I will no longer be updating Iron Guide (see below). Instead, I am now writing at my new, personal blog. Though that will be about some of the newer things I'm doing in life, if you want to see updates about Louie, Lester, and now Dusky, add me on Facebook -- there's enough ridiculously cute pictures to go around.

Lester went to the vet today. Nothing special, just a general physical exam, fecal sample, vaccinations. Lester was so excited to see the vet that he nearly fell off the exam table! I barely caught him with only his front paws still on the table. Outside of that, it was all routine. For being such a total whiner in general, he didn't make a single peep when they actually stuck him with the needle.

Labels: Lester

Permalink | Written at 6:27 PM | Post a comment | 1 comments | Trackbacks

Now, if you know me, you know that although I love dogs, I'm totally and unabashedly breedist. I just can't bear with the little yippy, ankle-biting, Paris-wannabe dogs that run around some places.

But... this guy is just too cute.


I don't know what breed he is, but, you know, this might be the first (and only) time I ever pay a compliment to a chihuahua.

Labels: Lester

Permalink | Written at 12:04 AM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

Lester is utterly and completely passed out. I hear this cute but very perplexing combination of occasional chomping, whimpers and snoring, and his paws are twitching just a bit, so I figure he must be dreaming about frolicking and running in fields and fields of kibble or something.


If you look closely, you can see a little blur near his left front arm. That's him twitching! I can't believe that actually showed up.

Oh, and that's right now, just this minute. Now that I finally brought a USB cable to work, I'll be able to post real-time updates. There goes my productivity. Oh, don't look all innocent, I know all about you folks reading this blog during work hours! :)

Labels: Lester

Permalink | Written at 11:43 PM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

Sigh. Repeat after me. Lester is not Louie. Lester is not Louie. One of these days, I'll get it, really, I will. JJ was kind enough to notice and smack me upside the head.

> I'm sure you didn't write "Louie" when you meant to write
> "Lester" in today's blog post.
>
> http://littlelesterpester.blogspot.com/2007_01_29_archive.html
>
> You wouldn't want to give little Lester a complex or anything.
>
> --JJ

I really am going to give the kid a complex.

Labels: Lester, Louie

Permalink | Written at 2:14 PM | Post a comment | 27 comments | Trackbacks

Is Louie Lester going to be the first canine machine learning scientist? Here he is, looking very concerned about some fancy 3D MATLAB plots of the optimization hyperspace of a... er, nevermind.



He must be a doggie Einstein in the making. Either that, or all that blue and red must be reminding of his chew toy.

Labels: Lester, Louie

Permalink | Written at 10:55 PM | Post a comment | 1 comments | Trackbacks

Marina sent me this CNN story about Ann Edie and her guide horse. Quoting from the article

When Edie's chocolate Labrador helper Bailey died after 10 years on the job, she tried out two other dogs before learning about guide horses in 2000.

Although she appreciates the attributes that dogs bring to guide work, Edie said she is sold on the mini-horses.

[...]

At home, where she's not working, Panda snuggles, naps on a carpet or plays with toys. If she needs to go out, she rings a small bell that hangs from a doorknob.

I wasn't quite sure how a horse could snuggle, but, they're actually pretty small. From the organization's website,


Who knew?

Labels: Lester

Permalink | Written at 3:47 PM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

Did I miss something? Is soap a puppy delicacy?

So far, whenever I go to the bathroom or take a shower, I always leave Lester in his crate. That's caused some amusing situations in and of itself, but this is actually a big problem. How do I go to the restroom when I'm away from home? Most raisers can hand off a puppy to someone else, a mom, a husband or wife, brother, etc. but I really don't have that option: wherever I go, Lester goes, and if Lester can't go somewhere, I can't go there either. This is a problem. I need to go the bathroom!

What's the big deal about public restrooms?

Well, for one, it's very delicate matter. Guys have all sorts of rules about urinal and restroom etiquette.



How do you teach a teach all that to a puppy? Here, among a dozen other men lined up against the wall, each doing their business, is another guy doing his business with a puppy sitting behind him. That puppy is guaranteed to be sniffing around, and, at the very least, trying to figure out what other mischief he can get away with.

Even with a perfectly-mannered puppy, it means putting the puppy into a sit-stay -- no down-stay in a public restroom, thank you very much -- a few feet behind you, walking up to the urinal, doing your business, and all the while praying to dear God that the puppy doesn't do anything stupid. If he does do something, you're totally at his mercy. So, as a big number two, it's thirty seconds of sheer nerves.

Last but certainly not least, all this assumes you already have a well-mannered puppy. There are all sorts of "interesting" smells, noises, people, and things in even a spotless restroom; you can imagine how much worse a run-of-the-mill truck stop can be. As if there weren't enough ways for the bathroom "outing" to go bad already, with a young puppy who hasn't been in too many restrooms, you should probably quadruple that number. If your puppy gets spooked by something and freaks out, it's all over.

Lester hasn't been in very many restrooms. And he's not at all happy about the automatic flush on some urinals. Enough said.

Anyways, I'm sure you're wondering by now, "I thought this entry was supposed to be about soap?" It is, I promise.

So, with the above in mind, I've started taking Lester into the bathroom with me. In the morning, he very politely sat behind me while I brushed my teeth. As a reward, I gave him a very toothpaste-foamy kiss on his nose, which had him running in circles, sneezing and licking at it for a good ten minutes. (OK, fine, so maybe it was more of a reward for me. But it was very cute and amusing!) He went to the bathroom with me another two or three times throughout the day. He once knocked over a can of shaving cream to the bathtub floor, which came down with a loud band and momentarily scared him, but otherwise he was the model of good behavior.

Getting up my courage, I took Lester with me for a shower. Normally, they'll just settle down outside the bathtub and go to sleep. Not so much with Lester: soon, he was up and off circling the bathroom, hunting and sniffing around for who knows what. Eventually, I grabbed ahold of his dragline and had him sit by the tub. That worked for about a minute: he soon figured out that there were far more interesting smells and things inside the bathtub, and although he didn't try to get in, he kept craning his neck over to try get at them. I'd left the shower curtain half open so that he could still see me (and know that I hadn't disappeared), and whenever I'd get within tongue-range, he'd reach out for a quick lick. Trying to be clever, I soaped up my calf extra well, thinking it'd be like the toothpaste and teach him a lesson. Well, I couldn't have been more wrong. Next time I got within range, not only did he go for one lick, he liked it so much, he kept straining to lick the rest of it off! By the time I figured out that my clever little plan wasn't working, there was a good two- or three-inch patch where all the soap had been licked off my calf.

Dogs.

Lester, 1; Kushal, 2.

Labels: Lester

Permalink | Written at 9:13 PM | Post a comment | 1 comments | Trackbacks

Lester tried humping my leg! He's not even three months yet! I don't know what to say.

I was working at my desk, with Lester chewing on his dinosaur toy by my feet, when I felt Lester's front paws grab onto my calf. I looked down under the desk, and there I saw Lester holding onto my leg, thrusting away. I had to practically shake him off.

As far as I can tell, it's instinctive. If you put anything -- your arm, his chew toy -- on his chest, just below his shoulders, and push gently, he grabs ahold of it and automatically starts thrusting. I don't know how long he'd keep thrusting, but I peeled him off as fast as I could both times I tried this. Ew.

If he were human, he'd be, what, three years old? He's still a baby! He hasn't even fully... developed yet! I think I'm just going to pretend this never happened. Lester's still an innocent, cute, little puppy. Innocent, I tell you.

Labels: Lester

Permalink | Written at 9:05 PM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

I've been such a slacker with Lester. I'm supposed to be regularly practicing layovers, obedience commands, and all sorts of other things with Lester like three times a day or something -- instead, I think I'm doing them a total of maybe thrice a week. That's not to say I haven't been doing any training -- Lester has picked up a few commands, learned general manners, and settled into my daily rhythm pretty well -- it's just that I haven't been doing the specific Guide Dogs stuff as I should be. Michele would so kill me if she knew.

First up, I really need to start teaching food-induced recall. Basically, it's a fancy way of teaching a foolproof, instantaneous "Come." More details on that after I actually start doing it. =P

My playing hooky from today's meeting isn't helping either. I forgot it was at 4pm instead of the usual 6pm. Really!

Labels: Lester

Permalink | Written at 9:04 PM | Post a comment | 1 comments | Trackbacks

Lester is off his poop schedule. He'd had both his breakfast and lunch, but hasn't pooped after either. I've taken him out every hour according to his schedule, and he's peed every time but, even after circling around for five minutes (and eating, oh, a pound of leaves), he hasn't pooped. Dinner is coming up in just a bit and he hasn't even shown a desire to go poop. That means I'd put the odds of him having an accident in my bedroom at about 99:1. I'm watching him like a hawk.

For context, all our dogs -- puppies in training, working dogs in the field -- follow a rigorous eating and relieving schedule. Because these dogs go to all sorts of different places -- restaurants, offices, movies, airports, really pretty much anywhere and everywhere -- their handlers need to trust them to not have accidents in inappropriate places. The only real way of doing that is to have a very strict schedule for eating and relieving: they eat meals portioned out to exact amounts, they eat them at exact times, and they poop at roughly predictable times. That way, the handler knows the next time the dog will need to relieve and can take them out far earlier to minimize any chance of an accident.

Why don't they poop at exact times? Well, lots of reasons. A dog on a file-mile run is going to need to relieve far sooner than a dog who is just lounging around, even if they ate the same thing at the same time, for example. Again, it's complicated.

Sometimes, the handler knows better than the dog just how much the dog needs to poop. On a number of occasions, I've taken Louie or Lester out, give them the command to relieve, and they'll just immediately sit down and look up at me like, "Why are we standing out here? Why are you looking at me like that? I've got nothing." It might be cold, there might be some interesting person walking by, or, for that matter, some interesting leaf somewhere might have blowing in some interesting way. Except you know they've got to poop. So, you make them get up, make them walk around you in a circle, and hope that they get it out quickly.

Ah. The life of a dog. Eat, sleep, poop, play.

The life of a dog owner? Thinking dogs eating, sleeping, pooping, and playing.

Labels: Lester, Louie

Permalink | Written at 11:49 PM | Post a comment | 1 comments | Trackbacks

Continuing a tradition. Lester and I played a short game of "I've got your tongue -- what are you going to do about it?" yesterday. Obviously, it was his tongue that I had and not the other way around. =P I was laying on the floor working on one of my projects, and Lester kept coming up to lick my hand. I don't mind an occasional kiss, so I didn't want to correct him, but he kept doing it: he'd come up, give me a couple licks, get distracted, come back and lick some more -- at least ten times. (Odd, yes. But who knows what's going through that puppy's little mind.) At some point, it got just a bit old.

So, what's the next best thing to do after correcting? Brett's suggestion aside, playing a game of "I've got your something-or-other. Whatcha gonna do?" of course! So, the next time he stuck his tongue out to lick me, I grabbed his tongue. Squirmy. And wet. I was probably able to keep it for a second or two at most before he managed to get away. But it worked. After just a few times, he stopped licking me. Lester 0, Kushal 2.

Labels: Lester

Permalink | Written at 10:58 PM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

Lester might turn out be just as famous as Louie. Yesterday, a random co-worker came up to Lester and I in the elevator and gushed, "Oh, I've heard so much about you!" Of course, by "you," she meant Lester. "You're so cute! But, I can't pet you, can I?" I might as well just be invisible for the next couple months. I've already conceded total defeat.

Labels: Lester, Louie

Permalink | Written at 11:05 PM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

Why, you ask, does a blog about a puppy have a picture of a chair?



Well, it still is a post about the puppy. Lester decided he needed a new chew toy. He also decided that he couldn't wait. He also apparently decided that my chair at work was the perfect chew toy.

From what I can figure, he was probably working on it for an hour. I'd been hearing all sorts of chomping noises for about that long, which I thought were all coming from him merrily working away on his actual toy and had just ignored it. Thankfully, his little puppy teeth can't do much damage.

Of course, this was all in the office that I'd been borrowing because of Lester's crying, so it's actually not my chair. My chair in the 5103 open office is actually big pink ball -- it's supposed to be good for your abs, I think, but, really, I just keep it because it's fun -- so he won't be able wreak any similar mischief there. I'm moving back to 5103 and someone else is moving into there on Monday, so hopefully he won't notice that his chair actually has little puppy bitemarks. =P

Labels: Lester

Permalink | Written at 10:55 PM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

Louie is in Phase II! And, he's still in one piece! That he means he passed all his health checks!. Both Artemis and Brewster are progressing along with him and haven't been neutered either. Sam, who I mentioned was in class with a handler last time is pretty much done and scheduled to graduate on February 10th. Woo! I just got the status report from Heidi right now, but I'll post later today on what it means to be in Phase II.

Below, I've included not only our dogs but all the other dogs in Phase II. I'm not quite sure, but I'm pretty sure this isn't just their string, but rather just the aggregate set of everyone in Phase II. In either case, I'll follow up and update.

Puppy	Breed	Phase	Breeder Watch	Group
Artemis	Lab	2	yes	GPS
Beethoven	Lab	2
Binny	Lab	2	yes
Brewster	Lab	2	yes	GPS
Fresca	Lab	2	yes
Frontier	Lab	2
Louie	Lab	2	yes	GPS
Naoka	Lab	2	yes
Nyland	Lab	2	yes
Rae	Lab	2	yes
Sport	Lab	2

Labels: Louie

Permalink | Written at 7:26 PM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

I forgot to update the blog with the last week's Louie status report: he's still in phase I, but still has his... stuff. Louie went back with two of his Seattle group-mates, Brewster (raised by Judy as her seventh pup) and Artemis (raised by Ashleigh as her eleventh (!) pup), both of whom are also intact and also in phase I with Louie.

Puppy	Breed	Phase	Breeder Watch	Group
Artemis	Lab	1	yes	GPS
Brewster	Lab	1	yes	GPS
Louie	Lab	1	yes	GPS

Louie had a weird gait, so I'm a bit worried about the health checks in Phase I. Michele, our Guide Dogs representative, noticed it at an evaluation once and pointed out that he does sort of a bunny hop going up stairs and his hind legs are really close together. It's never caused a problem really, but with these bigger dogs having hip and joint problems, it's still a concern for the breeder program or even generally. When they do all the health checks, it doesn't matter if Louie's a great dog, if he has health problems that'll prevent him from doing his job, he could still get disqualified. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

There are two other Seattle puppies in training back at Boring, Cricket and Sam, who are respectively in phase 9 and in final class with a blind handler. Almost done! Woo! Go boys!

I'll probably get my next status update on Louie in the next day or two. Here's hoping.

Labels: Louie

Permalink | Written at 12:48 PM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

Lester is a mischevious little pup. He wears a dragline around the house so I can keep tabs on him.





Here he is with his nose buried in the carpet, in a dark little corner behind all my wires and computer equipment, hunting around for who knows what. That nylon thing he's dragging behind him is the dragline. It's basically a really light leash that they don't notice (very much). It's awesome for at least two things: (a) stop a puppy racing through the house and (b) catch them in the act of something stupid even if you're far away from them.

For anyone who's tried, it's pretty near impossible to catch a puppy. They're as fast as a speeding bullet. They can stop or change direction on a dime. And, on top of it all, they're wriggly! And, of the times I've actually managed to catch one, it's seriously "catching" one: it's like making a lunging dive for a football, both hands outstretched, tucking in so that the puppy doesn't fly out, etc. It's far easier with a dragline. You just stomp on any of the six feet trailing behind the puppy. It just stops them in their tracks. It's so easy!

The dragline's perfect for keeping tabs on a puppy wandering around the house. In theory, sure, you can follow them around every single second, stay within a foot of them everywhere they go, keeping total attention on them to make sure they don't do anything stupid. In reality, you're probably busy doing your own thing, they're in the same room as you, and you're just glancing up every so often to check up on them. With a dragline, as long as they're within some reasonable range of you, if you see them about to do something bad, you can just pick up the dragline and give a correction without even moving. Without the dragline, you have to get up, walk over there, reach down for his collar and then give your correction. Really, by that time, he's already probably finished his dastardly act and escaped to safety. And, in the puppy's mind, he's won and you've lost.

In this case, Lester very nicely unburied his nose and backed out of the dark little corner before doing anything needing a correction. Nice.

Labels: Lester

Permalink | Written at 5:07 AM | Post a comment | 2 comments | Trackbacks

Lester can go down stairs now!

Although Lester has never seemed to mind walking up stairs, he's never been at all happy going down them. Honestly, if I were a puppy, I wouldn't be happy going down stairs either. Stairs are designed for humans who are, what, say six feet tall on average? Puppies are, say, a foot tall at their shoulders. A single step on a stair is probably something like six to eight inches high. Translating the puppy perspective into human terms, going down a single stair-stepwould mean basically jumping down a sheer cement cliff four feet heigh. Head first. Ten times over. That's forty feet!

But, what can you do? Dogs need to walk down stairs. So, instead of taking the elevator down to the parking garage yesterday, I took the stairs. Lester saw it coming a mile away. As soon as we got into the stairwell, he started getting panicky and doing a little dance to try and back away. That didn't work, needless to say. I managed to get him over to at least the top of the stairs and I walked down a few steps, turned around squatted down to his eye level. In the highest pitch I could manage, I tried to coax him to at least come to the edge of the first step. He came up a few steps, heard a car door slam shut somewhere, and back he went. I tried again. This time he came within a few inches of the edge, glanced over and then scampered back. OK. Fine. At least he looked? Well, maybe he'll actually come down next time? Let's try again. This time he actually all the way up, peered over and down to the next step, looked at me like, "Are you out of your mind? There's no way I'm going down that!" and ran back. By this time, we've spent ten minutes on the stairwell and my voice was getting hoarse, so I just picked him up and walked down the stairs together.

One trick that we use to get puppies over their fear of stairs is to actually carry them down to the bottom, and then put them on the last step and let them just hop down one step. Seeing solid ground just a few feet inches away is obviously much less intimidating than several feet away. Once they hop down that last step (after which you lavish them with praise), you put them on the second to last step and have them go down two steps. And then three and four steps. Eventually they get it. Lester made it down five steps yesterday. On the sixth he started whimpering and didn't want to budge.

Today, he made it down all of them! He was a bit unsure of himself of the first flight of stairs, taking each step one at a time, looking around and making sure he was totally safe before trying the next one. The second flight of stairs, however, he totally killed. He practically ran down them!

Labels: Lester

Permalink | Written at 5:04 AM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

Just got home a few minutes ago. Portioned out Lester's (very late) dinner, made him sit politely for a second for it, and then let him get at it with an "OK." Went to go change out of my work clothes and into my pajamas. By the time I'd emptied my pockets and gotten my socks off, Lester had scarfed down his meal and come by to check up on me.

A few seconds later, I see this little yellow blur dart out of the bedroom. Just Lester letting off some steam after a hard day's work. No big deal.

Went to go put dirty clothes in the hamper. Hm. That's odd. Why is there only one sock? I swear I wore two to work. I think I did at least. Waaaaaaaiiitt a second. LEEESSSTERRR!

I walk out and there, again, I see a little yellow blur racing around the living room. But, this time, it looks like the little yellow blur also has a little black blur attached to it. There's my sock!

Of course, by this time, Lester's also seen me and is now taking evasive action. He scampers under the coffee table, thinking I can't get him. By the time I walk over, he's crawled out the other end and making a dash for the futon. I cut him off, but he manages to get through my legs and run behind the futon. He's very predictable, so I intercept him on the other side and corner him. Of course, before I correct him and take back my sock, I snap off a picture. =)





Lester, 0. Kushal, 1. But I do have to him some credit: he had me there for a few seconds. Mischevious little weasel.

Labels: Lester

Permalink | Written at 2:59 AM | Post a comment | 1 comments | Trackbacks

You have your underwear, Lester has his crate. Except today his crate is broken.

On the way to today's meeting, Lester's crate spontaneously imploded. I'd used slipties to tie together the two halves and, apparently, the wear and tear of taking the crate back and forth from my apartment to the car was just too much for it. While putting Lester and the crate in the car, the crate broke apart, sending Lester sprawling into the street and parts of the crate flying. Lester didn't seem to mind all that much -- Woo! Go Labs! -- and so he just rode free in the car. I kept close watch on him, but he did just fine.

When I got back from the meeting, I couldn't find replacement slipties for the crate. That means Lester doesn't have a crate to sleep in for the night. That means Lester will have to sleep free in my room. Lester isn't totally potty trained yet: he seems to prefer going potty outside, but it's by no means a strict requirement for him. Louie slept free in my room -- indeed, the apartment -- after about thre five month mark, but Lester isn't even three months yet! Graw.

Well, Lester's been trying to play big dog and take over Louie's old bed, so I guess he'll finally get his wish. He tries to circle around on the bed to settle in, but he's so little that he can't quite walk over it: he trips over the folds of the blanket and goes sprawling. Here he is passed out on the bed.





He really did fall asleep with the chew toy in his mouth.

Anyways, here's hoping for an accident-free night.

Labels: Lester, Louie

Permalink | Written at 4:49 AM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

Just got back from the Guide Puppies of Seattle meeting. I think this picture pretty much says it all.





Ten (or so) big dogs. Three baby puppies. (I count ten dogs in the picture. Can you find them all?) Some totally passed out and pretending they're dead. Two toddlers. One poking a dog in the ear. (In the picture. Of course, it's her family's dog.) Thirty people seated around a circle. Dog food. Puppy toys. Lots of funny stories.

I think of it as sort of a support group. Really, how else would you describe it? People who have their dog within a ten foot radius probably 23 out of 24 hours a day coming together every Sunday to trade stories and talk about tips and tricks. There's probably a core group of ~15 people who are active raisers with their own dogs, along with another ~5 newcomers training to become raisers, and a final ~10 who are former raisers who now act as occasional puppy sitters. There are other groups for Bellevue, Vashon Island, and other outlying areas. I could probably switch to one situated closer to my home, but I got to know everyone in the Seattle group, loved the group of people, and stuck aruond even after I moved out to Kirkland.

All in all, it was a good meeting. Administrivia out of the way, we talked a bit about how to deal with assertive dogs and make sure they see you as the leader of the pack. Basically, dogs instinctively classify everyone in their world into a hierarchy: you are either above them or below them. And, if they think you're below them, God help you. It might be cute when a fifteen-pound puppy insists on crawling into your lap, but what happens when he grows into an eighty-pound dog? Koji, for instance, completely ignores my mom and has even tried to eat directly off her plate right in front of her. Pretty funny for me but basically unmanageable for my mom.

After that, we broke into two different subgroups and worked on distractions. Cliff had brought a bunch of toys, approved and unapproved, some food, all of which we just scattered around the floor. The bigger dogs got to walk the gauntlet, through the food and toys, with the other dogs standing by them. Peter showed off by putting Duke into a sit in the middle of all that food, making him stay for a whole fifteen seconds, walking away, and then calling Duke to come to him. (He did, ignoring all the food and toys.) Ron one-upped him by putting Argent into a down-stay within tongue-reach of the food.

Lester and I took the easy way out by just skirting around the outside of the food and toys. He only needed one correction, but, honestly, I don't expect to handle distractions well at all yet. On walks with Lester, it's more about encouraging confidence and managing anxiety rather than correcting against distractions, so he doesn't even really know what's expected of him. I think he was just following me and being oblivious to the toys and things on the floor.

Labels: Lester

Permalink | Written at 4:42 AM | Post a comment | 2 comments | Trackbacks

Yes, I know Lester is very adorable. Yes, I know you've never seen such a well-behaved puppy before. Yes, I know the fur on his head is amazingly soft. Yes, I know if you can't pet him right this moment, you'll be scarred for life. But, no, you still can't pet him. And, no, pouting won't help.

It's not that you can't ever pet him. Just not right now. Ask me later.

It's complicated.

To become effective guides, these puppies need to be very focused and slightly aloof. Out in the field, if a guide is thinking about being petted, he's not thinking about making sure his handler doesn't get run over. It's fine -- indeed, it's absolutely important -- for him to get lots of love and attention from his handler, but if random people come up and start giving him love and attention, that's just extremely distracting. Or, worse yet, if he goes up to random people and begs for love and attention, that's an immediate disqualification for obvious reasons.

When they're young puppies like Lester, they learn how much attention to expect and from whom to expect it. Especially now, you can't ever let them think that (a) they will get attention whenever they ask for it, or (b) everyone who comes up to him will pet him. On top of that, whenever they're on duty, now and when they're older, these dogs (c) need to remain focused on their job.

All said, lots of things go into deciding whether or not you can pet Lester. How excited he is at the very moment. When he was last petted by anyone at all. How well he's listening to me. Whether or not he's gone to the bathroom. When he last saw you and didn't get attention. If he seems to be begging for it. The chances of him trying to get up and lick you. And on and on. I certainly don't make a precise mental calculation each time someone asks me to pet him, but I usually maintain a general feel for the situation in mind.

I told you it was complicated. So ask me before you try to pet him. I promise you'll get to pet him, eventually. Maybe you won't need to set up weekly appointments with your therapist after all.

Labels: Lester

Permalink | Written at 4:40 AM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

After Sagarika's place, Kaushal, Karan, Rob, Sagarika, Lester and I went to Pam's Kitchen, a Caribbean restaurant I'd read in some newspaper lying around on some bus. It was... different.

We were initially a bit worried about Lester getting in. It's a small place, ethnic [*], and I wasn't sure if they'd be OK with him. The manager greeted us at the door, took one look, smiled, and waved us on. So far, so good.

[* I'm Indian, very much "ethnic", but it's the best way to describe it. Louie and Lester go with me pretty much everywhere, and the only restaurants to which I've been refused entry are Thai and Indian restaurants. It's not that Thai or Indian people dislike cute puppies -- it's that they know dogs aren't allowed in restaurants. As far as I can tell, if the manager can understand the distinction between "pet dog" and "guide dog", they can usually make the leap to "guide dog in training." If they can't, then you're pretty much out of luck. I'll post on the details of access later.].

The food turned out to be surprisingly Indian: rotis, lamb curry (basically), alloo tikki, etc. The atmosphere was decidely not. Halfway through our meal, the owners, waiters, and cooks all stopped mid-work, picked up a half-dozen drums we had seen upon entering, and started beating on them. We're not talking tap-tap here, we're talking BOOM-BOOM. Even yelling at nearly the top of our voices, we couldn't hear each other across the table. Lester, needless to say, had been sleeping. And, just as needless to mention: he woke up. Surprisingly, however, he seemed totally fine with the drums. Or the staff gyrating to the beat. [I certainly wasn't OK with that.] So, Lester is scared of shadows and reflections but happy as a clam with a deafening drum-beat. Go figure.

Half an hour and two more stop-everything-and-beat-the-drums breaks later, the original waiter came by to talk to me about Lester. He said that the owners had come up to him, told him that dogs weren't allowed, but that because he'd let us in this time, he'd let us stay. I tried to explain the guide dog thing and offered to talk to the owners, but, apparently, by then, the owners had left. I didn't think I was too successful in making my point, but apparently I did get something across: as we were walking out the door, he came up to ask about Lester, the training process, etc.

After the restaurant, we all went over to Rob's place to play some Xbox. At some point, everyone except Rob and I -- Lester, Sagarika, Kaushal, and Karan -- all passed out: Lester snuggling up to Sagarika, Sagarika snuggling up to Rob, Kaushal and Karan snuggling up to each other. [Well, except that last part.] Between Halo matches, I managed to snap off this picture of Lester, Sagarika and Rob.

Labels: Lester, Louie

Permalink | Written at 4:34 AM | Post a comment | 1 comments | Trackbacks

Friday night, Lester and I went over to Sagarika's place so that Karan and Kaushal could meet him for the first time. More on that later. Half the fun was actually getting there.

Lester's a total wuss. It being Belltown and Friday, I had to park somewhat far away, which meant that Lester had to walk a couple city blocks. He's never been in a city before, let alone at night or with lots of traffic. He'd walk ten feet, hear a new noise or see a odd shadow, sit down, and would need a minute of coaxing before he would move again. [Here, even though he's disobeying the "Let's Go" command, you wouldn't correct him. He's disobeying not because he's trying to ignore you or assert dominance, but because he's frightened. Correcting him would just frighten him even more. It'd be unfair and counterproductive.] Coaxing here involves me walking up a few feet up ahead, squatting down and calling his name in as a high a pitch as I can muster. Mind you, this is all in the freezing cold with people walking by every minute. Really, if you see me sitting on the ground, repeatedly saying Lester in falsetto, in the middle of Belltown on Friday night, I'm not crazy. I'm just trying to call my dog. Really.

Squatting down and refusing to budge when frightened seems very much like the Lab thing to do. I can't remember if Louie was as much of a wuss, but he definitely had his moments too. But he grew out of it, and I'm sure Lester will too. The big difference between these two pups is that (a) I first got Louie when he was a little older, at ~10 weeks vs. ~8 weeks and (b) Louie was by far the biggest out of his litter, whereas Lester seems like the runt. So, not really all that worried.

If anything, it was probably a bit too early for Lester to be venturing into the city anyways.

Labels: Lester, Louie

Permalink | Written at 4:28 AM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

Lester knows his name! I'm sure he picked it up long ago, but I just didn't notice until now. I was talking to my parents on the phone and telling them about Lester, when I mentioned his name. He was dozing off, but he perked up as soon as he heard his name and trotted over.

I wanted to be sure, so, later on, I tried testing him. He seemed completely asleep on Louie's old dog bed and, in either case, wasn't paying any attention to me as I sorted out some mail. After I finished up, I called out, "Gorgonzola?" No response. Good. "Ooggle-de-foogle-pe?" Nothing. "Lester?" Nothing initially, but slowly one eye opened and then the other opened. He lifted his head up, looked around, made eye contact with me, didn't see me doing anything, and plopped back down to sleep.

Woo!

Labels: Lester

Permalink | Written at 4:26 AM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

As predicted, I couldn't resist posting another entry just of Lester being cute. Here's a closeup of the little fellow. Next to it is him very intently staring down... a spider.

Labels: Lester

Permalink | Written at 3:32 AM | Post a comment | 3 comments | Trackbacks

Ah, I just love messing with my dogs. It's just so fun. Koji (my family dog back in Los Angeles) would get this quizzical look, close his eyes, and paw in your direction if you blew air in his face. Louie would tuck in his butt and do this funny run if you tried to pet his butt while walking. And Lester, well, Lester seems to love chasing his tail.

While playing tug just a bit ago, I happened to grab Lester's tail. Lester (predictably) turned around to grab it also but, either accidentally or not, ended up with my hand in his mouth. Mouthing is just a total non-starter for these puppies, even if it's very gentle or in response to rude (human) behavior [*], so we had a quick lesson in where mouths are allowed and not allowed to go. Nothing like a game "I've got your tail, what are you going to do about it?" for that.

Lester got the picture pretty quickly. Lester's mouth is OK on Lester. Check. Not at all OK on Kushal. Check. Getting back tail. OK. Getting back tail and accidentally mouthing Kushal. Not OK. I managed to snap off a shot of the action:





[* These dogs have to be on model behavior even if humans are being complete idiots around them. The easiest case to think about is with young children, who'll pull on dogs' tails, poke them in odd places, and just generally annoy them in unexpected ways. Lots of dogs aren't good with kids. That's fine because their house probably doesn't have kids and their owners don't take them to places with kids. Our dogs, however, go everywhere with their handlers. And a lot of our dogs go to families with kids. So, we just have to teach them to be patient, slightly aloof, and very forgiving.]

Labels: Lester, Louie

Permalink | Written at 3:25 AM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

I have a court date on Thursday to contest a traffic ticket I got back in November [*]. I'm trying to decide whether to take Lester.

[* Don't get me started. Basically, I got into a fairly nasty accident and the other driver called 911. Everything turned out fine, except that the cop gave me a ticket for driving without insurance. I did have insurance, except that, at the scene, I couldn't find anything but an expired slip from GEICO. When I got home, I looked a little closer and found the current one, but obviously by then it was too late. I got the ticket in the mail a few days later.]

Initially, I was hoping to be able to take him. It's definitely not a clear call one way or the other, but I think it would've been OK. Let's see. Lester calms down well enough), but he needs some time to do so. He's a bit young. On the other hand, I don't go to the court very often, and it would be a good experience for him. He's sort of potty-trained, and I'd put 9-1 odds that he wouldn't, say, pee on the judge. And, maybe the judge (jury?) would like him? One of Louie's puppy sitters was a federal judge and she absolutely loved him. I would have totally taken Louie, as I did to another hearing back in May last year.

But, this thing is turning out to be a bit more than I expected. From what everyone had told me, it's just you and the cop in front of a judge and half the time the cop doesn't show up. If he does, you give your side of the story, the cop gives his, the judge makes his decision, and you're done. Instead, this looks like it's been forwarded to the Bellevue City Attorney, both myself and the other driver have been subpoenaed (and presumably the officer too), and just feels like it's going to be pretty painful. I don't even know how long the actual hearing will last. Whether it will be an individual thing, or, like other traffic cases, a bunch of people together, each getting a few minutes in front of the judge. Or even if it's a jury trial. Looking up Wikipedia, this isn't a criminal trial, so I think not. But, who knows at this point. Something that crazy would be far, far too much for such a young puppy.

Anyways, I haven't decided yet. Half my decision will depend on how risk-averse I feel. The other half will come down to whether or not Lester poops that morning. You think I'm kidding. =P I'll probably end up deciding that morning.

Labels: Lester, Louie

Permalink | Written at 10:19 PM | Post a comment | 2 comments | Trackbacks

I got my first status report on Louie a couple days ago. He's still on breeder watch and in phase one of training.

Puppies sent back to Guide Dogs go through ten phases of formal training, ranging from health checks to obedience reinforcement to guidework training and evaluation. Each phase requires an average of one to two weeks, and, in general, puppies are in training for four to six months. Assuming they make it through their training, each dog is individually matched to a blind student according to the student's lifestyle and the dog's temperament. Once this match is made, which can sometimes require several months, the student and guide work together for about two weeks before training is finally complete. After that is graduation, approximately seven months out in total.

In phase one, dogs are given a complete physical exam, introduced to the Guide Dogs campus, and just generally allowed to adjust to the rhythm of the training program. Instructors and their assistants form very close bonds with dogs assigned to them (a "string" of about 20-25 dogs for 3 instructors and 2 assistants in Oregon), taking them out for walks, grooming them daily, and helping them play (nicely) with all the other dogs.

[* Just for fun, I'm going to work out the numbers. [I'm a machine learning geek. What did you expect?] With each string taking ~5 months to graduate and a string starting every month, that means, at any one time, there are five strings of dogs in the Guide Dogs kennels. At Boring, strings contain ~25 dogs, which means that the kennels have ~125 dogs at any one time. When Louie left, he was eating ~4 cups of dog food per day. That's ~600 cups of dog food per day, or, equivalently, ~38 gallons of dog food disappearing every single day. Let's say half of that comes out as poop. That's 19 gallons of cute little poop being produced every day. That's a lot of poop. Oh, and that's just at Boring -- the San Rafael campus is about twice its size. That's a lot of poop.]

During the physical, everything about the dogs -- nose, teeth, ears, coat, skin, feet, etc. -- is checked. A full eye exam is done by a veterinary ophthalmologist. Their hips and elbows x-rayed to check for orthopedic problems, with hip dysplasia being a particular concern for our larger breeds. Unfortunately, because of the very stringent requirements for guide dogs, a lot of otherwise great dogs are disqualified for problems that might be manageable in a normal home. If you think about it though, it makes total sense: visually impaired people do some absolutely amazing things, but for, say, an eye allergy, something as simple as putting in daily eyedrops isn't so simple if you can't see the dog's eye.

For prospective breeders, not only does the actual dog have to pass everything with flying colors, but so do all his relatives. That sounds unfair at first, but if you think about genetics, recessive alleles and traits skipping generations, it makes total sense. If they pass their health checks, prospective breeders continue through phases two and three of the program, and, if they do well there, they are transferred to the Guide Dogs breeding division to, well, boink. If something doesn't work out, breeders still continue through normal guide training.

Louie tried humping my pillow once -- that was put to a very quick end -- but hopefully he'll have better luck back in Oregon. =P If you think about it, if he does get some action there, it'll be with the absolute hottest and sexiest girls. Seriously. Guide Dogs is already breeding the best of the best for their guides, so the select few they choose for breeding must just be the pinnacles of doggie perfection. I mean, really, she doesn't really do anything for me, but I'm sure she's the equivalent of Tyra Banks, Marisa Miller, Salma Hayek, and Aishwarya Rai all rolled into one for Louie. Woo! Go Louie!

Labels: Louie

Permalink | Written at 6:07 PM | Post a comment | 2 comments | Trackbacks

Sagarika, Rob and I got dinner at Cactus in Kirkland yesterday. Pretty good, all around.

While waiting for a table, I seriously had to fend off at least half a dozen girls just cooing over Lester. One of them came all the way up from her table just to say hi, and I felt pretty bad saying no. Another managed to cop a quick belly rub while I was turned away talking to someone else. And then there was the bachelorette party I'd refused when I first walked in. The mom of a family walking by laughingly asked me "You know he's a total chick magnet, right?". Yeah. Seriously. A couple of the girls were actually kinda cute.

Even of those that didn't come up to me, you could just overhear the conversations. "He's so adorable!" "I can't pet him! It's so hard!" "Aww!" Walking by tables and other parties, it's just so funny how many heads turn and swivel to follow Lester.

Once we actually got to the table, it was just like last time: Lester sniffed around and scarfed down all the food he could find and then passed out on my feet. Thankfully, he fell asleep just in time for me to eat my entree in peace. =P





He still needs some time and help to settle down, but once he does, he's the model of good behavior, happily lying down between my legs for the rest of the meal. I think we're slowly getting the hang of restaurants. In a few months, when he knows his manners, he'll still pass out on my feet -- just without first vacuuming the floor.

Labels: Lester

Permalink | Written at 4:18 PM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

I've had dozens of people -- at work, at my apartment, even at the grocery store! -- ask me what happened to Louie. I'm sure 99% of them don't know my name, but I'd say a good half knew that Louie was named, well, Louie. The others remember just remember the uber-well-behaved black Lab walking around with me everywhere. Outside of occasional smart-ass answers -- "he went on a diet and got a new hair style", "I accidentally put him in the dryer" -- I always try to explain the whole thing. Louie's back at "college" at Guide Dogs going through full-time training. Yes, it was hard to give him up. But, I think it's the right thing to do, so now I'm training a new one. Here he is, his name's Lester. Hopefully I don't give away that I've answered the same questions so many times.

Labels: Louie

Permalink | Written at 6:44 PM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

Lester had his first couple real outings yesterday. After work, Brett, Lester and I went to Broadway Grill in Capitol Hill for dinner. A few of us -- Sagarika, Kaushal, Karan, Divya -- had gone there with Louie a few months back, and I remembered it being open late, having pretty good food and an absolutely mouth-watering dessert: the sour cream chocolote bundt cake with ice cream.

Their food wasn't as good as I remembered it, unfortunately. Brett got bread-battered chicken skewers with a ranch salsa dip, which we split for appetizers. That was decent with the dip but still a bit too "subtle" for my tastes. [Let's just say I like spicy food and leave it at that. I mentally translate "subtle flavors" and "amazing textures" in reviews to "tasteless."] And the waiter took away the plate before I could eat the garnishing. :( Their menu was much smaller than last time -- maybe it changes weekly? -- and both Brett and I ended up ordering sandwiches with extra side orders of fries. Definitely reasonable, but not nearly as spectacular as I remembered it. Even my bundt cake was too rich. I'm going to give them the benefit of the doubt, chalk it up to a bad week, and give them a second chance later.

Lester probably had some of all of that as a pre-dinner snack. But, really, considering that this was the first time he'd ever set foot paw in a restaurant, he was wonderfully behaved. He was pretty anxious at first -- totally understandable and totally expected -- but calmed down as soon as he realized that (a) there were all sorts of interesting smells and crumbs on the floor and, more importantly, (b) I wasn't going to be able to catch him scarfing down all that great stuff under the table. [I did get in a few good corrections in, but there's just no way you can catch it all. With bigger puppies, I have a few tricks up my sleeve, but it's just a non-starter with Lester.] After he'd finished cleaning up the surrounding area, he promptly fell asleep on my feet. Puppies.

I'd figured bringing cute little Lester to Broadway Grill was going to be interesting. Last time we were there, someone had pointed out that every single waiter was absolutely flaming gay. [UPDATE: Wow. I didn't realize this place had such a notorious reputation.] As far as we straight folks could tell, one of them was totally hitting on me because of Louie. [There's been all sorts of interesting stories with gay waiters. There was that time with Kaushal at the Thai restaurant in University District. Yeesh.] So, what happens if you hundred-tuple the puppy's cuteness factor? Turns out not much. Minus the greeter at the door, I don't think anyone even noticed him. Phew.

Anyways, Brett nearly died. Again. Something we ate had egg in it, and, if you don't know, Brett is deathly allergic to egg. Literally. So, after about a hundred bathroom breaks, where he did God knows what, and Brett nearly fainting on the floor, we raced over to QFC. Brett ran to the medicine aisle, tore open Benadryl boxes and poured them down his throat. The clerks thought some crazy black guy with a yellow afro had just gone berserk in their store and were about to call the police, but I was able to explain the whole situation and they let Brett off with only a warning. But, seriously, if you were the only clerk in a store at 1:30 in the morning, and you saw this guy run in and start tearing open medicine boxes, what would you do? I totally sympathize.





This is the third time that Brett's nearly died on me. There was that dinner at CPK during his internship. The 5-turned-15-mile hike at Snow Lake. And now. Maybe in addition to his embedded GPS tracking device and electrified leash, we need to put Brett in a big bubble.

[OK. Fine. So I'm adding some masala. There was only one bathroom break. And Brett didn't pass out on the floor. There was a hasty trip to QFC though. Brett even very politely paid for his medicine before running out to the parking lot to gulp down his pills. And so maybe he didn't run out either.]

Lester was great throughout all this, and, although we didn't go by the really interesting aisles in QFC, he did very well there. Right now, for the next few weeks, all I care about is potty training and walking on a loose leash. Everything else is extra credit. I'd say he's averaging a B right now.

Labels: Lester, Louie

Permalink | Written at 6:21 PM | Post a comment | 1 comments | Trackbacks

How many hours do you sleep? I'll bet money Lester's got you beat. He's got me beat by a factor of three, I figure. I sleep something like six hours a night on average. Adding up all the hours in his night [~8], scheduled and unscheduled meetings I have during the day [~6] where he's sleeping, and just randomly passing out in the rest of the day [the rest], I think he easily gets 18+ hours of sleep. Here he is cuddling up to my neighbor's desk, and here he is passed out while I was talking to Jim yesterday.




You thought I was kidding about randomly passing out? Nope. I couldn't have been talking to Jim for more than a few minutes before I snapped off this picture. Puppies and kittens do it all the time.

Here he is trying to get comfortable in my car. I had only brought one crate his first day of work, which I had left at work for use there, and so had to improvise on the way back. He was repeatedly trying to crawl into my lap, which, while unsafe in general, is a total non-starter while driving stick. So, I tied him down to the passenger seat, and this is how he ended up getting comfortable. That smushed face is just too funny.





I have exactly the opposite problem taking pictures of Lester as I did with Louie. Louie showed up as a big black blob except under the most perfect lighting conditions. Lester, on the other hand, shows up as a big white blob whenever I use flash. I can sometimes get away without flash, but, other times, it's absolutely necessary like here in the car in the dark. Andrej, Jim, Jeff, any suggestions?

With all the hours in the day Lester sleeps away, I'm sure I could keep this blog full of just cute pictures of him sleeping. I'll try to stop myself. =P

Labels: Lester, Louie

Permalink | Written at 12:31 AM | Post a comment | 2 comments | Trackbacks

Lester just peed in my bedroom -- for the fourth time since 5pm. Graw.

He'd managed to go the last three days almost without any accidents whatsoever, which is an amazing feat for a nine-week-old puppy. [He started to piddle on the way out to a potty break once.] Between accidentally giving him too much water for lunch and all the play-time he's gotten today, it's not that surprising I guess.

Labels: Lester

Permalink | Written at 11:23 PM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

In contrast to corrections, which are about setting the bounds of acceptable behavior, praise is all about good behavior, encouragement, and bringing up confident, happy dogs. We love our dogs from their cute little noses to the tips of their wagging tails, and we praise them profusely... even a little crazily.

What makes these dogs tick is their inseparable bond with their human. They work incredibly hard, but, here's the rub: it's work for their beloved human. It's not just some 9-to-5 job that they go to and come back, it's their life and love for someone they literally spend every minute of every day with. And, as part of that bond, love and appreciation from that person goes an incredibly long way. Louie would spend insane hours with me at work or the library, sometimes enduring days without any play-time, but a few kind words and some cuddling were enough to get his tail wagging wildly for hours and hours. The bond between us raisers and our puppies is very strong, but it's nothing compared to an actual blind person and his guide: I can't even imagine how much those dogs appreciate their love.

Anyone walking near me will hear me constantly talking to Lester. [Out of politeness, I try not to do this if I'm actually walking with someone. =P] You praise your dog for doing something good, right? Well, our definition of good is very broad. ;) Just walking on a loose leash is an incredible feat for a curious, distracted little puppy of nine weeks. As is continuing to tug-of-war right next to [what I'm sure looks to Lester like] an incredibly tasty and interesting piece of, oh, I don't know, scotch tape. Peeing and pooping -- outside of the apartment. Coming to me for a piece of kibble. All causes for profuse praise. The list goes on and on.

We even praise them just after a correction. Why not? Stopping bad behavior is good behavior. From our raising guidelines,

Always follow corrections that change his behavior with praise. That is the only way you will successfully be able to motivate your puppy to change his behavior. [...] Never snub your puppy after a correction by being angry or isolating him from you. His attention span is very short and he will not understand why you are still correcting him.

And, as much as my friends think I have some crazy split-personality disorder, it all makes sense. Understanding that his handler doesn't want him to do something, and taking the conscious decision to not do that something [even when it seems so fun! I mean, really, paper, tape, pebbles, feathers, who wouldn't want to eat all that?] is really tough for a young puppy and something for which they should be rewarded. When a puppy, on his very own, without any guidance or correction from his handler, learns that something bad is, well, bad -- that's just time to celebrate. I'm sure many a passerby thought me crazy for all the times I stopped mid-track, gave Louie a big hug and a complete rub-down in the middle of a park.

Labels: Lester, Louie

Permalink | Written at 5:32 PM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

Between working 14+ hour days for the past couple weeks, spinning out in the snow on the way home yesterday [and ending up facing the wrong way on the freeway! Fun!], and realizing that I hadn't spent a full day with Lester since I got him, I took personal day and just played all day with Lester. Outside of a bit of reading and finishing up a few drafted entries from the last couple days, it's been all Lester all day. It's the first time I've seen him totally carefree, prancing around with his rope toy, and just running and romping all over the place. I'm so happy.

There are few things I'd like to take care of at work, so I don't expect to be able to ratchet down hours for a week or two, but I'm going to make more of a conscious effort to try and carve out time for Lester to play. Even if I can't get home earlier, I can try to make work more enjoyable for him. Louie was a grown dog when he left last week, and very understanding and patient during I'd have bursts of work, but Lester is just a nine-week-old baby -- he needs more of my attention.

Labels: Lester, Louie

Permalink | Written at 2:56 PM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

My teammates at work have been giving me a hard time about correcting Lester and teasing me about sabotaging my efforts. [Brett, that's you.] With this being a blog about guide dogs and how we raise them and all, I thought I'd devote a couple entries to the balance between corrections and praise, what we try to accomplish with them, why we do it this way, and why I think this actually probably the best solution.

Clearly, just like kids, puppies need to know what is acceptable behavior and what is not. Lester tried to lick an electrical socket yesterday. I would much rather he suffer a yank on the leash now, learn that he shouldn't lick electrical sockets, and not die of electrocution when I'm not looking. Obviously, not everything is as dramatic as that, but it's all about setting the bounds of safe and unacceptable behavior.

Some things are really hard to catch and correct. Lester garbage mouths like crazy -- he's a lab, that's not exactly surprising -- and, when I'm out freezing at 3am taking Lester out to relieve, I can't see if he tries to lick or pick something off the ground. Sometimes I have to relieve in a parking lot, with all sorts of coolant and oil leaks, many of which could kill a full-grown dog with one lick. So, sometimes, you end up basically having to bait the dog: seeing him come up a piece of very interesting thing [like a feather! =P], waiting for him to try to eat it, hoping he doesn't, but being ready with a correction if he does.

Timing is everything to a correction. A jerk on the leash minutes, or even seconds, after bad behavior doesn't teach the dog anything -- he doesn't make the connection between the consequence and his behavior. Don't even get me started on rubbing a puppy's face in his poop after you discover his accident hours later. Those things -- I won't call them corrections -- just confuse the dog, and, over time, make him insecure and fearful from being jerked around for reasons he doesn't understand. There are times when Lester does something that makes me want to pull my hair out -- er, well, you know what I mean -- but, because I couldn't get to it in time, I don't correct him.

The only correction we give to our dogs are quick pops on the collar or leash. Hitting them is strictly out of bounds and, according to official Guide Dogs policy, is "cause for immediate removal from the raiser's home." The strength of the correction depends on the puppy's temperament, his emotional state, persistence and magnitude of bad behavior, and level of distraction. The idea is that you apply just enough force to stop the unacceptable behavior in exactly one correction. Repeatedly correcting a puppy is just like nagging after a human kid, and we all know how well that works. Using too much force is a quick way to make your puppy fear you, and that's about as far away as you can get from what we're trying to do.

None of that is to say sometimes raisers don't screw up. I, for example, am used to sixty-pound Louie and sometimes I forget that Lester is all of twenty. While on a walk a couple days ago, Lester started running too far ahead and pulled the leash taut. That's bad for all sorts of reasons, and I tried to give him a correction. It was unfortunately far too strong and Lester let out a loud yip and literally did a backflip, flying through the air and landing on his back. Needless to say, I felt horrible for the remainder of the walk and cut him all sorts slack to make up for it.

All said, even if we weren't raising guide dogs, it's still absolutely important to raise well-behaved dogs. My family dog, back in Los Angeles, we got from the shelter; he looked amazingly well taken care of, and, if you asked me to guess, someone gave him up because he got too big or too rowdy and they couldn't handle him. Presumably, if we hadn't picked him up that day, he would have been put down. Obnoxious behavior, as annoying as it is in small dogs, can be a fatal problem for bigger dogs.

In a few months, when Lester just naturally behaves all most of the time and gets all sorts of love and praise because he's being so good, he'll be far happier than if I had spoiled him, let him get away with bad behavior now, and had to incessantly nag after him then.

Labels: Lester, Louie

Permalink | Written at 2:52 PM | Post a comment | 1 comments | Trackbacks

It's snowing (again) in Seattle. Here's the view from my patio.





Lester looks very perplexed.

Labels: Lester

Permalink | Written at 2:02 PM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

I'm being a bad papa to Lester. I've been putting in insane hours for the past couple weeks, trying to finish up a few different things, and I just haven't gotten a chance to spend much time with Lester. Louie was very understanding of it, but he'd been with me for almost a year at that point and he was a full-grown dog. Lester's just a baby, just got moved away from his mom and his siblings, and needs a lot more of my time. I feel pretty horrible.

Labels: Lester, Louie

Permalink | Written at 12:22 AM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

Overheard in the Amazon parking lot,

Woman 1: Awwww!
Woman 2: Look! He's pooping!
Woman 2: He's so little!
Woman 1: He's so cute!

Now, Lester is very cute and all, but, come on, people! He's pooping. How cute can a pooping puppy be? Or maybe I'm just biased because I get to pick up all the cute little poop? I just don't get some people.

Labels: Lester

Permalink | Written at 11:05 PM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

Did I get your attention? No, it's not like it sounds. Cory was wondering why Lester's left hind leg has a shaved patch.




Basically, it's done to tell apart littermates when they're young. Different puppies in the litter have different shaved patches. If I remember correctly, Lassiter, had a shaved patch near his right belly.

Afterwards, they are given a permanent identifier, which is tattooed inside both of their ears. That's used to track everything about a dog for the rest of their life: the monthly reports we send back, vaccinations, veterinary bills, etc. Lester has tattoo number 9L3.

Labels: Lester

Permalink | Written at 12:56 AM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

Lester had his first day at work yesterday. He's just cute as balls in his jacket.

Labels: Lester

Permalink | Written at 12:27 AM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

I think I've got Lester's barking somewhat figured out. I'm figuring that 70% of his whining is has been for relieving, and the other 30% for either separation anxiety or just general crate misbehavior. On the one hand, if I take him out to relieve after a few yips, he does relieve most of the time. But sometimes he doesn't or starts barking when I know he doesn't need to relieve. At the same time, he seems to actually like his crate now: earlier today, for the first time, he went into it on his own just to get away from some outside noise. A few minutes ago, I put him in the crate to finish up some work and, after finishing up some stuff in my room, just came into the living room -- Lester started crying only after I left the room. So, maybe it's just separation anxiety?

Yeesh. Karan was right. This whole thing is like dog psychology. If engineering doesn't work out, maybe there's another career for me.

Double yeesh. There's a Dog Whisperer show on National Geographic? And it has an Emmy nomination? Don't get me wrong, I love dogs. But an Emmy? And, really, nearly a million hits for dog psychologist. Some people have too much time or money. Maybe both.

Labels: Lester

Permalink | Written at 11:11 AM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

If anyone asks what love is, it's this. Three gallons of orange juice sitting in two pots, a pitcher, and a beer mug.





Of the probably hundred or so of dollars of toys I bought Louie, his favorite by far were the (free!) containers from the orange juice I drank anyways. So, as a going-away present, I went to QFC and bought three jugs of orange juice. I poured out all the orange juice into the pots and pans I had, and, running out of space, used anything else available. [Hey! I know what you're thinking. I'm a single 24-year-old guy. Having only two pots is perfectly excusable.] I washed out the containers, made Louie sit politely for his present, and then let him have at it. In the picture on the right, just behind Louie's head, you can see what's left of a previous one.




And here's the juice, four days later, sitting in my refrigerator. Did I mention that I'd bought two packs of clementine oranges the day before? I really don't like oranges that much. I think I've drank two glasses worth so far. Hm. By my calculations, at that rate, assuming I'm drinking eight-ounce glasses, that works out to enough orange juice for 192 days. Wonderful.





Despite the fact I'll be drinking orange juice every day for the next month, and I'll probably turn into a walking fruit tree, it was totally worth it. Louie, you better appreciate this.

Labels: Louie

Permalink | Written at 4:13 AM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

It's a big first day for both Louie and Lester today. For big Louie, in "college," back at Guide Dogs campus in Boring, Oregon. Little Lester, with me at Amazon, in the puppy equivalent of pre-school: he's just learning his name, how to walk in a straight line, and, really, just get along with the big, scary world. Imagine that five-year-old scrawling his name in big red crayon and I think you've got it. And imagine any worried, over-protective parent seeing off their straight-A student at some faraway school, and I think you've got me.

Good luck Louie. I did all I could for you, but it's all you now pup. Show 'em what you're made of.

Labels: Lester, Louie

Permalink | Written at 4:12 AM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

What's up with all my dogs sticking their butt way up in the air? Whenever I went to pet Louie, he'd pull his head down and leave his butt hanging in the air, as if he was asking for a butt massage. Lester does it too! Here he is, caught in the act, along with another more civilized picture. :P

Labels: Lester, Louie

Permalink | Written at 4:51 PM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

Lester's only barked once all day! He's been relieving like clockwork on the hour every hour and hasn't had another accident since the first one. Definitely more mischevious and hyper than Louie, but, all in all, he's doing awesome. He's sleeping right now, bored with my watching a movie [Tsotsi, highly recommended]. Lester's starting out strong in filling Louie's big paw prints.





We're off to the Guide Dogs meeting in a bit. His brother, Lassiter, will be there. I wonder if they'll recognize each other? Anyways, it'll be amusing to just see how he reacts to all the dozen different dogs: black labs galore, ranging from three or four months all the way up to a year, and these two new yellow labs as the newest additions.

Labels: Lester, Louie

Permalink | Written at 4:25 PM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

Sagarika came over yesterday and met Lester for the first time. This puppy seriously has the attention span of a gnat. Sagarika's playing with Lester went something like this, in what I'm imagining was racing through his cute little head:

Play with rope toy,
Play, this is fun!
Play,
Ooh, interesting feather, sniff, sniff
Hm, I wonder where this leads, sniff, waddle, waddle, sniff,
Ooh, Kushal's calling me, scamper back,
Eeee! I wonder what that is over there, let's run over there,
Eeee! Running is fun! Let's do laps around the living room,
And there's the bathroom, let's run in there!
What's this stupid collar thing around my neck? Stop, scratch, scratch,
Hm, it doesn't come off. Oh well. What I was I doing? Oh right.
There's the bedroom, let's run there!
Oh wait, what's that noise? Who's calling? Let's go run over there.
Ahhh! What's that coming up?
It's Kushal's big scary hands! Stop! Stop! Sliiide!
Erk! Slid right into him! Captured!

And repeat and rise. About five times every five minutes. Ah, puppies.

Labels: Lester

Permalink | Written at 2:29 PM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

In what I'm sure will be the first of many posts with no point except a cute picture or two, here's Lester playing with one of his toys.

Labels: Lester

Permalink | Written at 3:29 AM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

OK. This crying and barking in the crate has to stop. I know Lester misses his buddies from the kennels, but he'll have to come to work with me in just two days [Saturday, Sunday, Monday], and his whining is going to be a major problem there. I absolutely love my ten-person open office in 5103, but Lester is loud and unpredictable, and I worry about disrupting my officemates. I've asked to be temporarily moved to my own personal office until Lester settles down.

Even so, Lester is loud and I think people might still be able to hear. That said, Lester might be better than I think: I'm starting to take him out to relieve whenever he whines, and he's peed or pooped nearly every time now. If I subtract out the crying before relieving, it may not be that big a deal.

But, sometimes, he'll start whining even after he just gets back from a relieving break, when I'm pretty sure that he doesn't need to go. So, now, I'm going to try a stricter approach: good ol' leash corrections in the crate. It's not complicated in principle -- put dog in crate, attach leash, pass said leash out through crate vents, and give a good yank if said dog starts whining -- but it gets complicated in practice when puppies move around, get tangled up in their leashes, etc. Let's see how it goes.

Labels: Lester

Permalink | Written at 8:59 PM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

I have a feeling there'll be many more pictures and posts of Louie Lester [*] sleeping. He just looks so freaking cute. Here he is sleeping by my feet at work. I'd just fixed that original database outage and was about to get up, when I noticed Lester sleeping and didn't have the heart to wake him up.





[* Graw. And I'm sure there'll be many more posts where Lester ends up being called Louie. Sorry Louie. Sorry Lester.]

Labels: Lester, Louie

Permalink | Written at 3:05 PM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

I should probably back up a bit and explain what I'm doing here.

I love dogs. My childhood dog, a big and now aging eighty-pound German Shepherd, Koji, lives with my parents back in Los Angeles. For better or worse, my current lifestyle doesn't allow me to get a dog of my own: I travel too much, work long and sometimes erratic hours, don't live in a house, etc. So, instead, I help train puppies to become guide dogs for the blind. Not coincidentally, I'm affiliated with the Seattle chapter of an organization called Guide Dogs for the Blind.

My last puppy, Louie, attracted so much interest and so many questions that I thought it might be good to get the story out a little further. Clearly, there's lots of interest in the program, and I wonder if a from-the-trenches journal will provide another viewpoint and shed even more light on what we're trying to do. My friends tease me that I very patiently repeat answers to same questions ["How long do you keep them?" "What do you do to train them?" "Isn't it hard to give them up?"], so maybe writing them down will help even more people understand.

Labels: Lester, Louie

Permalink | Written at 3:00 PM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

One of our team's databases went down, causing me to get paged this morning. I had forgotten my power adapter, so I threw Lester in his (fixed) crate, tossed the crate in the car and sped off to work. On the way in, I decided to call back Heidi, my raising group's leader, and update her on how Lester and I were managing. I was bragging how Lester hadn't had an accident in the whole twenty-four hours and Heidi was saying that, as long as Lester wasn't relieving in his crate, we might not have to go through the hassle of finding and switching to a small crate. That should have been enough foreshadowing for me.

On arriving at work, I reached back to pull Lester out and instead found not one but two big piles of poop in his crate. And while trying to avoid smearing the poop on myself in getting Lester out, I managed to smear it on Lester. Ew. Lester got a quick bath with paper towels and water from the bathroom sink before he stepped anywhere near my office.

I think I've now successfully 409'd anything alive in the crate into oblivion. Needless to say, I'm going to get him those smaller crates.

Labels: Lester

Permalink | Written at 12:13 PM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

Wow. I'm very impressed. Lester managed to break out of his crate.

Because his crate is way too big for him and Heidi and Dallas are getting me another one on Sunday, I hadn't bothered locking it down with all the provided wire ties. Instead, I'd just loosely tied three out of the eleven locking points together. I mean, really, it was only supposed to be three days right? I hadn't thought anything about it. Lester was fine all night and in the morning but, after I took him out to relieve and put him in his crate to give me a chance to, uh, relieve, Lester started crying and barking again. I ignored him as I should and continued brushing my teeth. At some point he stopped crying. Victory! But, then, I heard some scratching and metal clanging and I figured he'd just started up again. At some point, again, the scratching and whining stopped and, after a minute or two, I thought I'd just go check on him to make sure that he was all right. And, then, this is what I saw:





After a moment of shock [I'm sure my mouth was wide open had anyone bothered to check], I ran to put him back in his crate and straighten out the grate. Within seconds, he'd popped out the grate again and had scampered out. This time, I ran to get the camera and snapped off a few shots before shoving him back in.

As far as I can figure, this is what happened: all that scratching must have been Lester jumping up and down in the crate. At some point, he must have jumped (a) high enough to hit the top half of the crate and and (b) hard enough to dislodge from the bottom half. This would have created enough space for the grate top axles to fall out of their grooves and fall away from the crate. That's probably right around when the crying and scratching stopped, so Lester must have just been surveying his handiwork and trying to figure out how to make his final escape when I walked in.

Labels: Lester

Permalink | Written at 11:45 AM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

Lester misses his brothers and sisters from the kennel. Either that, or he's a serious whiner. He's been in his crate, crying for the past hour.

I'm pretty sure he doesn't need to go to the bathroom. He's happy as a clam outside, wagging his tail, waddling or bouncing around [*], trying to explore his new home. [No, I'm not kidding. He doesn't walk. When he tries to walk, he does this awkward but very endearing and amusing waddle. When he tries to run, he bounces up and down and occasionally moves forward.] I've taken him out to relieve a few times and each time he just tries to pull up grass and eat it.

So, now, I've put on my headphones, turned up the music, and I'm doing my best to ignore him. As far as I figure, he's just trying to get my attention. If I go rescue him, he'll just learn that crying equals Kushal's attention. But, wow, he's loud -- I've got iTunes pumped up to half the maximum volume and I can still hear his barks. I'm so going to have to buy the neighbors some cookies or something.

In the meantime, I'm uploading pictures of Louie Lester napping just after we got home from the puppy truck and getting accustomed to his crate.

Labels: Lester, Louie

Permalink | Written at 2:37 AM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks