The Dog Whisperer Cometh

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Even if Gianna didn't growl at the vet and act like a spaz on a leash, I would still get dog training lessons for her. They are good practice for owner and dog to develop structured communications. So, I bought Amanda Growly Classes for her birthday.

You can see my predicament with delivering the message. It doesn't read well.

Although I am a master of communication (by degree), I stumbled, "Happy Birthday, I got you dog training lessons! ... for the dog, not you, but with you... They're Growly Classes to help with her over-excitement... for adults, because she's no spring chicken and neither are... you know how she doesn't listen to you...  I mean, Happy Birthday!"

I got through the shaky delivery without finding myself in the dog house, thankfully.

The lesson package I purchased included a one-time home visit by renown trainer, author and overall badass dog whisperer, Deborah. I scheduled the home appointment with her the Saturday after Amanda's birthday.

Deborah provided us with some homework by email, including reading a couple of articles about her dog training philosophy. I read them with great intensity as if I was preparing for a college final -- only I hadn't taken the class yet.

She also instructed us to check our gear and, of course, we didn't have the right gear by her standards -- wrong leash material, wrong harness. So, we bought a new leash. The harness would have to wait. I'm already in deep with the dog gear. I didn't know I had to save for college for my dog, and there's no student loan program to fall back on.

We were a little nervous about the meet-and-greet training at our house. Deborah has seen a lot of dogs and dog owners, and we wanted to be in the 95th percentile by her standards.

This required a lot of work on our end, sort of like cleaning for your visiting parent. We vacuumed, swept, straightened, put away and brushed the dog (of course), all so that Deborah could judge us competent, capable dog owners.

I turned on the TV and scattered the newspaper shortly before Deborah arrived so that it looked like we hadn't prepared at all.

"Oh, sorry for the mess here," I would say, leading her into our spotless home. Then Gianna would prance over and sit in front of me, raising a paw and balancing a treat on her nose that she had gotten herself and carried over to me to reward her with.

Knock, knock. Back to reality.

For a whisperer, Deborah was quite loud. She came in with a booming voice and made herself comfortable as she jumped into interviewing us about Gianna and our story so far. It's an odd thing being interviewed in your own home, but I think we fared OK. She didn't call the pound on us or refer us to a therapist, so that was a good start.

Amanda answered the initial line of questions and Deborah could sense (that's what whisperers do, they sense) that Amanda had some anxiety. Her first command wasn't to Gianna, but Amanda: "I hope you don't take this offensively, but you need to take a breath and relax. The dog can sense you are nervous and channel it. If you're calm, you'll have more success with calming Gianna."

It made sense and instilled a confidence that Deborah wouldn't just help the dog, she would help us. Perhaps I did buy the dog training lessons for Amanda after all.

During the rest of the session, Deborah also earned my trust by swearing every so often. It made her more human and not some prissy, dog-obsessed "Best In Show" character.

After some initial success with Gianna, she said, "Look, Gianna isn't doing all of this because she wants to please you. She wants a damn treat."

I liked the straight talk. Deborah also talked about her dog's bad habits and annoyances. Her stories helped ground our expectations for our dog. Gianna may be a cousin of Lassie, but she's not going to tell us Little Timmy fell down the well unless there's a treat involved.

We learned some attention games to help Gianna focus on us when distractions are present, and by the end of the hour we felt really good about our choice of trainer and the weeks ahead in Growly Class. Before Deborah left, we reviewed our gear for Deborah's approval. Amanda bothered to get all three leashes and not just the one new leather leash we had bought.

They all failed.

"Six feet is too long for that dog and the leash is too thick for her weight. It's overkill," Deborah said.

Amanda and I looked at each other and said without speaking, "Jeez! Why didn't you get the 4-foot leash?!"

We'd lost traction in our progress but recovered from our blame game to wish Deborah farewell.

Looking back, the best part of the home visit was that Gianna rocked it. She was totally attentive and didn't growl or show aggression or over-anxiety despite the fact that Deborah was all over her case. In fact, Deborah complimented her for intelligence and train-ability. Gianna's only fault was about halfway through the session when she stopped working, even with a treat in front of her, and rolled on her side to take break.

"She doesn't have a strong work ethic," Deborah said. "She's a little lazy."

I'll take a lazy dog over a growly dog any day. Maybe Lazy Classes are cheaper.

Guest Post: Surviving the Christmas Tree Hunt

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A guest post by Courtney Chaffee

This Christmas season has once again brought insight into my life with my husband Scott.

A wise woman once said to me, “Most men are a handful, Scott is two handfuls.”He is proving this to be true.

Last weekend, we set out to get the "Chaffee Family Christmas Tree." We drove straight into the woods -- past the boy scout tree lot, Safeway, and any option of getting an artificial tree. See, Scott insists that we “hunt” our tree. This is similar to hunting an animal, except the tree does not leave tracks, so he says it is more difficult.

When we walked into the office, Scott proudly stated “One tree permit please, and how big of a tree can I cut down with that permit?”

Miss Ranger saw him coming from a mile away. She told him, “Well, for $10 you can get a 12-foot tree, but for $20 you can cut down a 20-foot tree!”

His eyes lit up like the LED lights he insists on putting on the house. I honestly could have killed her. If only she knew how much I would now have to give up to bargain with Scott not to buy the 20-foot tree.

She had her sales pitch all lined up. “Well, if it is too tall, or wide, you can cut off part and make wreathes or garland.”

Scott said, “Ohhhhh, Court, you love to make crap like that.”

Five minutes, two life threats, and a promise to go hiking in the south back country at Crystal Mountain a number of times, Griswold gave up the dream of a 20-foot tree for this year.

We parked and hiked into the woods where his tracking abilities told him there would be a large herd of defenseless trees. I followed the trail, but Scott turned into a gazelle and ran up the hillside, saw in hand, to the “mother-load” of Christmas trees. After I found him, we found a tree.

Scott would not settle for anything less than 12 feet, so once he cut the tree down, he physically laid down twice in the snow to measure it out. He figured he is 6’2,” so this is a fool-proof way to measure the tree. Who looked like the fool though? I’m sure this is how Sacajawea measured things, because she must have forgotten her tape measure while tracking and leading Lewis and Clark like Scott did.

Once we got the monster-of-a-tree home, we put it up in the living room in corner by the windows so everyone could see it. We could barely get the tree topper on. The branches were crashing into the blinds and one branch was sitting completely on the couch like it was relaxing from a hard day’s work. The tree was “a little full, lot of sap.”It took me a good amount of time to craft the old growth into something we could put into a home. I felt like Michelangelo sculpting The David out of pine.

Of course, Scott was not around for anything of this. He pretty much dumped it off in the stand and ran out the door. He left me with pruners, lights, and a ladder. It was my version of “Survivor: A Christmas Edition.” I put on some Christmas music to set the mood and started the one thing I wait all year to do. I was feeling happy, and for a moment was excited that Scott talked me into this huge tree.

The moment was short-lived. All 12 feet of the tree came crashing down on me. I can guarantee you this did not happen to Michelangelo with The David. I somewhat caught it, but a better term would be that I just broke the tree’s fall.

Where was Mr. Griswold who decided that we had to have this tree? I had no idea, and I didn’t even have my phone on me to call him to save me from being swallowed whole by the tree.

This is where I took a moment of reflection on my life. As I was pinned under a HUGE Christmas tree, I had nothing other to do than reflect. This really had turned into “Survivor: A Christmas Edition” and so had my life: “Survivor: You Married Scott Chaffee.”

I shouldn’t have been surprised. Everything is just a little harder with my husband. Examples:

SCOTT: “Hey Court, here are your skis. I grabbed them out of the garage for you this morning.” ME: “Thanks, but why are they so slick?” SCOTT: “Oh, I spilled a little oil on them, but I think they will be fine” ME: [Going down the hill] “AHHHHHHHHHHH”

SCOTT: “Look! I got new shoes!” ME: “Finally, thank you” ME: “What is on the heel???” SCOTT: “Oh they are Heelys. Wanna go to the mall and race?”

SCOTT: “Hey, I want to take you to a movie tonight.” ME: “Oh great, I’ve been dying to see that new one with Jennifer Aniston.” SCOTT: “Oh, um, I meant something at the $2 cinema. The Jennifer Aniston movie is brand new”

I stick it out because, in the end, I get everything I want: A Christmas tree, my skis carried for me, Scott buying new shoes, and a movie. It’s just an exciting ride to get there. It’s just a curvy road, and a little uphill.

Happy Birthday, Amanda!

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IMG_3929 I’ve spent the past few days in Indiana for our annual holiday trip. We alternate celebrating Amanda’s birthday and Christmas in Indiana, and we’re on a birthday year.

Amanda’s birthday is today, and I gave her a package of dog-training lessons (Amanda’s doing great, Gianna needs the lessons.) That’s not the most romantic gift, I know, but a gift that should keep on giving.

Most people already know how Amanda is awesome. Many people who knew me first have realized they got a good deal for putting up with me long enough to befriend Amanda. I thought now’s a good time to express some of the reasons why I admire her so much.

Humor: Amanda is hilarious in a peculiar way. In fact, Amanda threw me off when we first met because she uses the word “hilarious” as a catch-all to describe any person or scenario that is abnormal, funny, or strange. It’s her own vague definition that I’m still trying to figure out in practice. Amanda always looks to make people laugh and does so in mostly physical ways. She’s like a modern Lucille Ball. She’ll dress up, contort her face, launch into impressions, etc. She laughs with people, never at them. Our friend Daisha says, “Amanda is the funniest person I know.” I think people share that sentiment because they associate time spent with her with laughing. She also has a great sense of humor, always finding good intent and faking a laugh just to make the joker feel good, which is good news for me.

Fearlessness: Amanda’s brother Ty told me a story about a time when teenage Amanda – a naturally gifted athlete and runner – heard about a school-record track time that she said she could run. Her brother challenged her on the spot. Amanda didn’t bother to change out of her jeans before she shot out the door to challenge the time running the same distance. She came back home at approximately the same time as the record, hardly breathing hard or sweating, as Ty recalled. Now a high school cross-country coach, Ty tells the story to his girl’s team as motivation as the time Amanda ran casually would still qualify for a state race today. I don’t know a sport, competition or challenge Amanda won’t try.

Compassion: Amanda has an incredible heart, especially for people in a bad spot. When she was young, her Dad says she’d get an allowance on vacations and would give all the money to the first homeless person she saw. I’ve picked up the phone several times and she’s on the other end asking if she can sponsor a child in Africa because the mission guy she’s talking to on the street is so nice and we can afford to help. I always imagine the World Vision person looking at her curiously as she probably contemplates the decision with more research and passion on the spot than any other passerby. In early adulthood, Amanda has volunteered through church groups and led troubled youth in outdoors camps. She’s been a great support for me and all of our friends and family in difficult times. She’s a steady rock for those she knows and doesn’t.

Prayer: Amanda is a great Christian, but this isn’t meant to be a religious compliment. I went to church frequently when I attended Catholic grade school, but I don’t remember a lot that the priest said over the years. I was busy coloring. But I remember him saying once: “Your best prayers aren’t for yourself.” In that respect, Amanda is an example. She looks out for you. Whether it be church or meditation or yoga poses, I often feel like I focus on myself too much, and I see other people in those acts focusing on their center, their interests, their peace of mind. That's fine, but the more we help each other, the better we all end up. Amanda always prioritizes others in her prayers and reflections. She focuses her emotions and energies unselfishly, and we are all blessed to receive that affection.

For these and many more reasons, I'm a proud husband!

Happy birthday, Amanda! You are loved.