We learned this “whiplash” strategy from Leslie McDevitt’s book, Control Unleashed.

Clearly, we’re doing this in an “easy” situation. She is unleashed, on fenced property, and we’re headed toward the gate on our way out for a walk. It’s a good time to practice these quick turns because she is usually sprinting toward the gate with excitement, and I get the chance to ask her to change her momentum and return to me.

We do this a few times, every time we go for a walk.

I’m not saying Lilly would turn this quickly and easily if there was something really FUN or SCARY up ahead, but at least the pattern is set.

We decided to film these examples because I’ve been getting so many calls and emails from friends and neighbors asking about how to get a dog to COME when called.

Sometimes the dog + family relationship is just too new and the recall practice lacking. Sometimes the pull of wildlife or other exciting things is just too much.

I don’t claim to be a recall expert, but I do know that the more you practice and the more you reward the COME, even in easy situations, the better chance you have of it working when the world intervenes.

***

We found this video online as well. It uses the same basic techniques from Leslie’s book. The background music made me laugh.

Looking back, my rigidity and my rules and my relatively cluelessness amuses me. Early on, Penelope wasn’t allowed in the living room. She wasn’t allowed on the furniture. She wasn’t allowed loose in the house alone until she was about 7 years old. Her life was a long series of Don’ts.

Clearly, I changed my mind sometime between Easter 1990 when Penelope came home and 1996 when this photo was taken on a bed. The living room rule held until we moved into our current house in 2001, where the great-room-like layout made keeping her out impractical, if not impossible. Plus, the whole main level of this house is tile, so dog dirt isn’t as big of a deal.

You might think I kept Penelope in march step thanks to her “strict” upbringing. You, however, would be wrong.

Other than the fact that she wasn’t afraid of anything (which as longtime readers know is VERY different from my experience with Lilly), Penelope never really did anything I asked. It’s totally my fault, of course. I knew NOTHING about dog training back then, even though I took the usual 8-week classes available in our suburban community.

Penelope pretty much dragged me through life, doing what she wanted, when she wanted. She could also be very sweet. And, as she aged, she wasn’t really any trouble in the house per se, but she was never “easy” by any stretch.

If you only look at me based on our house dog rules, you’d think I was a total pushover these days. Lilly and Ginko are allowed pretty much everywhere in the house, including on the furniture. Lilly, at least, is allowed to jump up on me … heck, she is even trained to do so.

And, yet, my two current dogs are better behaved, more trustworthy in general, and all around easier to share life with than Penelope ever was, despite my “rules.”

Sometimes, I remember the wrist, elbow, shoulder, and back pain Penelope caused from poor leash manners. Other times, I just enjoy the fact that I can rarely even feel Lilly on the end of her leash because she is right by my side, smiling.

I’m glad I had the opportunity to learn more about the real lives of dogs, their real needs, their real abilities. Many thanks to my friends and colleagues who continue to teach me things and explore new ideas about what being  a 21st-century dog mom is.

My life is better. Day-to-day household management is easier, but more importantly, my dogs’ lives are better and happier because I learned how to be a partner … and not just a girl with a long list of silly rules.

We haven’t had a very young pup in the house since 2000, when Ginko came home at about 10 weeks old. (Lilly, our heroine, was about 6 months old when we adopted her.)

While it might be easy to forget over the years how much work a very young puppy is, spending time with this litter of pups in our valley makes it all too clear that there is a long road ahead for their families.

I’m not saying it isn’t an amazing and fun road. I’m just reminding you (and myself) that it isn’t easy. With or without you, puppies learn a lot in their first weeks and months. You can make it easier on both of you if you understand that it’s about so much more than food, water, shelter, and love.

1. Puppies don’t know English. Bridging the communication gap between our species takes time, compassion, and an understanding of canine intelligence and the science of dog training and behavior shaping. I also love this piece by Susan McCullough (friend, fellow writer/blogger) on the #1 thing you need to teach your new dog/puppy.

2. Puppies don’t know inside from outside. In other words, housetraining is another top priority. And, since I’m already recommending Susan’s insights on these issues, might I suggest her book Housetraining for Dummies?

3. Puppies don’t know what’s OK to chew on and what isn’t. If it fits in the mouth, it’s fair game, so be sure to redirect chewing to appropriate toys.

4. Puppies don’t know your routines or rules. Consistency really helps youngsters get a grip on their new life with you. It’s better NOT to switch rules as the puppy gets bigger. If it isn’t OK for for a big dog to do, then it isn’t OK for a tiny pup either. In many families, this includes being “mouthy” or jumping up.

5. Puppies don’t know what most things they encounter are. Unless they’ve been systematically socialized to all kinds of household and other real world things, puppies might just be a little cautious, or even scared, of things we consider innocuous– dishwashers, microwave timers, hats, umbrellas, etc. Use counter-conditioning NOT flooding to work through your pup’s fears.

6. Puppies don’t know that other dogs and other people come in all shapes and sizes. Find a good local dog trainer that offers puppy kindergarten, where little ones learn to play with canine friends other than their littermates and begin the process of understanding the bigger world around them.

7. Puppies don’t know any of the things we consider polite dog behavior (sit, leash walking, etc.). Don’t wait until your pup reaches adolescence to try and “fix” what’s gone wrong. Start humane, positive-reinforcement training early so that you and your dog have a bond, a platform for communication, and the tools to get through the somewhat more difficult adolescent period.

8. Puppies don’t know that cars can take them on great adventures. Many pups only know that this big thing makes them barf, so be sure to introduce car travel carefully, if you have a pup with a sensitive tummy.

9. Puppies don’t know what’s valuable and what isn’t. So, it’s probably best to puppy-proof the house if you have concerns.

10. Puppies don’t know anything about “dominance.” Truly. Can we please put this concept to rest? Even the wolf guys from the 1960s who coined the whole “alpha” thing have corrected these mistaken ideas.

I’m sure this list could be even longer, but I guess my point is this … puppies really don’t know ANYTHING about ANYTHING when they first come home. It’s your job to teach them.

So, when you do, please, please, please do so using modern, gentle, scientifically-based methods. Remember … dog training is much more about communication than it is control. Anytime anyone uses fear, intimidation, or pain in the name of training, I believe they do lifelong damage to their relationship with their dog.

This, dear readers, may just be a case of when dog knows best.

It’s taken me a few months to figure it out. When Lilly fusses for what I’ve interpreted as playtime and attention, I think she actually is trying to get ME to burn off some energy and stress.

What makes me think that?

Well, on the days when I do have the time or mental space to take an hour and do our three-mile walk, Lilly seems much more pleased with herself and with me.

She could merely be happy to get out. She could get more bang for her walking buck, even though I run her hard in fetch.

Then, again, it could be much more about spending real time with me and not the exercise component at all.

So, next time I feel the aggravation burbling up when Lilly gets fussy, I’ll try to remember that she may just be trying to take care of me by letting me think that I’m taking care of her.

They’ve graduated from puppy mush/gruel to dry puppy food, but Nadi still nurses them briefly a few times a day.

They fed just a bit when I first arrived, then they played for a while, then they sacked out. Being a puppy is very hard work.

This is the one we call Fatty, sleeping next to his puppy-sized ball.

I’m not sure which one this is, but the cheeks are to die for.

This is as-yet-unnamed girl with the pink collar. When families reserve their choice, they pick out a collar for their new baby to wear so that my friend can keep them straight.

I’m not sure who these two are, but the tummy as pillow was just too sweet.

Several of them already have nice predictable potty schedules. They nursed. They nibbled a little bit on their food. They pottied. Those of us visiting praised each one for picking a spot well away from their bed to go. We startled one little girl puppy, though, when we all clapped at the same time. She seemed to recover OK, so I’m not to worried.

Next weekend, if it’s warm enough, a bunch of us are going to help supervise some playtime outside. It’ll be good for them to get out and experience new things.

There are five adult dogs, I believe, in the house, so they get the chance to be around them as well for short stints.

I’ve never raised a litter (nor do I plan to), but I wish I knew more about when to introduce various experiences, just to know, just to better understand those early “fear periods.” Still … I figure it cannot hurt for them to be handled and talked to and such. I gently held their feet, looked in mouths and ears.

I even asked one to SIT, and he did. He was getting ready to SIT anyway, but I figured I’d say the word and praise him.

I might bring a clicker next week, just so they can hear that noise.

Lilly was a little excited and nervous. She tends to be less focused when Tom goes with us anywhere. She is so used to training and even being out in the world as a two-girl-only event. She works hard to give both of us her attention (as noted before in the Daddy Factor), and that makes my job as handler MUCH harder.

But, she settled down, and I think she had a good time. She showed off her various tricks, including:

• Roll It
• Shake & Other Hand
• Under-Leg Weaving

She let several people pet her, even though she isn’t one of those pet-me, pet-me kind of dogs. Some of people seemed sad to be at the facility and away from their own dogs, so her visit perked them up. (For privacy reasons, I did NOT take photos that show any of the people in therapy.)

She had no real issues with the walkers, canes, and wheelchairs. There were may be 10-12 people in the room — some coming and going, all moving in some fashion as they did their therapy. A couple times, someone even slammed a metal laundry lid, and Lilly handled it OK. She startled, but she was OK. She truly did remarkably well.

I think it helped that the double, automatic front doors here (compared to those at the facility where my mom lives) open side-to-side, which is something we’ve conditioned much more.

After therapy, Lilly had to navigate the crowded halls. It wasn’t her best WALK STEADY moment, but she didn’t make a scene.

She even got so comfy on Grandma’s bed that she sacked out. Of course, as soon as she heard the camera click on, she woke up, but you can see her little drool spot on the bedspread.

The only thing that made her bark was when one of the nursing assistants came in to check Grandma’s vitals. She was pulling along one of those rolling blood pressure machines, and the wheels sounded a bit like a skateboard.

We later heard that Lilly’s visit was the bit talk among facility residents for the rest of the day.

I’ve never done it before because we had a powerful shower head, but Tom recently replaced it with one that has a broad, gentle … and more importantly, quiet… spray.

I thought Lilly might like it, and (as you’ll see tomorrow) she had an outing planned that required her to be princess girl, rather than dirty mountain girl.

Since my other bath-time ploys have fizzled out, I’m not sure it’ll ever work again, but she took to being in such an enclosed space with water pouring down on her pretty well.

I blocked the spray while shampooing her. I stood her up on her hind legs and spun her around for a rinse.

I toweled her off the best I could, then asked her to just hang out in our shower room, which is a subset of the master bathroom, while I took my shower. She curled up on her towel next to the radiator, and that was that.

I’d NEVER try this with Ginko because he would surely cause bodily harm.

So, you’ve seen those t-shirts and such that say things like “I kiss my dog” or “Sleeps with Dogs.” I guess we’re now part of the crowd that “Showers with Dogs.”

It’s no secret that I’m a fan of well-planned dog training that takes place in a relatively controlled setting so that we afford our dogs every opportunity to succeed. These scenarios form the critical foundation for the behavior modification work Lilly and I undertook all these years ago.

However, I am also pragmatic, and I understand that training in the “real world” remains both important and useful.

Indeed, I often use (or am forced to use) myriad of scary realities, including encounters with other dogs, as training fodder as Lilly makes her way in the world.

For example, when we go for walks and dogs race out to their fence lines or property lines to bark and jump and make scene (which all the dogs up here do, including mine), I work to counter-condition those moments (with food) so that Lilly is less afraid and can cope with the noise and proximity of other dogs.

I typically cross the road (or get as much space as possible between her and the barking dogs). I hustle Lilly along with purpose and a certain speed so that the encounter is as brief as I can make it. I put myself between her and the other dogs, and we work hard to appear as non-threatening as possible.

While I’m tending to my sensitive and fearful girl, I take into account the other dogs’ behavior. I do not talk to them. I do not look at them. I tip my shoulders away from them, and … again … I give them some space (by crossing the road with Lilly). In other words, I do my best not to make things worse for any of the dogs in the encounter.

So, last Friday, when I saw some guy I’ve never seen, with two dogs I’ve never seen, spend a good 10-15 minutes standing on the road right above our fence while Lilly and Ginko flipped out, I was pissed.

While cleaning house, I kept an eye on my two monkeys out various windows. I actually saw this guy and his dogs coming up the road, so I immediately went out to round mine up:

a) because I really don’t want Ginko hurting his knees jumping and running around

b) because I don’t want Lilly getting all stressed out

c) because I do my best to keep the dogs from getting the chance to practice this particular behavior (I want them to see dogs and think, “Where’s Mom with the food or toy?”)

I grabbed a squeaky toy and high-value treats and made my approach. My goal? To get them away from the fence and as close to me and engaged with me as I could before the guy and his dogs got to our house.

No luck.

So, I got closer and closer until Ginko, at least, could hear me and respond.

It’s something Gigi teaches, where you cannot just stand in one spot and holler at your dog to COME despite the distraction.

When I got Ginko to move toward me, and he realized I had the REALLY GOOD treats, getting him back to the house was pretty simple.

At this point, Captain Brilliant is standing right there at our fence, while Lilly barks and leaps and generally freaks out that he AND his two dogs are basically staring at her. Full-on, frontal facing, staring at her while she has a fit.

I’ve already gone out and back and out again on our long-ass driveway, so several minutes have passed, but I literally have to walk all the way up to Lilly at the fence before she calms down enough to “hear” me.

Once she does, she follows me back toward the house without issue.

I say to the guy that I’m sorry my dogs caused a scene, and I kid you NOT, he replied, “That’s OK. I’m using them to train my dogs.”

Really, I do NOT mind people using my dogs in real time to do a little training, but … seriously … standing there and baiting my dogs to misbehave so that you can teach your dogs God knows what? C’mon, man!

What? Did you attend the Jack Ass Academy for Canine Drama?

Clearly, they were barking at YOU, so how about you move you on down, move on down the road?

For comparison, I offer this photographic evidence of the difference between weekly nail trims and the more like quarterly pedicure smackdowns I have with Ginko over his toes.

Ginko                                                                Lilly

Truth in Adversiting: I am not perfect, however, in my execution of these dog mom duties. This shows Lilly’s foot before her latest trim over the weekend.

This is immediately afterwards. I cut one too short, and it bled. She is such a good girl for putting up with my mistakes.

]]> http://championofmyheart.com/2010/03/09/dog-pedicure-smackdown/feed/ 4 http://championofmyheart.com/2010/03/08/dog-agility-mach-umentary/ http://championofmyheart.com/2010/03/08/dog-agility-mach-umentary/#comments Mon, 08 Mar 2010 22:53:59 +0000 Roxanne Hawn http://championofmyheart.com/?p=1209 When I first explained the ideas and emotions behind Champion of My Heart, I waxed a little poetic (I hope) about our new-found interest in dog training beyond the basics.  A condensed version of that post now lives on its own page in the sidebar. It’s called Why Champion of My Heart?

An excerpt:

I’ll admit that I mist up as I watch friends and their dogs earn championship titles. It’s an emotional moment … the crowd goes dead quiet as the handler-dog team step to the start line on what could be their final run to earn the championship title. Everyone holds their breath as the dog speeds over jumps, through tunnels, and across teeter-totters. Waiting. Hoping for perfection (because at that level zero mistakes allowed). The goal? Clean run.

We watch the dog, but we also watch the judge, hoping her hands don’t fly into the air signaling a mistake.

It’s over in less than a minute.

Often the final obstacle is a jump with PVC bars, marking the height. As the dog clears that final bar, without knocking it down, the crowd erupts in cheers. Then, the handler grabs the final bar (often painted gold for the occasion) and turns to run a victory lap around the course with dog flying high.

Typically dogs go straight to their leashes after an agility run, so they get this funny, confused look on their faces when mommy or daddy turns and runs the other way back onto the course. But, they love the sport so much that they happily oblige with an encore …

I’ve wanted to show one such moment for ages now. Today, I can.

Many thanks to our agility friend Betsy and her amazing boy MACH Pitsch for sending us a link to the MACH-umentary video that shows their personal championship moment. (The video was done by our pal Don, who is Indy’s daddy.)

(It’s been a while since Lilly and Pitsch got the chance to train and play together. He is Lulu’s big brother, if you’re keeping track. I got to see both dogs at an agility trial recently, but alas … they are moving from our lovely valley back down in the city, so our opportunities to bond will take more planning. Still … we wish Betsy, Pitsch, and Lulu all good things in their new adventure.)