Daily rain. Monsoon month. Rain reigns.
Tag: thunder phobia
Note: Thundershirt kindly arranged with their local partner, Hound Habitat, to send to me a sample of the Thundershirt for trial after I wrote to them about Donna’s thunderstorm phobia.
Strange as it may sound, there is a need to introduce anything new to the dog slowly. Our dog is not adventurous. New things are often viewed with an unhealthy dose of suspicion . So here’s Donna inspecting the Thundershirt.
Saturday morning, the day after the bad storm. It looked like it would be another unsettling day for Donna.
Isn’t it interesting how the clouds can dictate the gap left by the rain in the distance.
We left for a quick loo break downstairs a little too late. It had started pouring so I decided we should go circle around the covered carpark in the basement.
I found a spot where there is a break between the bushes along the perimeter of the carpark. Great spot actually since I could stand still within the shelter while the dog goes outside in the grass. :P I have seen people who let their dogs eliminate against pillars and on the carpark floor. I don’t appreciate that and Donna has learnt months back not to do that.
Two rounds around the carpark and it’s back home. The thunder continued. Coming back from the walk, she was still relaxed although slowly stiffening from the milder, gradual thunder. She nosed her way through the child gate into the kitchen with no hesitation at all.
Remember the post about disrupting the bad behaviour you want the dog to stop even before it starts? Well, out comes the can of tuna from the fridge. I got her to lie down on her tummy and proceeded to hand feed small bits of tuna to her regardless of whether it was thundering or not.
She got so fixated by the rhythm – lick the tuna on the finger, munch munch, lick the tuna on the finger, munch, munch that she didn’t stop – even when the thunder got louder. She was calm the whole time, tummy on the floor although her ears did remain pressed back and flicker when the thunder got a little louder at times. (I guess we were lucky the thunder wasn’t as bad as the day before. )
Monday came and the scenario was similar. We were downstairs waiting for the taxi to come send Mr P to the airport. It was raining and thundering. She decided to sit calmly on the bench, not trembling. But a particularly loud rumble got her on her feet while I was trying to take a picture of her sitting calmly on the bench.
Looking at this picture now, I think I’ve gotten a little too complacent and should have never taken my hand off her leash, especially since any sudden loud thunder could spook a dog. Even if at the point of leaving the leash, she was calm.
Back home, I tried the tuna trick. It worked for a bit but as the thunder got progressively louder, it stopped working at times. Here, she is looking away refusing to leave the kitchen. Somehow, she has associated it to being a safe place even though we don’t let her in it except for her mealtimes.
Donna and I, divided by the threshold to the kitchen.
We probably have to consistently repeat dispensing tuna every time it starts to rain and thunder for the counter conditioning to have any effect. Let me know if you think differently or have other advice that we should consider. Otherwise, not sure how long we need to do this until we can gradually wean her off. Hmmmm…. :/ That is, if there was anyone in the house to do it when it thunders!
P/s: the crate training is going well though :)
The storm today had thunder that made me jump just a little and the dog shivering uncontrollably. Even before it came, Donna was already communicating her nervousness, putting her front paws on my chair as she tried to attain some height.
I took out the new pack of doggy sausage from the refrigerator and sat in the living room, cutting it into tiny treats ready to disburse to the dog every time the thunder rolled.
But when the thunder hammered across the sky, she was one mass of jiggling nerves. I’m serious. If you had put your arms around her, she would have felt like a violently trembling Osim massage machine.
The rare treat of being on the sofa gave her no comfort, she tried to climb the coffee table. That was too dangerous. I stopped her. She didn’t feel safe with me, she ran off to poke at the child gate barricading the kitchen, seeking safety elsewhere. Needless to say, the doggy sausage went largely unheeded.
Finally I called her to come and put a t-shirt on her, hoping that having something she was not used to on her would distract her enough to calm her down a little. When she finally settled, it was under the coffee table, enduring the irrational doggy voices in her head.
Suzanne Clothier says it is OK to comfort the dog. The challenge is how does one do that when the dog has already tuned you out?
Hugging the dog is not the option here, Donna does not like to be hugged. She could put up with it on occasion, but hugging her when her tail is already tucked in between her legs just seemed to me to be heaping further pressure on her.
She likes to be petted, but on her own terms and only when she comes looking for you.
That’s why in general, I can only take the measure of her fear by offering her treats. She ignores them when she is too absorbed in her fears. If she had the presence of mind to take them when offered, it means she was gotten calmer.
When she took the bit of tuna I offered, I took the T-shirt off her again. She grinned pretty happily like it was a load off her back. But the thunder continued and she stopped taking the food on my hand, focusing on the fear that has gripped her doggy mind. So I put the T-shirt back on her.
Nope, she has not mastered her fears although she is slightly more responsive with the T-shirt back on. She is worried but not so much now. She tail is only slightly tucked inwards rather than totally curled. Still nervous though judging by ow distracted she is, her ears, eyes and panting.
I’m not sure if the T-shirt helped or made it worse, but at least she settled by my feet and the massage-machine level of trembling had disappeared. She was still salivating more than normal because of the heightened excitement.
I kept offering tuna to her nose but it didn’t work. Since she had laid down by my feet, I sat calmly cutting up the rest of the slighted sausage, packing them into a container for use as training treats at a later time. On hindsight, perhaps I should have petted her more?
Eventually I tried stooping down and getting her attention while offering the tuna. It worked. And as the thunder lightened, I switched to the sausage treats. That worked too. Good.
Here it is the container of tiny cut sausage treats, the result of today’s endeavour to slowly lift her reaction to thunder with food. She went into an automatic sit and was trying her hardest to telepathically send feed me messages. Hah! Fine, one last tiny piece for her.
She’s quite adaptable with the t-shirt.
She gave up lobbying for treats after she realised I was not giving anymore since the rain had stopped. She had somehow managed to get her front paws through the collar of the shirt. I thought it made her look like a Japanese geisha with the obi belt. Haha :P
I felt quite drained after the storm. She must feel so too.
After the rain, we prepared to go out for a much needed walk in the cooled evening air. She sputtered with disgust as I squirted ear cleaner liquid into her ears against her will. She hated me. More than she hated the thunder at that moment probably. She poured all her anger into her beloved Dentastix that she chomped on vehemently, a goodwill gesture on my part for inflicting the ear torture on her.
Then we headed out for a simple walk, no training. Just brisk walking to clear both our heads and our souls.
A lady who passed by us asked to pet her. Donna reminded her of her own dog, she said. In the last few months, Donna seemed to have gained confidence with meeting strangers, compared to when she met Uncle Gardener. She did not react to the lady’s hand hovering over her head.
The evening was cool and wet and she got all her paws muddy. But she returned with a healthy appetite for dinner and now lies on her side sleeping without fussing to play like she usually does after her meals.
I’m sorry if today’s post is a little melodramatic. It’s just how the words flowed today. :P
I decided to order a 3 feet-long crate for her. I wasn’t sure if I should get 2.5 feet or 3 feet because I vaguely remembered reading somewhere that the crate should not be too large so the dog would not eliminate in it. A call to the pet store was unfruitful as it could not give me the advice I needed. The pet store owner was too busy trying to explain to me that a dog crate is a plastic box and a dog cage is a metal enclosure but was unable to advise on which size to get.
I spent some time searching and reading before I found the clarification online. In general, the dog should be able to lie comfortably on her side and to sit comfortably without hitting her head, so a three-ft crate will likely be more comfortable for her 15kg frame. A smaller 2.5 feet crate is only necessary for a dog that is not toilet-trained and is in the process of being house-trained.
We are getting the metal one which allows for greater air flow since our weather is typically hot and humid. Given her penchant for seeking shelter in the galley kitchen and under the coffee table, I think it should work great as a refuge for her (if introduced properly), especially on days when there is nobody home. Fingers crossed!
This year has been a year full of rain. Ever since Donna joined our family, the idea of a perfect, rainy afternoon has been turned over its head. Not one of peace, sitting clean and dry in the room listening to the pitter-patter of raindrops. No. Rainy days are days when the dog turns skittish and I try to pretend there is nothing wrong with the weather and live life as normal.
Here are some of the posts from the last few months.
Mar 29 – This is Donna worried about the thunder and refusing to leave the kitchen.
Apr 27 – The strong wind toppled the plants on our balcony. She was grinning with nervousness.
Jun 7 – Across time, she has dealt with the rain and thunder inconsistently, sometimes better, sometimes worse. On good days, I had the leisure to contemplate the rain and the sky from the window. On bad days, I content myself with posting pointless posts on Donna’s tips for rainy days.
And after the rain which kept us in, we go out for our walk and get badgered by ants…
… and other creepy crawlies.
Such is life. It’s different, but still good ;)
The problem with living on a high floor with an unobstructed view is that it can get really windy sometimes. And today the wind was huffing and puffing and blowing things down.
Donna doesn’t like the howling wind, so when it gets windy before a storm, I start to close all the balcony doors, the door to the yard, the windows, etc, as many openings as we can so that the howling is minimised.
But today the wind was so fantastically strong and buffeting against the pane that we had to go on the balcony to see it for ourselves, besides pulling the pots inside where they are less exposed to the strong wind. We could see blinds hurling around violently, other people righting their potted plants and plastic bags adrift in the middle of the sky. And then when we turned back we see this nervous grinning mug.
She dealt well with the wind and rain today. Good job Donna!
She doesn’t usually do this because she understands the meaning of a barrier. But when it starts to thunder loudly and the wind howls, she just wants to be near you, in the same space. She pushes into the kitchen without a thought.
For the first time, she launches herself upwards so that her front paws land on the counter top supporting her upright posture. After she is satisfied, she drops down and moves to the small yard where again she was never allowed. She peers into the gloom of the store room but decides against entering. She peers into the drum of the washing machine. The space is too small for her. There is no safe place to hide.
She finally stops by the side of the kitchen cabinet and stares out to the living room, where the thunder blares right outside. Her tail is tucked between trembling legs. You call her but she does not respond, already immersed in her own world of doggy apocalyptic thoughts.
Physically, you tap her gently on the rump to get her attention, ‘sit’, you say. She does, slowly. Does it give her some measure of comfort?
“Help me,” she seemed to be saying with her eyes perhaps. But my dear girl, no one can keep the thunder away.
You walk in and out living life as normal. There is nothing to be scared of, its just a storm, you tell her. You hold the gate for her, in case she wants to follow you to the living room. But her bottom is rooted to the spot. “Do you want a treat?” you ask, knowing full well her little head of horrors is drowning you out. You left the small piece of jerky by her anyway, and tie the gate open with industrial strength velcro.
After she realises that you are not going back to the kitchen, she makes her way to the living room and stood there in the centre for quite a while. At length, she realises nothing is happening to her. And as the thunder dies, she lies down on her own and relaxes into sleep.
