  Photo Comments Sex: Male Weight: 51-100 lbs
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Leave a bone for Kota - May 1/01 - July 17/10
Nicknames:
Dakota, Kota, Coadie, Coadie-coates, Punkinhead, Knucklehead, Buddy, My Baby
Quick Bio:
Birthday:
May 1st 2001
Likes:
Without a doubt...me
Pet-Peeves:
People who indiscrimately euthanize dogs, gunshots
Favorite Toy:
His yellow inch worm...aka "Wormie"
Favorite Food:
Ice cream, cheese, spaghetti sauce and pasta
Favorite Walk:
Around the neighborhood
Best Tricks:
Doing the infamous "bum-tuck"
Arrival Story:
I lost my Kota today - and am in shock. I was absolutely blind sided. He started to drool so I took him to the vet to find out today he had a fast growing and vicious cancer in his throat. Two months and two days from the time he lost his favorite companion Carrie Ann. My heart is broken. My only thoughts are I hope the two of them are healthy and running wild together somewhere while I will mourn them both forever. Kota was the best behaved dog I have ever known and this after having been abused badly before I adopted him. Kota you never gave me one day of regret that I took you into my heart. I would never see you in pain.
May 1, 2010 - Happy Birthday Big Boy -- another year with my very faithful Coadiecoates and never let me down for a minute. He expects to be treated well and not harmed now and invites meeting new people...this is such a pleasure to see from a dog who thought people were meant to harm him. I am so proud of you boy. Before the year is out I expect it will just be me and you pup and that Carrie Ann is going to have to cross over the rainbow bridge and leave us. Not sure where this next year will take us boy but it will be US no matter what. Love Mom. May 1, 2009 - Happy Birthday Coadiecoates -- you are the joy of my life -- what a wonderful day it was when we met -- a higher power brought us together. Love you. Mom.
May 1, 2008 - Happy Birthday big boy...love you so big time!! You are such a very good boy and make me proud every day.
While volunteering fulltime for an animal rescue group...saving the lives of cats, someone received a phone call from a man who was drunk. He slurred into the telephone, "if you don't come and take this dog I am going to shoot him!" Hysterical, the woman who had answered this call, telephoned up the "dog lady"...that was what they referred to me as at the time, and asked if I would be willing to go and check this dog out. Manned with a only a kennel in the back of my van and a couple of hotdogs in my pocket, I gamely agreed. Driving up back roads, the pavement turned to gravel and the gravel turned to dirt...the homes got less and less nice and finally, homes became trailers and the even the trailers soon disappeared. I wondered if I should keep on going as I started to hear the banjos beginning to play in the background. I kept on going. At the end of the road I found a house on one side and a large barn on the other. Two dogs came rushing up and barked as they ran alongside the vehicle. I got out and opening the tailgate, proceeded to offer some torn bags of cat and dog food to the lucky recipient. I threw the bag of food over my shoulder and started towards the house. When the old woman pointed in the direction of the barn ,I protested, saying, "But these bags have small tears in them and you would not want to put them in the barn as mice may get after the food" to which she replied, "But I live in the barn!" Open mouth...put in other foot...I head for the barn with the food. The old cattle barn had been turned in to a dual home...the bottom, an apartment for the old woman and at the top of the stairs, another for her abusive son who owns Dakota. While humbled, I ask, "Where do the dogs sleep?" The answer... on top of the pile of garbage at the bottom of the stairs. Strewn everywhere, inside and outside the doorway of the barn, were empty Kentucky Fried Chicken buckets, old tampons and huge bones. God only knows what poor critter these were the remains of. Kota used to try to bond with these people and would follow them when they were outside. The man admitted to me that when the dog would try to follow him into the field when he wanted to go hunting, that he would turn around and 'shoot' at the dog. I agreed to take the dog to another rescue organization that accepted dogs into their program, but first this special guy had to be examined by our veterinarian. He had the oddest thing going on with both ears...symetrical it was, and not even the vet could figure out what remote disease this could be, when it came to me...it was asphalt! Part of the road leading from the home had recently being asphalted. Dakota had wandered freely and obviously had chased many vehicles previously on this deserted road. Getting the hot asphalt on his paws, he had then rubbed his ears with his paws, trying desperately to remove the offending substance, only to leave two partly-asphalted ears on either side of his head. He was none too friendly either, but gladly accepted the hotdogs I had so cleverly squirreled away in my pocket. Later, we proceeded to take him to the rescue organization only to have them reject him for not being "immediately adoptable" into a family...the family of choice for most organizations is often one with children and supposedly Dakota, was not going to be so easily climatized into that situation. Further inquiries led me to find out that the abusive son had in fact slapped the dog, allowed the extended family of children to do so as well, and in fact, he had kicked Dakota above the kidneys with his boots on. When I was able to put my hands on this fellow, evidence of the broken rib was clear to me and the entire sad story of his previous existence also became even more clear. Being rejected by the rescue organization, prompted a new sort of problem...what to do with Dakota as we could not return him to his former situation where he would clearly be "shot". I agreed to take responsibility for his care and we placed him in a kennel at our "cat" rescue. Every day I would drive there and be with "Kota" from 8 am until 8 pm. Temperament testing followed...see below. Since I had decided that Kota's life was worth saving and previously rejected the sentence of the temperament tester, and we were spending so much time together it seemed sensible to have it be well spent so Kota and I were off to obedience lessons together where he quickly became the instructor's favorite and my heart nearly burst with pride for his quick accomplishments. After months of turning Kota into a responsible citizen and keeping an eye out for a responsible new home it turned out that the long arm of the temperament tester had reached political proportions and they were in fact, reaching out to our rescue organization to abide by their suggestion and euthanize this dog. Kota was a new dog and he was my dog and I wasn't going to allow the political undercurrent to destroy this fine animal so I very quickly, adopted him for a dollar...one american 'buck' . I brought him into my home with my pack. Kota assimiliated easily and soon learned life was not so bad after all. He has a large toy box and each night he freely goes there and picks out a new toy of his choice. Full of unadulterated joy, he flings these around and begs his more senior siblings to join in the fun...which brings us to the infamous "bum tuck" manouever. A bum tuck is performed when a dog who holds no fear what so ever, his heart full of joy, tucks his butt underneath the rest of his body and roars around the room in circles, bounding from one room to the next, in and out of doorways, running at full tilt, charges up, on and over the couch and off again, only to do it one more time. The pleasure this one time ,very abused and equally frightened, dog exudes always makes us laugh out loud and grab at our sides while doing it. The trick' has been entitled "Bum Tuck" and is frequently asked for. Such a loving animal...every night my husband and I look at this dog and then at each other and say, "And to think they wanted so badly to euthanize THIS dog!" Damn, I just love this dog. UPDATE: We recently found out that Kota may, in fact, may be a rare breed of dog called a Chinook. While watching Working Dogs on K9 to 5 on the Animal Planet Channel, the Chinook dog breed was featured. Catching only a glimpse of purebred, Duncan, who looks exactly like Kota, led me on a new odyssey. I approached members of this rare dog breed group; after sending Kota's photos the response was a definate "maybe". DNA could prove the tale of this dog's tail, but we don't care...Kota's heritage shall be that he is loved for himself and that is all that really matters to any dog.
Bio:
WE FAILED THE DREADED TEMPERAMENT TEST, BIG TIME!!
You must first go to the reputable Animal Behavioral Clinic's website and download a very lenghty, multi-paged questionnaire. I filled it out from my perspective on the dog and also did a second from telephone interview with previous owner (sent in both, labeled Part A and Part B). Next, you call the Clinic and leave a message and they are told they will get back to you. The message said, Dr. so and so is no longer here and instead Dr. so and so will be taking over for her (neither got back to me); instead someone called a couple of weeks later to ask where my questionnaise was. I had wanted to avoid this famous temperament tester but was informed the one I prefered to see, was no longer there. The one I wanted to avoid had intercepted the former's mail and would be handling our upcoming interview. Damn. In fact, when I went to this famous temperament testing center with the dog in question, this woman did not even introduce herself to me when we met (I suppose she believed everyone OUGHT to know who she was). Thin, little old gal likely good looking sixties pushing, early already is, in her early 70's and definately, afraid of dogs. Our appointment was set for 1 pm (to run approx. 1-3 pm)(cheapest version: cost approximately $188 plus). I entered the building at 1 pm and signed in. I was told to fill out two pages of paperwork (mostly the same info already sent previously) and I sit in area similar to an airport waiting area, with too-closely placed, hard, plastic chairs (you know the type...where your arm rest is the fellow next to your chair's arm rest as well). Many people with ill animals are sitting and also filling out paperwork so they only "sort of" have a hold of their dogs (this annoyed me from the git go). I, of course, am supposed to be here with an AGGRESSIVE problem of a dog, let us not forget. We were told to bring the entire family so I also bring Joe (the 76-year old President of our rescue group) with me, who Kota has met the first time on the day he was neutered and when Joe tried to push on his head, to get him into the kennel after surgery, he growled and supposedly snapped at him). Joe now loves him! Other people at foster home/rescue group office do not really count as they are not around Kota long or frequently, but I had wanted to take at least one of the 7 or so volunteers he has growled at with me, to show the type of person he growls at (could not swing it with most of them). I take paperwork to counter and say "It is stressful in here". They direct me to a door on opposite end of waiting area and say "Go through those doors...it is quieter...you can wait in there". Kota has been excellent, tail wagging and happily checking it all out. I have a choke chain around his neck as that was all I owned at the time, and it works for me to walk him (not necessary to choke him at all, but gives me some control (94 lbs and he weighs 65-70). We go through doors and there sits a couple with a small senior dog on lap who is also aggressive but having expensive knee surgery done, so I guess we hang on to him for awhile longer and collect the $5-7 K for the "floating patella", PRIOR to telling the couple the little begger ought to be put down. Finally, "Katherine the Great" comes into waiting area and looks at us, signals to follow (she treats people as well, as if they were dogs). She knocks on a door as we are trotting down a hallway and a young male (probably student) comes out of room. She signals silently with her hand, for him to follow too (she is very handsy, i.e. waves her hands a great deal). Kota is happily trotting along...no problem yet. The young male student reaches to pet the dog. Katherine the Great quickly and tersely, tells him not to pet the dog..."He is aggressive." Put in his place, the male veterinary student will remain for the duration of the session, with both his hands folded across his chest and hands tucked safely under arm pits. We enter very small room approximately 6 plastic chairs wide, with small narrow table in farthest corner and one plastic chair at it's end for "OZ" to sit in. The other three chairs are facing her on the opposite wall. One additional plastic chair is against wall facing the door we came in. Next to door, in the corner is approximately, a 2 feet 6" to 3 foot tall, plastic doll with red hair. We are not introduced. (Note: Doll has a three-foot, piece of two-by-four, sticking out of her tiny, plastic back). Dark-skinned young female approximately 25 years of age, is sitting in chair closest to door on opposite wall facing where OZ will sit. Male student takes seat one over from her, leaving three empty seats in the room (the seat reserved for OZ faces the students; a seat on the wall facing door remains empty and an another between the two students. I take the seat between the two students, whereupon, OZ directs me to "control my dog" and move to the seat on wall facing the door. Kota and I dutifully move.
I neglected to say that in rushing to make it to the appointment with "OZ" I did not get to take Kota for his regular walk around the block (he has a habit of defecating twice...once here and then once more there). As we happily entered the sacred realm, Kota, to my utter astonishment and secret glee, walked directly from the door to the centre of the six foot by six foot, plastic-chaired, temperament testing room, and directly to an open drain where other dogs had gone before, and took the "Mother" of all craps. For $188+ I allowed the Doctor to bend over and pick it up. I think to myself, she has no sense of humour whatsoever. As she was kneeling she muttered in a pinched nasal-like, voice, "Hmmm, yes, well, he just failed house training" and I mumbled back, "This is odd...he has never done this before." I did not know whether to follow Kota's lead or burst into gales of laughter. I explained that this was my fault as he always "goes" at approximately two o'clock to which I could see, she was mentally counting the hours backwards from the time I had mentioned I fed him, to prove me a liar already. She stated that dogs "usually" defecate two hours after they eat. Well, let me tell you things went downhill from there.
She brought up a past incident mentioned in the previous owner's questionnaire (Part A) regarding the owner's wife who having left her husband and taken a new lover, had gone back to her home and snatched Kota for a half a day and taken him to the new domicile, whereupon it is noted he urininated and defecated "all over" the lover's clothes and was unceremoniously returned to her abusive ex. It should be noted that anything the previous owner stated on the questionnaire, should be taken with a "grain of salt" and rather that the ex-husband may have only, "wished" these things had happened. In any case, Oz recalled the incident from the paperwork and quickly saw a "pattern" of "bad dog" behaviour.
As I mentioned previously, Katherine the Great, did not feel the need to introduce herself but did however, introduce the young visiing female student who was from Brazil or Peru by saying..."So we have an international group present" or something to that effect. Then she prompted us to, "Show me any tricks he knows." I proudly stood up with Kota and walked him forward, turned him around, walked him back, asked him to "stop" which he does on a dime at my left leg. I had him "sit" and then "go down". I taught Kota to "go down" the day after his neuter surgery with only two biscuits and two tries and he has consistently done it for me and others ever since. This was a feat I was considerably proud of. Oz said, "Yes he goes down, but only after you have told him seven times." In defense of myself and Kota, I told her that this was my fault and that was how I taught him to do it. I had taken the biscuit and put it in front of his nose and moved it closer to the ground and said, "Down, down, down." She was not "buying" my explanation.
Joe had a previous appointment and was late. He was to find Kota and I as soon as he could and join the session. He entered the room shortly thereafter and when he did, Kota gave him his usual excited, tail-wagging welcome and Joe responded by quickly taking the seat I had previously been ejected from, leaning over to pet and greet him. Oz quickly jumped all over him for this inexcusable behaviour. "You should not allow that dog to paw you". Joe, dismayed and hurt, looked up and said, "Oh, what should I do?" She replied, "Stand up. Turn around. Do not touch the dog. Do not look at him." 76 year old Joe, promptly and in good faith, followed her direction, immediately stood up from his plastic chair, took several baby steps, turning around in a 360 degree circle and sat down. Katherine the Great, further expounding on the whys and wherefores of aggressive dogs, mentioned the word "DOWN" three separate times. Each time she did, Kota jumped to the ground with great fervor. This was done to the amusement of everyone present, Joe, myself and the two observing students. Oz ignored Kota's enthusiasm and our smirks as Kota quizzically looked her way for praise. He received none! I am sure you have a "visual" by this time of the students sitting with their hands tightly clamped under their arm pits so as not to forget the orders and God forbid, pet the dog by accident, Joe ernestly doing pirouettes to her commands and Kota gleeefully jumping up and down.
Oz had been forwarned of a reported incident that may or may not have occurred a few months previous. Kota had either been deliberately kicked by his male owner (most likely scenario) OR had been, according to the owner, "just clipped" by a car and had a "sore back" at the time when the incident in question had occurred outside in the road. I examined Kota in October it was horribly obvious that he had a then healed broken rib just above his kidney on his right side. The 13 or so children had been highly excited and racing around the barn yard on three wheelers. A six year old brought her hand down on the dog's back in a slapping motion according to the owner's mother and the dog EITHER bit the child in the tear duct (no bite mark on cheek of child) or according to owners, the dog jumped up and had pawed the child in the face and scraped her tear duct (most probable scenario).
Oz has a doll with a red plastic see-through face and red curly hair; it is a type of plastic that is thin and cheap. I imagined that she must be trying to be fiscally responsible with the center's money, whilst having several dolly heads unceremoniously, chomped off by vicious dogs, during these behavioural sessions. Also, an interesting addition was the 2x4 that has been constructed and stuck approximately two feet directly out of the doll's back.
She rose from her plastic chair, walked to the corner where said doll had been laying ominously in wait, while Kota sat calmly at my feet. Without any warning she "poked" the doll towards the dog in quick, chopping motions on the cement floor. I was sitting and loosely holding Kota's leash at the time. Each time the plastic doll came down on it's wee plastic feet, it slapped against the concrete. The dog stood up, tail wagging. I would have given my life to have seen Kota's face but she deliberately approached the dog so as noone else in the room could see the dog's face but her. He did not respond at first so she moved the doll closer twice more in a fencing-like, jerking motion towards the dog and I, who was sitting directly behind him. He growled. The temperament test was OVER. Kota had failed miserably according to Oz and she immediately recommended the big "E".
I pleaded that "Oz" spare Kota's miserable life and instead, recommend a list of trainers. She had no one to recommend. I agreed that it was best that Kota not be adopted into a family with children, as it was obvious from his background that he had been abused and the owner had willingly told me, allowed children of all ages to hit and slap at the dog. I asked Oz what sort of foster family she might recommend for the dog to which she replied, "A teenager". To my dismay I immediately rejected the idea of any hormonal, flighty teenager being responsible enough to handle the dog to which she replied, "Well a mature teenager, not one who would take the dog to soccer games." She then changed the profile of the "perfect foster family" for this dog to one being "perhaps a veterinary studen,t savvy with dogs, but definately not a family with small children or women with high squeaky voices."
I had informed her of my hypothesis of why Kota had initially growled when he had met volunteers. I had looked for a common denominator when this had occurred and it was usually with small women who approached the dog for the first time and spoke baby talk to him in high voices. Oz said it was not uncommon for aggressive dogs to dislike women with high squeaky voices as the dogs were seeing how far they could go to intimidate the person and to see if they could WIN.
I asked if it were not possible for me (who the dog had shown no aggression to but in fact a great deal of trust) to "habituate" the dog to these type of voices by speaking this way myself. I chose the word 'habituate' because I used to work for wildlife biologists. She said this could be done but corrected my biology terminology and stated that the "correct" term would be to "desensitize" the dog to this. She also pointed out that Kota was "happily aggressive" and not acting out of fear. She said I ought to be aware of the dog having an "erection" and that this could be a warning sign to me of his pending ambivalence to act aggressively. I wondered to myself if an erection was a sign of being "happily aggressive".
Me: "So, Dr., on a scale from one to ten, how aggressive would you say this dog is?"
Oz: "Three"
Me: "And you would still recommend euthanasia?"
Oz: "Yes, and having said that I will give you my speech that I give everyone who comes to me with an aggressive dog. I, can no longer walk my dog on the Boardwalk and I, can no longer take my dog to Fenway Park because of all the aggressive dogs out there". She proceeded to speak in a negative vein about "rescue people" and those aggressive dogs they rescue. I asked if whether she thought it helped to have the dog neutered and she responded "No". She stated that only 1/3 of 1/4 of dogs that have been neutered will have any positive change in their behaviour. I always was lousy at math, but I have never heard of anyone speaking of fractions in that way before, and it put me in a quizzical state of mind and off on a mental tangent of my own, trying to figure out what exactly 1/3 of 1/4 really was. In mentioning that the owner thought Kota was a Shepherd/Akita mix and believing that he was a Shepherd/Chow mix, I asked her her opinion. She thought Shepherd/Chow and mumbled something about ALL Chows being untruthworthy and SOME Akitas being that way. I wished I had paid better attention to this but my mind was still back there somewhere, on the aggressive scale of 3 out of 10 being the reason for killing the dog, and her 1/3 of 1/4 stats on neutered males.
She left the room and brought back a piece of paper with pen and ink drawings of a dog snarling, baring it's teeth (which Kota had never done) and insisted that I circle one of the photos of the dog to show which way he had looked when he growled at a volunteer. In one of the pictues, the dog was standing with tail in air, another with the tail down. In yet another, the dog was standing with his four feet planted firmly on the ground and still another, one front right paw was lifted off of the ground. Some pictures showed a dog croched low as if in a play mode or when a dog would tug on an object, but all had a "vicious" appearance that I could not honestly attribute to Kota when he growled upon meeting some new people. I had a tough time completing this task because he looked like none of the drawings given to me. Finally, I circled what I believed to be the least "viciious" looking drawing in the same way I would circle the last question on a multiple choice test that I had left to the end, for lack of having an answer beforehand.
Oz said she had some concerns about me having a choke chain on Kota and stated that I could hurt his esophagus and recommended we purchase a "Gentle Leader" from her this day. She had an example in her hands. The one she had was of much better quality than the one she came back with for us to purchase, which was thinner and to tell the truth, too small for this dog's head altogether.
Oz said she did not like me using a choker on Kota. Instead, she offered to sell us a Gentle Leader. She showed us an example but the example she showed us, complete with styrofoam dog head, was much larger and had wider straps than the one she came back with. For $20.00 plus tax, good-hearted Joe, agreed to pay for the "kinder" leader. When she came back to the room she handed it to me and asked me to put it on. She did not even once try to pet Kota or touch him in the two hours he had been in the room. She stood back and tried to explain verbally how to put it on the dog. The problem was IT WAS TOO SMALL FOR THE DOG. She was adamant about the fact that I had to move the clasp under the chin portion tighter and tried to explain from a distance, from across the room, how to then tighten the plastic clamp. She did not do a very good job of explaining the clasp and after standing over the dog and wrestling with the damned leader, the clasp etc,. it had been probably a good 3 minutes when she finally, suggested perhaps the clasp was broken and told me to take it off. We checked the clasp and tried again. Never once did the dog throw it off or cause me a problem - and I could not resist saying as I was bent over the top of the dog and wrestling with this gear on his face, "Geesh, I am sure glad I am not having to put one of these on the head of an AGGRESSIVE dog!" Everyone in the room laughed except Oz, who remember, has no sense of humour.
Part of the package deal that came along with the Gentle Leader was a metal button, I had clipped to my chest that read, "No this is not a muzzle". She seemed pleased that I actually pinned it to my coat. The day after, it broke and left an open "killing-type pin" on my jacket.
Oz gave me some notes entitled "Behavior Modification for Relaxation" -- 11 pages in all, and asked me to read it and ask any questions if I did not understand it. I sat and dutifully read my notes in silence while everyone waited but when I realized the damned thing was 11 pages long, it felt too uncomfortable to take the time to really read 11 pages and have everyone wait on me to do it that I only scanned it, lied and said I had finished reading it. She asked me if Kota knew the "Look". I said I did not understand that term. She made some motion and I quickly understood and said, "Oh...watch me?" She obviously did not like the fact that, once again, I was NOT using her terminology and I pointed out that when I want to teach him something I get his eye contact on my face and say, "Kota watch me." She made me feel like such an idiot when really I had done every thing correctly with the dog and should have been commended for it. Kota knew this. I knew it too.
Oz also told us about bad dogs and how they invade your space. We were getting weary and wishing the damned session was over already. By this time I knew who was invading my space and it wasn't the dog. We left the building, Kota wearing his new head gear and I wearing stupid pin that said I was not wearing a muzzle. When we got outside the sun was shining and Kota was smiling. As soon as we got into the car I took the 'not so gentle leader' off of him and he snuggled up to my neck from the back seat of the car. We laughed. I said, "I think this dog is invading my space and I think I like it!"
Forums Motto:
They wanted to euthanize "THIS" dog?
I've Been On Dogster Since:
| April 7th 2007 |
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More than 4 years! |
Rosette, Star and Special Gift History
Dogster Id:
515776
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