Lilly likes to play hide-and-seek. But, she’s a total cheater. She often breaks her stay before she’s released, or she sneaks a peek when we slink off to hide. To prevent this, Tom
often hides while she’s outside. Then, I let her in and say “Where’s daddy?” Lilly loves this game. Perhaps her calling is in tracking.
…
After having a dalmatian that could not be trusted loose in the house alone until she was about 8 years old, I’ve alwasy been a little leery of leaving the dogs to run free when we’re
gone (which isn’t very often since we both work at home so much of the time). But, I had to be out of the office all day yesterday, and Tom was gone in the afternoon. He decided to leave both Ginko
and Lilly loose in the house. …
I learned early in Lilly’s training that even a slight verbal correction did more harm than good. So, her training is a pretty positive process. Still, after months and months of little to no improvement on the snarking at other dogs (and now bikes, skateboards and scooters), it became awfully tempting to give some kind of negative consequence. But, it turns out that after nearly 3 years of positive reinforcement, my timing for the negative is all wrong.
There’s a whole community of people who train and run rescued dogs in agility and other sports. It’s a proud accomplishment for any dog once deemed unwanted (or unloved, or whatever).
Many of these dogs, just like Lilly, have some challenges, but for so many people that’s just fine. And, yet, sometimes when you talk about it with handlers of non-rescue dogs, there’s a sense that
they think we use “rescue” as an excuse … that we allow our dogs to get away with things we shouldn’t, for example. …
Because I live in the boonies, my copy hasn’t come in the mail yet, but for those of you who get Clean Run, check out my article in the Sept 07 issue on help for the spatially inept.
It’s my first (of I hope many) pieces for the magazine. If you’re checking out the blog for the first time after reading that article, welcome. …
Just now, Lilly came and pressed her narrow chin into my thigh. I’m madly typing away on a note for an editor, but Lilly persisted. Then, almost like she sent me a message, my head went
BING, and I realized that I didn’t give her medicine when we got back from our walk. I guess that shows I’m not yet fully in the habit. …
It started last winter, when I regularly enjoyed a cup of hot cocoa with whipped cream at night. In front of the fire, I’d hunker down with Tom and the pups to relax. Lilly began
showing interest in the whipped cream in my cup. So, I gave her some. Now, just like the sound of stainless steel bowls means dinner, Lilly learned that the sound of the spray can meant whipped
cream. It’s the accidental dairy version of click/treat. …
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Pardon our dust during redesign. I promise to write a new e-book soon. ;o)
