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Teach Your Dog to Come When Called

09•22•19

A few weeks ago, I posted an Instagram Story of us working with Cooper in the backyard. We were doing recall training–that is, working on getting him to come when called–and making a super fun game of it. It’s one of his most favorite games, actually, so he’s gotten good at it over the years.

That story elicited a ton of DMs asking how we taught him the game, what we did to teach Coop his recall, and so on. So, I decided to pull my tips together in one past in case it helps anyone else who’s trying to teach your dog recall OR who’s struggling to troubleshoot a problem with your dog’s recall.

Teach Your Dog to Come When Called: It's so important for your dog's safety to know how to come reliably. Here are some easy steps to take to teach your dog, plus some troubleshooting ideas in case your dog struggles with recall.

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How to Train Your Dog to Come

OK, let’s get super basic here: Teaching your dog to come when called is the most important thing he or she needs to learn for safety. If you’ve tried to teach recall and it didn’t stick, or if your dog knew it once and now doesn’t, or if you’re starting this out for the very first time, the process is the same.

First, pick a cue. Now, if you’re in the “didn’t stick” or “now doesn’t” camp, you need a word other than what you used previously. That word–probably “come”–is now dead to you. Pick something new. I’m a big, big fan of a specific whistle, but it doesn’t matter. Start by choosing your cue. For the sake of this post, I’m going to use “come,” but it can be anything short.

Next, watch your language! Don’t use that cue word for anything other than recall and never for anything negative. So, let’s say your dog is playing in the backyard and it’s time for his bath. Don’t call “Cooper, come!” and then drag him into the tub. From the moment you decide to train your dog to come, the recall word you chose can only be used for good things.

Third, set the bar really low. Start training recall in a distraction-free zone. Take your dog out to go to the bathroom first, then go somewhere quiet and comfortable like your living room. Get a friend or family member to help, and sit a few feet away from each other. Call your dog to come to you, dole out a valuable treat (this is NOT the time for dry, crunchy cookies, y’all), then have your friend do the same. Give lots of love and praise while you practice. With the bar still set low, move the game somewhere slightly more distracting–say, the backyard. Practice, practice, practice.

Don’t forget that distance is a degree of variability you need to practice, too. If you and your buddy stand 10 feet apart in the backyard, standing 15 feet apart is a nice, slight raise of that training bar.

Here’s something that works well to raise the bar ever so slightly: Once your dog masters the cue in the living room and the backyard, keep practicing with your friend as you increase the difficulty AND simultaneously you start working with your dog one-on-one back in the quiet/comfy spot. Let’s say you and your friend are working 10 feet apart in the backyard. That’s awesome! The next day, your friend isn’t available. So, you head into the living room with your treats and periodically call your dog to come and reward. Consider those activities two distinct parts of the training–your dog needs to reliably come to you when it’s you alone, but that’s much more difficult to manage in the early stages. So, work on both! But, again, keep the bar really super low so that you set your dog up to win.

Now, eventually your home and your backyard will become too easy, and you’ll have to raise the bar again to, say, your front yard. Unless your front yard is fenced in, you NEED to put your dog on a long line. (This is the one we use.) You are in training here, so it’s NOT the time to test your dog’s reliability.

Finally, keep at it. Training your dog to come when called is nothing like training your dog to sit in the sense that you need to work on recall all the time to reinforce it and to proof it, while a behavior like “sit” is naturally well integrated into your day and the stakes are low. Recall training should be ongoing. The cue should always stay positive, and you should practice every chance you get so that when you do find yourself needing it, your dog’s already an ace.

A Quick Aside About Training Treats

Get the good ones.

Seriously, this isn’t biscuit time. This is freeze-dried liver time. This is squeeze cheese time. This is shredded chicken, turkey bacon, warmed-up hot dog time. Whatever is your dog’s go-to, can’t-resist, must-have treat, recall training is the time to use it. You don’t want your dog to think, “Eh, why bother? She just has that crappy dry cookie, and here I can eat rabbit poop,” or whatever it is. You know your dog’s preferences and tolerances, so pick the tippy-top of what he or she likes the best.

Make Recall FUN!

What I shared on Instagram is a game we call “Recall Relay.” John stands at one end of the yard, and I stand at the other. We both have a pile of treats, and we just call Coop back and forth. He loves it because he loves treats, he loves running, and he loves playing with us. It’s a win all around!

We modify the game outside and inside, too, by adding in a hike-and-seek component. I’ll duck behind a shrub or behind the sofa and call Coop to come. He LOVES seeking us out, and finding us is almost as much of a reward to him as the actual treat we dole out.

Sometimes I’ll see him out in the yard doing nothing special, and I’ll grab a treat from his jar and call him to come–just for the fun of it and just for the reinforcement.

When can I stop using treats? And other troubleshooting tips…

“Ugh, my dog will only come because he knows I have treats.”

So?

I mean, truly, I only do my work because I know I’ll get paid. I’m not going to submit a bunch of copy to a client who might or might not compensate me… There’s nothing wrong with a rewards system, especially for a behavior as important as come.

“My dog was so good at this, and now he ignores me.”

OK, so you’ve poisoned the cue. What that means is you’ve used “come” one too many times without payment or followed by something unpleasant or maybe it wasn’t as good as you thought it was to begin with. The reason doesn’t actually matter, and the fix is (sorta) simple: Pick a new cue and start over. It’s far easier to train it as if it were a new behavior with a new cue word or whistle than it is to troubleshoot what went wrong with your old cue.

“He will come when called at home, but at the park… nada.”

You moved the bar too high too fast. Your dog needs to go back to recall boot camp with some purposeful retraining.

Also, know that a recall will never, ever be 100 percent. Let’s say you DO have it down pat at the park. Then, one day, there’s a deer standing in the middle of the field, and your dog has never seen a deer before, and your dog decides he reallllllllllyyyyy needs to chase that animal… or, let’s say a stray cat darts across the street directly in front of you, and there’s nothing your dog loves more than chasing a stray cat… or, the ice cream truck hits a pothole and the whole giant tub of ice cream bounces out the back and splats on the sidewalk… or, whatever your dog finds truly irresistible. You can practice and proof and make it a game, and your dog might still ignore you in the face of something too good to be true.

It’s another topic for another post, but it’s one of the many reasons I strongly advocate for keeping your dog on leash at all times unless you’re in a fenced-in yard or dog park. Recall, imo, is an emergencies-only cue, but the training is a fun, all-the-time thing.

Teaching Your Dog to Come When Called Is Worth the Effort

You might be thinking that this sounds like a lot of effort. You might be thinking that this sounds like it takes an enormous amount of time.

You’re right. It is a lot of effort, and it does take a lot of time.

But it’s so worth it.

Twice in Cooper’s life, unforeseen circumstances resulted in him getting loose. The first time, our gate broke–unbeknownst to us–and the second time was immediately after we moved to Louisiana. We took the dogs outside with no clue that Coop could just waltz right under the elevated house from the fenced-in front yard to the un-fenced-in front yard.

In both cases, thank goodness, he came when I called.

We practice. We make it fun. And, when we need it, it works.

So, there you have it: My tips for how to teach your dog to come when called. Have you taught your dog a recall? How does he or she do? Have you encountered a need to use it? How do you proof the behavior? Please share in the comments so we can all learn from each other!

How to Teach Your Kids to Take Care of Pets

09•12•19

Last month I wrote about dogs and babies and common sense safety measures. A number of questions came up around one central theme:

OK, I want my pets and kids to get along, but how can I involve my kids in pet care while staying safe?

Why should kids help take care of pets?

Years ago, I volunteered at an animal welfare booth, and the volunteers traded stories about various rescue experiences. The topic turned to dog bites, and I relayed a story of a 10-year-old who was bitten by their dog during feeding time. One of the volunteers said, “Well, that’s on the parents! Children shouldn’t be allowed to feed dogs–it’s unsafe!”

Now, if your dog has resource issues or if he’s a brand-new addition to your family or if you have some other legitimate issue you’re working on with your pup, sure, involving your kids in that area probably isn’t a great idea. You do need safety measures in place.

However, when it comes to basic pet care, it’s so important to get kids involved. Why?

Compassion and responsibility.

Kids learn how important it is to care for another, to meet the needs of someone other than themselves.

Plus, it helps your pets bond with your kid.

Pet Care Chores for Little Kids

You know your kid best. You know how well he or she listens to and follows instructions. You know the depth of his or her still-developing motor skills. Here are four ideas to get you started, knowing you may need to adapt them to your kiddo’s abilities:

Water: Every morning, Violet comes downstairs, and her first thing she does is take a big cup of water that I’ve filled at the sink and pour it into the pet fountain. (It’s this. It’s WAY too big for her to fill at the sink with her steps.) Sure, there are lots of spills, but I’ll happily wipe up the floor to let her learn how to help care for her animals. And now she will say, “I spilled! I need a rag!” and will wipe up her own spills.

Food: If your dog eats kibble from a bowl, scooping and filling is an awesome chore under supervision. This isn’t a chore that works in our house since Coop eats The Farmer’s Dog out of a puzzle feeder… but I can see “stuffing puzzles” a chore for her in a few years!

The cats eat kibble for lunch each day, and she loves dumping the scoops into their bowls or puzzles (I still measure because I want to feed them the exact amount to keep their weight in check).

Grooming: No, your little kid shouldn’t be wielding a pair of nail clippers, but teaching your kid how to brush out your pup is a fantastic exercise in care and compassion. Don’t expect your dog to come away fully groomed, of course, and this is an area where you know your dog and kid best: If your dog hates grooming, skip this one.

View this post on Instagram
A post shared by Maggie Marton // Pet Writer (@maggiemarton) on Apr 22, 2019 at 5:06pm PDT

Training: Your small child won’t be able to teach your pup complicated tricks or obedience; however, he or she most certainly can get involved in what you’re training. Here are two examples in our house: Every time we leave for the day, we ask Coop to go to his bed and give him a treat to work on. Now, Violet sends him to his bed and gives him his treat–and she’s a stickler! If he’s not fully on, she’ll wait, “All the way, Coopsie!” Another fun one is to help your dog learn “touch” to your kiddo’s outstretched hand. This is an awesome way to get them to work together in a fun way that rewards your pup.

Beyond that, little kids always want to help, so asking them to hold the roll of pickup bags or clipping a second leash to your pup’s harness so they can help “walk” the dog or running to get the clippers out of the drawer for you to groom, and so on, all help your kiddo feel important and involved while learning how to care for your dog.

Pet Care Chores for Big Kids

Bigger kids are limited only by what’s expected of them…

Truly, if you teach and model what needs to happen, and then you empower your kids to do it, they will.

Some examples of pet care chores for big kids:

Feeding and watering
Cleaning the water fountain and replacing the filter
Scooping the litter box
Picking up the yard
Stuffing puzzle toys
Training with you and your dog, including taking training classes together
Daily playtime

Kids with their licenses can take the family pet to the vet as long as they’ve been walked through how to do it responsibly. This used to be my responsibility in high school.

Some Caveats…

You’ll notice neither list included walking the dog. It’s not that big kids aren’t capable. They are. However… and, again, this is something you need to decide for your kid, your dog, and your neighborhood… there are too many potential safety issues that require a responsible adult. Again, this is in my opinion. You might live somewhere without a loose dog here or there. Your dog might not react to a cat crossing the street. Your kid might be able to walk around the block without his or her face buried in her phone (this is all the teens in my neighborhood walking their dogs…). Honestly, this is a judgement call you need to make. For me, this is one where the variables are too many and too significant. That said, walking and hiking together as a family is super important and models responsible behavior!

Ultimately, though, as the responsible adult, you need to decide what chores your kids can take on, then you need to teach them how to do them. You’ll probably have to review it dozens of times and clean up spills along the way, but don’t let that deter you from empowering your kid to take on additional responsibility and family contributions! In the short term it might require more from you, but in the long term you’re teaching your kid compassion and responsibility.

How do your kids, nieces and nephews, or friends help take care of the animals around you? Have you taught and empowered kids to help? What questions do you have about taking the steps needed to teach your kiddos how to help take care of your pets? Let us know in the comments below!

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

Have you considered training him?

09•05•19

A few weeks ago, John and I spent a long Saturday morning pulling weeds and mulching our front garden. My sister offered to hang with Violet so we could get it done, and I think we were approximately 432 percent more efficient than we would’ve been had she been outside with us.

I listened to a podcast while John listened to his book. About an hour into the job, John went inside to grab us waters. Down the block, I saw a woman walking toward us on the opposite side of the street with an adorable, tiny JRT. He strutted at the end of his leash like he was King. I smiled as he puffed his chest to mark the mailbox on the corner.

John came outside, and I pointed the dog out to him. “He’s so tiny and cocky,” we laughed. She saw us looking, I think, and as she reached the midpoint of our yard, she yelled across the road, “What are you doing?”

I took out my headphones. “Pulling weeds,” I yelled back.

“I need to see what you’re doing,” she shouted as she dragged her little dog across the street and up our yard.

Thus began a 45-minute long, unceasing cascade of words. She asked us a million questions, but just as one of us would start to answer, she’d barrel into the next topic or talk over our response or simply provide her answer to what she’d asked us. After a handful of minutes, we both just sort of sat on the ground, looking up at her and nodding periodically as she kept going. John spent a good 10 minutes scratching her dog.

We learned about all the people who live in every nook and cranny up and down our block. We learned about all the troubles she’s had with the trees in her backyard. We learned all about the neighborhood HOA meetings and who does and doesn’t pay their dues.

And then Cooper barked.

From somewhere inside the house, he barked. Her dog perked up. She suggested we bring him outside, I suppose to meet her little dog.

“Cooper is a wonderful dog,” I said, “but he doesn’t like to meet other dogs on leash.”

We then learned about her friend who bought a German shepherd who was so dog aggressive that if it had been her dog she would’ve demanded her money back.

She paused. “Is your dog a rescue?” she asked in that pitying tone often used to explain away bad behavior.

“Yes, but that doesn’t have anything to do with his issues. He’s fearful and reactive,” I said.

Before I could say anything else, she jumped in. “He probably just needs to meet more dogs.”

I took a deep, steadying breath. “Well, he actually loves playing with other dogs at our house and at doggy daycare. He just can’t meet them on leash, especially out in front of our house like this. He’d go crazy.”

She looked me in the eye and asked, “Have you ever considered training him?”

OMG! NO! That never occurred to me! Train my dog?!? Are you SERIOUS?!

Kidding aside, clearly this woman doesn’t know us from a stranger in line at the coffee shop, so how could she possibly know how much time, energy, effort, expense, etc. etc. we’ve poured into this beloved dog of ours? She couldn’t, of course.

She knew superficial stuff about all the people up and down the street (“she’s a single mom and goes to school,” “she used to babysit kids in this neighborhood as a kid herself,” “he switched cable providers three times last year alone,” and so on) but she doesn’t really, truly know who they are or what their struggles are.

Just like she doesn’t know us and has no clue all we’ve done for Coops.

My point isn’t to be indignant–this isn’t a how dare she?!?!–but rather, it served as a solid reminder that you just never know. You never know someone’s whole story. You never know someone’s struggles.

You never know.

So, since you don’t know and I don’t know and she doesn’t know… why not make an effort to assume the best about someone instead of the worst? Or offer support instead–a simple “Can I help?” doesn’t hurt.

When it comes to our dogs, we do our best. We do what we think is our best, anyway. We try our hardest. No, sometimes our best and our hardest isn’t good enough, but ultimately it’s all any of us can do.

I didn’t feel indignant about her question, but I did feel indignant on behalf of Coopsie.

He. tries. his. best.

Every single day, even when it’s really, really hard for him, he tries. Sometimes he fails. Oftentimes, actually. I fail, too. It’s more important that we work hard and we work together.

My lesson in that conversation came down to this: When you make an assumption about someone, you have two choices. You can assume the best or you can assume the worst. Neither takes more or less time or energy than the other, so why not assume the best? It’s the kinder route for both parties, I think.

I’ll defend Cooper every day of the week, but who knows… that woman who lives down the block and around the corner, well, I’m going to assume that she really, truly cares about the people and pets on her street. It’s easy to assume she’s just another suburban Gladys Kravitz, but you don’t snoop unless you care, right?

Plus, her dog really was super cute.

Dogs and Babies: Can everybody get along?

08•19•19

I read a lot of dog training forums and belong to a bunch of training Facebook groups. Generally, they’re full of amazing, helpful people who love dogs and who love helping dogs live better lives. Occasionally–as with anything on the internet–the conversations devolve into bickering or negativity, but dog people are usually pretty cool with one another.

Recently, a pet-and-child parent posted a question: What’s a good cue I can teach my dog to stop licking my kid’s sticky, disgusting face? I rephrased it a bit for brevity, but the gist is that kids are yucky and dogs love licking yucky things. How can we work with the dog on this?

There were dozens of replies by the time I saw the post, and the first thing I realized while scrolling was… no one helped her. Not one person. Instead? They all judged her.

Your dog should never be close enough to your child for a face lick.

You need to manage your dog better.

Small children can’t learn how to behave, so you’re putting your dog in harm’s way.

They need to be separated.

Deep breath. OK. I have a lot to say about this and a ton of resources to share, so stick with me because I hope this post can be helpful to any parent who’s struggling to figure out how to let their children and dogs interact and grow together–safely.

Dogs and Babies: Can everyone get along? Sure, it takes some safety strategies--and some common sense--but there's no reason your dog and your kiddos can't be best buds! Read on for how to make it happen!

TL; DR Version

We’ll get into detail, and I’ll share our first-hand experience, but in case you’re in a hurry:

Know and respect your dog’s personality. If you know he hates, say, loud noises, honor that by providing a safe space when your little one is crying.
Teach your kid safe dog manners. This is HUGE and can start really, really young.
Use common sense. It should go without saying, but as the adult, you need to use your head. Don’t let your toddler waddle around holding a peanut butter sandwich and expect your dog not to snatch it… along with your kiddo’s pudgy fingers.

Also, do note I’m focusing on little ones, like under three or four. There’s a whole lot more to be said about big kids, a lot of which I covered in this dog bite prevention post.

Set Your Dog Up for Success Around Kids

You need to keep your dog from landing in a spot where he or she feels compelled to bite. End of story. Whatever that is varies by dog. Some dogs can stay super chill and laid back around groups of kids. My mom’s dog, Otto, is like that. Emmett was like that. However, in both cases, they’d happily snatch food from an unsuspecting child–nailing a finger accidentally in the process–so they needed to be separated from those situations.

But what about the rest of the dogs, the majority of pups who have firmer lines drawn? You need to put their safety above their momentary happiness.

I’ll use my lovey as an example: Cooper hates unpredictability in all things. Kids live on unpredictability. Flailing, screeching, dive-bombing, running, tripping… all these typical child behaviors send him into a fit. So, when we have kids around who we know behave like that, Coop hangs out in my office for the visit. No, he’s not happy, but he’s much happier than he would be among loud, boisterous kids, AND he’s safe. There won’t be any incidents that force him into an uncomfortable situation.

And, to be totally honest, most kiddos who behave like that around him are kids who don’t have a dog at home or whose parents aren’t super dog savvy. It’s my job to keep him and our guests safe, and safety trumps happiness.

Same thing when we’re out walking: If a kid wants to pet him, I simply tell them no. Sure, we get some weird looks, but I don’t care. His safety–and the kid’s–is more important.

Watch your dog. If your dog shows any sign of stress around a kiddo, and that kiddo isn’t able to regulate his or her behavior, then remove your dog. Baby gates work great. For littles, stick ’em in a playpen. Use another room if necessary.

If kids are going to be around at all, whether it’s the new baby you just brought home from the hospital or your nieces and nephews in town for a long weekend, figure out what will keep your dog safe and do that.

Teach Your Kid How to Behave Around Dogs

This one got me a little fired up: Small children can’t learn how to behave, so you’re putting your dog in harm’s way.

Um. Yeah.

Nope.

Small children most certainly can learn how to behave. As early as eight months old, they develop an understanding of cause and effect–if I do this, then this happens–and empathy starts to kick in around 18 months.

Perhaps more importantly for this discussion, babies learn social cues–like how to behave around a dog–from what they observe. If you model safe, caring behavior with your pets, your kids will learn that. If you raise your voice to yell at your dog or drag your dog by the collar, your kid will think that’s OK.

The second a baby can reach out for your pup, it’s time to start teaching what is and is not OK. For instance, if she reaches out to grab a handful of fur, stop her hand and explain why that’s not acceptable. No, she won’t fully understand what you’re saying, but she’ll start acquiring information on how to behave around dogs.

According to one of the dog trainers in that thread, she alleged that children can’t cognitively understand that they can hurt a dog until they’re four.

All the cognitive science clearly shows otherwise, and we’ve seen it first-hand with Violet.

She’s two, and she’s a keen observer of human emotion.

“Mama, you frustrated?” “Aunt Lizzy, you sad?” “I. SO. ANGWY.”

She understands fully when a friend on the playground gets hurt–whether accidentally or by her hand–and will identify the upset and try to figure out how to help her friend feel better. Same with the animals here. I stepped on Ripley’s toe when I was feeding her dinner the other night, and she yowled.

Violet asked, “Is Ripley sad?” I explained that I hurt Ripley’s toe by accident.

“Give her a hug, mama.”

Kids get it… IF they’re taught.

While I’m talking about little kids in this post, read more about dog bite prevention for bigger kids here: Safety first for kids and pets

Should you separate your dog and your baby?

This was the big topic under discussion in the thread I mentioned. The gist was that most people felt that dogs should never be close enough to lick a small child’s face to begin with, they should always be separated, and she was an irresponsible mother for allowing this to happen in the first place.

If you know your dog and set your dog up for success, and if you start teaching your child how to behave around dogs from the earliest age, you’re off to a great start. That said, there is a LOT of nuance to the “separate them” argument worth addressing.

For one thing, obviously, never leave your baby alone with another animal if you’re not right there. That is plain-and-simple common sense.

For another, don’t let your kid wander around with food in the same space as your dog. Also common sense.

Never have your kid sit on your dog (I mean, come on, people) or pull up on your dog or ride your dog like a pony or any other numskull behaviors you’ve likely seen on social media.

I mean, duh. Right?

OK, so all those common sense caveats aside: Should you separate your dog and your baby?

Well. It depends.

For one thing, with a highly sensitive dog like Cooper, if I’d kept him totally separate from Violet for four years, he would’ve leaped to some conclusions: OK, Lady won’t let me near the little pink monkey, so that little pink monkey must be dangerous, AND she’s keeping Lady away from me, so I hates it.

And it’s more than simply getting them used to each other’s presence. Cooper needed to learn not to lick her. Violet needed to learn not to pull up on him. I hoped they’d grow up to be good friends by learning how to be calm and respectful around each other. I know Coop inside out and always err on the side of safety, and I’ve trained Violet since the beginning how to be respectful of other animals. Is she perfect? Of course not. She’s two.

{{Funny enough, as an aside: She’s two. She throws tantrums. When one is brewing, both cats and Coop seem to have identified triggers even faster than I do and skedaddle to wait out the storm–lucky ducks–even before she starts screaming.}}

They like to be together. They like to play together. In fact, they prefer to be together–and with me–at almost all times, so it’s out of necessity that I teach them both how to behave around each other.

Life happens. You all live together in the same house. There’s no way I could keep them on separate sides of gates or playpens until she turned four years old, and setting parents up to think that’s the case… it’s simply unreasonable.

Dogs and babies CAN be great friends!

Use your head. Take appropriate steps you need to keep everyone safe. Invest in some food puzzles for those times when you do need to separate your dog. (We use a regular Kong, a Squirrel Dude, a Tux, and puzzle feeders, but holy moly I think we need this epic snuffle mat.)

Ultimately, find ways for them to interact in a safe, positive way together because there is no greater joy than watching your baby and dog grow up together!

The Year That Wanted to Kill Me

07•30•19

Or, how a perforated appendix tipped the scales in Cooper’s favor…

I thought about calling this post: What I Did on My Summer Vacation. Do you remember writing that essay every year in elementary school? 🙂

About a week ago, I waited on the gurney for my CT scan, and the nurse and tech started chatting. They brought me into the debate: Is life a series of tests? Things get thrown at you to see how you do, how you rise (or not) to the occasion?

Or, is life more like a battlefield where you get tossed a ton of stuff that God/the universe/whatever knows you can handle?

The only answer I have: Does it matter?

Of course not.

I believe everyone does their very best no matter what’s handed to them. Some people’s best isn’t good enough, of course, but they truly are trying as best they can based on their mindset and life experiences.

I struggle to accept that hardships are doled out only to those who can handle them because what does that say about everyone whose life just sort of floats by? If the implication is that it’s because they couldn’t handle something thrown their way, what does it say about the universe’s opinion of that person?

Let’s back up a step or two.

In February, while in a hotel room across the country, I awoke with a pinched nerve in my lower back. I could barely stand, let alone bend down to tie my shoes. But I wanted to go home. So, I limped and scooted and cried my way through a connecting flight, a layover, and a snow delay. It. was. awful. (I refuse to believe that kind of thing is thrown at me–or anyone–simply because you have the capacity to get through it. If it’s true, the universe is a jerk, which I refuse to believe because the world is a genuinely good place. Generally speaking. The lady who shoved past me boarding the Southwest connect from Dallas to Indy? Less good… I mean, we were all going the same place at the same rate, so why shove? But that’s beside the point.)

I got home, called my chiro, started therapy. It took about a month, but my back healed.

Feeling awesome, I ran a 10k the last week of April, then the first week of May I fell on a hike and sprained my ankle.

Shoot.

I spent the next eight weeks recovering.

Poor Cooper in all this. He trained with me–I wanted to run a half marathon this year–and because of my back and then my ankle, he sat out almost four months.

The end of June approached and I felt like I could start jogging again, at least slowly and carefully. I went on a jog. It was A-OK. Coop pulled a bit more than usual because we’d been off our training for so long, but no big deal. Nothing we couldn’t recover from. It took a little extra for my ankle to recover, but I felt like I could get up and running–literally–again soon.

And then, at the end of June, I thought I got the flu.

I spent a week sicker than I’ve ever been. Ever. And I’ve had cancer! Toward the end of the week, I started to feel incrementally better, but I figured I’d call my GP anyway. Just to be safe. I called on Friday, got an appointment for the following Tuesday.

I sat there that morning reviewing everything with him, and he concluded that I had a virus. He said if I was still sick in a few days to call back and they’d test me for parasites. I was, so I did. That was Friday.

Two days later, on Sunday, I landed in the ER.

They ran a bunch of tests, and I knew it wasn’t good when the nurse came in and said, “Don’t eat or drink anything else in case you need to go into surgery.”

Um. What gets cut out if you have the flu?

They started me on IV antibiotics. My gut was filled with infection. They admitted me into the hospital. (Quick aside to say the hospital is the worst place in the world to be if you’re sick. You don’t get any rest. If you do manage to fall asleep, they wake you up to check your vitals! After a week in the hospital, I was exhausted!!!)

“Do you have your appendix?” they asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“We can’t find it on the imaging, but it’s probably behind your inflamed intestine.”

Fast forward: It wasn’t.

I spent a week in the hospital. Then I spent a little over a week getting outpatient antibiotic infusions each day. Then another week of oral antibiotics.

Now, the docs are in a debate: Did an underlying problem cause my appendix to perforate and leak into my gut? Or did my perforated appendix cause the inflammation in my intestines?

Again, my answer: Does it matter?

Of course not. As long as they eventually figure it out. So, I have my next test, which examines the underlying problem question, on Monday. Once that’s done and the results are back, the surgeon will remove the piece of appendix that remains.

Was all this handed to me to test my commitment to running a half marathon?

If so, well, I think I’m going to throw in the towel on that goal anyways. The only reason I picked that goal was, well, first… to have a goal. I like to be working toward something throughout the year. But, second, it was to do something with Cooper that he really, truly loves. What does Cooper really, truly love? Running.

But here’s where it all comes full circle: I think something’s up with Cooper’s back knees or hips. I’m not sure I would’ve noticed it without this forced hiatus because, here’s the thing about Cooper: He pushes through ANYTHING in order to run.

Seriously. The boy will overheat unless I force him to stop. He’ll go until he drops unless I monitor him and our progress carefully. He gets so single-minded that I have to be super vigilant.

Could these weeks of no running have allowed this problem to float to the surface? Maybe.

Could it be that he’s felt pain all along and just didn’t show it? Maybe.

Could it be that my forced stillness for long periods of time, something I avoid as a restless person, allowed me the opportunity to watch, to really see his gait? Maybe.

Yet again: It doesn’t matter.

I changed his joint supplement. We first tried Glycoflex, which had always worked for Emmett. It made Coop puke. #ofcourse

Now he’s on DGP, which worked wonders for Lucas. We just started so I can’t report progress yet, but if it works, I think combined with his new CBD regimen, we’ll get back on track.

Who knows? Maybe if this hadn’t happened, Coop and I would’ve pushed too hard for his joints or hips. You can never know what might’ve happened, but in a weird way, I guess this is the silver lining of my perforated appendix: I spotted and am now treating his joint pain.

His pain is clearly something he can handle, whether it’s a test, a gift of the universe, or a fluke. My appendix, same thing.

But it doesn’t matter what’s what. All that matters is that we put our heads down, stay focused, and heal. Even if that means letting go of a goal set at the beginning of the year.

We are really, truly doing our very best.

New goal: Swimming with Cooper? Insert chin-scratch-thinking emoji here.

(I did get him this, but we never opened our pool last year. Maybe this is his year!)

Anyway, so. Yeah. That’s how I spent my summer vacation! How’s yours?