Ada: She who must be obeyed.

Six months after Nakia came, I received a text from M. asking me if I might be interested in taking Nakia's mother, Ada.   I really hesitated.    Nakia was only just starting to settle in and getting yet another Giant Schnauzer (especially if she was anything like Nakia) so soon seemed crazy.   I could easily count off a dozen reasons why it was a stupid idea.

Knowing what I knew about the situation Nakia had been in, I also knew that I couldn't say no.   

Two days later, I loaded Nakia into the backseat of my mother's brand new truck and we headed  to the farm.  When we arrived, Nakia jumped out of the truck and galloped her way around the yard, greeting Ada while ignoring M.  I spent a few minutes chatting with before Ada came close enough for me to get a good look at her.  

The first thing I noticed was that she'd obviously just weaned a litter.   It made me sick to my stomach, but I didn't say anything.   The second thing I noticed was how reserved she was.    When I loaded her into the car she didn't object or look back.  She was just resigned.   

When we got home where  I could get a good look at her, I was horrified.   Her belly was matted all the way to the skin and blistered raw.  She had fluid filled cysts from cheatgrass between her toes on every foot.    I don't know how she managed to walk.   Her elbow callouses were numerous and large.  Her ears were inflamed, her skin was irritated and she had an area on one hip that was almost bald.  She allowed me to clean her up without making a sound.  She didn't seem afraid as much as unwilling to show weakness.   

A trip to the vet let me know she had allergic dermatitis, double ear infections, the blisters on her stomach were likely  urine burns from a dirty whelping box,   while her bald spot was likely a result vitamin deficiencies and stress.   We went home with a bunch of meds, a new diet,  a list of vitamins and instructions to have her sit in front of a full spectrum lamp for 30 minutes twice a day to help the alopecia. 

The first couple of weeks weren't easy.  Ada and Nakia seemed determined to murder one another, Nakia regressed and starting peeing in the house and Ada well..... When she wasn't trying to kill Nakia she watched me.  Not in a friendly, thank you for rescuing way, but in a "just who the hell do you think you are to tell me anything, kind of way..."  I did a lot of crying in the shower.

I spent hours working with the two of them, I didn't care if  they liked one another....  I just needed them to stop actively trying to murder each  another.   When she wasn't trying to tear Nakia's ears off, Ada was like a polite houseguest.  She would allow me to pet her... but didn't seem to enjoy it.  She would sit and move to a down, but walking her felt like a tractor pull invitational.   

I called my adult son more than once in those first few weeks with both of the girls, his giant was a well bred, well trained secure lady.  Mine were obviously a couple of hot messes.

Some time around  the beginning of the new year, both girls seemed to accept that neither was going anywhere and that murder was not acceptable.  Incrementally, Ada started to warm up to me.   I will never forget the time she finished her dinner, jumped onto my bed and gave me the schnauzer paw.   It's not a request.   It's a demand for service.  She grumbled at me while I gave her scritches.   She slept on the bed that night. 

She's different now, the most mature, but also the one who loves to play the most.   She's smart and silly and the dog that knows me better than I know myself.  She's my right hand, second in command who is determined that all the dogs in this house follow the rules.     

Nakia: She who came first....

When I first envisioned a giant schnauzer puppy, I knew her gender, where I wanted to get her and how I planned training her.   I hadn't contacted the breeder, because I wanted to make sure I had everything I needed in place before I even filled out the application, much less put down a deposit.

Then I found Nakia on Craigslist.  Honestly, I thought the ad was a scam.  I texted back and forth with the owner/breeder and decided that I at least wanted to meet her.   Looking back, I'm grateful that I didn't know just what I was getting into:  If I had I might have said no to the dog that changed my life. 

M was nice, seemed knowledgeable and the setting was idyllic.  I didn't see or hear any other dogs while I was there. According to M, she'd had "some" training.  Watching her gallop frantically around the yard, I noticed her gait seemed a little off.   When I asked about it, M assured me that she probably had a goathead between her pads.    I asked about training, reactivity, and behavioral issues.   I assured M  none of those things were deal breakers for me, but the more I knew, the more I'd be able to help her transition.  I was told she was "used to a crate or run"  and her only issue was not quite enough training time.  

When Nakia approached me something in the pit of my stomach made me know that I needed to bring her home.  I told myself that even if I didn't keep her, at the very least I could get her out of there and to an appropriate rescue.  As soon as I opened the back door, she jumped in.  

Within hours of her arrival, I learned that Nakia was terrified of well.... everything.   Anyone entering a room set her off barking hysterically- even if she'd seen them only moments before.  She was especially petrified of men.   The sound of doors opening and closing set her off.    She was confused by our other dogs and paced continuously.   

I introduced her to her crate, thinking it might help her settle.   I opened the door and placed a couple of treats into it.    She crept to the door and then proceeded to lose her mind.   Hysterically barking, spinning and crying, she wet herself and couldn't make it past the threshold.    I threw a blanket over the it to get it out of sight and just sat with her until she finally calmed down.

The next morning I made an emergency appointment with a trainer for evaluation.   A few hundred dollars later, I was advised to euthanize her.  Many of the points the trainer made were valid, but I couldn't bring myself to make the appointment.  At the time, I told myself the trainer hadn't had the time to really get to know her.  I decided to get a second opinion.  The second behavioral consult went marginally better, but I was cautioned that she was going to need intensive training and she'd likely  significant behavioral support for the rest of her life.      

There were several weeks in the beginning when I wanted to pull my hair out.  In addition to the triggers she showed on day one, she reacted to the sound of metal on metal, anyone entering a room (even people she knew and even  if they had only just left and returned).  Trucks terrified her,  loud voices (even on the television)  sent her over the edge.  Once startled couldn't settle for at least  45 minutes to an hour.  She would bark continuously, pace, whine and furiously claw at doors and windows.   It was a lot.

The first time I left Nakia at home, I thought that putting her in my room would be more comfortable for her (and safer for everyone else).   That was when I realized she didn't just have separation anxiety.   She had full blown confinement trauma.   I was gone for less than 90 minutes.  During that time she lost control of her bowels and did around eleven hundred dollars in damage to my door, the wall trim and the furniture.

My kids looked at me like I was crazy and outright asked me why I'd brought this crazy barking, farting mess home.  Some nights I wondered the same thing.

It took hours a day, every day for months.... but she's better.    She's still suspicious of men, but she's found a couple she likes.   She still doesn't like me to leave her home, but she manages several hours without too much fuss.  Settling down is often difficult for her, but now it takes a few minutes rather than almost an hour.  I love watching her learn that not everything new is scary. She's likely always going to be a kind of an anxious girl, but she and I are a team.