Journey

Training and More Training

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Journey

By the time I had completed basic and advanced training, loose leash walking, long distance recall, and playground manners we moved on to other activities.

You won’t believe this but Mom signed us up for a class on how to behave at outdoor restaurants. Dear lord, could it get any worse? About ten people and their dogs would meet at some restaurant with outdoor seating. The people would sit around the table eating lunch and us poor dogs had to hang out UNDER the table and be quiet. The catch phrase for the class was “Seen not heard.” We dogs did it to humor our people but it was SO boring.

By this time I was nearly one year old. That was important because you had to reach a certain age before you could participate in therapy dog training. At first I thought it sounded like fun. We’d go different places and learn not to be afraid of strangers, loud noises or funny equipment like wheel chairs and walkers.

The field trips were the best. We’d meet at a busy intersection and watch the buses rumble by. We learned to ride elevators and go into public restrooms. Somebody always had to push the hand dryer and make it sound like a jet was taking off.

I admit I didn’t like the elevator at first, but I did eventually get used to it as long as I knew there was a cookie waiting for me when the door opened.

The best field trip was when we went to the fire station. The firemen were so nice. They dressed up in their gear and played with us. They turned on their oxygen tanks so we could hear the swoosh. We got to climb onto the fire truck and go into the ambulance. It was very cool. Some of the dogs were scared of the firemen, but I wasn’t. It was all a big wonderful adventure for me.

Journey and Fireman

While I excelled in the field exercises I was a dud back in the classroom. I lacked the one trait essential for a good therapy dog – a calm demeanor. Mom foolishly thought training would help me overcome my nature but boy was she wrong. How can you stand still when a bunch of little kids come running up to you? You’re not supposed to move, just stand there like a statue. Not me! I would wiggle and turn in circles and roll onto my back with my feet in the air. The kids would laugh and we would all end up in trouble with the adults.

The trainer lady told Mom that I was too young and I should try again when the next class started in a few months. I knew this therapy dog thing would never work, but Mom had to come to that realization herself and she wasn’t there yet. It’s a cool story. I’ll tell you how it all came about next time.

Journey

A Mediocre Student

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Journey

Notwithstanding my first day at puppy class, I went on to graduate with honors and was named the most improved dog in the class. Duh! Did anyone start out with a greater deficit?

I excelled in the puppy socialization class – an hour long free for all of puppies learning to play nicely together. Initially there was a mix of dogs, primarily herding breeds like me, three or four retrievers, and the occasional Doodle and Irish Wolfhound. The latter had no clue how to play with normal dogs and usually dropped out after a few sessions.

The herding dogs instinctively understood the rules of the game. Bump and run, jump over obstacles and each other, make impossibly tight turns to avoid crashing into people. The retrievers were stubborn and boring. Grab a sock, have a scrum, push and pull. Absolutely no originality to their games.

After a few months the people with herding dogs voted the retrievers off the island or at least out of the class. Once the class consisted entirely of herding dogs, life in the playfield was glorious. We played catch me if you can, don’t look just jump, and chicken – which is just what it sounds like. The winner of chicken is the dog who runs straight at a fixed object and turns just before impact.

Puppy play class was fun for everyone. The people stood around and talked. Some nice friendships were formed and the puppies went home exhausted and slept for a few hours giving their owners a brief period of peace and quiet.

The other classes were more rigorous, but never really a challenge except for the boredom factor. Sit and stay, come when called, pay attention, walk nicely on a leash. I mastered them all quickly with just one slight problem – I really wasn’t interested in the subject matter.

There was one subject I really enjoyed – find your person. I liked it because it involved movement. I loved it when Mom hid from me and I was supposed to run to her when she called. Of course I could hear her voice and knew exactly where she was. But instead of running to the sound of her voice, I put my nose to the ground and traced her steps.

The first time I did this I heard the trainer say, “Journey just tracked her owner step by step.”

What surprised me is that he thought this was a big deal. Really, people. It’s what dogs do and I have one heck of a sniffer. More about that later, but suffice it to say I was the star when it came to hide and seek.

After mastering the basic subject matter I was ready to call it quits. Nope! Apparently Mom had other plans, which in the end went awry but not before we had a lot of fun together. I’ll tell more soon about the rigorous advanced training I had to endure and how in the end I got my way.

Journey

 

 

 

 

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How I Came To Know Bach

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Journey

Clearly my first day at puppy class got off to a bumpy start. Some might say it was a total failure but that would be incorrect. Turns out my bad behavior was the start of something very important. It laid the foundation for my future and the deep bond I would establish with my Mom.

When the dog trainer man Dave held me for nearly an hour while I struggled, I learned something. I learned that I was not always in charge of my world. I learned that I needed to listen to the people who cared about me. I learned that despite my good looks and charm, I was not meant to live without rules.

And how did I learn that you might ask? Through the gentle art of passive restraint. Passive restraint is the technique Dave used when he held me gently and wouldn’t let me have my way. Passive restraint is what Mom used to teach me to be calm and settle down.

After my first class Dave sent Mom home with an assignment. Twice a day, morning and evening, she was to sit on the floor with me on her lap and hold me quietly for thirty minutes. She wasn’t to talk to me other than to murmur a few calm sounds. If I struggled, she was to intensify her grip. If I relaxed, she was to give me more space to move around on her lap.

We started on our assignment the first evening after class. Mom took me to a quiet room in the house. We sat down on the floor. I stretched out on my back against her chest with my legs sticking out between her legs. For half an hour we sat together. Initially it felt like torture. I wanted to be out running around with Ash and instead I was stuck in a quiet room doing absolutely nothing.

It was clear resistance was futile. Just like Dave, Mom held onto me until I quit struggling. Gradually I began to accept this silly routine and even welcome it. After all, I got thirty minutes of Mom’s undivided attention. I began to fall asleep in her arms and rarely fussed. Sometimes she had to wake me up when our session was over.

As we got towards the end of our month long assignment, Mom started playing music mostly to entertain herself. I really didn’t care one way or the other. But I did notice a pattern. A certain melody played just as the thirty minute session came to an end. It was a dreamy piece. It made me wake up happy. Mom said it was the first of Bach’s Goldberg Variations. Who knew! I didn’t even know who Bach was til Mom explained, but since it signaled the end of our quiet time, I was very happy to make his acquaintance.