We've Migrated !

As we move toward the launch of our all out, full bore, Golden Mountain Dog Solutions website, we're taking the first step of moving this blog off of Blogspot and onto our own web host.

As of today, all new posts to our blog will be made to the new blog address here. We will be leaving the archive intact on Blogspot for the time being, but all the original posts, comments, and links have also been moved over.

Everyone who follows this blog, and/or has it bookmarked should reset your direction finders to our GMDS address.

See you there!

Still More Tales From History

Author's Note: The following article combines two that I originally wrote and published on my personal blog, Large Fierce Mammal in September 2008. This will be your Sunday programming while Diana and I lead the Pack for a day in the woods.

A Tiny Tale ...

Diana holds Tiny, the canine cannon ball, during the little gaffer's "Welcome to Canada" party.

Back in 2000, I was in Florida on business and ended up rescuing a little ragamuffin toy poodle puppy named Tiny. Because I was traveling on business, I flew there and back in uniform. This was before we transitioned to the black field uniforms. At the time, we used a navy blue tactical uniform for field operations with "Whynacht Security & Survival" shoulder flashes and mine also had a bright yellow "Dog Handler" patch on the right sleeve.

Boarding my Air Canada flight out of Miami for the first leg back to Nova Scotia, I was carrying Tiny in a small standard crate of the approved dimensions. Because of her young age and small size, she was prone to sudden onsets of hypoglycemia that would cause her to lose consciousness and could be life threatening. To combat this, I was equipped with a tube of Nutrical to quickly administer a blood sugar boost as soon as the symptoms presented.

This was an early flight so breakfast was served. I was sitting six rows back from the front on the left hand side of the aircraft. With no one sitting next to me, I sat in the aisle seat with Tiny's crate stowed under the window seat in the row ahead. When my breakfast arrived, I noticed that Tiny had moved to the front of her crate where I could no longer see her. In case she lapsed into hypoglycemia, I decided to fish her out for inspection. She was fine, and I ended up putting her in my lap while I ate, periodically feeding her pieces of scrambled egg. Only the little girl peeking over the back of the seat in front of me and the elderly couple sitting across the aisle were aware that she was there, and kept smiling approvingly.

I was nearly finished with my breakfast when the flight attendants came through to clear away any empty plates. The one who gave the impression of being in charge, an attractive Asian woman, came down the aisle checking trays right and left. When she looked at mine, her eyes flicked to Tiny who quietly looked back at her. Staring at my lap, her eyes widened in delight, she exclaimed in a loud voice, "Oh my GOD, if that isn't the CUTEST thing I've ever seen in my life!" Since only a few people knew what was going on, I can only guess what everyone else in earshot thought she was talking about. The flight attendant looked at me and said, "Wait here," which, under the circumstances, I thought was good advice.

About a minute later, she came back to say, "The Captain is a dog nut too. He asks if, when you're finished with your breakfast, you wouldn't mind bringing your dog up to meet him." I told her I'd be happy to. So after no less than three smiling flight attendants took away my plates and tray, and with Tiny riding in my hand like Cleopatra on her barge, I made my way forward to the flight deck where she ended up perched on the First Officer's knee while the Captain and I talked dogs for about half an hour. He was a beagle man, and I never hold that against anyone.

Our plane landed in Dorval after which we transferred to another Air Canada jet, this time a DC-9. My seat was at the extreme rear of the plane on the right. The flight was only half full and I was in the aisle seat with an empty seat between me and the window. A solitary male passenger who I recognized from the previous flight was in the aisle seat opposite me, with no one else around for six or seven rows forward.

Different plane; different crew. The first thing I noticed on boarding was a less than welcoming look for Tiny's crate from the senior flight attendant. Making my way to my seat, I stowed my carry on and immediately found out that Tiny's crate wouldn't fit under the seat. I signaled the woman who appeared to be in charge, showed her my problem, and asked if there was somewhere I could stow the crate. Since there had been no problem with Tiny being in the cockpit of my first flight, I didn't expect an issue with her in my lap this time.

"Absolutely not," she said, "Your dog will have to go in the cupboard behind you. She pointed to a compartment about the size of an airplane washroom immediately behind me.

I looked at her in disbelief, calmly explained the hypoglycemia issue, and that I needed to keep an eye on Tiny to administer immediate treatment.

"No, it's against regulations," she replied.

Now I was getting pissed off. "False Authority Syndrome" always does that to me, and I've always followed the adage that rules are made for the guidance of the wise, and the blind obedience of fools. What transpired next would have gotten me thrown off the plane and put on a "no fly" list in the post 9/11 era.

"This is an Air Canada flight, is it not?" I asked, looking pointedly at the airline name embroidered on her jacket.

"Of course it is," she replied.

"Are there different regulations for this flight than the last one I was on? Because on the last flight my dog was nearly flying the damn plane."

At this point, the man across from me chimed in with, "He's right. The Captain had him bring that dog up to see him in the cockpit!"

She sighed then and said, "It can't be out of its crate because if something happens that dog could become a projectile!”

I looked at the few ounces that were Tiny, the canine cannon ball, and then at the woman with the unrestrained 10+ pound baby on her knee sitting in the aisle seat 8 rows up.

“I’ll tell you what,” I said, pointing at the woman with the infant, “That baby is more of a potential projectile than my dog will ever be. You go tell that woman her kid goes in the closet and I’ll put my dog in too.”

The flight attendant looked at the woman with the baby as though seeing her for the first time, then back at me. She opened and closed her mouth but no sound came out. Then she walked away toward the front of the plane. About a minute later, another flight attendant came back, quietly took away the empty crate, and stowed it in the locker. Tiny slept in my lap all the way to Halifax.

One of My Dogs Had a Hate On for Robert Mitchum – Tiny Strikes Again!

Robert Mitchum in the role of Raymond Chandler's fictional private detective Philip Marlowe. Tiny hated him in that part too!

I discovered an interesting phenomenon one day while watching “The Yakuza”, a 1974 film directed by Sydney Pollack starring American actor Robert Mitchum as a detective who has come to Japan to rescue a friend’s kidnapped daughter. The phenomenon was that Tiny had a hatred for Robert Mitchum.

Tiny was lying in her normal position for helping me watch a movie; on top of the right arm rest of my chair facing the television. Every time Mitchum appeared on screen, she raised her head, stared at the screen, and growled. Nobody else in the movie disturbed her and she would relax in between, but Robert Mitchum seriously pissed her off.

Things got even stranger when Remembrance Day rolled around. I watched “The Longest Day”, a 1962 film about the invasion of Normandy. The cast included just about every actor of note at the time it was produced including Eddie Albert of “Green Acres” fame, Paul Anka (the singer/actor, not Lorelai Gilmore’s dog), Richard Burton (the actor formerly married to Elizabeth Taylor, not the famous swordsman of the Victorian era), Red Buttons, Sean Connery, Peter Lawford, Roddy McDowall (of the original “Planet of the Apes” movies), John Wayne, and, you guessed it, Robert BLOODY Mitchum.

“The Longest Day”, as its name implies, is a LONG movie, and through it all Tiny slept, instantly waking up at the sound of Mitchum’s voice. Mitchum plays Brig. Gen. Norman Cota, a character who appears only at certain points in the movie, and every time he showed up, whether he spoke or not, she growled; occasionally becoming so incensed that she leapt to her feet to bark shrilly at the screen.

I have to ask, what did she know about that man?

A Tale From History

When I was growing up in the small fishing town of Lunenburg, Nova Scotia in the 1960's and 1970's it was the norm, after feeding them a meal of table scraps, for people to turn their often unspayed and unneutered dogs loose "for a run" in the evening with the expectation that they would go on a toot and return before the family retired for the night. While this practice makes me cringe on a range of levels too broad to mention here, and I decidedly do not recommend its adoption by anyone, anywhere, for any reason, at any time, EVER, it actually worked amazingly well, and had a few valuable side effects on my formative years that I will carry with me for the rest of my life. Most particularly, as a kid on the go in the streets of Lunenburg it was not uncommon to encounter dogs running loose, singly and in groups. Sometimes you knew one or more of the dogs you met, sometimes you didn't. Parents of the town understood this as a reality of life, and instructed their children in the basic rules of conduct that would increase the likelihood their offspring would return home with all fingers and facial features intact. Most kids therefore understood what kinds of human behaviour would increase or decrease the chances of a person being chased or bitten, and those who didn't soon learned the old fashioned way. I was fascinated by the obvious compulsion dogs had to seek each other out and gather in packs, and unlike the children of Lunenburg, how infrequently, when left to themselves, this resulted in any kind of conflict.

There was also a no interference rule because some of the dogs in the town were actually on a mission for their owners. Two blocks from my house lived a family with a Beagle named Lady who, a couple times a day, could be seen walking at a slow and dignified pace past the end of my street on an errand to Zwicker's Variety Store. Attached to her collar was a small purse containing a note for the store clerk and the cash to cover Lady's purchase. She would bark and scratch at the door of the store to be let in, the clerk would open the purse and bag up the order which was usually a pack of cigarettes and a small 5 cent bag of plain Scottie's brand potato chips, put any change back in the purse, and let Lady out the door. Back up the hill she would go with the rolled up top of the small brown paper bag clamped in her teeth knowing that, on arrival, she would happily and politely receive her payment which was every chip in that bag fed one at a time.

Of Swiss Army Knives and Dog Whispering

Diana and I regularly encounter questions about our work, our attitudes about dog training methods and specific dog trainers, about the latest books on dog related subjects, if we do group sessions and teach obedience classes, et cetera. While we'll ultimately post articles dealing with all of these points, this article will address the common connection people make between our methods and those of well known dog behaviourist Cesar Millan.

I'll start with an anecdote. Most people reading this will have heard of the television series MacGyver that ran for seven seasons from 1985 to 1992 and starred Richard Dean Anderson in the title role. In case you've forgotten or are too young to know, Angus MacGyver was an incredibly creative and resourceful fictional secret agent who preferred non-violent means of conflict resolution and, while he refused to use or carry a gun, was never without his trusty Swiss Army Knife.

Karl Elsener introduced what we now call the Swiss Army Knife in Switzerland (no shocker there) in 1897, after becoming nationalistically motivated to correct the outrageous fact that utility knives being issued to the Swiss Army at the time were actually made in Germany. I personally discovered how essential it is to keep a Swiss Army Knife close at hand in 1974, and have never been without one since then. One day, when the series was at the peak of its popularity, a bystander observed me pulling out my SAK to perform some routine task and felt compelled to say, "Hey! You've got a knife like MacGyver!"

I finished my chore, put the tool back in my pocket and replied, "No. MacGyver has a knife like mine."

The last episode of MacGyver aired on 25 April 1992; three days after my 35th birthday, 18 years after I started carrying a Swiss Army Knife, and 95 years after Karl Elsener launched its illustrious career, but it will forever be the “MacGyver knife” because of a piece of popular culture that existed for what amounts to a brief moment in its history.

Fossil evidence points to the dog-human relationship going back at least 14,000 years and through most of that history the dog's role has been one of practicality: herder, guardian, vermin exterminator, load hauler, fishing gear retriever, hunting companion. Much archaeological and anthropological evidence exists discounting the widely held belief that the deal has been mostly one sided in favour of humans, and that dogs were historically regarded by our ancestors as expendable beasts of burden with little intrinsic value. In simpler and harder times, no mouth can be fed unless its bearer brings skills to the party, and while the concept of a dog simply being a pet is a relative latecomer in history, this doesn't mean our ancestors didn't value and care for their dogs. Modern dogs are still the animals their ancestors were and carry the drive to do the jobs they were bred to do. Cesar Millan preaches the importance of fulfilling the animal that is the dog as a key to unlocking many behavioural issues that are plaguing the dogs he sees, and we embrace this concept as well. We think it's safe to say our ancestors would be more than a little gobsmacked to learn that one would think anything different, and the point here is that all of this is old and time tested knowledge that seriously predates the Dog Whisperer or Golden Mountain Dog Solutions. Because these truths have come through the years to us fragmented and damaged, with pieces missing or replaced with foolishness and supposition, revealing them now makes them fresh and new and will not surprisingly brand them with the name of their most visible and famous teacher. Hence the connection.

Cesar Millan has done wonders in the way he has successfully brought some important concepts of the dog-human dynamic into the public consciousness and we find that when working with those same concepts in the presence of people who have read his books, watched his television program, or more likely both, it saves time and cuts through the crap to use terms they are already familiar with wherever we feel it's warranted and no better explanation is required. Similarly, when we feel that a client may benefit from reading a particular book, whether by Cesar Millan, Stanley Coren, Karen Pryor, to name a few, we never hesitate to point them to it along with any caveats we feel may need to be applied, and in followup discussions may use the vocabulary the client will have become habituated to through the reading material. Using terminology entrenched in the public mind by another professional does not equate with complete adoption of their philosophy to the exclusion of all else.

Diana and I are voracious readers and are constantly on the hunt for books and television programs on subjects related to dog training. It is often said that the only thing two dog trainers can agree on is that a third trainer is doing something wrong, but it's important to our professional development to expose ourselves to other views and how other people working in the field have addressed the same issues we work with daily. Of equal importance is a factor that most people outside looking in will miss. Because Diana and I work exclusively with fixing problems in dog-human relationships, our clients usually call us after they have tried everything else. This often means they have already done a lot of desperate information mining that included long nights of web surfing and reading all the latest miracle books, particularly any flavour of the month ones that bear the Oprah Winfrey seal of approval. For us in the first consultation, what methods have been tried are more important than what hasn't yet been attempted. Unless we've done the research that permits us to understand what the client has been exposed to, we go into the situation only partially prepared and that's not, as they say, how we roll.

Throughout history, great and world changing discoveries have often been made almost simultaneously by people working independently of each other, sometimes continents apart and with each researcher completely ignorant of the existence of any other. A discovery that leads to a sound system of methods can also be arrived at by following a number of paths all leading to where the road begins. A sound system of methods will always be a sound system of methods because they work, and they work because they are based on truth instead of speculation. Many training systems achieve goals for people at the expense of their dogs, and thereby objectives are reached but true success is not. Dogs, like people, are also individuals, and there is no one-size-fits-all scheme that will be effective in all situations. To blindly embrace any one system as the one true path and apply it to the exclusion of all others is to become a mere disciple at best, and a parrot at worst.

Oh, and about that corrective sound we make, the same one used by Cesar Millan? It's not the only one we use but we use it because it works. Projected with the right attitude it grabs a dog's attention, it's low key in public, and there's absolutely no way we'll make that sound for any other reason.

Minnie Joins Our Pack

This is Minnie, a five year old Miniature Pinscher who joined our pack from the Halifax area night before last.

Minnie had belonged to a couple who also owned another dog of a different breed. That dog wasn't so lucky. The couple had problems of the kind that often end up with perfectly healthy dogs being euthanized. Minnie was rescued but her pack mate was not.






A few days ago, Minnie's plight became known to one of our clients who brought the situation to Diana. Diana in turn got in contact with the foster home Minnie was temporarily in. Arrangements were made and Diana and I picked her up Tuesday evening.


Before going further, we would like to highlight a couple of things. First of all, as humans we focus too much on the past and any tragic aspects that may have prevailed. Dogs have much to teach us in that regard. Minnie's past life will sadden and even outrage anyone with a shred of decency, but that doesn't define who or what she is. Dogs live in the moment and move on from there. For people in their lives to behave as though they personally have to attone for the sins of the past is to enshrine and carry forward weakness, uncertainty, and instability instead of what a dog really needs: calm and assertive leadership that cultivates the natural state of being that living as part of a stable dog pack is all about.

Secondly, but no less importantly, Minnie was rescued because a network of people didn't fail her. The people who rescue dogs aren't simply well meaning. Dogs need people, and these are the kind of people that will get bitten to save a life. Rescue dogs can come from backgrounds that may be shrouded in secrecy out of grim necessity, both for the safety of the dogs involved, and as a safeguard from the people they had to be rescued from in the first place. Minnie will thrive because of people who went the distance, and everyone involved in getting her from her former situation and into our pack is due our utmost gratitude.



So now, back to Minnie. As you can see from the picture above, she's a bit of a porker. Something Min Pins are prone to where overfeeding and lack of exercise combine in the same dog resulting in what we refer to here as a "Rolling Pin". While she has been spayed, neglect of her grooming needs clearly goes way back. On the right you can see the state of her toe nails after they were cut to about half of their original length. Left to grow, the quick lengthens requiring a gradual shortening process to get them where they should be.



The first thing we did after picking her up was take her for a walk. The psychological effects of a "pack walk" can never be understated in its effects on dogs that come from an unstable background, and when used properly have particular power when bringing dogs together who have no prior knowledge of each other. Minnie was quick to follow our lead and walked through the entire exercise without complaint.


Minnie is the smallest dog in the house, at least physically, and it will require a few more days of pack immersion before she feels comfortable enough to let her "inner Minnie" show. In the mean time, she is learning the normal pace of life as she finds herself absorbing a new stable order.

We brought Minnie home rather late Tuesday night so the first full day of socialization brought her to her first evening with the pack as Diana and I settled back to watch a movie. She was quick to mirror the energy in the room but you can see that Gunner, Milo, and Dusty are providing her with a rather generous comfort zone.



As the evening progessed though, Gunner spread out to fill the gap. As of this morning, and as the day has progressed, she is moment by moment both behaving, and being accepted, as a pack member. This is taking over as her new reality.












As her rehabilitation progresses, she will be seen with us a lot, both in one on one work and with other members of our pack. The only way to acclimatize a dog to the world is to expose her to it, and accomplishing that goal will put Minnie in situations where she must learn what is expected from following calm, clear, and assertive leadership. Diana and I welcome interaction with Minnie's supporters as we work to make her ready for adoption, but ask only a few things of you all if you wish to intereact with us on the street when we are working with any dog:

1. Please approach and behave in a calm fashion, and speak only to us until given the go-ahead to communicate with the dog(s). This means no looking at, gesturing toward, touching, or talking to the dog(s) until told how and when to do so.


2. If at any time one of us tells you to wait, or stop whatever you are doing, please do so immediately, and understand that we are not trying to insult you or treat you like an idiot. We ask that you maintain your air of calm composure at all times, as any good Pack Leader would.

Minnie will be with us as long as it takes for her to become the balanced dog she needs to be. Losing her excess weight in a healthy manner will take many months of exercise and proper nutrition. Her first vetrinary visit is scheduled for Friday, and her first pack hike into our back woods will be on this coming weekend. More pictures from that adventure will be posted, as will updates on Minnie's progress.