Duncan Update, 3.1
(TLDR? The dog failed dog training. Has prescriptions for his anxiety. Has moved into the house with M’s parents as of last night.)
Oh, right. I totally forgot to tell you how Duncan got kicked out of the Feisty Fido class. KICKED OUT.
He and I went last week to class together. Although he was kind of stressed out in the car (not unusual), when we got there he was BATSHIT CRAZY. Panting, pulling, lunging, barking, tornado-on-a-string. Me? To quote Death Cab for Cutie, I held “a smile like someone would hold a crying child.”
OK – a diagram, to help picture the scene. Deal?
So we start the class off in Yellow Starred little room. The other three dogs (and their owners) are quietly hanging out in their own little rooms. While class is kind of starting, the trainer is in the big room talking to us all in our little rooms with our bad dogs and I’m slowly peeking out of my door because Duncan is jumping up and shouting and barking his brain off at anyone’s voice or even a jingle of another dog collar.
Reenactment picture below.
Then, they ask me to close the top part of my half door – a) in the hopes that he would calm down, and b) to make it so that everyone else could hear. Two minutes later, we get moved to the Shun Room (aka the waiting area). Then moved to the tiny gated room WITHIN the Shun Room in the hopes that he would Shut Up.
Eventually, I got my own trainer lady to myself. Duncan stopped barking, but by then was so keyed up and panting, he was too far gone to do anything.
Long story short (too late), I took his crazy ass home, he stopped panting frantically around 10pm (we left class at 8:30pm), and M’s mom took their advice which was to take him to a special vet in town who specializes in especially asshole dogs. Pharmaceuticals. Something. Anything was needed to get his brain to stop freaking out before we could address the feisty part. FUN!
How Duncan Came To Now Live In His New Home was a suggestion by Awesome Behavior Vet, who discouraged us from taking him anywhere but his new permanent location, training classes included. Get him settled, give him drugs, and some simple home training. So last night, we ALL got home from the vet appt, had some fried chicken, and packed up the little yellow man and sent him on his way to the farmhouse. (Isn’t that what you tell children when a dog is put down? They moved to a farmhouse? That’s terrible.)
This morning, the house was back to how it was before this shenanigans started in December. Five months of upheaval.
Would it surprise you that it also coincided with successfully bribing RR with pieces of chocolate to get her to put on panties and sit on the potty two times before 8am? TWO FUCKING TIMES. That’s two times more success than we’ve had since… oh, January? Crazy talk.