Practice, Practice, Practice

What a difference a week makes. Inspired by the trifecta of last week’s humbling Don’t Be This Dog and Handler classroom demonstration, a friend’s gentle reminder to think with a Beginner’s Mind, and a little self-discipline, Rowdy and I practiced our Therapy Dog manners this week. Every day. In many ways.

We practiced loose-leash heeling, successfully completing a series of variable-speed hundred yard walks with the requisite loop in our leash, as long as no squirrels crossed our path.

We practiced waiting at the door: the back door, the front door, the truck door, the deck door, the barn door. Going out and coming in, he waited. Click and Treat.

We practiced greeting friendly strangers, inching our way to some semblance of self-control. Unless the friendly stranger is our favorite vet and she sits on the exam room floor. Or unless the friendly stranger’s waiting room is full of friendly staff and friendly strangers holding friendly cats and dogs. I’ve yet to find any edible more enticing than the opportunity for social engagement.

We practiced walking in the park, managing to Stay Calm and (Mostly) Heel On despite the distraction of baby strollers, hikers with walking sticks, ladies with water bottles, and sporadic pops from the nearby trap-shooting club. The couple with the exuberant yellow lab and the man doing tai chi dropped our grade a notch, but still, a successful session.

Though Rowdy and I are truly a work in progress, we are winding our way to the happy medium between playful pup and courteous canine, enjoying the process while appreciating the progress. We’re finding fun in our practice and learning lots about patience, poise and perseverance. And the joy of friendly strangers.

Golden Retriever

rowdy Rowdy

Gatsby, Norby, Zenga, Boone – all dogs I have loved and successfully trained to be registered Therapy animals. Rowdy will be number 5, and the one I expect(ed) will be the best, which, for those who knew The Great One, is sayin’ something.

But here we are, 2 weeks into our Therapy Dog training program, with a solid hold on Bottom of the Class. Not that Rowdy’s a bad dog of course, he’s simply being Rowdy. In every way.

This is a positive-reinforcement-only program, using clickers and treats, a method with which we had great success in our early days together, as you can read about here if interested.

But before I get to the treat part, which (Spoiler Alert!) ended a bit badly, some background: our homework after the first class included instructions to compile a list of our dog’s attributes, framed in a positive context, which theoretically compels us to frame our training approach with a similarly positive perspective.

So while some may call him distracted, nosy and unruly, I think of Rowdy as aware of his surroundings, interested in the world around him, and eager to engage with others. Click and treat.

Week 2 played heavily into that Distraction piece, but Rowdy bypassed Aware and moved directly into Red-Alert, just this side of panic, when he saw a boy in a wheelchair, and a baby in her Mom’s arms. The big group meeting on the other side of the curtain in our training room, heard but never seen, added a little more angst.

But we persevered, clicking and treating for the slightest indication of focus on the tasks at hand, which happened to include a lot of “Wait” practice – waiting at the doorway for my a-ok to pass through; waiting quietly while I greeted a “friendly stranger” played by our instructor; and waiting for permission to visit a “potential client” played by another student.

We’ve done enough doorway-waiting at home for that to be standard procedure. But denial of the chance to meet a new friend is killer for my gregarious golden, and the only reason Rowdy didn’t jump full force into my classmate’s lap is because I violated the No Restraining order and pulled him away. It will be our biggest challenge in this process, no matter how high the treat ante.

Even Week 1’s incessantly barking goldendoodle demonstrated restraint this week, so Rowdy and I donned our proverbial dunce caps as we got in the truck. We rode home in silent reflection of the evening’s events, contemplating our motive for participation in this class, and the mindset and methods necessary for success.

At least that’s what I did. Rowdy was apparently working on the method of digesting all those many tiny bits of kibble, chicken and rabbit treats that he’d earned for limiting his liveliness. Twenty-four hours later I picked up the last canine cow pie, grateful that all but one made it to the dog yard, and that all systems had now returned to regular go.

Of course the single miss wasn’t on the easy-clean wood floors that cover the entire main level, but instead landed on the 8-foot runner in the front entry. And of course that rug is laundromat-large-capacity-machine-washable-only.

Fortunately, Nature’s Miracle Pet Stain & Odor Destroyer and my Little Green Machine cleaned it up pretty well. Equally fortunate, it’s a dimly lit room.

So, we carry on. We think positive. We practice. We mince hi-value treats into micro bits.

And I stock up on carpet cleaner.

Dog with tennis ball

(Mostly) Minding Our Manners

Good news on the obedience school front: we’re showing signs of minding our manners. In Rowdy’s case, this means incidents of barking, chortling and lunging at classmates in motion have been minimized, so that others in the class no longer draw straws, cut cards or throw rock/paper/scissors to avoid standing next to us in line for Recall practice.

In my case, it means awareness, admission, and acceptance of the fact that Rowdy resembles his owner in his fascination with the antics of our associates, which occasionally (maybe even frequently) leads to distraction.

I have always loved to watch other dog/handler teams in our training classes, and this group includes such a fun variety of breeds that it’s a challenge for me to not get caught up in the mastiff’s casual amble to the exit gate as his owner calls him with great enthusiasm, contrasted by the seriously straight shot across the ring by the German shepherd. And the star pupil border collie, so focused and obedient that he not only moves immediately and directly toward his owner, but stops, drops and stays, when commanded to do so halfway across the mat.

After a conversation with a kind and experienced classmate, I vowed to concentrate on Rowdy, and what a difference proactivity makes! When I devote my attention to my own dog, and convince him to return the favor, we do pretty well. Raucous Rowdy shows signs of restraint. My party pup is growing up, and self-control is within our grasp.

Unless an instructor walks by with a squeaky toy – a bit of canine kryptonite to my little golden friend – but still, it’s progress in puppy steps.

All this behavin’ takes its toll though, and when we get home Rowdy gathers some of his favorite things and rests a bit. I’d like to think he’s processing our practice session, cementing his correct responses in his puppy brain for future reference, but suspect he’s more likely planning his squeaky toy acquisition strategy.

RowdySleepingWithHisBlanket

What’s in a Name?

WhoMe

Rowdy is the 7th dog I’ve taken through obedience classes. The preceding six include four goldens, one lab, and a greyhound, but at the risk of dropping a few notches in the eyes of family members and friends who consider me the go-to girl for all things canine, I now have to admit that he is the most embarrassing, frustrating, puzzling, humbling of all my trainees. And given that the list of Those Who Came Before Him includes a dog-aggressive lab and a, well, a greyhound, that’s sayin’ something.

Make no mistake, Rowdy is sweet and a quick study, but he’s also overly social and excessively nosy – always ready for a good time and on the lookout for anyone who might be starting the party without him. As such, the group of twenty something puppies exiting the ring as the our “Manners” class enters, awakens his inner party animal, so he bows, jumps, barks and yodels at all potential playmates. The celebration continues as we start the class with a “Walk in the Park”, winding our way through the other dogs while (theoretically) maintaining the heel position and focus on the handler.

We reach the party pinnacle during the Recall exercise, for which we line up along the wall and one at a time, leave our dogs on a “Stay”, cross the mat and call the dog. When it’s our turn, Rowdy races to me enthusiastically, immediately, obediently. Excellent. The not-so-excellent part comes as the dogs on either side of us take their turns. Rowdy’s revved up and primed to run to anyone with a high-pitched happy voice, and if there happens to be another dog in motion at the same time, that’s bonus. It’s also (if you’re Rowdy) call for more bowing, jumping, barking and yodeling.

The good news for all involved is that “our” behavior and our teamwork get better every week. Sure, the bar started a little low when he peed a few times in the ring, once on me (I knelt on the floor before class, he hiked a hind leg to sit in my lap, left the telltale wet mark when he got off) and pooped on the mat during a heeling exercise. Even the crabby lab and the sighthound knew not to poop in the ring; but as I said, we’re improving.

How could we not?

The instructors are incredibly patient and helpful and encouraging, though one has mentioned more than once that sometimes names prove to be self-fulfilling prophecies. Our progress sustains my confidence though, that one day “Rowdy” will be an ironic twist to the tranquility of the golden dog lying on the fleece blanket listening to a kid read.

But just in case, “Stories with Serenity” – a nice ring to it, don’t you think?

Finding Our Focus

I’ve called a moratorium on the dog park, hoping to rein in Rowdy’s exuberant insistence that every other dog is a potential tag-team partner, chew toy and/or running buddy. He is Very social, which bodes well for future therapy work, but not so much for present obedience training.

When you’re Rowdy, obedience school translates to indoor-dog-park-on-a-leash, but fortunately (when you’re me) hot dogs and string cheese still prevail over All Star Puppy Wrestling.

Puppies wrestling Rowdy’s brother Deacon is in our Beginner Obedience class. Interestingly, they initially showed little interest in each other, but now engage with gusto whenever they’re within range of their 8 foot leashes. Hence, the blurry action shot…

They’re the group’s youngest, and closest in size, which makes Deacon the favorite sparring partner, but Rowdy is ready to rumble with any of his classmates. Turns out that most of them are more serious students though, so I try to keep my class clown focused on his studies. Given all the hot dogs and string cheese required, I’m grateful that he’s young and active, and that the session was only 8 weeks long, or my little golden may have morphed into a rotund retriever by graduation day.

In lieu of the fenced-in freedom of the dog park, we’ve been walking on the paved trails that wind through the pine trees and past the river, at a local park. The blacktop allows for all-weather walking and the leash requirement motivates manners practice. With movement.

Rowdy still tests the length and strength of our leather lead (and maybe just a tiny bit of my patience) as he zigzags across the path, discovering the wonders of pinecones, puddles, sticks, strangers, toddlers and tree trunks. But he’s learning. A little. Other dogs, walkers with umbrellas, and children on the playground continue to challenge his attention to the task at hand, but most are conquered with a dose of the day’s edible distraction.

Someday I will reflect fondly, maybe even wistfully, on these days of puppyhood – the everlasting supply of energy, the delighted fascination of everyday discoveries, the simple joy of being Rowdy. So my focus is to always appreciate this lively, loving little dog who makes me laugh.

And to make sure I have enough treats in my pocket to get us to the parking lot.

Young golden retriever

Puppy Progress

Puppy Lying Down

Good news on the housebreaking front, as Rowdy recently had a whole day of sitting by the deck door every time he needed to go out. Whether due to his baby bladder or the fun of the new In-and-Out game, he “needed” to go out every 15 minutes between 10:00 am and 2:00 pm, but hope outweighed hassle, and I was happy to accommodate if it meant dry rugs and clean floors.

I don’t expect we’re out of the potty puddle woods yet, but suspect we’ve slogged our way through the heaviest thicket – definitely see a light in the forest.

We started Puppy Kindergarten and like many youngsters, Rowdy’s favorite class is recess – the 10 minutes at the beginning of the session during which the puppies are free to act like puppies. He loves the wrestling matches, being taken down more often than he takes down, though he’s one of the bigger boys in the group.

After a short break, which generally turns into a outdoor recess extension and an opportunity to slop drinking water across the training room floor, we practice some basic obedience skills. It’s all positive fun, with much string cheese and hot dog, and Rowdy willingly participates in any activity that involves feeding his starving belly.

Sitting Puppy 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.

We’re a long way from finished, but thanks to the food and the little bit of core strength I’ve managed to muster out of my yoga class, my shoulders are still in their sockets and my knees remain scrape-free.

Behold, The Power of Kibble

Puppy Sitting 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.

This is about a week after our initial training session, which involved “clicking” a little noisemaker, followed immediately by offering a single piece of dry dog food.

Oh the fun of a food-motivated pooch! Boone is not now, nor has he ever been, food-motivated. Or toy-motivated. Or happy-voice-motivated. I love my big brindle dog, but obedience skills and tricks are not the greyhound’s strong suit.

Rowdy, however, seems willing to work for a pretty reasonable wage. So far he’s learned to give me his attention, sit, lie down, and come when I call his name, which is actually a bonus-based skill for which he is rewarded with a handful of tasty, dry, deliciousness.

He’s learned that when the crate door opens, his assignment is to go directly outside, turn left, then right, down the steps into the dog yard and take care of business. Upon completion, he returns to the house (often by way of quick sprint through the rhubarb, hosta and daisies) sits, and enjoys a piece of kibble.

He’s figuring out that Next-To-Lisa is a happy place to be when one is a growing pup. So much so, that I’ve nearly sent us both sprawling after he’s sidled up to me stealth-like, waiting silently for his snack. Washing dishes, making the bed, and drying my hair have proven perilous, calling for extra vigilance in surveying my surroundings.

Every left pocket I own bulges with a stash of dog food to reward his devotion. To the kibble, that is, not to me – I’ve worked with enough dogs to understand their priorities. But he’s learning, and if I have to buy his allegiance in the beginning, I’m ok with that. For now, it’s a small price to pay. Puppy Kindergarten begins next week, and with that, will undoubtedly come the demand for a raise.

Hot dogs and string cheese for my little golden friend!