From the moment we arrived, Genie was looking at me and asking me what I wanted her to do. She was lovely.

One “trick” I’ve taught her is to lie on a mat. This used to be standard fare in our puppy kindergarten classes here, and the technique is used by Leslie McDevitt in helping to calm dogs in new situations. Basically the dog is shaped to lie down on a mat and ultimately to relax on the mat. Genie’s not to the relax stage yet, but if there’s a mat in the vicinity, she’s on it, and she’s lying there waiting for cookies to rain on her. I took the mat to class and laid it on the floor immediately, giving her a familiar object to relate to. She used it as taught, and after I took it away (after perhaps 5 minutes), she continued to be focused on me.

Genie wasn’t the only good dog at class; it appeared that all of the puppies had settled in. None of them had gone the previous week, since class was snowed out. So Genie is up to date on classes there and won’t need a make-up. It’s a fun class with lots of activity, lots of informative hand-outs, and much positive energy.

Toward the end of class, about 50 minutes into it, all of the puppies suddenly acted like they were possessed. They could no longer listen, no longer focus on their handlers, and were trying to socialize with one another regardless of human pleadings. Genie was no exception. It’s amazing that these puppies could work for 50 minutes, so no surprise! Time to play tug, or go for a potty break, or just quit.

Our maximum training time at home is about 20 minutes - and it’s broken up with many tug or retrieve breaks. These short play sessions not only provide a natural break so we can switch from training one behavior to training a different one, but they allow the puppy’s brain to process what went before - a very important part of learning. I find it helpful during our class times to break off and tug with her, or leave for a 1-minute walkie outdoors. It’s good for both of us.

Yes, we have a new puppy. Genie is a petite thing, adopted through Australian Shepherd Rescue (ARPH) and transported to us from Georgia just before the New Year by our friend Karen Stinnett. She is blue merle in color, and about as adorable as any puppy can be - and we all know how adorable puppies are! She’s bright, outgoing, and a total delight to be with and to train.

Wanting to get it totally right with this gal, I enrolled her in puppy kindergarten taught by Linda Vance at Mountain View Dog Training (my own training facility) and at A Click Above LLC (ACA), a training center in Leesburg VA. Last night was the first class at ACA.

We’ve had Genie since December 30 - therefore 11 days. In that time I’ve fallen completely head-over-heels in love with this little star. I won’t bore you with a description of her shining assets, but know that she is wonderful. I’ve worked with her several times a day, every day since she arrived. She sits, downs, responds to her name, touches my hand, touches a target on the ground, lies down on a mat, spins, leaps in the air, walks on planks, sits on little tables, and sometimes even comes when she’s called. Brilliant. Now not all of this is on cue; as a clicker trainer, the progression is *get the behavior,* *mark and reward the behavior,* repeat umpty-seven times until that behavior is predictable and perfect in execution, and then *cue the behavior.* So the sit is the only behavior on cue - oh, and the leap in the air, since that’s a natural one for her.

So last night we’re in this totally new (for her) place with maybe 50 other dogs (or so it must have seemed to her - it was really more like 16 shared among three instructors). She was totally mind-blown. She leaped on the instructors (this is a behavior I’ve permitted, shame on me, but she’s sooooo cute!). She lunged to get to the other dogs. She couldn’t hear her name. When she finally would sit, she’d hear the click and then maybe eat her treat, and then turn around to see what the dog next to her was doing. During one period she would do as I asked and then get up and turn away as soon as I clicked - didn’t even care about receiving a treat. I experienced sadness, impatience, confusion, even a bit of overwhelmedness (like that word?), and embarrassment.

Not only was her behavior problematic for me, but her appearance as well. Here’s this tiny (she weighs 14 pounds at 3 months), light-boned, long-legged merle thing with a tail (!) who claims to be an Aussie. In class there is another three-month-old blue merle thing with hair out the wazoo, no tail, and bone so heavy he could be a baby Clydesdale (have you ever seen a blue merle Clydesdale?), weighing probably 25 pounds. He’s lovely - and it’s hard to imagine that they’re the same breed. Genie is *exactly* what I wanted when I was looking for a dog, but somehow in this environment I was a bit embarrassed for her, and even got a bit defensive. WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH ME?! I love this puppy, and who the heck cares what she is, since she’s so obviously perfect! I even felt a little disappointed in her. Shame on me.

Who hasn’t felt this way about their puppy (or adult dog) during an obedience class? Forget the part about Genie not meeting the Australian Shepherd breed standard for beauty - she’s still awesomely beautiful and truly is what I wanted. As an instructor I’ve heard the “but she does it at home” story so many times I hear the tune in my sleep, and have congratulated the trainers on the fact. After all, the dog does live at home, so that’s as it should be - who wants a banshee living with them? The first class for dogs and handler is always crazy. But my pride was getting in the way and I found I had to keep stopping myself from acting out the impatience I was feeling. Poor puppy never before had to work for a whole hour. So we stopped “working” and played with a toy for a bit, went out for a potty break, snuggled a bit (with her wriggling to get away to go meet the other dogs), and eased off the pressure on both Genie and me.

This was quite eye opening for me. I have reassured hundreds of people in my classes on the first night, but forgot how it feels to be a first-nighter. I know what to do when the dog is just not with me - and it’s not to feel embarrassed and pressured, and not to insist repeatedly that the poor creature perform a behavior it’s not equipped mentally to perform at that moment. But we humans are so into accomplishing what we’re told to do and forget that our four-legged partner doesn’t understand what’s so all-fired important about sitting (or lying down, or paying attention to mama) in a strange place with other dogs all around, when they should be performing their genetically programmed duty of meeting all of these dogs, assessing friend or foe and furthering important relationships. We humans carry the baggage - the dogs don’t. The dog doesn’t feel embarrassed when her human spills treats on the floor (in fact, that’s party time for the dog!), or clicks at the wrong time, or forgets to pick up the handouts on the way out of the training center. The dog just doesn’t care. The dog just *is*. We should learn from them.

So now Genie and I will be missing our next class since I’ll be on vacation. That means that in two weeks when we return it will be like the first time for her. Again. Hopefully I’ll be better prepared for the experience. She will have more exercise on that day (yesterday she was crated in the car almost all day and didn’t have her usual play sessions) and I’ll be taking even better treats than the meatballs and cheese we had last night. I’ll also train in different locations between now and then. And I will remember that she is a baby - this is an important time for her to see the world, and meet dogs and people. Perfect obedience performance is for later. Now we just approximate it. And she’s perfect.

Just because I haven’t written in her blog, it doesn’t mean that I haven’t worked with the dog. I just haven’t shared. We’re not where I want to be, considering it’s been a year, but then there’s life that gets in the way. So it did, and does.

If I look at Joon’s Checklist, we’ve made progress. One thing I’ve learned when working with dogs, especially difficult dogs, is that it’s insanity to do anything but evaluate their progress over the long term. It can be quite frustrating to see improvement when you look at a week, or even a month, but given 3 or 6 months it’s far more obvious that the mountains are moving; the only way to move one of these canine mountains is slowly and deliberately. So over the past year we’ve made huge progress.

Down to details (’fess-up time): Joon is still not housebroken. I don’t think she has a clue. Any success we have is totally a result of our being watchful, and any failures we have are because she has access to the house and we’re not watching. So be it. We’ll keep working on that.

She tugs and retrieves, though she’d still rather chase her ball than do anything else (except chase sheep or a dog with the ball). She brings it back and will futz around getting it close to my feet, but she’s all ready for the chase. So that’s another work in progress.

She comes when called, lies down when told to, and stays in the context of agility. Still working on that. And she owns many of the behaviors in the pre-agility list, though not all.

She’s hugely reactive to dogs running, and if we never compete in agility this will be the reason why. She’s just determined to run with them and get them under control. Ha!

She jumps quite well though turning in combination with a jump is difficult. She can do 4-5 agility obstacles (jumps and tunnels) in a sequence quite well, understands pinwheels, is learning front crosses, has wonderful distance but doesn’t particularly like to work close. Her teeter is very nice. A-frame and dogwalk are absolutely works in progress - very slow progress. She’s so fast she has no patience for those pieces of equipment since they slow down her forward motion. And she’s all about moving. Fast. She understands her bottom position and I’m just back-chaining the obstacles. Unfortunately, I need a human training partner to get this done, and it’s hard to organize that.

She’s been herding. She’s very driven, but will try to leave when pressure on her to behave becomes overwhelming. She’s able to handle more pressure as she learns. Her fondest desire is to bring one of those babies down. I see visions of lamb chops percolating in her brain. Wink Mason has been most patient with her - and me. Bless him.

For 2008:
1. Back to Joon’s list to check off the areas that are still lacking.
2. More herding.
3. Work on behavior around performing (agility) dogs.
4. Teach dogwalk and A-frame.

There is no reason to use harsh methods to train our dogs. All creatures, from the lowly ant to us lofty human beings, learn their best lessons when permitted to figure out what works best in a given situation. Pulling, jerking, manipulating, “scruffing,” ear-pinching, shocking, and other tough-guy methods actually are successful with our very forgiving dogs, but at great cost: They damage the relationship between dog and trainer, and in some cases can cause serious injury to the dog. And if we lofty human beings think about what we’re doing to our dogs with these methods, we might realize we are probably also causing injury to our tender psyches as well.

Clicker training is used to teach a dog new behaviors. Once the dog has learned a behavior solidly (meaning the dog will respond instantly to the verbal or “hand” cue, anywhere and at any time) the clicker is weaned off for that behavior. Many clicker trainers don’t use a clicker at all after the dog is “trained” - though some of us love the game so much we continue to teach our dogs new behaviors for their entire lives. Sometimes we bring the clicker out, too, to brush up on old behaviors that may have gotten rusty (not used in a long time, or perhaps some behaviors that break down for one reason or another). But it is a tool that isn’t needed except when teaching new behaviors.

In teaching a dog new behaviors, in my opinion, there is no method that works as well as clicker training. I love the attitude my dogs have with this method. I love the fact that whenever they hear a clicker touch a coin in my pocket, they rush to see what the game will be. I love the fact that I don’t have to force my dogs to do anything, and don’t have to manipulate their bodies into positions they can get into themselves (I mean, really - why should we be shoving our dogs into a “sit” position?). I love the look in their eyes when they “get it” - because they have figured out what I want and the click is coming - and, of course, whatever wonderful thing that follows the click is coming too!

There are also no rules about continuing to clicker train. Your dog actually gets smarter when started off with clicker training, since she exercises her brain in the process. Brains, like all muscles, grow stronger with exercise. That means that if you decide later to teach your dog something using another method, she’ll catch on at least as quickly as she would have without the clicker experience - and probably faster, because she will have learned to learn.

Recently, in doing Canine Freestyle, I discovered a need for it. And now, while working on conditioning my couch potato Aussie Frenzy, it becomes even more important. I dawdled with it from time to time over the last several months somewhat and found that any manipulation of her body to “help” her into a stand just made her all goosey and silly (which she can be at any time, but even more so when I try moving and placing her). My heart wasn’t really in it until now, when I decided that I really want her to do this, so I set out yesterday to teach her how to stand.

Clicker in hand and treats in pocket, we proceeded to our outdoor training area (only required because there are 8 dogs in the house, and new behaviors are very hard to teach in the face of 8 dogs offering diverse behaviors and leaping up to grab the cookie when it’s offered).

We played a bit with some agility equipment, worked on training another behavior (backing onto an 8″ table - now THAT’s challenging! But I’ll save that for another time), and then began with the stand training.

I asked Frenzy to sit, which she did. Then inserted my toe under her belly and put a little pressure against her stifle. She scooted back in her sit. Tried again, with the same results. (I wish she’d hold her sit so solidly on the table at agility trials!) Tried basically the same thing from in front: put toe between her front legs so it touched her belly. She stood. I clicked and treated. Asked her to sit again, and she complied. Stuck my foot in there again. She scooted back. Again and again.

Becoming perplexed (and a bit impatient), I stood next to her seated body, and with cookie in hand, tucked it under her chin and back toward her neck. She ducked her head and twisted her neck to get the cookie but held her sit. Tried again, and she lay down, bending and twisting her neck. This happened a few times, so my next method was to sit on a low table next to her and put the cookie under her chin with one hand and to apply my other hand to her middle to help her up. She squirmed away with her rear half, still trying to steal the cookie.

OK, time to rethink this. I consider myself a positive trainer. I adhere to the principles of operant conditioning. But sometimes I lose sight of what exactly I am doing.

The first step in conditioning a behavior is to get the behavior to happen so you can mark and reward it.

• frequently you have to break the behavior down into pieces so you and the dog can build on those pieces.
• methods of getting the behavior to happen include free shaping, modeling and luring.

I’d tried modeling and luring, so what remained was free shaping.

Free shaping is rewarding the dog for doing something she does naturally (like, well, standing from a sit or down). This method can be time consuming and can try one’s patience in the beginning, until you finally learn that the behavior will ultimately happen and you just have to be there to mark it. It’s very difficult for us humans to be patient!

The dog has no idea what you want, but a clicker-savvy dog will offer many behaviors until you finally click and treat one of them. Of course, you can, in the course of your day-to-day life, click and treat the dog every time you observe her performing your desired behavior. That’s cool, but again, with a pack of dogs in the house it’s not especially practical. But free shaping in an environment conducive to training (and thus learning) can work very well.

So I took a deep breath, said to myself, “self, you’re an idiot,” and proceeded to change my horses yet again.

I stood there with clicker in hand and waited for Frenzy to stand from a sit or a down. I first had to wait for one of those things to happen, which is easy - she always offers either a sit or a down when I’m standing there with a clicker in my hand. And she did lie down. I clicked and treated that, rewarding her in the down position, which she maintained. I waited. She rolled over. I ignored it. She lay down again, watching me. She scooted back (her Michael Jackson Moondance move). I ignored it (with a chuckle). She lay there and looked at me. Tried rolling over again, sitting, lying down, scooting back, sniffing the ground … and finally stood up. Click and TREAT! I waited and she lay down again. She tried a scoot (it’s her fave), then looked at me and thought, wheels turning in her baby blues. She stood up. This went on several more times until she was lying down and waiting for about a three count (she can count, ya know) and then standing. After about 7-8 repetitions, I called it a session. I was also out of cookies.

That took all of 5 minutes. Does she know the stand? Nope. But she is on her way to learning it, and in a total non-confrontational, no-hands-on manner, with me offering nothing but good stuff (or withholding it) instead of becoming frustrated, perplexed and anxious - causing the same emotions in my dog.

Let’s see, first of all I caught a cold - had no voice, a head full of stuff, and then it segued into an ear infection, and now I can’t hear. It’s been cold. Or hot. Or raining. There was a bunch of holidays in there too, disrupting any semblance of a “normal” life around here. Though with 10 dogs I’d sure like to know what’s normal. OK, normal for us. Meaning crazy. And then, just to be sure she could just live a slothful life, Joon came in season. So no running in the agility area - might make things a tad distracting for the paying students, ya know - and no training up in the barn - for the same reason.

We do play ball in the dog yard, either with other ball-crazy dogs or alone. We play the Two-Balls game (stop it!!) to encourage retrieving. You know the drill: throw one ball, dog runs off to get it, wanders back and tries to play keep-away, but off goes the second ball, dog drops ball #1 and races off to get the second one. Human grabs ball #1 and the game proceeds. Tires dog out really quickly, but the true purpose of the exercise is to teach the dog to bring the ball back - and the second ball/chase is the reward. Over time, anticipation of the second throw causes the dog to drop the ball before the second one is sent away - and with encouragement perhaps to bring the ball closer to the human. Joon has progressed to bringing the ball to my feet, drops it, and is ready to go. The game can then be played with one ball from this point, but two’s funner.

We also combine this game with sits and downs. She brings the ball, has to sit (or down). Gets released to chase the ball. Exercises in self-control.

But we’re coming back. She’s almost out of season. I really don’t have to hear to train her. Breathing helps, of course, but for now that’s working. Of course, the next interruption will be in a month or so, when the sweet gurl gets spayed.

But stay tuned…

As you have probably read, Tuck and I do not share the same views about where dogs should defecate. Unfortunately this often means that I am not very happy with him. I know all abut setting a dog up for success. I really do try to do so, but short of giving the darn guy an enema, there is only so much I can do. The compromise I had worked out was that I would take him out as soon as I got home and wait for him to potty. If nothing was forthcoming I would unemotionally carry him back to his crate and let him try again about every thirty minutes or after eating, whichever came first. Apparently my ‘unemotionally’ was not as good as it should have been because I noticed my sweet, loving little guy starting to avoid me. In my defense I will tell you that it’s cold out, it’s been raining, and I’ve been late for work almost every day for the past four weeks trying my best to give Tuck as many chances to succeed as humanly possible. That’s when I read the post and once again applied the rolled up newspaper to my forehead.

Last week I kept the same regimen, but if I was to carry him back to his crate I would at least tell him I loved him and pat his round little head. I didn’t go overboard telling him he was a good dog, since he really hadn’t done what I wanted, but I did not withhold affection either. This week he’s better. I don’t know if he would have started to get the idea anyway about this time or if the change in demeanor helped (perhaps by lowering stress levels so he could process information?) Either way, we’re both having more fun and are better friends, and he’s eliminating outside. Life is good.

Now let’s back up and talk about c*ts. You know - those furry, four-legged creatures that often inhabit our homes and drive our dogs batty. I have them. In multiples. Normally life in the cat population at B’Haven is pretty sanguine despite Wynnie (a Birman) who hates all other cats and screams bloody murder if one of them looks at her. Wynnie has managed to carve out a corner of the dining room and all of the kitchen as her territory, and the other cats generally leave ‘the crazy cat’ alone, rather like the way a town treats their town kook.

Well, they did until about six weeks ago. Suddenly Lucy ( a Siamese) decided she wanted to get up close and personal with Wynnie. At first I thought she was trying to be friendly, and it may well have started as that. However, after being ’screamed’ at repeatedly, Lucy quit resembling friendly and proceeded to being a bit of a bully. Most of these encounters occurred right after I had gone to bed at night. Let me tell you, the sound of two cats trying to start World War II in the next room is enough to put my blood pressure up into the range of never sleeping again. I was not pleased. So I got out the squirt bottle. Whenever Lucy made Wynnie scream, I squirted her. That made the screaming stop, but it didn’t stop it from starting again. So I thought I’d try negative punishment. Any time Lucy made Wynnie scream (think “Mom, she’s looking at me!”), I’d scoop her up and deposit her into Libby’s crate for a time out. Being a social beast, Lucy didn’t like that, but she did quickly figure out she could get attention in the crate by removing Libby’s water bowl from its ring and dumping the contents. (Grrrrr. . . ) Still the incidents were not decreasing in frequency.

Last Saturday, with ‘trainer’ hat in hand and humbly bowed head, I went to the Siamese Rescue Sewing Bee and asked the ladies there if they had any ideas. Not one but three people immediately said “She’s bored!” DUH! My forehead is getting rather flat these days.

For almost a week now I have been making a concerted effort to shower Lucy with affection and playtime. It’s not hard to do. She’s very sweet. And guess what - now night falls and she curls up in bed with me rather than harassing Wynnie. We’re not perfect yet. There are still spats, especially when I’m working at the computer. But they are certainly less frequent, and generally Lucy just comes looking to me for entertainment. An added bonus is that I have an additional back warmer under the covers at night. Life is good.

So what have I learned? 1) If you find yourself in an adversarial relationship with your dog (or cat, or parrot, etc.) you’re doing something wrong, and 2) sometimes, no matter how much we “know,” we need someone else to assess the situation because we’re just too close to it to see properly.

Hug your furkids. They probably deserve it, and besides, they’re warm.

So much for happy holidays for the short guy. We’re not doing too well in the potty training department. I think the major problem with trying to potty train an adult dog is that they have much better control over their eliminations. Puppies are pretty much pre-programmed. If their legs are moving they need to potty. If they eat, they need to defecate. Easy. All you have to do is take them out when they need to go, praise the heck out of them when they do and always set them up for success. Not quite so easy with an adult, particularly a male. I have found that Tuck can go more than 18 hours without urinating. I figured I must have just missed him going, after all he is rather low to the ground. So I relented and let him run around a bit. He peed on the carpet. I applied rolled up newspaper to my head and Tuck went back in the crate. What should have been a fun-filled holiday weekend has turned into a guilt fest in my corner and a crate fest in Tuck’s. Not so fun. I got back from my family Christmas a few hours ago and let the dogs out with no results from Tuck. So back in the crate he went. However, about an hour ago we went outside and he urinated AND defecated. Happy, happy, joy, joy. Never have you seen an adult woman so elated over a little dog pooping in the yard. My neighbors are convinced I’m certifiably insane, and I’m happy that Tuck can run and play in the house for a while.

He and Libby have become good friends. They will run and chase for ages, slipping and sliding on the hardwood. I’m sure glad I work for a veterinary surgeon. I think I’ll be needing his skill soon. It’s not at all unusual to see them running throughout the house, Libby in the lead and Tuck holding on to Lib’s tail for all he’s worth. At one point I thought maybe Libby wasn’t enjoying this too much, so I called him off. Libby went right over to him and invited him to play some more. I guess she likes it. Weird. For all the resource guarding problems we had at first, he’s not bad about his toys or his rawhide. He is quite the rawhide thief and will steal one from Libby at any opportunity, but Libby can steal it back with no repercussions. Libby has also figured out that Tuck is short and can’t get on the bed, so she will take things up there to keep them from him.

On the training front we’ve not done much. Tuck’s sit is very good. Too good. When we’re outside and he knows I want something from him, he sits. Wrong. I want him to wander around, smell good things and potty! The more stressed I get the more he sits. (Note to self - become a better actor.) I thought we had a good recall building but was proven wrong. He at least knows his name now and almost always comes when called. I would have said always, but fate has a way of making a fool out of me. The other day I had taken the trash out the back gate and come in through the front door, leaving the gate open (dumb!). Then I let the dogs out back. Tuck was out that gate in a flash! I called him to “come,” he turned his head toward me but apparently heard the stress in my voice and decided I had turned crazy and should be run from. The more I tried to get him to me, the more he figured I was not to be trusted. Luckily Libby is well trained not to walk out of a gate without permission. She was still standing right inside the gate. Tuck saw her and went to her. Phew!!!! Disaster averted. (Note to self - become a MUCH better actor.)

I’ll be glad when we get this potty thing under control. Right now I’m spending way too much time either outside waiting for the short guy to do something or inside feeling guilty that he’s in the crate. It’s taking up almost all of my limited free time, time that should be spent playing with my dogs, or training, or both.

All in all, life is good. The dogs are good friends. I had been quite worried that might not happen. Everyone is healthy. I do have two cats that keep muttering something about mothers and army boots at each other, preferably in the wee hours of the morning, but that’s another subject. One of them is becoming quite familiar with the insides of Libby’s crate, as that is where she gets deposited upon the first volley of feline obscenities. Such is life in the zoo.

At any rate, here’s my early wish for all that the New Year brings health, peace, happiness, and joy to all.

More information is available at http://www.mountainviewdogs.com.