BarkingProse

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.

 

 

 

 

Look at that face. That’s me. Don’t I just look sweet and perhaps mild mannered? Ha! Looks can be deceiving. I was born with the adventure gene, headstrong and always seeking to do what pleased me at the moment. Mind you I have never been aggressive. I get along with everyone, people and dogs. I especially love cats – often more than the cat appreciates.

At the age of four months Mom enrolled me at a training school called Puppy Manners not too far from Asherpark. My first entry level class was basic obedience for puppies under the age of six months. Having no idea what class and training meant I was looking forward to this new adventure.

We show up for the first class and gather in a giant classroom with chairs lining the sides. We’re instructed to take a seat. Mom on the chair, of course, and me obediently at her feet. When it dawned on me what was happening I revolted. I didn’t sign up to sit quietly while some instructor talked to the people. No way!

I launched into my damsel in distress mode and started wailing and pitching a fit. Mom did her best to get me to calm down, but nothing was working. All the other dogs were sort of under control, but my behavior was disrupting the whole class.

Then it happened. One of the trainers named Dave walked over to us. He was the biggest man I had ever seen and for a minute I had second thoughts about my behavior, but since I had everyone’s attention I decided to continue with the show.

Turns out Dave wasn’t your ordinary guy. He could whisper to horses and something about him made dogs and people calm down. I heard him say to Mom, “We have to get her under control or you’ll have nothing but trouble. Would you mind if I worked with her during class?”

Mom just about tossed me into Dave’s arms. Well, not really, but she was very glad to be rid of me for the moment. Now I really was a the center of attention.

While Dave’s wife taught the class, Dave sat on the floor holding me as I struggled to get loose. I remember his giant hands gently restraining me. Occasionally he would explain to the class what he was doing. The more I struggled the tighter he held me with just enough pressure to control me but never hurt me. The moment I relaxed, he relaxed his grip. This was sending a signal to me that resistance was futile and giving up would give me the freedom I wanted.

While the rest of the puppies took a break for recess, Dave and I sat together on the floor with Mom watching. By now I was getting pretty tired. The class came back from recess and saw I was still struggling. Dave explained that I could not be allowed to win this battle, and so we continued on through the remainder of the class. Dave told the group that if I did not give up before the class ended, he and I would continue sitting on the floor together until I agreed he was boss.

Then it happened. Maybe I was just bone tired – I had been wrestling with Dave for nearly an hour. Maybe I saw that my bad behavior wasn’t getting me what I wanted. Maybe I had come to like Dave and decided I would make peace with him. Whatever the reason I stopped all the struggling and went limp. Dave immediately released his grip and I settled into a happy snuggle with him. I yawned two or three times, licked his face and fell asleep in his arms.

So now you know the experience that changed my life and taught Mom things she never knew. I’ll tell more in the next Bark about our homework and how this technique known as passive restraint helped me become a better dog.