how to approach and pet a dog: ten steps kids need to know

Even if you don't own a pet (though, likely, you're not reading this blog, if you don't), it is important to teach your children about how to respect animals. One of the most important lessons is how to approach a dog they are unfamiliar with. This teaching can and should begin as soon as your child is mobile, and can be talked about even before then. Ultimately, it is a dog owner's responsibility to control a dog in public, but children must be taught how to behave for their own safety and out of respect for the animal. Here are ten important steps to teach your kids about approaching dogs they don't know:

1. Walk, don't run. Running up to a dog can cause it to become fearful or aggressive. A timid dog will cower and feel uncomfortable, guaranteeing the child won't get a chance to pet her. Even worse, a dog with fear aggression may bite.

2. Don't try to approach a dog that is over-excited, even if it is friendly excitement. The dog may knock you over, and is likely already over-stimulated. No need to add to the chaos by exciting the dog further. Because you're a kid...you're exciting!

3. Allow personal space. Do not get close enough to a dog to touch it before you declare your intentions. 

4. Ask. While maintaining a safe distance, ask the dog owner if you may pet the dog. Instead of asking "is your dog friendly?" ask "may I please pet your dog?" This lets the owner know exactly what you're after, and allows him to say "no" without branding his dog as unfriendly. 

5. Approach slowly, and make sure the dog is facing you. You want the dog to understand that you will do him no harm. Remember, he doesn't know you, either. Never approach a dog from behind, as you may startle them into a fearful reaction. Most dogs will be aware of your presence, but some may be distracted by other things or may be hard of hearing. Be sure the dog sees you. 

6. Put your hand out away from your body, palm up. Dogs see palms as an offer of friendship (and sometimes treats). Palm down can be interpreted as aggressive to some dogs, especially if the hand is above the dog's head.

7. Come in under the dog's chin, and allow her to sniff you. Patting a dog on the head is often our first instinct, but it is a sign of dominance that the dog may not appreciate until he gets to know you better. It's always best to approach from below where the dog can see you. 

8. Give a little chin scratch. Once the dog has sniffed you and seems comfortable, give him a little scratch under the chin. This says "I'm friendly, and I respect you."

9. Pet away. If the dog is comfortable with you petting his chin, move to the ears and back and top of the head and rump and belly...you get the idea. Enjoy a friendly dog, but use self control. Never wrestle or grab a dog around the neck for a hug. If the dog seems a bit uncomfortable, don't proceed to this step. Some owners don't know how to say "no," so learn to pick up on a dog's signals.

10. Never put your face in a dog's face. Though some dogs, especially puppies, are hard to resist, you never want to risk being bitten in the face. Doggie kisses can be loads of fun, but, even if they are offered, consider where the dog's mouth may have been. Did he just enjoy a poo snack? Kissing your own dog is one thing, but kissing a dog you don't know is a different story (I have a hard time following this rule, myself). 

In addition, we always have to respect a dog owner if she doesn't offer permission to pet. It's rare, but it does happen, and it doesn't always mean the dog is unfriendly or the owner is mean. As a professional pet sitter, it is my policy to not allow anyone to pet my clients' dogs. Even if I know the animal well and am certain it would do well in the situation, I stick to my policy. Children and dogs are both unpredictable, and I'm not willing to take the risk with a dog that isn't mine. While I'm walking the dog, it is my responsibility. I simply say "I'm sorry, this dog isn't mine, and I'm not sure how he'll react, so I can't let you pet him today." 

When I'm walking my own dog, it's a different story. I say "sure you can pet her! She'll probably jump on you and kiss you, but if you're okay with that, go for it." 

Dogs and kids are a classic combo of fun and happiness. Every situation is different, but by following these steps, you can set your child up for successful friendships and experiences. 

top 10 reasons dogs don't bark at santa, according to my kids

While not a prolonged yapper, our dog, N.A.S.H.A., is pretty trigger-happy in the form of short, explosive, unexpected outbursts at nearly anything. So every Christmas Eve, my littles (six and four) debate how in the world N.A.S.H.A. doesn't alert them to Santa's arrival. Sure, she'd quit barking pretty quick once he'd made his entrance; she even barks at us as we approach our own front door. But how Santa gets past N.A.S.H.A.'s initial security checkpoint is under scrutiny. 

Here are the top ten reasons dogs don't bark at Santa, according to my kids:

1. Santa is so super quiet that dogs can't hear him.

2. Santa has magic dust in his pouch that makes dogs fall asleep. Even cats and fish. 

Top 10 Reasons Dogs Don't Bark at Santa, According to My Kids

3. Santa can turn invisible.

4. Santa goes so fast that he's only in the house for, like, one second, so dogs don't even know he's there.

5. Santa gives dogs their favorite treats–like maybe steak–right when he gets down the chimney so they don't blow his cover. 

6. They don't want to wake up the children.

7. You know, like Silent Night, it has to be silent.

8. Santa is magic. 

9. Dogs just love Santa a lot. 

10. Dogs aren't dumb. Santa brings presents. But they bark at the pizza guy, so maybe that's not a good theory.

Wishing you all a Merry Christmas Eve, and hoping your dogs don't scare Santa away!

Veteran's Day in the eyes of the children of a pet sitter

This past Monday was Veteran's Day, and though our family didn't officially give thanks in a formal way, we went on a long hike, and we talked about the meaning of the day with our littles, Porter, our six-year-old son, and Campbell, our four-year-old daughter. We wanted them to understand that it was more than just a day off school.

We didn't go into great detail. A fact that was brought to my attention by the conversation they had in the car on the way to school Thursday:

Campbell: I can't wait for show and tell at school today! I'm so excited!

Porter: Why? What are you sharing?

Campbell: I'm sharing my veterinarian game!

Porter: Oh, that's cool. Is it "V" day at school?

Campbell: (sighing) No, Po! It's for Veterinarian's Day, o'course!

Porter: Cam, you're too late for that. It was last Monday.

Campbell: Well, I didn't have school on Monday, and Thursday is show and tell day, so I'm sharing it today. 

Porter: Well, you're really late, because Veterinarian's Day was on Monday.

It then sunk in. They had no idea about Veteran's Day, and probably were under the impression that all the veterinarians in the U.S.A. were out fighting for our freedom. And that all of the veterinarians in the past had fought for our independence and rights. They know all about the sacrifices veterinarians make for their families, and how some even die for our country. 

They probably wondered who was taking care of all the sick animals.

It took me about three different explanations to untether a veteran and a veterinarian in their minds, and I'm honestly not sure I was successful. They probably just told me "we get it" so that I'd shut up about the whole confusing mess. This is what happens when your mom is a pet sitter. 

So on behalf of our family, however belated, I'd like to send out a big THANK YOU to all of our veterans...and veterinarians. 

perhaps the best client i've ever had

I was dreading the moment when Mona Chica's parents would come to collect their other fantabulous pooches. Two others, to be exact. If you read my post, she died in my arms last night, you know we've had a really rough week. Since Mona Chica passed, we've been dealing with the emotions of it all. It's rough. Not just for me, but for my whole family. And since then, we've been caring for Mona Chica's older brother and sister. Until today.

As a professional pet sitter...I'm thinking that's now an oxymoron. Because there is nothing professional about crying on the phone when you tell your client that their pet has passed. The professional part was that I downgraded from all-out bawling, which I reserved for my family. But, then, a week later (they were on a cruise, don't judge)–today–when they came to collect their other animals, once they started to cry, so did I. And we hugged, which is also not considered professional in the professional sense. Mona Chica's mom remembered that Campbell (my 4-year-old daughter) was over the moon to take care of a Chihuahua, her dream doggie. So she brought this for Cam:

Unbelievable, right?

Let me break it down for you if you haven't heard: I was taking care of these dogs for the first time. Though the clients knew their Chihuahua was sick, they didn't know how sick. Mona Chica's death, though not unexpected, was shocking. Then, when returning from their stay away, immediately after dealing with her beloved's remains, upon collecting their other dogs, they presented my daughter with a toy Chihuahua (Mona Chica look-alike), simply because they knew Campbell had been excited to help me care for Mona Chica.

I think these brand-new clients touched something in me, and in Campbell, that we didn't realize before, and probably won't fully realize for some time. I didn't think as much about my own daughter's feelings of failure as I did about my own, the professional pet sitter, or as I did about my clients, who had suffered the ultimate loss. Sure, our family went through the emotions of loss and talked it out, but I never even conceived that my girl might feel a bit of failure that the dog who she most likely felt ultimately responsible for died in our care.

We now have a new Mona Chica in our lives. And though she can't truly compete with the original Mona Chica, she's something special, and she lets my daughter–and me–know that we're something special. And that we did the best we could. And that loss sometimes just happens anyway.

the wild horses of the Arizona desert

There is a stretch of road–the infamous highway 347–that stretches between Phoenix and the city of Maricopa through the Gila River Indian Reservation. As a day-in day-out commute, the desert's beauty can sometimes lose it's luster, but there is one main attraction. If you're lucky enough, you can catch a glimpse of the wild horses.

We've all seen horses, so it may not seem spectacular, but it is rare to see so many at once in the wild. They come out predictably just after the rains that stimulate the brush to be as lush as it can be in this parched climate.

Since it rained a lot last week and we had to drive that stretch of highway a couple of times this weekend to visit some animals, I thought we had a pretty good shot at catching a glimpse of them. Searching for them keeps the littles occupied during what would otherwise be a long, dull trek. There are only so many cacti a kid can take.

Typically, the horses appear as tiny figurines in the distance, their movement and grazing barely perceptible. Sometimes you'll be lucky enough to catch them running. The tell-tale dust cloud is easy to spot, but when it's so hot, they are usually still, conserving their energy.

What a fantastic surprise it was to see them grazing just yards from the road yesterday!

Since I'm always telling the littles that it's far too dangerous to stop on the 347 if they've dropped their shoe or graham cracker, they were amazed when I pulled over. They could see just fine from the safety of the air-conditioned minivan, but I braved the spectacular danger of standing inches from cars blazing past, commonly at 90 mph. There were several of us parked by the road in awe, and I've seen some fantastic pictures–far better than mine–posted on my friends' social media feeds. What a treat!

We could see their sinew and ribs, but they seemed strong and powerful. And so calm, considering they had human spectators and screaming-fast cars just yards away. The sight of them was truly spectacular.