The popular dog training books and DVDs in the “In Focus” series talk all about teaching your dog focus, but what about the handler? What’s a dog to do when mommy’s concentration isn’t up to snuff?
Each week, as I drive the hour (each way) to class, I mentally prepare myself for working with Lilly. I think about what I’ll cue, when I’ll click/treat, what I’ll accept, what I’ll allow, what I’ll ignore.
Lately, my primary goal is to watch Lilly for signs of distress. But, it’s hard.
Having a soft, senstive, often reactive dog puts me on edge. I’m constantly vigiliant about what’s going on around us. Otherwise, a cyclist might whiz past with no time for me to redirect Lilly’s attention and avert an outburst. Or, another dog might sneak a sniff when we’re not looking. OR … worse.
For example, a couple weeks ago, a loose cocker came flying up at high speed. Thankfully, I saw it coming and turned away. Thankfully, its owner called it back in time. It’s a good thing too because that dog entered the dog park and immediately provoked a fight with 2 other dogs.
But, on your average day with average reactivity triggers milling about, the truth is that senses aren’t nearly as sharp as Lilly’s. My concentration isn’t as good either.
While she’s scanning the environment for movement and sound, she’s also paying very close attention to me. She can maintain that focus for hours at a time, as long as the stimuli stays below her panic threshold.
I, on the other hand, get easily distracted by conversations with trainers and other handlers. While I’m thinking about one thing, Lilly might be reacting to something else, and I’ve lost her.
She’s still paying attention, so she knows that I’m not.
I need to get better at that. A friend calls it the “something shiny phenomenon,” as in “Ooh, look! Something shiny.”
My guess is that it’s the human equivlant of the zoomies or sniffies in dogs.
Too bad Lilly cannot talk — “Mommy, watch me.” or “Mommy, here.” to keep me on track.
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