Just over a month since Ruffian joined the pack at Four Sticks Farm, and we’re starting to widen his world.
An energetic extrovert at home, which is his safe spot, Ruff gets a smidgeon shy and skittish in unfamiliar spaces, so I stay mindful of the fact that he’s still a pup with a mystery history and there is work to be done.
Obedience 101 is an exercise in confidence construction. Last week he willingly hopped out of the truck upon arrival, unlike our debut performance, which involved the instructor and I hefting his portable kennel on to the parking lot, a little dragging, and a lot of treats to convince him to leave at safety of the 24 x 38 nylon doggie den. Talk about impressive first impressions.
Our Tuesday night class includes five assorted mixes, another golden retriever, a black Labrador about the same size as my rambunctious rogue, and a mammoth merry Muppet of a doodle dog named Harvey, who will definitely be the pick to plan the graduation party.
Ruffian is interested in the activities, and curious about his classmates, but sometimes opts to tuck himself between my knees to simply survey the situation. He’s learning to focus and has mustered the courage to cross over a tiny teeter-totter, step on a mini-trampoline and climb up and down a little ramp.
He’s happy to be there but happy to leave, leaping into his crate as soon as the tailgate lifts to minimum clearance. Tuesday nights are solid sleep nights.
We took our first walk in the park which turned out to be a walk in the park, strolling for 30 minutes with George and Rowdy, on paved trails in a quiet park on a cool cloudy day. Bolstered by the successful maiden voyage, I’ve now repeated the trip four times by myself with both dogs. Successfully. Mostly.
The third outing provided an educational opportunity, thanks to (a term I use very loosely) a heart-stopping moment when both dogs managed the exceptionally unlikely feat of rubbing open the clips on their Gentle Leaders®, allowing them to slide not only off their noses, but also off their necks, leaving them free to roam about the countryside.
I watched Ruffian raise his head, sniff the air, and slowly start to trot. Away. He glanced at me when I spoke his name but continued to move in a direction not toward me. Recognizing this as a call for critical management skills, in which I am neither practiced nor proficient, I stifled the panic and conjured up my A-game Happy Voice, called him as I raised my arms in the universal dog handler sign for “Woo-hoo! How much fun is this game?!!!” and watched him run right to me. Right into my relieved, grateful arms that gathered his sixty pounds in a vise grip, as my thumb slid under his buckle collar for reinforcement.
Ruff stood calmly as I secured the head collar and turned to do the same for Rowdy, the greatest dog in the whole wide world, who had been standing patiently by my side through the whole ordeal.
The rest of the walk was blissfully uneventful, though Ruff did eventually leave a mushy pile of stress relief in the pine trees that edge the trail.
It took an hour for my knees to shop shaking, but The Houdini Hounds incident transpired in fewer minutes than it took me to type the last four paragraphs, and twenty-four hours of reflection resulted in the revelation that Ruffian was not really running from me, just trying to remove an irritant from his nose.
I had him on the head collar because I had assumed he’d pull me down the trail like all the goldens who’ve come before him, but I was wrong. I switched to a martingale collar that proved comfortable for both of us, and we now work our way through the trail sans pulling, partnership secure.
Ruffian’s oafish charm, his enthusiastic embrace of the world around him, and his willingness to accept direction from the two-leggeds for as little as a “Good boy!”, a shoulder rub or an ice cube (he perfected his sit during Happy Hour) earned him a permanent place in my heart, but he and Rowdy are still sorting out their spots in the pack.
Ruff tries tirelessly to befriend, only to be rebuffed by a reluctant Rowdy whose responses range from a sneer with curled lip to a lunge with bared teeth to a snub with closed eyes, lying on the floor sending a prayer to the Gods of Unrequested Roommates, pleading for an end to this nightmare.
As a last-ditch effort to encourage the Happy Hooligan to join his play party, Ruffian will find a rug to drag, drub and drop, leaving a heap of machine washable microfiber anywhere but where it’s supposed to be, after easing his frustration with several substantial shakes.
Though reticent to assume the role of Lead Dog, Rowdy seems set on playing the part of Canine Conduct Controller, sidling up with side-eyed disapproval whenever Ruff engages in any activity considered unacceptable, generally an accurate assessment.
But because his motives are mostly about making friends not mayhem, and because his attention span is still puppy-short, my oft-employed tactic of taking neither notice nor action works as a cease-and-desist order in the world of Ruffian, and no matter the mischief in which he’s currently engaged, he’ll momentarily move on to his next happy place.
Despite the canine cold shoulder, Ruffian’s persistence to win Rowdy’s friendship secures him just enough reinforcement to find comfort and confidence in the presence of his crabby compadre. I’m sure it was the absence of Rowdy that kept Ruff glued to his crate at class, and the presence of Rowdy that kept Ruff with us at the park.
We’ve all got our parts to play, and we’re working our ways to relegation of roles – leading, following, getting out of the way.
Ruffian’s in charge of floor covering configuration.
Because neither of us fosters much tolerance for dull drills, I try to work obedience activities into our everyday life. He sits to get a treat, and stays in a sit to have his leash snapped on. Walking without pulling is an epic work in progress, but shows potential as long as I dangle the proverbial carrot. Kibble crumbs in my left pocket have been replaced with a stick of string cheese which can be nibbled on the move.
In pursuit of the piece of kibble he learned about during a 10 minute clicker-training session, Rowdy frequently offers a voluntary “Yes-Ma’am-Here-I-am-giving-you-my-full-attention-while-awaiting-further-instruction” kind of sit.
From Four Sticks Farm 