In memory of Keegan
“My Little Fire”
In 2008 my sweet “one in a million” border collie Sprite and I were hired by the City of Nanaimo to send away Canada Geese from parks fields, thus keeping the parks “feces free”.
On one of our outings, Sprite slightly twisted her foot, and though I had other dogs for backup, I realized that I needed another main goose control dog.
Just then a red and white border collie was born into the world.
This tiny mostly white fuzzball - a guinea pig with legs - was what the breeder chose for me.
I had a concern that a pup with lots of white markings might be prone to health problems. But when I met this little scamp and saw his one blue eye, I was smitten.
He was the first of his litter to figure out how to escape the puppy pen, and was clearly a puppy prodigy.
I named him Keegan which means “little fire”. There was no doubt that this little dark red dog had an inextinguishable energy.
He did his goose control job conscientiously. But at home he was hyperactive and didn’t settle easily.
Unfortunately, my instinct about health problems proved to be true for him. At 3 months old his misaligned teeth resulted in a tooth infection. Expensive dental surgery fixed his teeth and infection, but he had become defensive towards other dogs that would come near his face. He was fearful of strangers and new dogs. He didn’t like eye contact or uninvited handling from those he didn’t know. He was concerned about men, kids, new dogs and even people who smiled at him. I counter-conditioned, desensitized and redirected his attention by teaching him a default nose touch when he was in uncomfortable situations. I had tried puppy play dates, introduced him to gentle children and friendly men, but none of this had honestly helped him that much. He was rejected by dog daycare. People criticized and judged me and assumed Keegan’s reactivity was caused by something I either was or wasn’t doing. Of course they had no idea how much time and effort I had actually been putting into this pup.
After the tooth surgery he began to obsessively spin a lot, before eating, before playing, sometimes for no apparent reason. He would grab his tail and rip off the fur. He was not quite the happy go lucky dog I had planned for. He also had severe separation anxiety.
I was fixated on learning how to conquer his fears. I watched videos, took workshops, read articles, and books. I was determined that Keegan would be an upstanding canine member of society. Every day I went to our local waterfront park to train him. But confidence building happens in small steps. Too much pressure of exposure to scary things can sometimes be just as unproductive as lack of exposure. I realized eventually that fewer training sessions were better for both of us. At one point it just seemed as if my life outside of training Keegan was basically over. Goodbye social life, hello to life with a challenging dog.
People suggested rehoming and even euthanasia.
At one of my lowest points I wrote a request to the universe asking that if Keegan’s behaviour couldn’t improve, for God to peacefully take him from me. Even then, looking into his soulful eyes I could never have made that choice myself.
When Keegan was 3 years of age, my wish was almost granted. We were taking a field walk on my acreage and he had run out ahead through the gate to my frigid, woodland pond. At the pond’s edge Keegan began having a seizure, and had floated to a section of the water where it was about 10 feet deep. Within seconds Keegan’s body went limp and his head dropped face down in the water, unmoving.
I flung off my boots and swam out to him as quickly as I could, got him to the muddy pond’s edge, held him upside down to empty his lungs, but he remained lifeless. His tongue was blue and limp. His eyes were unblinking. I laid him on his side then, not remembering much about CPR, gave him “mouth to snout”.
As I desperately tried to breathe life back into this limp, unresponsive dog, I also envisioned my new life without Keegan. I would be set free from all the responsibility of life with an anxious dog. No worries about stranger fear, separation issues, obsessive behaviours, hyperactivity or impulsivity.
No more expensive vet bills. Life would be simpler… Wouldn’t it? In that eerie, precarious moment, you see, it became crystal clear to me that I was unequivocally in love with this socially inept, eccentric and sweet dog, quirks and all. And my entire world was falling apart. My request had been granted, and I realized that it was the last thing I wanted!
After what seemed like eternity but was probably a short couple of minutes, Keegan took a light breath, but then it stopped. So I kept breathing into him.
Again, I noticed some air emanating from him that didn’t come from me. And another. Each breath grew stronger. Then he blinked.
Quietly, laying on his right side, Keegan slowly gained consciousness. I pushed his tongue back into his mouth and it stayed there. I don’t know how much time transpired exactly, but likely it was about 5 to 7 minutes from the time he started drowning to regaining consciousness.
He was cold, so I held him and tried to warm him. About 5 minutes later he got up. I was cold too so I grabbed my jacket and during that time Keegan headed to the side of the pond where I kept some dog toys for fetching. He wanted to play ball! But his healthy appearance was deceptive.
Within hours he was at the emergency vet spitting up blood with aspiration pneumonia. He stayed overnight at the hospital on supplemental oxygen while I continued to pray for his healing. In the morning his blood oxygen levels were still not normal, but by later that afternoon, his blood oxygen went from 88 to 96. Following 2 days in hospital and another couple of weeks recovering at home, he made a full recovery.
After his drowning incident I knew beyond a doubt that Keegan and I were meant to be together.
I had hoped that his near death experience and return to life would have transformed him into a calm and wise dog without so many anxieties and health issues. But that was not to be; Keegan’s challenges came right back with him. I think it was part of his life’s mission, because without those challenges, he and I never would have formed such a rich and rewarding relationship. Living with Keegan was not only a choice, but a true privilege.
Each moment was an absolute gift.
Because of Keegan I learned about anxious dogs and about epilepsy. We did trick training, tracking, herding, canine freestyle.
I created a YouTube channel to share information with dog guardians who were also struggling; to offer tips and support. Keegan was the star.
I eventually became a certified separation anxiety Pro Behaviour Consultant and a Pro Dog Trainer.
Keegan learned to relax and resettle.
His concern about strangers diminished.
Among other fun tricks, Keegan and my other dogs learned to paint on canvas.
Keegan lived fully...
He had a giant sense of humour and a huge spirit. Keegan proved to me that every struggle is an opportunity to grow.
Our “difficult” “problem” dogs change our lives forever and make us better human beings. Keegan gave me 9 extra, extraordinary years before transitioning from his body.
It was an honour and a blessing to share life with Keegan. His spirit will always shine bright.
MY RAINBOW BRIDGE DOGS
Sprite, Asha, me and Keegan
Skippy - my family dog
Chance
Merlin - my first and forever soul dog
