Then I quit too. He was so miserable. It was hard to remember him as the glorious dog who loved strutting his stuff in the show ring or showing off his tricks. Wait—show off, tricks. I began to wonder.
of him. His eyes lit up and he struggled to totter to it. He even banged on the keys with his good foot! He was smiling! He grew stronger and started barking to do more tricks. With paw targeting (touching an indicated target with his paw), he practiced lifting and aiming his front feet. I introduced “other one” to indicate he must use the other foot. Within weeks, he was standing unassisted and walking with just his rear supported. With nose targeting (touching a target with his nose), he could be “led by the nose” in circles or elsewhere. We added Agility moves: a 2-inch jump (too high) and two weave poles (he tripped and fell). Failure didn’t deter him; he was used to training and trying, and he was happy, once again the center of my attention. More weeks passed. He turned 12. We added more tricks, more Agility. One day he took several steps totally on his own! He conquered his tiny jumps and we added more, and higher. He conquered two weaves and added more. We added retrieving in the pool, although I had to help him stay upright while swimming. Simple obedience exercises—”sit,” “stay,” “come”—built strength and balance. One day I called him and he trotted. We practiced trotting more. I started to entertain a ridiculous thought: Could he return to the show ring? Thrill of Victory One day in late November, I found myself doing something I never dreamed I’d do again: picking up Pepe’s armband. It was a big prestigious specialty show, and I had Pepe instead of his son, who had a different handler for the event. It was Pepe’s day, no matter the outcome. I’d never been so proud of him as when he took his turn. True, his gait was not what it once was, and he was so ecstatic to be back in the ring he was a bit out of control and broke into a gallop several times. He didn’t care that the judge pointed to his son instead of him for Best of Breed. His tail, once paralyzed and limp, wagged like he’d won. Just being back in the ring, seeing his
Tricks to the Rescue “Paw,” I whispered as I held my hand close to his good paw. Slowly, haltingly, he twitched his foot. It moved ever so slowly, so slightly, to touch my hand. It was his first voluntary movement. More importantly, it was the first time I saw joy in his eyes. Could this be the answer? All those silly tricks he learned for those just-for-fun Trick Dog titles? I tried more. Best of all, he tried more! By the end Rachel Rehberg, Courtesy Author Pepe’s future seemed bleak as he started rehab in the hospital.
of the week, he moved his “good” foot more and more in response to my hand. He was able to stand while being held by his two body harnesses, and even balance on his own for a few seconds, but he had not yet taken a step. So I tried something else—the old toy keyboard he loved. I placed it a few feet in front
Rachel Rehberg, Courtesy AuthorA Different Tune: He took his first solo steps trying to reach his favorite tricks prop—his keyboard.
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