Last night, my ideas of what Zachary is "good" and "bad" at were turned upside down. That's not to say that he was inexplicably bad at what he had been good at, and good at what he was bad at (not that we haven't been there before) but rather that, given the right/wrong circumstances, he can be good at what he's bad at and bad at what he's good at.
Perhaps I should explain.
Last night was Canine Good Citizen (CGC) class #4, and feeling rather puckish, our instructor (Wendy) decided we should work on sits and downs. Big deal, right? I mean, Zachary can sit and down, no problem. That's one of the few areas of the CGC test I have zero worries about...
... but tonight, there was wrinkle. Tonight we needed to do them on the mats the dogs sit on during class. That is, Zachary had to do a sit and down on each of the three other dog's mats. For "fun", Wendy threw in a few cones as well, carefully stationed near known "hot spots" for scents.
(did I mention that Wendy was feeling puckish?)
Zachary, a 2 year old intact boy, is still young enough that scents - particularly dog scents - are very hard for him to ignore, and I figured he would go down in flames right from the start. And he did. Well, not in flames, but his nose sure went down right from the start.
"Zachary, Sit." (snuffle, snuffle) "Zachary!" (snuffle snuffle) "ZACHARY!"
Huh? Oh. Right. Sit!
And my (mostly) obedient pup plopped his rump down on the mat and stared up at me lovingly, obviously feeling quite proud of himself for having remembered what Sit meant.
"Good Boy" (sigh)
The rest of the mats and cones actually went fairly smoothly. I will admit to making an animated fool out of myself to get his attention at times, but once gotten, he did (mostly) listen. All in all, he wasn't half bad.
Next on the list was loose leash walking, something Zachary is not particular good at, especially when wearing his handsome quick-release martingale collar (as needed for the test) as opposed to his usual harness. Tonight, as one student put it, we got to do "barrel racing". Three student-and-dog pairs formed points of a large triangle. The fourth pair circled around each of the others. I'm not exactly sure why, but Zachary did pretty good at this one, both as the "horse" and as the "barrel".
The second time we had to do it without using the leash at all (still on, but not used). Once again, I pulled the fool in me out of the box and Zachary was either so embarrassed, amused, (or worried?) that he stayed close. Cool!
His long distance stays were rock solid, and he didn't go down from a sit!
The dreaded Supervised Separation turned into a fizzle, as Zachary calmly sat with his minder while I at first hid behind a curtain, then actually walked out The Gate and hid behind my car.
"No worries, Mom," he seemed to say, as he sat there confidently with nary a whimper. Perhaps the fact the days are long enough that it is no longer dark during class made a difference?
Once again, Wendy moved mountains to get Friendly Strangers in our midst, and this time they brought a distraction with them - the most adorable 10 week old Vizla puppy you'll ever meet. I guess the deal was the Friendly Strangers would be, well, Friendly Strangers, if the students would help socialize the puppy.
Gee, having to play and cuddle an adorable puppy? Those Friendly Strangers were really driving a hard bargain! :)
For kicks, Wendy decided the Reaction to a Another Dog (two people, with dogs, approaching each other on a sidewalk, stopping to shake hands (dogs staying at owner's sides) and then everyone continuing on their way) should be Reaction to a Puppy.
(did I mention that Wendy was feeling puckish?)
I am proud to say that he was incredibly well behaved, generally stayed where he was supposed to, didn't cause any problems, and was the star of the evening...
... the puppy, that is. Zachary was horrible. Zachary was totally transfixed by the puppy, totally incapable of doing anything other than ogle the puppy, and practically dragged me across the yard to meet the puppy.
After several dozen failed attempts at loose leashing toward the puppy, we finally, sort of, got within six feet or so of the puppy (without pulling) and Wendy labeled it a "success".
Zachary's reward? The puppy.
There's my boy, standing there, looking down at this squirming bundle, who is now jumping up on his hinds legs and pawing at Zachary's face (ears, shoulders,...) and nibbling on his ears.
Awwwww....
(did I mention the puppy was adorable?)
I have no idea why Zachary was so interested in the puppy. He didn't seem to want to play with the puppy, he just wanted to sniff a little and then stand there like some sort of puppy jungle gym. Puppy on his ears, puppy on his tail, puppy crawling under him... and Zachary seemingly in his happy place.
The last bit was sitting for the friendly stranger and being pet by the friendly stranger, and other than the time Wendy walked over holding the puppy...
(did I mention that Wendy was feeling puckish?)
... Zachary was a rock.
I guess that pretty well covers the evening. In summation, Zachary is still way distracted by scents but seems to be getting better, his stays are lovely, loose leash walking is still a work in progress but improving, he loves puppies, is getting much better at sit/pet by strangers, and on this particular night he handled the Supervised Separation just fine.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Good Idea?
The other day I decided to give Training Levels Four - Scenting a go. The concept is simple - smear something gooey on an article, put it down, have the dog lick it off, repeat.
Even I can't screw that one up, right?
Hmm....
I read somewhere that canning lid rings make great articles. They are cheap, easily cleaned, easily stored, identical, and the dogs can pick them up.
Perfect!
So I bought a box of 12, numbered a few of them, sat down on the floor with Beau, a clicker, and a small dish of peanut butter (old-fashioned, of course - nothing but the best for my boys, plus it is sufficiently gooey.)
I dipped a finger in the peanut butter (I now had Beau's undivided attention) and smeared a bit on the (very narrow) ring and put it down.
Beau was instantly on it like, well, like a dog on peanut butter. He chased that flimsy, lightweight ring all over the Hardwood kitchen floor trying to get every last speck with his big wet tongue.
Yum.
I got up, retrieved the ring from under the cabinet, and repeated. Once again, Beau's big wet tongue was more than up to the task and soon the peanut butter smear was only a memory.
On the third try, I noticed two things. One, Beau's tongue was beginning to develop a very unappealing layer of spit mixed with peanut butter, and two, my Hardwood floor was also beginning to develop a similar spit-and-peanut-butter layer.
Yum.
I pulled the ring out from under the kitchen table, smeared some more peanut butter on it, at let Beau have at it. At this point I noticed that Beau's big wet tongue wasn't really doing a such great job of getting the peanut butter out of the little grooves on the side of the ring, nor from the inside of the ring, and that definite smears of spit-laced peanut butter were starting to show on my Hardwood floor.
Yum.
We gave it few more tries, things continued to get messier, and I quit.
In comes Zachary. Zachary also loves peanut butter. Zachary is a very fast worker. Zachary had that (truly disgusting by now) ring all over the kitchen floor.
Lucky me, he soon figured out it was much faster to bring me the ring after he finished than to wait for me to retrieve it. Alas, he is still very animated when he retrieves things and more than once he tossed it in the air, dropped it, and then chased the (rolling, sticky, wet, disgusting) ring wherever it might go.
Did you know a canning ring, if dropped and chased by an average-sized enthusiastic Golden Retriever, will roll a considerable distance across a Hardwood floor?
Yes it can.
So to sum things up: 1. Both dogs give this exercise two enthusiastic (sticky) paws up for entertainment value 2. Canning rings make lousy articles for training Golden Retrievers using peanut butter and 3. Mopping your Hardwood floor at 9pm is not a good way to end your birthday.
I don't suppose anyone else as any good ideas for cheap, easily cleaned, easily stored, identical, articles that dogs can pick up and can be smeared in peanut butter without making a horrible mess on the floor?
Even I can't screw that one up, right?
Hmm....
I read somewhere that canning lid rings make great articles. They are cheap, easily cleaned, easily stored, identical, and the dogs can pick them up.
Perfect!
So I bought a box of 12, numbered a few of them, sat down on the floor with Beau, a clicker, and a small dish of peanut butter (old-fashioned, of course - nothing but the best for my boys, plus it is sufficiently gooey.)
I dipped a finger in the peanut butter (I now had Beau's undivided attention) and smeared a bit on the (very narrow) ring and put it down.
Beau was instantly on it like, well, like a dog on peanut butter. He chased that flimsy, lightweight ring all over the Hardwood kitchen floor trying to get every last speck with his big wet tongue.
Yum.
I got up, retrieved the ring from under the cabinet, and repeated. Once again, Beau's big wet tongue was more than up to the task and soon the peanut butter smear was only a memory.
On the third try, I noticed two things. One, Beau's tongue was beginning to develop a very unappealing layer of spit mixed with peanut butter, and two, my Hardwood floor was also beginning to develop a similar spit-and-peanut-butter layer.
Yum.
I pulled the ring out from under the kitchen table, smeared some more peanut butter on it, at let Beau have at it. At this point I noticed that Beau's big wet tongue wasn't really doing a such great job of getting the peanut butter out of the little grooves on the side of the ring, nor from the inside of the ring, and that definite smears of spit-laced peanut butter were starting to show on my Hardwood floor.
Yum.
We gave it few more tries, things continued to get messier, and I quit.
In comes Zachary. Zachary also loves peanut butter. Zachary is a very fast worker. Zachary had that (truly disgusting by now) ring all over the kitchen floor.
Lucky me, he soon figured out it was much faster to bring me the ring after he finished than to wait for me to retrieve it. Alas, he is still very animated when he retrieves things and more than once he tossed it in the air, dropped it, and then chased the (rolling, sticky, wet, disgusting) ring wherever it might go.
Did you know a canning ring, if dropped and chased by an average-sized enthusiastic Golden Retriever, will roll a considerable distance across a Hardwood floor?
Yes it can.
So to sum things up: 1. Both dogs give this exercise two enthusiastic (sticky) paws up for entertainment value 2. Canning rings make lousy articles for training Golden Retrievers using peanut butter and 3. Mopping your Hardwood floor at 9pm is not a good way to end your birthday.
I don't suppose anyone else as any good ideas for cheap, easily cleaned, easily stored, identical, articles that dogs can pick up and can be smeared in peanut butter without making a horrible mess on the floor?
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Call Your Dogs
Last night my son and I went to see his High School’s production of West Side Story, as his English teacher gives extra-credit if the kids go and write a critique. His High School has a wonderful drama and music department, and the production was both done well and enjoyable to watch.
But wait, isn’t this a dog blog?
One of the scenes in the play, near the beginning, has a few kids from one gang playing basketball when a few kids from another gang show up. The ball is past from the gang with few to the gang with more people, then a few more kids show up from the opposing gang and the ball is against past to the gang with the most people. Pretty soon you have a skirmish, fists fly, and the cops show up.
But wait, isn’t his a dog blog?
This morning, as Hubbie and I were out walking the boys (on leash) and enjoying the beautiful weather, our peace and quiet was disturbed by a pair of off-leash Rottweilers roaring up behind us. They had obviously bolted out of the backyard of the house we were in front of.
I’ve seen the dogs before, from a distance, tied up in their garage, usually with a woman yelling at them to stop barking as we walked past.
They don’t listen.
Today I got to see them in all their well-cared for glory. I’m guessing they aren’t full grown yet, as they are on the small side. One is probably female and the other male – possibly siblings. I’ve never spoken with the owners, so I can only guess.
Today, they were running full tilt at my pair of on-leash Goldens. A quick assessment of body language didn’t show any (initial) ill-intent. They seemed excited and curious, although not playful. I kept walking with Zachary as the smaller dog (female?) came up and started sniffing him. My boys are neither aggressive nor combative, and I was hoping if I just kept moving we would get out of the Rotties area of interest and they would leave.
Not seeing any humans around, I bellowed out “Call Your Dogs!!!” as I’m trying to walk Zachary down the sidewalk.
Hubbie had it harder. (a) He had Beau – who, while just as friendly as Zachary, is also much more interested in meeting other dogs than Zachary and (b) the larger (male?) Rottie had taken an interest in Beau.
Both my dogs are intact, and the smell of intact dogs have a way of ticking off neutered dogs (assuming the Rotties are) and as the female circled around to get a better whiff of Zachary my concern was growing.
“Call Your Dogs!!!” I screamed again, this time resulting in a head popping over the fence and a man yelling for his dogs to come. To their credit, they at least considered it, but only for a moment.
At this point, I was pretty sure that the dog with Zachary wasn’t a problem (at least so long as her counterpart didn’t start anything) being more pushy and curious than showing any effort to pull rank, but I was less sure of the other dog now a good 20 feet away with Beau. Although both turned toward their house when called, the larger dog immediately came back to Beau, with head held high and prancing.
Not exactly the best of signs.
“Call your Dogs!!!”
“I am calling my F-ing dogs!!!” comes a voice again.
Good for you – but it didn’t seem to be working.
I had continued to walk, and by this time Hubby had managed to move Beau along as well, and the owner finally appeared from behind the fence and somehow grabbed his dogs.
Were the dog’s aggressive? No, I don’t think so. I think they were teenagers checking out the “strange” dogs on their sidewalk. If I had just stood there would a play bow have ensued? Quite possibly…
… and yet, there could just as easily have been a rumble (and my boys would have been toast.)
I feel for the owner of the Rotties, in the sense I doubt Beau would have recalled either under those circumstances (although Zachary might) and he was probably a bit embarrassed his dogs were out.
On the other hand, my heart was going a mile a minute, I’m pissed that the owner let it happen, and I keep replaying the What-Ifs in my head. I worry about what the dogs will be like in another six months, and hope the owner thinks to check his gate.
I usually like to end a post with some sort of conclusion, but today I can’t really think of one. Maybe one will come to me while I go out back and check to make sure the latch on my own backyard gate is closed.
But wait, isn’t this a dog blog?
One of the scenes in the play, near the beginning, has a few kids from one gang playing basketball when a few kids from another gang show up. The ball is past from the gang with few to the gang with more people, then a few more kids show up from the opposing gang and the ball is against past to the gang with the most people. Pretty soon you have a skirmish, fists fly, and the cops show up.
But wait, isn’t his a dog blog?
This morning, as Hubbie and I were out walking the boys (on leash) and enjoying the beautiful weather, our peace and quiet was disturbed by a pair of off-leash Rottweilers roaring up behind us. They had obviously bolted out of the backyard of the house we were in front of.
I’ve seen the dogs before, from a distance, tied up in their garage, usually with a woman yelling at them to stop barking as we walked past.
They don’t listen.
Today I got to see them in all their well-cared for glory. I’m guessing they aren’t full grown yet, as they are on the small side. One is probably female and the other male – possibly siblings. I’ve never spoken with the owners, so I can only guess.
Today, they were running full tilt at my pair of on-leash Goldens. A quick assessment of body language didn’t show any (initial) ill-intent. They seemed excited and curious, although not playful. I kept walking with Zachary as the smaller dog (female?) came up and started sniffing him. My boys are neither aggressive nor combative, and I was hoping if I just kept moving we would get out of the Rotties area of interest and they would leave.
Not seeing any humans around, I bellowed out “Call Your Dogs!!!” as I’m trying to walk Zachary down the sidewalk.
Hubbie had it harder. (a) He had Beau – who, while just as friendly as Zachary, is also much more interested in meeting other dogs than Zachary and (b) the larger (male?) Rottie had taken an interest in Beau.
Both my dogs are intact, and the smell of intact dogs have a way of ticking off neutered dogs (assuming the Rotties are) and as the female circled around to get a better whiff of Zachary my concern was growing.
“Call Your Dogs!!!” I screamed again, this time resulting in a head popping over the fence and a man yelling for his dogs to come. To their credit, they at least considered it, but only for a moment.
At this point, I was pretty sure that the dog with Zachary wasn’t a problem (at least so long as her counterpart didn’t start anything) being more pushy and curious than showing any effort to pull rank, but I was less sure of the other dog now a good 20 feet away with Beau. Although both turned toward their house when called, the larger dog immediately came back to Beau, with head held high and prancing.
Not exactly the best of signs.
“Call your Dogs!!!”
“I am calling my F-ing dogs!!!” comes a voice again.
Good for you – but it didn’t seem to be working.
I had continued to walk, and by this time Hubby had managed to move Beau along as well, and the owner finally appeared from behind the fence and somehow grabbed his dogs.
Were the dog’s aggressive? No, I don’t think so. I think they were teenagers checking out the “strange” dogs on their sidewalk. If I had just stood there would a play bow have ensued? Quite possibly…
… and yet, there could just as easily have been a rumble (and my boys would have been toast.)
I feel for the owner of the Rotties, in the sense I doubt Beau would have recalled either under those circumstances (although Zachary might) and he was probably a bit embarrassed his dogs were out.
On the other hand, my heart was going a mile a minute, I’m pissed that the owner let it happen, and I keep replaying the What-Ifs in my head. I worry about what the dogs will be like in another six months, and hope the owner thinks to check his gate.
I usually like to end a post with some sort of conclusion, but today I can’t really think of one. Maybe one will come to me while I go out back and check to make sure the latch on my own backyard gate is closed.
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