Class clown

Anybody with an Airedale is going, "Well, duh; that's what we expect." We expect the little unexpected antic, the touch of creativity. In our monthly fun/training class, Miro has been taking his job of class clown to a new low. The class is an informal one where the trainer teaches a new topic each month. We've done nose work, agility, off-leash work and more. Different people and dogs come and go.

When we pause for the trainer to explain the next step, most dogs sit attentively beside their people or lie down in a relaxed, yet alert attitude. Miro is the only one--in this class or any other that I've seen--who does this:

He flops onto his back and grins, first at me, and then around the room because he knows everyone will chuckle. I swore to myself before class last night that I would not react, I would not so much as smile; in fact I would look down at him disapprovingly and then look away.

Didn't work. Note to self: do not attempt to bluff at poker.

"I never met a man half so true as a dog. Treat a dog right and he'll treat you right--he'll keep you company, be your friend, never ask you no questions. Cats is different, but I never held that against them."
From "An Animal Lover" in The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows.

p.s. Problems with Blogger this week have prevented me from leaving comments on other blogs. I'll keep trying.

Test day

In Canine Good Citizen class, I am always amused by the part where you abandon your dog to another person and hide for three minutes. Even at the first practice when Miro was seven months old, the trainer would congratulate me on this part of the course as if I had something to do with his success. Most Airedales are complete extroverts, happy when they're receiving attention; it doesn't matter from whom.

The flip side of Miro's enthusiastic adoration of all people is that he'll probably flunk the CGC test again this afternoon. He can do everything except the part where a dog has to sit or stand calmly (ha!) when a stranger comes to greet him. No excited lunging, jumping, dancing, mouthing, twirling, hopping or pulling allowed. He needs more greeting practice than he gets because of the difficulty of finding anyone to practice with.

You need someone not only willing to greet the dog but willing to obey instructions and do it your way--approach calmly, turn away if the dog breaks his sit, wait for him to calm down before approaching again. And please don't expect me to carry on a rational conversation while I'm trying to control a whirling dervish; I can't do it.

Treats are not allowed during the CGC test and it's not like tests you take in school. If the dog fails one part of the test, he fails the whole thing.  I am busily envisioning Miro sailing through the test, treatless. Except for the nice, stinky salmon-treat smell I'll rub on my fingers. Surely this isn't cheating.

Teaching "leave it" and other talents

Today in one of my housekeeping fits, I began scrubbing at one of many old spots on the carpet with a damp rag. Miro dashed over to help by grabbing the rag. I said in my stern voice, "Leave it!" and because he did, I then said, "Good boy," being careful to keep my enthusiasm dampened down despite my desire to clap, jump and generally carry on. As I leaned again to scrub, he darted in and glopped me in the eye with his big, wet nose in his own version of "dampened down" response. We both jumped back, he grinning and me going, "yugg."

When training some dogs, you need to hype them up, getting all happy and enthusiastic. With Miro and most other Airedales, you need to do the opposite, keeping all praise unnaturally low-key so that the dog doesn't forget what he's doing in the leaping joy of the moment. Airedales have lots of leaping joy, or just leaping.

I've written about Miro's ability to stick his nose in the water bowl and blow bubbles. He can also talk with food in his mouth. When he eats, he flops down on the floor, front legs on either side of the bowl. He barks at intervals without pausing in his eating. A slightly less advantageous talent is his ability to pee on the backs of his front feet. I hope he soon learns to lift his leg and aim like a big boy.

Rude people and badly behaved dogs

With my son's help, I've taken Miro to the nearest Sunday farmer's market a couple of times to get him used to being around crowds and other dogs. He won't pass a Canine Good Citizen test until he can learn to walk calmly (maybe in 10 yrs) past other people and dogs, so we need lots of practice. My son hangs onto Miro while I buy fruit and vegetables, then I walk Miro around and reward him with bits of chicken when he (Miro, not my son) behaves.

Today we'd just arrived and were walking from the car to the market when a couple with a sheltie on a flexi-lead came walking straight toward us. Normally people with another dog move to one side or another but they didn't. Their dog pulled to the end of its lead and barked. We stopped, not knowing which way they were going. The sheltie charged up to Miro and would have gotten right in his face if I hadn't stepped between the two dogs while Marty held a jumping Miro back. The woman holding the sheltie's leash made no effort to pull her dog back while she and her companion came up to us and started walking by.

I said, "Would you please move your dog away from mine?" instead of the "Control your dog!" that I actually wanted to say.

She laughed and said, "You're in public."

I thought she said I was impertinent, though I realized people don't talk that way any more. I said, "I'm trying to train my dog."

Walking away, she said, "Well, you're still in public." As if being in a public place gives her the right to let her dog go where it wants and be aggressive to another dog.

I was both angry and puzzled that she would think it was OK to let her dog charge at mine when I was clearly trying to prevent that from happening. For the sake of politeness alone, wouldn't you haul your dog back if someone asked you to?

Arming up for July 4

I hate July 4th and New Year's Eve because my neighborhood sounds like a war zone during those holidays. It's hard enough for me to endure the explosions but it's torture for a dog who is afraid of loud noise. Having been introduced to noise from an early age, Miro should be OK. Alanis is another matter; even the occasional distant booms of the past few days have sent her running indoors from outside or searching for me if she's inside.

As much as I'd like to hunt down and do violence to the people making the noise, the law forbids. Instead, I'm getting the dogs ready, laying down a stock of Melatonin and Acepromazine for Alanis and conditioning the dogs as best I can with bubblewrap practice.

This training exercise requires sheets of the large-size bubblewrap, high caliber treats like chicken or stinky liver, and the ability to hop around like a fool while chanting, "Oh boy good doggies," and such. A little bit of dexterity is needed, as you crumple the bubblewrap in both hands so that it goes pop-pop-pop like firecrackers, hop around, praise the dogs, and hand out treats at relatively the same time. We have been doing this nightly. Miro thinks all excitement is good; even Alanis is working up some enthusiasm. Whether or not bubblewrap explosions will help inure her to real fireworks remains to be seen.

Meanwhile, a spur-of-the-moment view of Biteyface: