Jolene Goes to Work

We just got back from a clinic in Wyoming, a place where the weather controls the landscape and there are more animals than people. It was heaven. And they gave us a special welcome. This was Jolene’s first work trip. It’s not a simple job for a pro like Mister, so it’s a big ask for a five-month-old pup.

Required skills include imaginary varmint security, hours alone with the air conditioner, and creating diversions for me. I’m tired after a long workday and then I re-hash the lessons, planning the next day. Not just anyone can handle the night shift antics. Mister says Jolene isn’t a fully certified Clinic Dog yet. Just an intern. But we agreed she was like that kid in class who is always waving their hand, busting a gasket to get called on.

The preparation for the trip took longer than we’d be gone, but I started even earlier than usual. I packed all the usual gear, but then there was Jolene to consider. A few hundred chewies and enough dog toys for an urban shelter. Our folding loveseat. Four ex-pens to make a patio. I packed so early that I had time to remember what I forgot before we left home.

But that was just stuff. We slept out in the Rollin’ Rancho, our A-frame trailer, for a month working through the barky issues. Jolene had to learn to jump on different furniture, to ask to go out a human door instead of our dog door. Mister learned to wait better. We adjusted the chewy stealing protocol a few times. And Jolene sweetly waits to get her harness on. Mister sneers Goody Two-Shoes under his breath.

The clinic was at Joni and Bill’s, just west of Cheyenne. We went up early, so we could prepare ahead for a while there, too. Besides, this clinic had a special addition. I’d asked Bill and Bailey for a favor. Something for Jolene.

Bailey is their well-bred Labrador, as shiny as obsidian. Mister and I met her three years ago. She came bounding up to us, wagging her tail so hard that her backside nearly took to the air. An exuberant puppy welcome, and Bailey’s recall then was about where Jolene’s is now. Bailey was irresistible, but Mister felt intimidated. He is always standoffish and doesn’t care to make friends. They’d cast him as the reserved butler in a British period drama.

Bailey has grown into a well-mannered and impeccably trained hunting dog with a world-class recall. Bill would deny it. They’re both humble, but they have an enviable relationship. She’s loyal, checking in with Bill frequently, the definition of a best friend. I hoped Bailey would give Jolene a positive introduction to big dogs.

Day One: As I was setting up, Mister had a fit because there was a spotted thing. There are also two older Dalmatian girls here that alarm him. They find Mister the most insufferable bore. Now we’re all in a Jane Austen novel on the Wyoming prairie.

Later, Jolene and I went to the indoor arena to meet Bill and Bailey. Jolene was flighty and nervous under my chair. Totally attracted, and equally undone. Bailey wiggle-sat by Bill as the humans talked. The leashes stayed on. Jolene acted like a snapping turtle, darting out from under chairs and teasing Bailey, who wanted to play so much I felt guilty.

Day Two: Our day starts when Jolene wakes up. It’s easier that way. The dogs immediately get their breakfast, for the same reason. Now we have three or four hours before work starts. This morning, Jolene was growling at the rug she was dragging outside for some air. It’s not an heirloom Oriental. Why discourage her housekeeping efforts? But then it stuck in the door and she lost interest. I told her good girl because I have higher aspirations that rug cleaning myself.

We headed out to the pasture, walking on a double leash with a swivel. Marvellous invention. They marched like a team. We found no varmints, but Jolene tried a new delicacy. You wouldn’t think she’d have to come to Wyoming for fresh horse manure. We didn’t trip or tie each other up, so no injuries. When we were almost back, Jolene mounted a protest, but we convinced her to stand up again.

Then I left both dogs in the trailer with the AC for three hours while Joni caught me up on the horses. It was the longest I’d ever left Jolene, but this is where Mister really shines. I got back to find nothing chewed on or out of place. No accidents.

Another session with Bailey, this time a smaller area on the deck of their house. Jolene was more interested than nervous and bravely touched noses. Bailey was patient, not liking it, but she understood the job. Jolene greeted the other people, politely folding her ears and climbing into any lap that would have her.

Day Three: We slept in for two hours. Get up really early to do it. Jolene wanted out about 3 am and I left the door open. Horses grazed next to the trailer and Jolene stayed out to watch the sunrise. The air was so fresh and Mister and I dozed. We had a late breakfast at 5 am. Our walk had no death-drop protests.

It was the first full day of the clinic and they stayed in the trailer for 3.5 hours in the morning. Then Bill’s legendary lunch. Legendary is an understatement. Afterward, the dogs got out for twenty minutes. No zoomies, no bitey face. Jolene sat on my lap, more cuddly than usual. It was stress, but I’m not proud. Then back in for another 3.5 hours in the trailer. Both were sleeping on the bench seat when I got back. Thank you, Mister.

The only hard part was Mister’s anxiety when we left each night, and came back smelling like Bailey. Still, we met. We don’t want to scare Jolene now, so the dogs are still on leashes. They played limited bitey face under my chair but also just wandered with each other. Thank you to Bill and his girl. This is the one thing Mister can’t teach.

Day Four: Same breakfast and morning walk. Same long day and good dogs.

During clinic hours, we talk about preparing ahead for transitions. Cutting work into small, understandable pieces that don’t overwhelm. Giving time needed for a calm answer. Finding an energy that doesn’t feel like punishment. Allowing stress to become resilience. Soon, the line between dogs and horses and humans blurred until we were all on the same side, getting it right.

Later on the deck, it’s still a process; Bailey off leash, and Jolene on a long leash. Jolene was dog-talking, letting Bailey know she wasn’t a threat. Bailey didn’t think she was, but Jolene stated the ground rules in calming signals. Humans call it being submissive, but that’s a poor word for the spirit of the communication. Afterward, Jolene positively pranced on her way back to the Rancho.

Day Five: It’s the last day of the clinic and we’ve all had a mind-stretch. It’s been an amazing few days, thanks to the ordinary way horses eternally inspire us. We wrapped up with Joni laughing out loud as she sped around the arena in a fluid conversation with a beautiful horse. I love my job.

Tonight we’re in Bill’s den. He met us at the door with an Old Fashioned, made with artful precision, so smooth and rich with a twist and fresh cherries. We sat back in comfortable conversation, both dogs off their leashes. There were plenty of escape places, but they dashed around without panic. Patient success.

Joni and the clinic participants joined us, so Jolene made the rounds. Is that what they mean by taking laps? I’m so proud of her. Agility courses don’t have this many challenges. So grateful to Bill and Bailey.

We all walked outside, laughing and chatting, the sky melting to sunset colors. Then it happened. In an instant, Bailey and Jolene bolted away. Somehow, her collar buckle cracked open and separated from the leash; both lay empty on the ground. The dogs ran full tilt toward a road. Jolene’s recall wasn’t reliable in our backyard. It would be a Hail Mary pass here. In the calmest voice I could muster, I chirped her name. Cookies, I called into the chaos.

Bill gave Bailey a recall. Being a good bird dog, Bailey stopped instantly and returned, leaving Jolene deserted. Her hearing and eyesight miraculously returned, and she ran straight to my feet.

It’s what you do for puppies. Bill put the time in, for his own and mine. And Bailey saved the day. Well, a lot more than that. Atta girl!

Day Six: We headed home with Jolene an inch taller and sporting several new teeth. We let Jolene make choices, and she gained confidence. And profound exhaustion. She climbed into Mister’s car seat and slept on top of him all the way home. Mister gave me that look. Others might call it long suffering, but that’s not it. He has a friend, and he’s gloating. Everybody loves her. But we get to go home with her.

[Part 10. Read all the episodes of Jolene’s Story here.]

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