ko1

On January 30, 1995 I adopted K.O. from the Boxer Rescue of L.A. (BRLA). She was about a year old at the time which translates in dog years to adolescence.

For the first six months she and I butt heads. I don't know what her history was but she had quite a lot of confidence in her ability to make decisions and was not going to defer easily. Soon enough, as most dogs will if given competent leadership, she became quite willing to leave the decision-making to me and was most willing to comply.

K.O. was not an only child. She lived with a housemate, Goldie, a Lab mix whom we call our Can-Do-No-Wrong-Dog. In spite of her intelligence and potential to excel as a student, Goldie was never formally trained--pretty much forced into mind-reading. Goldie owns my husband who gives her lots of love and playtime, but none of the formal stuff. And honestly, once in a blue moon along comes a dog who doesn't need the formal stuff. Goldie is one, K.O. was not.

I will be the first to admit, between the two dogs, Goldie is the smarter. K.O. wasn't what I'd call the brightest star in the sky. However, all in all, K.O.'s vocabulary grew to over 70 words and she was affectionately deemed by my husband as, "the stupid dog whose mom makes her look smart."

As the years passed, K.O. taught me as much as I taught her. And considering those 70-something vocabulary words I taught her, coupled with my experience and academic education about animal behavior, that's saying an awful lot about what my dog taught me.

In 1996, K.O. and I learned the clicker technique together...she being my guinea pig as I applied and observed the effect of this new technique. WOW! Imagine a simple little tool that can instantly translate exactly what you want the dog to do! THIS is how K.O. became the "smart dog." THIS is how K.O. learned to "Get Me a Soda." THIS is how I became a motivational trainer. What a difference in the attitude K.O. had toward a training session. She was still anxiously learning new behaviors right up until the last month of her little flea-pickin' life.

K.O. taught me how to explain exactly why dogs cannot be reprimanded after the fact. She enabled me to put the concept into words that the layman could then understand and accept. Not everyone can accept something at face value without understanding the logic that goes with it. I am actually one of those persons. Missouri seems to be the source of mass production of these people. I think it's something in the Mighty Missouri River water.

K.O. also taught me that "okay" is not a good word to use in giving a dog permission to terminate a behavior. Once during obedience competition we were "heeling" at the judge's request. The judge told me to "about-face" which I promptly did, coming to a stop while K.O. dutifully sat next to my side. Sweet. The judge said, "I didn't tell you to stop! Keep going!" <smack my forehead> Now flustered I responded with, "Okay." Uh, hello...permission now granted to end competition. Here's where I have to insert, when we are finished with a competition performance in the ring, K.O.'s reward is always a play-fight. Uh huh, I can tell you see this coming. Having now heard her release word, she proceeds to "attack me" in the ring. Fortunately, "enough" will stop her dead in her tracks, and away we went with a "heel" once again. This was certainly no one's fault but the handler...me! Needless to say, we were not the top scoring competitors of the day with a blunder like that. <smile>

K.O. loved to perform, and I loved showing her off. She had an amazing wave--a real one, pawing the air--which far surpasses Lassie's simple little paw-lift. She helped socialize some young whipper snapper pups. She helped me keep my weight down by hinting for walks. She woke me in the morning when I couldn't hear the alarm. She patiently waited for me to finish typing a paragraph before I responded to her gotta-tinkle call. She reminded me when it was mealtime. And she never once failed to console me when I'd have a crying spell. What will I ever do without her?

On January 14, 2003 I heard the 3 most horrible words you'll ever want to hear, "She's got cancer." On the way home from the vet we stopped at McDonald's and I bought her lunch. For what turned out to be the last two days of her life, I spoiled her rotten. No holds barred.

She was nauseous from the cancer and didn't have much of an appetite. I stopped forcing her to eat as I had done for the several preceding weeks. Instead, I gave her anything and everything she would voluntarily eat...all the no-no things we've been taught not to feed our dogs. She got cheeseburgers, a chocolate shake, chocolate chip cookies, an ice cream sandwich, canned cat food, salami, and scrambed eggs. (Okay, some things weren't so demonic.) I cleared my calendar thanks to some very understanding clients and was able to spend those last two days together with her, completely at her beck and call. She slept with me, we watched soap operas, and we ate very very unhealthy food together. We were inseperable.

K.O. died peacefully in my arms at 4:10 p.m. on January 16, 2003.