March 9, 2006 Issue                                               

©2006 The Chestnut Hill Local

‘Re-nesting’ for man’s (and woman’s) best friend
by KAREN REED HADALSKI

Karen Hadalski and her two-year-old Collie/Australian Shepherd mix, Odin, who had to adapt to life outside of Mt. Airy and Chestnut Hill. (Photo by John Hadalski)

How do you make life work for a two-year-old Collie-Australian Shepherd mix when, because of choices you’ve made, everything in his life either changes or disappears? It wasn’t easy, and it took a year, but I think we’ve finally done it.

When deciding, after an early retirement, to move from a big house with a yard in a quiet Mt. Airy neighborhood to a busy apartment complex in Virginia Beach, Odin gave up a lot: the other human and feline members of his “pack,” ample inside and outside space to spread out in and guard as his own, a coterie of canine and human friends, his favorite park (Pastorius Park) and swimming hole (near Valley Green Inn), familiar walking routes, a climate more suitable to his coat and body chemistry, and the groomer and veterinarian he had come to know and trust.

Though I put considerable thought into finding living space that I felt would work for us both — a dog-friendly apartment located on a bike trail, within walking distance to the Chesapeake Bay— the challenges and obstacles my pup had to overcome were still substantial. And, from my perspective, some were totally unanticipated and surprising.

While I expected a reaction to the smaller space and upstairs neighbors, his fear of climbing the open-backed staircase and staunch refusal to enter an elevator — the only two means of access to our second floor unit — were totally unexpected.

He was also anxious about going onto the balcony because he could see through the small openings between the planks; couldn’t decide how much of our building and grounds was his to guard, so he barked at everybody; got very upset when people parked their cars in spaces adjacent to mine; and really, really didn’t like the idea of other dogs relieving themselves in the grounds surrounding our building.

The stairway/elevator issue was, obviously, the most pressing problem and had to be handled immediately. When it became clear that the stairs were a nonnegotiable item to Odin, we moved to the elevator. We tried treats and coaxing; walked to a nearby market to purchase a prepared chicken — his “high value” reward; took turns getting on and off, disappearing and reappearing to reassure him that this strange contraption wouldn’t eat or harm us; stood watching as other tenants came and went with their dogs — all to no avail.

Finally, after two hours, and just when we’d decided we had no choice but to force him on and deal with the repercussions later, a woman and her perky little Shih Tzu brushed by. Before I knew what was happening, Odin had pulled me onto the elevator and was checking her out from head to tail. Then, we were home! Why interest in this dog, rather than the previous three, proved to be stronger than his elevator aversion I’ll never know. In any case, he has never since refused to enter the elevator.

It took six more months to make friends with the stairs, however, and here too, it was a canine mentor who helped Odin conquer this fear. When our new next-door neighbor moved in, Odin’s desire to meet and greet Jake proved to be stronger than his trepidation. One day when they both arrived home at the same time, Odin watched the brawny Golden bound up the stairs, taking two steps at a time; and, without a thought, followed in his footsteps.

He still doesn’t trust those openings, but now seems to force himself to concentrate on the scents of those who went before rather than these. His desire to be with me when I sit on the balcony eventually overruled his nervousness about seeing through the slats to the balcony below; and, a gradual orientation to the entire complex and introduction to his neighbors helped him, over time, to separate out his building from the others and get a sense of who “belongs” here and who doesn’t. There is still some barking, to be sure, but at least it is now directed to visitors and new tenants, instead of to everyone.

The adjacent park trail, which I imagined would be a nice, convenient place to go for a walk, proved to be a nightmare. Our walks in Mt. Airy and Chestnut Hill were on quiet, tree-lined streets where, at most, we ran into one or two other pedestrians in a 30-minute time span. Here, as soon as we set foot on the trail, we are dodging bikers, joggers, skateboards, electric scooters and sharing the walkway with dozens of other dogs.

By the time we fight our way through one of these walks, we are both exhausted and stressed out. I quickly realized that I needed to find quiet, less populated areas in which to take the restful, stress-relieving strolls that we had both enjoyed in our former neighborhood. We now drive to our walks; but it’s well worth the effort. Odin loves the two local parks and quiet little neighborhood we now frequent, and we’ve both made some new friends along the way.

Finding a safe place to let Odin run off leash posed yet another challenge. The ball fields and tennis courts in the Northwest Philadelphia parks we visited were open to dogs, as long as they weren’t being used by people. Virginia Beach policies are different; so it was off to the drawing board again.

When I inquired of the Parks Department if there were any ball fields available to dogs, they directed me to the closest of several “dog parks” in the area. Here, for a small fee, you register your pet, who can then come as often as you wish to bring him to play with other dogs in a spacious, fenced-off section of a larger park. There are trees for shade, toys, water and even a wading pool in the summer months. As an added safety measure, there is a double-gated entry where the pups can sniff each other out through the fence before entering into the already-established play group.

Because Odin loves to swim in ponds and lakes, I couldn’t wait to take him to the wide Chesapeake Bay beach. However, the closer we got to the beach area, the slower and less enthusiastic he became until he finally plopped down and would go no farther.

Nose pointed straight up, ears twitching, eyes bolting from one unfamiliar sight to the next, it took several “trips to the edge” before my city guy became comfortable enough with the strange sounds, sights and smells to venture onto the sand and, at long last, plunge into the noisy, moving waters. Now, “beach” is one of his favorite words, and there is nothing he enjoys more than frolicking in the warm Bay waters, chasing gulls, scurrying after sand crabs and burying shells.

Many people had encouraged me to give Odin up rather than put us both through the inevitable adjustments and stress that were sure to accompany such a drastic lifestyle change. I am very glad that I ignored them all. Odin now has a predictable schedule, new canine and human friends, an enriched environment and ample opportunity to both relax and let off steam. We are more bonded than ever, and, because of my efforts to successfully re-nest, I have become familiar with many areas of Virginia Beach that I would not have found otherwise; met many great people whom I would not have met otherwise; and have begun this new chapter of my life with a happy, loving companion rather than the guilt and emptiness which, I’m sure, would have been my roommates had I listened to the many “voices of experience” that urged me to leave my Odin behind.