holding onto his leash for dear life. It wasn’t enough though and he launched himself onto the motorcycle and proceeding to sink his teeth into the nice leather seat and begin to chew. Now, I’ve often thought that Artie could be part shark. He likes to grab his toys and then shake them all around viciously. Fortunately, the motorcycle was too heavy for him to knock off balance. I managed to pull him off the cycle but he left a big pool of slobber all over the seat and one of the side bags. Oops. Needless to say, we hussled down the street before my neighboor could come to the door to see what all the noise was about.

Now, every time we walk by, I’m ready and he only gets through Attack Mode Alpha before I manage to drag him past the house. What a strange dog.

He has a big, bad bark that can be useful. When I walk him alone and at night, anytime someone starts to approach us that looks suspicious, I grab his collar and in between his barking, I begin chanting, “Not, yet… Not, yet…” It’s kind of funny how all of a sudden they decide to cross the street.

Lesson for the weekend: Do not feed your dog Twizzlers.

I know, for some of you, this may seem self-evident. However, if anyone out there had any lingering doubts, let me put them to rest. Do not feed your dog Twizzlers.

In my defense, I should say that I did not actively feed Artie Twizzlers. In reality, he sort of fed himself. So I suppose the moral should be do not leave Twizzlers where your dog can eat them.

We went to see Jurassic Part III (which as just ok) with Kat & Josh. We left her dog, Melo, with Artie on the sofa at home. Kat & I got the tickets and we sent the boys to buy the snacks. Oh stop groaning, hindsight is 20/20. How were we to know that sending them alone down the candy isle would be a bad idea? OK, maybe that is a little obvious.

We ended up smuggling in 4 large sodas, a family pack of Twizzlers, 2 lb bag of peanut M&Ms, bulk raisonetts, trail mix and kettle corn. So after the movie, we had tons of candy leftover which I stashed in my purse. Came home, walked the dogs, and went to dinner. When we got back, my purse had been tipped over and there were half eaten Twizzlers strewn across the floor – slightly soggy and covered with dog saliva. Looked a bit like a shark attack – they must have tried to bite each one hoping it’d taste better than the last one only to find out they didn’t like it so they spit it back out and proceeded to try another piece. Poor Artie was curled up with his ears pinned back and his tail going a mile a minute. If it is possible for a dog to look guilty, he did. Little Melo, however, had no remorse and began to gnaw on a Twizzler as we watched in dumbfounded silence.

Lets just say, the evening walk proved to be messy.

Do not feed your dog Twizzlers.

So we spent our 4th of July in the basement with the dog. He was completely freaked out from all the fireworks so we settled into the basement and popped Smashmouth into the cd player to help drown out the noise. It was a long, long night. Of course, it was super hot yesterday & he drank a ton of water but refused to go outside. So Kevin, wonderful guy that he is, set the alarm for 2am to take him out for a potty break. Only problem was, at 2am, Artie took one look at pappa and said no way, I ain’t moving. After 15 minutes of coaxing, Kevin gave up and crawled back into bed. Ungrateful dog. When we woke up, however, Artie was sitting by the side of the bed staring at us. He was trying to use his Jedi dog powers on us. “You want to get up…..you need to take me for a walk……you want to get up.” It worked. We are such suckers.