Jolene Clears All Debts

I do not know how long I will survive Jolene’s social life. She thinks I’m her chauffeur. Probably right.

Last Friday, we went to Pub Dog Class. I put a clean shirt on and grabbed her harness. She was really fussy and even faux-limped. It was fine the day before when we went to test into the class. I slipped a finger under the neck area and, sure enough, she had outgrown it overnight. It fit her like a corset; her ruff looked like fluffy cleavage. She made a gakking sound. Same sound I make going to a bar. Seems fair.

We found the Goat Patch Brewing Company. Inside it was dark and loud and, sure enough, there were dogs here and there, but I don’t see the instructor. Jolene was a little intimidated, so I picked her up. Someone pointed the way to a large outdoor seating area. There was a round picnic table with five people and five dogs. This must be us. Jolene and I sat at the next table, just to pace ourselves. Okay, me really. Jolene was just fine, so we squeezed in with the others, each dog lying on the ground by their person. Two Golden Retrievers, one Lab mix, one large terrier mix, and a pit bull. Jolene sat on her mat looking like butter wouldn’t melt. Jolene got a bite of chicken.

Then, nothing bad happened. One golden was a pup, and she did a belly crawl under the table to say hello. They licked noses before her person retrieved her. Other patrons came by; a couple of kids petted the Goldens. Jolene sat quietly. I asked her to lie down, and she said no, thank you. Instead, she sat like an “A” student in the front row. More chicken. 

I smiled at Jolene. I beamed at her. We were behaving. Then, there was another small tug on the leash, probably the puppy again, but I looked under the table, and it was the pit bull. She had a huge smile, like they all do. The pittie’s owner called her back too soon if you ask Jolene. Other than causing a traffic jam by the women’s bathroom, we had no incidents. We hurried home to finish prepping to leave for a clinic in the morning.

I thought about those patient sessions with Bill and Bailey, the Labrador, last month. How Jolene cowered under my chair until she found her courage to approach Bailey. And Bailey’s patience waiting for her, even when she didn’t want to. I thought about this group of dog people who took the time to train their good dogs so we could meet in public without starting a bar fight. They are changing Jolene’s life forever.

But then I think of Walter, who spent twenty-three hours a day in his crate before he came. He’d barely settled in when his health took a turn, requiring five home-cooked meals a day. Then, Jack, who is still a ball of nerves, twelve years later. Seamus, who arrived with a shock collar and Prozac, but didn’t survive his pain and fear. Preacher Man, who only stopped barking when we were alone. And Mister, who is perfect if there are no toddlers or dogs taller than him around. Incontinent dogs, old dogs, fear-driven reactive dogs. All the dogs who landed at our farm over the years were a privilege. Never a burden. Jolene is the same, but I have the joy of building her confidence rather than rehabbing the mistakes of others. Good, because it’s me who needs rehabbing now.

Yes, I’m still writing about dogs, and maybe you miss my writing about horses? Even though it’s all Affirmative Training and so obviously similar? That’s fine. One review of Undomesticated Women said that I mentioned my dog too much. All I could think was that the reader had never road-tripped with a dog. You’ll never have better company. Would she complain to Steinbeck about Charley? Who, Mister would like you to know, was not nearly as handsome as he is.

When the possibility of Jolene came up, I knew it had to be okay with Mister. My friends, who bred Jolene and also matched me up with Mister, thought the same thing. It’s no surprise she bonded with him first. When I see the two of them sleeping together or sharing a car-seat, well, Mister’s long body is just the right curve to tuck a tailless keister, his missing piece. They are post-birth Siamese twins. I can’t imagine a better thank you for Mister. 

We arrived a day early for the clinic so Joni and I could have alone-time with her horses. After we set up, she came down to say hello and both Jolene and Mister stood up on the ex-pen to greet her. She is used to Jolene wiggle-wagging into her hands. Neither of us gets used to Mister doing the same. He has politely tolerated humans, but he goes along with Jolene now because she’s right. It’s nice to have a scratch. 

On to the clinic. I think I’ve been preparing for this work every day of my life. It’s the hardest and best job imaginable. This clinic was full, with returning riders and new ones. I was up by 5 am to take care of the dogs and prep for the day. We finished at 6 pm and then I prep for the next day. It’s about having the same sharp eye for the first horse as the last ride of the day, being at the intersection of the horse and human emotions. Holding energy and focus all day so I can connect threads of calming signals and training ideas. It’s finding the right words for each participant, and knowing that if I get one word wrong, it will hurt. There will be breakthrough rides and rides that don’t go well, but I’ll find a way that the horse and rider have a better understanding even then. Something extraordinary always happens, something hard always happens. 

I notice I take more ibuprofen; my hip complains about standing most of the day. My throat gets dry, so I use cough drops that make the corners of my mouth sticky. My microphone headset digs into my hearing aids. And I can’t do the job without my dogs waiting.

Evenings, we humans meet with the hope of Bailey and Jolene chasing a ball together, but truthfully, they were a bit bored. A minute of bitey-face, a sprint, and that’s about all. One night, I left Jolene with the group and went to get Mister, who believes Bailey is his arch-enemy. Maybe Jolene can fix that. In the minutes I was gone, Jolene nearly disemboweled the person holding her, trying to find me. Last month, she didn’t notice when I left. When we got back, Mister gave a couple of half-hearted barks, but Jolene wasn’t concerned about Bailey, so now Mister is okay with this big black dog. Go figure.

I didn’t punish Jolene for nipping with puppy teeth, and she isn’t nipping now. I didn’t ask for her obedience, but she walks next to me and sits. I didn’t punish her for chewing, but she has destroyed nothing. Those other dogs, and all the horses, tell me confidence is the only question. Peaceful persistence is why Affirmative Training works. 

Jolene is changing so fast. She is immature, silly, and barky when we’re talking. Tall enough to steal apples from the counter like Mister does. Tall enough to jump up on the bed, and turn it down for me every day. So thoughtful. Jolene has come when I called her a handful of times. If you can imagine. One chilly night, Jolene lay on my feet as I answered emails. I didn’t want to disturb her, but I took a risk, slid out of my shoes, and she stirred, then laid her warm, soft body back over my aching feet. And every second was repaid.

Jolene is six months old. She doesn’t look like a puppy anymore. This week, Jolene gave more than she got. She took better care of me than I did her. She became a full-blown dog this week. Best of all, she jumped me into the club with her and Mister. We’re Siamese triplets.

I’m not very funny this week, am I? I would like to say I was perfect all three days of the clinic. I would like to say Jolene and Mister healed every ache. I would like to say I was gifted a thousand-acre farm in New Zealand. None of these things are true.

After a particularly challenging day, we canceled the dog play. Bill brought me a fancy cocktail in a sippy cup, and I thought I’d melt at his kindness. I headed to the trailer. In my whole life, no one has ever been happier to see me than my dogs. Every day, they are my home. I creaked a bit as I lowered onto our camp loveseat. Mister jumped up and pressed warm against my hip. Jolene climbed onto my lap, her backside tucked into my belly, and she stayed still for an eternity.

There is a feeling I get in my body when I’m on top of a horse, and I know that I’m in my perfect place. I’m almost afraid to say it, but I think Jolene had that look. 

[Part 14. Read all the episodes of Jolene’s Story here.]

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