Lancey-Boy
I prefer to daydream fantastically rather than realistically, so I frequently make impulsive decisions guided by my wondrous intuition instead of practicality. So, when my brother asked me while I was living with him, “When will you get a dog?”
Without hesitation I replied, “As soon as I move out.”
He chuckled, realizing my situation but hopefully not feeling like a burden. “What kind of dog?”
Again, without contemplation, I answered, “A pit bull.”
One might assume that, as a working dog trainer, I’d want a Belgian Malinois, a GSD, or a Dutch Shepherd, but I I’ve seen too many unwanted bully-type dogs inside animal shelters, so my immediate response may have been motivated by both fantasy and from an understanding of the breeds and their strife. I attempt to live a purposeful life, so I knew I had to give one of those unwanted dogs with a woeful history a new, loving home as soon as I could.
Some of my earliest memories are of my childhood dog, Maxine. Sentimental emotions that accompany her memory; she was sweet and gentle with jet black long hair and a cheery but calming disposition. My most salient memory of her was her visible remorse when she accidentally nipped me one day while performing a trick to catch a treat. Her visible remorse exemplified, to me, dogs’ emotional awareness and a special understanding between species. We didn’t get another dog after she passed, but my pull towards dogs was soundly established. Throughout my childhood I snuck into neighbors yards to play with their dogs, hung out at friend’s houses that had dogs (probably past my welcome), began volunteering at the Longmont Humane Society when I was 11, and shadowed a veterinarian who was a friend of my parent’s. After seeing organs that should stay inside a body, my veterinarian pursuits terminated with a shudder.
I’m a serial procrastinator with a mysterious amount of luck so I never seriously contemplated a career path after that, trusting that things would just work out. My family had a long history in military service, so in my senior year of high school I visited the local Navy recruiter’s office. They slyly swindled me into taking the ASVAB and signing paperwork that committed the next 4 years of my life to them. Discovering the Navy’s Military Working Dog (MWD) Program awoke visions of turning my passion for dogs into a career again. I heard it was a difficult school to get into, but this low achiever decided to give it his best shot. Through more odd luck and perseverance, I became a MWD handler at age 19 and gained an insurmountable amount of knowledge and commendable experience through working with numerous gracious, impressive, and hilarious dogs that I will always cherish - but not having a dog of my own dog still left an uncanny void. After I separated from the Navy in late 2014, I moved in with my brother, began working for the Longmont Humane Society, and started working (intermittently) toward a degree in Psychology.
Lance’s intake photo from his regional animal shelter. Poor boy was a stray found severely underweight and with ring worm.
In the summer of 2015, I was lucky enough to attend The Starmark Academy for Professional Dog Trainers. The school furthered my knowledge of dog training and showed me how to make a living from the profession outside of the K-9 world, but most importantly, they gave me my dog. Starmark selected dogs from nearby shelters and assigned the “rescue dogs” to students to train them to become more adoptable, well-mannered pets. When I arrived at my assigned kennel, I saw a stocky, adorable pit bull who was losing his mind jumping about his kennel until he realized that I intended on taking him out of it. He then locked his soulful brown eyes with mine while his entire body wagged uncontrollably. He was perfect. He was the type of dog I had unknowingly envisioned although I knew nothing about him besides his phenotype. I checked his clipboard for his information. LANCE – AMERICAN STAFFORDSHIRE TERRIER – Williamson County Regional Animal Shelter. I was confused because I assumed they printed the handler’s name (my name, Lance) on his information sheet so I thought I couldn’t find his name. I leashed him up anyway, gave him treats, assessed his drive for different toys, and gave him the pets, play, and cuddling he yearned for. Later that day, my instructors revealed to the class that we were both named Lance. Funny? Yes. Fate? Also yes, but I was just glad to have him and that no one would be shouting my name repeatedly during “Name Recognition” training.
As I worked with him, his inherent qualities became apparent, and they all aligned with what I sought in a dog. He had a high drive for toys and anything he thought might be food, which are excellent traits for a dog trainer to work with, as drives can be leveraged in training. He worked endlessly and enthusiastically and handled any challenge the academy threw at us, but exhibited some concerning traits as well. He initially charged at dogs and the grounds keeper (most of the dogs had a vendetta against him because he wore an enormous sombrero) and had an ugly introduction to my parent’s dog, Ali, who I had brought along to be trained at the academy as well. Chiefly, he exhibited severe barrier aggression, even being voted the scariest dog when inside the kennels from my class. I knew that although this behavior is only exhibited inside a kennel and it doesn’t indicate actual aggressive intent, it could be a fatal trait since potential adopters wouldn’t think he’s too cute and cuddle-y when he’s snarling at them from the other side of his cage.
That feeling you get when you pass your training school and get adopted!
I made the decision to adopt brashly, of course, though no one is fully emotionally or pragmatically prepared to own their first dog, but his chances were slim if I didn’t act. I knew we had obstacles ahead - he tried to bite Ali on their first meeting, he needed surgery on his knee (big shout out to everyone who donated to his GoFundMe!), and we planned on moving to a county with Breed Specific Legislation. Those would probably major concerns for most, but an esoteric impulse assured my decision to leave those obstacles as a problem for future Lance-Human to deal with. I do my best work at the last minute any way, but by default because that’s really the only time I do work. A mostly blissful way to live with occasional explosions of stress. Welcome to the ride, Lance-Dog.
The staff at the regional animal shelter was ecstatic to see him again and overjoyed to hear I was adopting him. So overjoyed, they gave him to me for free! They got a good chuckle out of seeing my name on the paperwork I signed. “Will you be changing his name?” asked a kind receptionist.
“Um. No. He’s Lance too.” I replied impetuously. Strange, yet in character, I hadn’t given it much thought.
“Lance Jr.?” They snickered playfully.
“No, Lance also.” Despite the name and our similarities, I never viewed him as an extension of me. Not to anthropomorphize, but he was his own “person”, his character is unique to his being. Plus, a new name never really sticks after you know them by their original name. “Actually, Burt kinda fits him. But, no. No, he’s Lance.” Burt became his naughty alter-ego when he’s chewed up shoes or half of a freaking textbook. What the hell Burt? So, now you know his name is derived from divine coincidence rather than a narcissistic urge to name him after me so I could have a dumb, well-rehearsed joke every time someone asked for his name.
Lance and Ali’s first night together. He was in love for sure!
The first night I had him rivaled the night before boot camp as the most nerve-wracking night of my life. If he bit Ali, he had to go straight back to the shelter. But Ali displayed the perfect traits of canine socialization; another point for determinism in the fate vs. free will battle. She recognized he was nervous and gave him the appropriate amount of space but playfully bounced around at a distance to encourage him to “lighten up”. She was the perfect “helper dog” and literally taught him it was OK to be near another dog, and that it could be fun! Though he was suspicious, he eventually attempted to socialize. He assertively cornered her, sniffed her up and down, and gave her direct eye contact in a challenging manner. I stood back letting it all play out, gripping dog-fight interruption tools in both hands while my heart pounding uncontrollably, but Ali defused all his confrontational behavior. As if she had passed some type of trust-test, Lance became totally relaxed, accepting, and flirtatious with Ali to a point of annoying her. Relieved, I watched as he humorously attempted to play. He was so amusingly weird! Like an awkward extraterrestrial set up on a blind date trying hide the fact that he’s having an allergic reaction… and that he’s an alien. I don’t know his background with other dogs, but that night seemed like the first time he discovered the joy of making a friend of the same species.
After I adopted him, we had one more week at Starmark where he, Ali, and I went on many adventures in Austin, swims in nearby rivers, had movie nights with other students, and evenings cuddling in bed. After graduation, we road-tripped from Austin to Longmont, CO where he met my curious, nervous, and hopeful parents. My brother, sister-in-law, and my grandparents were home too and we all enjoy some much needed family time while the watching the dogs romp around the back yard. I can’t personally speak for what my family was feeling, but I’d bet money (that I don’t have) that they all warmed up to him swiftly. He and Ali tumbled about and I showed off some tricks they learned. My grandpa grinned when Lance removed my sock from my foot on command, something my mom noted rarely happened since his health started diminishing. That night, my parents and I started watching a movie and my mom, who usually preferred long-haired breeds, was enamored by his soft persona. I asked if she wanted cuddle with him and the little pocket sized pittie/baby seal/pygmy hippo sat in her lap contented throughout the movie. My parents have been the best dog grandparents ever since.
Many (if not all) dog owners can attest that owning a dog is not always convenient. Working out logistics when you travel or have long days away from home, early morning walks, vacuuming, allergies, potty accidents, finding housing/moving, and vet bills are not “convenient”. Additionally, I’ve spent countless socialization training hours trying to manage his embedded behavioral problems which people frustratingly attribute to the pit bull stereotypes. Lance has fear-based aggression in that he’s learned to “space-bite” in attempt to get dogs or humans out of his personal bubble when he feels nervous and uncomfortable with their proximity and demeanor. Many dogs never learn that they can use their teeth to tell others to back off, but some unfortunately do. That learned behavior combined with a hereditary, but not breed specific, neurological response of “weariness to the unknown” can create issues for dogs and their owners. He would never seek out a problem and forwardly attack a dog or person, instead he chooses freeze over flight and snaps at over-exuberant dogs or humans who encroach his space too quickly. As a dog trainer, his behavior has been a challenge for me to work through, but I believe we’ve found a balance through rehabilitation training and safety management that ensures he doesn’t get into situation that he may cause harm. Yet, there is still the possibility of the wrong circumstances assembling which lead him into making a bad decision, which causes stress for me and my parents when they graciously agree to watch him while I’m away. So we must take extra precautions, like carrying a squirt bottle on walks in case off-leash dogs dismiss their owner’s calls and I have to shoo them away by spraying their dog in the face to get before my dog bites them in the face. *Just because your dog is social doesn’t mean all are, don’t let them off-leash unless you have control of them around other dogs, for their safety*. We’ve faced Breed Specific Legislation in Denver and Prince George County, Maryland, along with incalculable reactions to seeing or hearing that I own a pit bull. He does well with almost all dogs now after gradually introducing him to dogs of larger sizes and temperaments and people rarely see his weary side since we’ve spent the time consistently pairing new people with toys, treats, and walks . I’m confident that I’ve given him the proper training and management to keep him and others safe but if any incident were to happen, it would be entirely derived out of circumstance or my improper management and would be of no relation to his breed. As a society, we need to better understand that dogs should not be treated as cute stuffed animals, and just like how not every person likes going to crowded bars, not every dog enjoys hugs and kisses from strange new people or dogs. We also must be aware of their commitment to us. Total awareness of their devotion will bring about gratitude that eradicates any thoughts of their inconvenience.
Every morning when my first alarm goes off and I hunt for the snooze button like a zombie looking for brains, Lance shuffles from the foot of my bed and snuggles his cold nose up against my cheek. We dose off together between snoozes until I’m already behind schedule and he’s awake enough to start asking for breakfast. We’re similar in an uncanny amount of ways, including how we like to cuddle but not when we’re trying to sleep, we both like lazy days just as much as adventures, we’re short and stocky, we occasionally drink to the point of vomiting, we’re allergic to nickel, and we have both a thing for blondes. I’m forever grateful for all the coincidences that brought this little AmStaffy into my life, and though he is not perfect, neither am I, and he’s the perfect dog for me. Even with our issues and obstacles, he has helped me understand what responsibility, purpose, and fate are. He’s helped me through moves, financial hardships, sickness, and breakups. He’s my best friend and as silly as it sounds, I feel like our souls are harmoniously meshed. I believe in certain aspects of spirituality – that there’s a universal consciousness that some call God, and it guides our souls which can transcend time and body to interact with one another on a higher, unfathomable plane and... sorry, got carried away. BUT! I know Lance and I have entwined souls so we can face this life together. I feel it when we snuggle up, when he gazes at me with his telling eyes trying to figure out what I’m thinking, and whenever he gifts me with laughter by doing some weird shit that snaps me out of society’s induced trance. I don’t care where he came from, what breed he is, what others think of him, or how bad his farts smell. He is my dog. My Lancey-boy.
