Riley is not allowed to go on the Internet without permission. Period. Today she did it, and I had to follow through with consequences, banning her from the computer for 24 hours. She pitched a very big fit, screaming and stomping all the way up to her room. Jingle followed her. I grabbed two Pupperonis from the kitchen cabinet, and marched upstairs to her room. Jingle stood on the floor beside the bed, watching Riley carry on. 

I pressed the Pupperonies into Riley’s hand, and walked out of her room, closing the door behind me. As I shut the door, I saw Jingle hop up on the bed. She loves Pupperoni.

Riley and Jingle remained in her room for about ten minutes. Then they came downstairs, and Riley played happily with her brother for the rest of the evening. No more meltdowns. No talk of the computer. 

I’ve been finding when Riley is upset, if I just put the Pupperoni in her hand, she starts breaking off pieces and feeding them to Jingle. The change of focus, feeding the treats, seems to put Riley’s brain on pause long enough to hop off the fret merry-go-round, the continuous loop of upset which can often go on for an hour or more.

This was the first time I left them alone behind closed doors to work it out. Riley is the kind of kid that can’t tolerate unkindness to anyone, especially animals. She implodes, rather than lashing out, so I knew Jingle was safe with her.

It felt liberating to be able to hand off to the dog, what might have taken me much longer to accomplish. No twenty minute “talking it through” going around and around in circles.

We wound up having a great night.

Thank you Jingle.

We have at least four people who make a point of walking their dogs through the neighborhood, off leash.

One of them doesn’t walk with the dog, it kind of does its own thing, crapping wherever it wants and this person doesn’t pick up after it, or even see it go, because she’s walking twenty feet away from the dog, absorbed in her own thoughts.

One of the dogs appears to be very well behaved, but he’s scary looking,of the pit bull mix variety, and his very presence is a bit intimidating when he’s not on a leash. Yes, yes, I’m sure he’s a perfectly sweet dog(one that could eat Riley’s 11-thousand dollar service dog for breakfast if he chose to).    

One of the dogs does not listen to his owner at all as he tries to call it away from Jingle. It seems friendly, but still. If it does not listen, it should not be off leash.

One of the dogs lunges and barks at other dogs, who can’t really do much about it because they are on leashes.

What is the draw of “off leash” walking in residential neighborhoods? I don’t understand it, and in the interest of full disclosure, the reason it really bugs me is because Jingle thinks dogs off leash means play time. She got to go off leash at 4 Paws in the fenced in area of the facility. She starts to lose her mind manners, making life harder for me, when other dogs are off leash. We’re working on it. Luckily, she’s a quick study.

*Photo of Jingle above, walking on leash, the way God intended it.

On Wednesdays the kids go to therapeutic dance class. There are four in the class, including Seth. One boy about Riley’s age jumps and flaps when he gets excited. The other girl seems very intelligent, but she processes things a bit more slowly than the others. 

The boy who appears to have autism loves dogs.

He loves the idea of dogs. He reads about them, and talks of them, but he’s never been brave enough to pet one.  He longs to, but can’t bring himself to do it.

Today, Jingle was in a “down” on the floor before class. Two children were petting Jingle and the boy approached. He took a step forward, then stepped back. He took a step forward again, and then back. He was almost rocking, first toward Jingle, then away. He inched closer, with his hand held out.

Jingle turned her head to look at him. 

He was all concentration. Such courage.

“Don’t move Jingle!” he cried.

“Don’t move.”

She shifted her head and he lurched back.

“Don’t move.” he whispered again. 

Jingle turned away from him to look at the other children who were doting on her.

The boy shakily stretched his arm forward and down, and with two fingers, he touched Jingle’s backside. As fast as his fingers swiped her fur, he pulled away.

He and his mom shared a huge grin, and then he scampered off toward the bathroom saying, 

“Now I have to go wash my hands.”

His mother told me it was the first time he ever touched a dog.

Seriously. It’s long.

Do you see the cute little pink area just above her nose? I love that part. Riley loves her black mustache.

What about the hair behind her ears. It looks like she’s had a ”body wave,” in that section. Remember body waves? I can’t believe I ever permed my hair. Thought it was a necessity. Oh 80’s. I sure don’t miss you.

Jingle has been kicking butt in the “don’t chase squirrels” game. When we first got her, she would tug on the leash to try to go after a squirrel. Now, she sees a squirrel, and she looks up at me (or Todd) for a treat. She wants the squirrel. You can feel the tension in her body through the leash. She is a bit overzealous taking the treat, but she is trying so hard to be good, and not chase the squirrel, even though she would soooo love to. And the squirrels are nervy little creatures. They mess with her on purpose, sticking their squirrel tongues out at her, shaking their little squirrel hips. Go hibernate already squirrels.

But St. Jingle refrains. She is a quick study. Such a smart girl.

The head of special ed for the district wants to come to our house one day soon to see Jingle and Riley in action. The Riley/Jingle team is not ready for school yet, but we are getting the ball rolling. There are a lot of details to be hammered out and there has been some resistance among certain staff, but this is the first service dog the school has had to deal with. Some people find new things difficult. Some people are afraid of dogs. Some are allergic. We have to do our best to put policies in place to make everyone as comfortable as possible, particularly other students who may be fearful. I spent last week making myself sick with worry over it all, but I’ve worked very hard and have reached a state of peace around it. If Jingle is meant to be in school with Riley, it will happen. Everything about this dog has been so easy. It all fell into place. There was no  pressure. There was no pushing. I have to allow the energy that brought us the dog to work its magic. I’ve let go of my white knuckle grip. Worst case scenario, Jingle doesn’t go to school, and we have her at home to help with homework, cello practice, and your everyday run of the mill meltdowns. Riley still benefits.  

In the meantime, Riley and Jingle continue to bond.

Jingle cried her eyes out at martial arts the other night when Riley and Seth left the room to get a drink.

She sleeps on Riley’s bed.

She wags her tail furiously when Riley comes out of the building at the end of the school day. 

She hangs with Riley in her room while she reads her books.

It is going very well.

Jingle had her first bath (the first one with us)last night. She heard the word “bath” and went straight to her crate to hide. 

She reluctantly got into the tub, and trembled the whole time. Obedient girl that she is, she didn’t try to make a break for it, but she did not enjoy it.

We bought her this amazing smelling papaya dog shampoo. It was great going on, but after the bath, instead of smelling like papaya, she merely smelled of “wet dog.”

The rest of the evening, she lay curled up in a ball. Insulted.

Seth put a blanket around her to keep her warm. Seth loves putting blankets on Jingle. It’s one of his favorite things to do. She keeps them on too. She’ll walk around all day with Seth’s little comfy cozy baby blanket hanging around her back like a loose, stinky saddle.

Jingle may not smell like papaya, but trust me when I tell you this, she smells better than Seth’s blanket.

Jingle went to the vet today and the vet said Jingle is the cutest most bestest dog she’s ever met in her whole entire life!

Well, not in so many words, but it was heavily implied.  

She actually got down on the floor and laid with Jingle, nuzzling her face, cooing at her.

She didn’t charge us for the visit.

Jingle has a way of bringing out the best in people. She’s such a joyful spirit.

Jingle Bell.

Jingle all the way!

Jingle, Jingle, Jingle, we can hear your collar ring!  

And yes, “I got a little change in my pocket going Jingle-ingle-laaang.”

You can’t help but love her.

*Our camera is on its last legs. There is a very seventies feel to this photo, right? We’ll pretend I meant to do that. Meanwhile, any recommendations on blog worthy digital cameras, would be greatly appreciated!

Last night Jingle went with Riley to martial arts for the first time. I wasn’t sure how it would go, because there is a lot of yelling, etc. A lot for her to get used to.  She is trained, trained, trained,but she’s still a dog. She has fears and feelings. 

Jingle did very well. She held her “down” the whole time. She startled a few times over the noise, but she was more surprised than anything. She didn’t bark. You could tell she wished she could run along and play with the kids, but she stayed put. I fed her treats sporadically to give her incentive.  

The incredible thing for me wasn’t about Riley. This is “therapeutic” martial arts, and there is an older boy in the class who has autism(more than one actually but for this post we’re focusing on one in particular). He appears to be more severely affected, at least socially, than Riley. He lit up like a Christmas tree when he saw Jingle. He carried on a lengthy conversation, telling us all about his own pets. His blue eyes twinkled as he talked of his cats, he called them his “Purr balls.”  He was animated. He made eye contact. He was really sweet and funny. They’ve been in the same martial arts school for over a year but last night was the first Riley and Seth got to know this boy. He’d never even acklnowedged their presence before. None of us had ever seen him smile. 

Way to go Jingle!   

And power to the purr balls!

Jingle is afraid of stairs. Part of it is her body. She’s very deer like. All legs. When she goes down stairs too quicky, her long front legs splay out in front of her like Bambi on ice. She’s cautious going up as well. 

While Jingle isn’t in school at this point, (she and Riley need time to solidify their bond before approaching that step) she comes with me to pick up the kids. The other day I was greeted outside by an aide who said,

“You probably want to go upstairs to the sensory room. Riley is in the middle of a meltdown.”

So up we went. Jingle did the army crawl half way up the big flight of stairs. As we turned on the landing to face the next set, the bell rang (loud) and then a million kids burst forth. Jingle was terrified, but she kept it together. She ”jingled” into the sensory room and found Riley crying on a beanbag chair, a teacher attempting to comfort her by talking through a puppet. Jingle’s tail wagged furiously as she ran up and greeted her girl. Riley smiled through her tears.

We moved Riley to sit on the floor and showed the teacher Jingle’s “over” command. Jingle laid her body over Riley’s lap, and Riley stroked Jingle’s head.  

The teacher and I talked about what was going on with her. She’s had an awful week. Missing two weeks of school for the service dog training has taken a bigger toll on her than I anticipated. She kept up with her assignments and finished all her work, but while we were away, they started a big new art project and she is behind. She’s behind in cello. She’s behind in gym class.

As we were talking, Riley continued to stroke Jingle, and the tears finally stopped.

Jingle was afraid again on the stairs as we left. Riley told her softly, “It’s okay, Jingle. It’s okay.”

Jingle is afraid of stairs. Riley is afraid of falling behind.

They’re working through it, together.

The night we brought Jingle home, we kept her on a leash for the first couple of hours, so the cats could get used to her. Jingle has been around cats, but our cats had never experienced a dog.

Jingle was so disoriented to be in yet another new place. She’d had a long drive. She wasn’t listening. She tugged at the leash and lunged repeatedly toward the cats. 

“No Jingle!” I pulled her back, over and over. The cats hissed. 

Jingle had thus far been a very submissive dog. I’d watched her slink away from an unfriendly cat at 4 Paws.

“Let them work it out,” my gut whispered.

We let her off the leash. She intruded. The cats puffed up, hissed. Her head went down, tail between her legs. This has happened a lot over the last few days.

But last night Riley was sick. She kneeled at the toilet bowl four hours, waiting to throw up. Jingle laid and I sat on the floor beside her. The cats were in and out. The calico stopped to sniff Jingle’s tail, then, her nose. Jingle did not move. The gray cat stood a foot away from her, the closest he’s come. Still as a statue, she let them be.  Was it because Riley was sick? Did she somehow know not to be wild? Not to push it?

Riley stayed home from school today. She’s already feeling much better. 

Jingle is jovially, once again, testing the cats.

Back in 1996, when we were dating, Todd took me to the NY State Fair to see Wynona Judd in concert. Don’t ask. We’ll save Wynona for another day, okay? 

While at the state fair, I fed a real live giraffe. The poor thing was cooped up in a tent, and I put a coin in a giraffe food gumball machine and fed it the pellets that came out. The giraffe leaned waaaay down and touched its lips to my hand, and I’d never in my life felt anything so soft. 

Until now.

Jingle’s muzzle is as soft as a giraffe’s lips.

Sometimes I just sit beside her, holding her jaw in my hand. This kind of softness is insane! It’s addictive!  

Must.

Feel.

The muzzle.

Perhaps now you understand better why I let HT do most of the training at 4 Paws.

I can’t handle this kind of cute.