Sunday, July 30, 2006
Meet Tiki,
Tiki, aka Mr. Rabbit, aka Perfect, aka Beau, aka Mookie, aka Booty is a German Spitz (think of him as forefather of the Pomeranian) and the sunshine in every day I live since he came into my life.
I'm going to assume that you're thinking, "what does your dog have to do with animal rescue?"
Tiki, although the kindest, smartest, most well behaved dog in the world... un-contested... was not the ball of fluff, love, and sunshine when he first walked into my living room and began rubbing on my couch.
Almost instantly Tiki's antics caught the breath from everyone's chest and we would watch him play for hours before he'd finally crash with a snort and slunk off to sleep.
It didn't take long to decide that Tiki was a permanent member of the family. But Tiki was hiding a dark secret. He was a biter.
One hell of a biter as I would soon find out.
Tiki was found wandering the streets of Santa Monica by PETA, and was placed in 2 or 3 homes prior to landing in my life. Reason he kept getting rehomed? You guessed it, he bit the bejeezus out of everyone who adopted him.
It didn't take long to find out what was his trigger either. Touch him on his rump and you'd have shredded meat for an arm. Just the slightest touch would send him into pac man mode and the jaws went everywhere. I was the first to discover this when Kat asked me to move him out from under the desk, and showing NO signs of aggression before I thought "no problem" but when my arm bumped his rump I found myself in sudden, serious need for a first aid kit.
And believe me I was mad. Nothing like ruining my nice white shirt with blood stains, oh yes and the WRETCHED PAIN to set someone into a rotten mood.
But he was out buddy, we weren’t about to send him back to get the needle when PETA gives up on him. So we kept working with him, trying to scold, squirt, and paper swat him when he lunged for a limb (always mine because I'm the guinea pig!) And just when my gaping wounds would start to heal he'd get me again.
After about the 4th time, I was just about at the end of my rope. How do you avoid touching a dogs rump? There was nothing wrong with his hips and joints, he wasn't in pain, he was just.... a bit off.
Then one day during our usual run and chase game involving brooms, sticks, faxed work papers, bats and anything else you can wave like a wild 'nanimal while being chased around in circles by your favourite playtime pal (and rabid biter) he'd chase me for a while then I'd swat the floor in front of me signaling it was my turn to chase him and accidentally hit a metal food bowl.
TING!!!
Loud and annoying, Kat, her friend Shannon and myself clutched our ears in shock and turned to look at Tiki, only to find a poof of dust and a tiki sized hole in the hall door.
Ting, the magic anti Tiki!
So the basic behaviour mod rules apply, every time he does something heinous like go to shred my extremities, we'd TING! a little metal bowl we kept near by. Ears back, paws in a rush and one freaked out Tiki, within a week, no more biting. A week after that, no more under the bed aggression. Within a month the perfect dog.
Now you see why he's often called "Perfect".
Now over a year later, Tiki is the MOST social dog I have ever met. Great with all people, other dogs, cats, rodents! And soon to enter training to be a service dog for the elderly (already getting warmed up on weekly visits to some seniors to brighten their day).
Sometimes what seems like an unfixable dog ends up being your reason to get up every morning. This is a lesson Glendale Humane stresses. Just because a dog appears flawed at first does NOT mean it's not the perfect dog for the perfect person.
Tiki every day is a lesson to me, that a tiger can change it's stripes and everyone gets second chances.
Tiki this post is for you! Love you buddy
| posted by Brant at 3:35 AM
