By Florida Bill The Cairn terrier's world is an exclusive place to be. Friends are welcomed, but interlopers must beware. These fur heads are members of a special breed which came to prominence centuries ago on the Isle of Skye in Scotland and distinguished themselves for their abilities to hunt and rid farms of unwanted critters.
Cairns do not hand out friendships; they are something which must be earned. And that applies to their four legged brothers as well as other intruders into their territory.
The cairns are considered small in the canine world, but don't let that fool you. In their minds, they are giants, and any stranger on the other side of the door might agree. That bark can drive away much bigger dogs and any stranger who dares to knock. But for affection and loyalty and unconditional love--tip your hat to the peerless Cairn.
So it was no small thing when my wife, Chris, and I sought to introduce our Cairns, Sammi, 11, and Sam's trusted housemate, Wendy, 9, to the 85 pound, brown-haired Lab mix named Gertrude. Sammi and Wendy, both females, each weigh in at about 15 pounds.
Sammi is a wheaten-colored warrior who loves her family, has a big vocabulary, and comes when she is called (most of the time), but stops short when it comes to welcoming or tolerating other dogs. Men, women and children--they are okay, but canines rub her the wrong way and she will let them know it. Wendy is a coal black Cairn who recognizes Sam as the boss in our house, but who is even more bullish when it comes to other canines, and is not all that enthused about unfamiliar humans until a little time passes.
Our daughter, Mary, and her husband, Bob, are the owners of Gertrude, a hefty female Lab and Irish setter mix whom they rescued a few years ago. However, Gertrude had never met Sam and Wendy. Your scrivener and his wife, and Sam and Wendy, had until last year been living in Florida. Upon our return to Illinois, we looked upon the introduction of a big dog to our little tough girls as just one more hassle involved in the move, and put it off.
Gertrude, known affectionately as Gertie, is brown haired and a bit of a Gentle Ben. Gertie seems to like almost everyone, dogs included, and and as Mary says, "doesn't have a mean bone in her." Her business is eating and love and sleeping on a favorite leather chair. Walks with Bob are frequent, generally in the forest preserves sans leash. The plan was to introduce our Cairns to the gentle Gertrude so that in the future she could accompany her parents on visits to our home in Kane county west of Chicago. Mary and Bob reside in a home in northwest Chicago.
The problem was our feisty pair have never experienced another dog in their house. Just seeing another dog during a walk brings out the beast in them and they immediately begin growling, barking and lunging in an effort to escape their leashes and attack. At times, they have gotten so worked up they have turned on each other. The size of their target doesn't seem to matter, although they seem to save their most vicious outbursts for big dogs. Once, back in Florida, we were even asked to leave a dog park--we insisted another dog was to blame for starting the fracas, but we quickly departed anyway.
Laying the groundwork for the meet, we consulted books by Caesar Milan, the dog whisperer, and chatted with Dr. Bob Andrysco, a Chicago area dog and cat behavior specialist we met at our veterinarian's open house. Their advice dovetailed nicely with what we had read online.
First, this grand event needed to take place in a neutral area that would not trigger anybody's sense of dominance. We chose a nearby path that wound around a small lake. The idea was to walk them together in a pack. Each of the dogs were tethered to a leash and the initial encounter came as we walked one way and encountered Mary and Bob and the leashed Gertie walking into us.
There was an immediate explosion by Sammi and Wendy, growling and barking and straining at the leashes in an effort to break away and attack the calm and peace loving Gertrude, whose big frame dwarfed our little Cairns, and who seemed oblivious to their carrying on.
So, as prescribed by Caesar and Dr. Bob, we all began walking in a single file. First was Sam, followed by Gertie; with Wendy bringing up the rear. We walked and talked for some time, as everybody--meaning all the cairns--calmed down. We alternated positions in the single file and we kept walking and after about a half hour, some sniffing of rear ends began, with Sammi choosing to collect the most data: Gertie was uninterested, and Wendy still a little agitated.
Amazingly, as time went on, and perhaps as they began to tire a little, Sammi and Wendy began to relax and their body language suggested that they might actually be considering allowing this big girl to become a member of their pack. As tension continued to abate, we got back into our separate cars with the dogs and and drove to the small fenced-in backyard of our home.
Sammi and Wendy were not happy about walking out the back door to find Gertie on the other side of the fence, and more barking ensued. After all, they are terriers. Finally, we let all three dogs inside the enclosure, with leashes dragging behind them, available for quick action if hostilities flared.
Sammi surprised us with her laisez-faire attitude, but Wendy remained true to her high strung nature, and periodically lunged toward the lounging Gertie. Bob managed to distract her with calming words, pats, treats, and a few little tugs to keep her off Gertie's back.
Once we approached near calmness, we headed inside. This was the major testing ground. The cairns didn't have that much invested in the back yard, which had only been fenced for about 8 months, and was primarily just a place to do their business. Because of a field nearby that was home to coyotes, they never got any extended time alone in the yard.
Once we got inside our walk-out basement, we were surprised that the barking did not resume. We let the dogs settled next to their families, spread out on the couches, while we chatted as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
Wendy maintained a constant stare in Gertie's direction, but time passed and no new doggie comments were made. Bob, Mary, Chris and I provided high praise and treats for the combatants and for the peaceful Gertrude. Gertie was then allowed to go upstairs and wander around the house a little, with no objections, except for a few wary glances.
Certainly the first step has been made and it was a success. We look forward to many visits from Gertrude and her parents, and will probably continue to start them with a short group walk on our street.
A great movie once ended with the line: "I think that this is the beginning of beautiful friendship." We hope so too. Or at the least, a canine truce.
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