Exactly one month ago, I lost my best friend and partner for the past 7 years. He left us suddenly, leaving me with echoes of his presence, feeling as if half of me had evaporated over night. Robbie gave me exactly what I needed, when I needed it, and more. Much more than I ever could have expected. Writing this post has taken time to find the right words, time to write without crumbling, time to paint the right picture of Robbie as he was. Time for me to be able to look back and smile. For inspiration, I went back to our training journals that I kept diligently for most of his career. Robbie was fully trained in his primary tasks and obedience work by December 2015, but he and I kept growing as a team, and as teacher and student for many more years. I continued to add on new skills as I learned more about dog training, and grew as a dog trainer, and listened to what Robbie had to teach me along the way. I added new tasks to his repertoire as my needs developed, and I discovered what he was truly capable of. Robbie was helping me learn right up until the week he passed away. I'd gotten new balance equipment, and was testing out different approaches for teaching both Robbie and Austin to use it. Trying out different things with Robbie helped me see the way forward to teaching Austin, and future dogs. One last gift.
Revisit the highlights of Robbie's life with us, as I share passages from his training journals and my own memories over the years.
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The Next Chapter, Part 5
Whoops. I did not know better, and I did the best with what I knew. As I was reading this book, I learned A LOT about Robbie, and several mysteries that had niggled at me for years came to light. Now, I can share with you.
Holidays with Robbie are always a special time. I continue to be in awe of his ability to walk past obnoxious Christmas decorations in stores without balking, his ability to move quietly by my side through the crowds in stores (though, lately, we're given more berth - thank you inadvertent positive virus side effects), and his absolute impulse control as tissue paper and wrapping paper alike are torn apart and tossed all around him at our annual family Christmas gathering. Christmas is special for another reason, too, though. December 23 is Robbie's estimated birthdate, based on the age he was when he was surrendered to a shelter as a young puppy. Christmas is a time when I reflect on all that I have done with Robbie, all the ways he has changed my life and the joy he has brought me, and what the future may hold for my team. This Christmas may look different in terms of family traditions, but celebrating Robbie's life with us and our adventures to come will be our constant. Robbie will be 7 years old this Christmas. By February, he will have been in my life for 6 years! It feels like it has just flashed by. this upcoming year, we will be starting to prepare our house, our budget, and our minds for welcoming a second dog into our lives by 2022, when I'll hopefully begin training service dog #2. Robbie is doing well, and not close to retirement, but I'd like there to be overlap between the successor being trained and Robbie still actively working. We've already made some steps. We built a porch fence to end Robbie's days of extreme acrobatics on and off the porch at warp speed before he gets hurt, and also to have extra containment for while we have two dogs to wrangle who will have wildly different levels of training for a bit. I started lists and notes on plans to make and things to buy. I've begun working more in earnest to teach Robbie a right side heel for the time when I need to walk two dogs at once. Come spring, we hope to buy new rabbits, to finally fill our old hutch, long empty since the loss of Flopsy. It has been difficult seeing the hutch without her fluffy face awaiting Robbie's each morning. Christmas is also a solemn time, because it reminds me of seeing her go downhill last year, and her passing away at the start of this year. I miss her every day. I sense that Robbie does, as well. It has been a turbulent year, to say the least. I've been hit with being cut off from friends and family, like so many others, I've gotten new information that greatly impacts my disability management, I've busted my butt to finish setting up my dog training business and still am not ready to take clients yet, Robbie missed out on a lot of public access maintenance training, we had to home renovations during a pandemic and push my pain to new limits, and I lost a very dear friend and guardian. Everyone has had their battles this year. We are no exception. Still. I am grateful that I am mostly healthy, and the ones I love are healthy. When I asked for help, people stepped up. Above all else, the day before Christmas, I can celebrate the goofy, stubborn, and loyal service dog by my side. Being an animal trainer, I'm used to running into walls with whatever animal I'm working with. It's part of the life. My usual approach is to ask a more experienced trainer or do research. Read books, read other blogs online, watch videos - anything I can do that may point me in the right direction. Sometimes though, there isn't a perfect answer waiting for me to find it and I have to accept that I may never know exactly how to break down the wall. For the last few months, we've been living in the unknown. Will it be possible to get a handle on the virus? When will businesses re-open? When will life return to normal? Just how high of a risk faces me? Will we be okay?
One question we need to ask, in addition to those above, is, "How are our working animals doing with this?" Chances are, they're struggling just as much as we are - but they can't post it on social media. We bought her to help teach Robbie to ignore small animals, but she came to be so much more to me. She brought me bits of joy that Robbie couldn't, she amazed me with her bravery, and she never failed to make me smile. On New Year's Eve of 2019, we said goodbye to Flopsy for the last time. For us, it wasn't a happy new year. It was the end of something special, something dear, and something very much loved. We bought Flopsy when she was a few months old, from a local farm store. At first she lived in a retrofitted dog kennel that we moved about the yard during the day and brought inside at night. She did a fine job mowing the grass down. Once she got bigger, my husband built her a hutch with a run downstairs, and a ramp upstairs to a safe snuggle area. The hutch was predator proof. It was bigger and heavier, but we still moved her around the yard in the summer to let her have access to fresh grass all day long. In the winter we added extra boards, insulating bubble wrap, a small animal heating pad, and plenty of fresh water - even when it meant changing out her bottle 4-5x a day. For Robbie's training, first he learned to ignore her completely and give her hutch a 6ft berth. Once that was in place, we slowly let him closer, all the while testing his command and task training against her presence. They never got to play together, but they would often sniff each other through the bars. Flopsy would always come to the barrier to greet him, and likewise, Robbie would always stop to check in on her before going out to play. Sometimes if she got more attention than him, he would act extra goofy to get our attention back on him - we ignored him if he did that. When we loaded her hutch onto the trailer for staying with family during our vacations, she would ride in a carrier up front with me, leaving her hutch empty for the ride. Robbie would always insist on getting on the trailer to look for her before we left. We made sure that his behavior around her was always calm and interested, but not obsessive. That was the goal, after all. Flopsy was a bigger part of my day than I think most people ever knew. She got fed and checked on in the morning and evenings when I'd take Robbie out. During the day, I'd visit with her before Robbie's play sessions, we'd say goodbye when we left for walks and hello when we returned. Every time I passed a window with a view of her hutch, I'd pause and watch her for a bit. Eating grass, hopping about, or simply soaking up the sunlight. In the winter, her hutch was stationed permanently outside the kitchen window so that she was close enough to the house for being hooked up to a heating pad and warm water bowl. Every time I would wash dishes, I would look up and see her. Robbie is not a pet - he is a working animal. Flopsy was a pet. I got to enjoy the little pet things with her that I can't with Robbie. Robbie is always right there, whereas going out to see Flopsy and spend time with her was always a special treat. Flopsy would stand up and ask for head scratches or flowers. She was happy to see me, and I got to experience having an animal happy to see you after you've been gone. I don't get that with Robbie, because, he is always already with me. Robbie & I both get tired of each sometimes - I never had that with Flopsy. With Robbie I have to always be his leader, teacher, guardian, friend, and charge. With Flopsy it was simpler. I was responsible for her care and happiness, but I didn't have the responsibility of making sure I was always doing something the right way or balancing myself between me and trainer-me. With Flopsy, I was just me. Flopsy was brave. She didn't care if dogs relaxed near her, stared at her, or barked at her. She'd still bounce over to say hi. The only times she wasn't thrilled about invaders were when the cows broke out and when the lawn mower made close passes. When we'd do target shooting the yard, she would happily graze in her x-pen off to a safe distance, not a care in the world about all the noise. Flopsy loved dandelions, mimosa flowers, and sweet clover. She would eat pretty much anything, though. She wasn't a huge fan of toys - though we did try! We tried to give her time in the x-pen to hop and graze more freely in the summer, but it wasn't always the easiest adventure because she was very wily about being caught in her hutch. Flopsy was hardy. She withstood Missouri summers and yo-yo winters alike. She handled being relocated to friend's houses for short vacation stays, without being overly stressed out. I think she liked being outside better than inside. Inside, she would throw her box and race to the gate to watch each time Robbie got to go outside. Living outside may not be some people's idea of a perfect bunny life, but it worked for us. We gave Flopsy the best life we could. In December of 2019, we noticed she'd suddenly dropped weight and was acting off. We brought her inside for a few weeks, hoping we could stabilize her, but it only revealed a bigger problem. Based on her behavior and outward signs, we think she caught a neurological disorder from spoiled hay. She suddenly dropped weight, her behavior changed, she couldn't control where she went potty, she stumbled and fell often, and was in pain. We made the best choice for her by putting her down, but I wish things had gone differently. I feel guilty for letting her have last year's hay (the risk being potentially spoiled), and taking our chances. She died young, at only 2 or 3 years old. We lost. She lost. I held her, I told her she was loved, and I apologized for not doing better. I've been a mess the last few days. There are so many holes in my day where her sweet face used to be. I know we did the best we could. I only regret our best wasn't good enough. She will be remembered and cherished. Please enjoy the photos and videos below. Maybe you met her, maybe this is your first time learning about her. I couldn't have gotten Robbie as well-behaved with small animals without her help. Photo GalleryVideos
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My Name is Sally...I have a condition called Complex Regional Pain Syndrome. This blog is about my journey training Robbie, a dog who helped me regain independence, confidence, and achieve the impossible in the face of my disability. It continues on with the training of Austin, Robbie's successor. Check Out... - "More than a Dog" was published on a site called The Mighty Categories
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