Some Thoughts on Finding a Place in the World

If you've read my other posts, it will come as no shock to you that I breed dogs and compete with them in conformation shows and various sports trials. I breed very rarely and when I do, a lot of thought goes into the litter that will be produced. I have been "in" Toy Fox Terriers for a while now, but have just recently added Teddy Roosevelt Terriers to my home. It was a decision made over a few years, until I finally found the right dogs for my home and my living situation. Pip, the sire, is a high-quality male from a breeder who produces many UKC champions. Diva, the dam, is a high-quality female from a breeder who has been in the breed for decades and has shown several dogs to the AKC Certificate of Merit title available to breeds newly-accepted to the registry. They and all their puppies are dual registered, so that owners can participate in either or both registries.

It took another couple of years before I bred my first litter--and they were beautiful! Still, I had no plans to keep any puppy from this particular litter. I had not produced what I wanted for myself and all of the puppies were scheduled to go to absolutely wonderful homes: show, pet, and emotional support dog in training for service dog. I had only the best of hopes for them, raising them using the Puppy Culture techniques and introducing them to all the things a country dog would like.

Over the wonderful weeks that I had them, they had a happy and safe puppyhood. I received applications and questionnaires and spent many hours online and on the phone with prospective buyers. I was extremely excited over the person who wanted a show puppy. I had three beautiful females from which she could choose. Buying a puppy for show is always a risk, as you never know how they will turn out, but the decision was down to the little black tricolor girl, Maz, and the little blue tricolor girl, Yaddle. I brought the entire litter with me when I went to meet her in person, as well as Diva, so she could meet them all. And this, as they say, is where the story really begins.

All of the puppies made the trip with absolutely no qualms. Being Puppy Culture puppies, I expected no less. They were used to learning new things and comfortable dealing with minor stress levels. I showed Yaddle to her first and she really, really liked her--until I put Yaddle down. Yaddle's eyes flew open, as if she had never been on a leash or in a parking lot before, and she tried to run away. Unfortunately for Yaddle, she ran smack into the sidewall of my van's tire. I handed Maz to the nice lady and retrieved my stunned puppy. Fortunately, she and Maz bonded almost instantly. We both went merrily on our separate ways, believing the incident to be a minor one and expecting Yaddle to recover in a few hours. As that few hours stretched into a few days, I knew I had a problem on my hands. My sweet, serious puppy had become a sweet, seriously troubled puppy.

As days turned into weeks, it became apparent that Yaddle was unable to function even the slightest bit off the homestead. Even taking her to the feed store to walk around and meet and greet (with tasty fried chicken liver treats from Piggly Wiggly!) caused her to tremble and whine. She wrapped herself around my legs as if trying to tie me into place. She was too "soft" in temperament to withstand any pressure on her collar if I guided her with a leash and, as an adult, she would be too heavy to carry.

Weeks turned into months. I had no hope of her ever doing anything: no sports, no dog shows, no breeding. Nothing. I let her play on the homestead. She buzzed the buck goats along their fence, tried to entice Mimi, my herd queen, to play. Life was good for her, as long as I let her live it on her own terms. I could accept that she might never be able to be the sport dog/travel companion that I wanted, but I still wanted her to get her mind right, so that if she needed to go someplace, she would be able to handle it.

Left to her own devices, she played happily with a low agility jump and a pause box. However, I tried a couple of times to take pictures of her conformation to show her off to a breeder friend and my attempts were less than successful. She turned into a short-tailed beagle on the table, which is a pretty good trick for a prick-eared dog!

I am a Type II diabetic. I had been hypoglycemic all of my life and, lucky me, I developed diabetes about five years ago. Sometime in March 2021, I noticed Yaddle hovering over me, standing on the arm of the couch and pawing at my arm. She's a needy dog, but I didn't pay much attention. We have rules. She can beg for attention or for treats while I am at my desk, but she has to do it from the floor. She continued, undeterred.

After a short while, I rose from my desk to get another cup of coffee. I was suddenly light-headed. I decided against another cup of coffee and got water to drink instead. The feeling persisted, so I tested my blood sugar. I thought it might be too high, but instead, it was 76. When my diabetes is under control, my fasting blood sugar is around 96 to 100. A reading of 76 an hour after lunch was not good. I had a snack and returned to work. Yaddle continued to paw at my arm. I tested again. This time, it was 72. For the rest of the day I struggled to get my blood sugar normalized. Yaddle was never far away.

Now, I admit it: I'm clueless. I had another dog once, years ago, who we called "Dr. Beau." Anytime someone felt unwell, he was right there comforting them. I thought that, maybe, Yaddle might turn into a good therapy dog if I could get her off the homestead. In June 2021, Yaddle had a breakthrough. She decided that she would walk on a leash on our country road! Before I knew it, she was walking everywhere! I was even able to take her to an obedience match and let her play in the ring! Yay, Yaddle!

Today, August 2021, I was at my desk again. This time, I was organizing my dogs' documents in their respective binders. Yaddle was pawing and licking at my arm. Annoyed, I got up to go outside. The goat pen needed raking and cleaning so that I could let Widget out to play and to take updated pictures. After just a few minutes, I felt light-headed.

"It's too hot to be out here working," I thought, although it wasn't that hot at all. "I'll have to take it a few minutes at a time and make certain Widget isn't out too long."

I returned to sorting dog documents. Yaddle just. Would. Not. Quit.

She's still too soft to reprimand, so I just pushed her back a few times. Then something clicked. I remembered March. I got my test kit out and tested my blood sugar. It was 64. No wonder I was hot, sweaty, easily annoyed, and light-headed. With the exception of vision problems, I had the symptoms of moderate hypoglycemia.

Little Yaddle, the puppy who could do nothing, suddenly has found her purpose. As soon as we are able, she is going to be my diabetic detection dog. She's shown me twice that she can do it, all on her own. We just need to work on our communication skills and turn raw ability into a skill. I'm a firm believer that everything happens with a purpose. When little Yaddle ran away from the nice lady who was thinking of buying her, I think she somehow sensed she needed to stay with me. All this time, I thought she needed me. Now I see it was me who needed her.