Train Me

Yesterday morning Pip and I started on a new adventure: our first obedience class. Since I adopted him from the shelter a little more than five years ago, when he was a puppy, I’ve taken pride in training him myself, and we have made a lot of progress. Most of the time, he obeys the standard commands: Sit, Stay and so forth.

But on two issues he remains unconvinced: recall, and leaving dogs in a scrummage alone. Maybe not the most important commands but when we are in the mountains and he is off-leash, as he and I love him to be, these two commands are paramount. And there have been times when I’ve waited at a trailhead for ten or fifteen minutes while he noses around in the woods—he knows I’m calling but he has other things in mind—or joins in when two or three other dogs are skirmishing.

And so the obedience class. The first session, this morning, was for the owners without our dogs, and as the knowledgeable and persuasive trainer, Joey, made clear, we humans need to be trained first.

A little background: as Joey described it, the old way of training was like the old way of parental training that relied on a belt or a wooden spoon to teach a lesson. I never knew before why there is a hole in old wooden spoons—apparently to inflict more pain. Yes, this works—but there are better ways.

As Joey made tactfully clear, the same issues we have with our children come up with our dogs: we are not sure of our own authority. How often has a bright and argumentative teenager persuaded us that our reasonable arguments make no sense; how often has a bright and determined dog persuaded us that going his way makes more sense than going ours. Being uncertain of our authority may not be the worse failing for a human—as W.B Yeats wrote in his poem, “The Second Coming”: “The best like all conviction while the worst are full of passionate intensity.” But it leads to confusion with dogs.

For example, pushing a dog down when he jumps is actually negative reinforcement because the dog equates being touched with praise. I often wondered when friends with giant dogs subject themselves and visitors to dangerous leaps why shouting and pushing have no effect. Positive reinforcement, especially with high caliber treats (no soy extracts, etc.) work better than any scolding to mold good behavior. “Time Out” for jumping will stop the behavior. Putting the dog in a bathroom for fifty seconds with the door closed works wonders. But how many of us are willing to send our children to their rooms?

Here is where I begin to make parallels with human behavior. How often could a non-productive but escalating argument be derailed if one of us declared “Time Out”—especially now in a time of heated political debates? Could this be one answer to all forms of violence, at least when there is time and a closed space convenient? And I don’t mean a jail.

As for mixed signals—”No” as well as a hand gesture—how often have they muddied the waters between us humans. “I’m telling you this even though I love you,”—with a pat or a kiss. “You don’t need to be afraid,” with an encouraging beckoning when clearly there is every reason to be afraid. “You’re not really feeling that,” with a scowl that makes the issue of feeling irrelevant. And on and on.

Looking around the class of about twelve people, widely spaced, I wondered to what degree their dogs, when we bring them next week, will match their owners. This pretty blond woman with the long curls—does she have a miniature poodle that licks her legs all the time? This embarrassed man who admitted he had used a shock collar on his dog (Joey thinks this is a very bad idea), will he have a menacing German Shepherd? And my Pip, in this congregation of strangers, will he forget his manners?

One dog we won’t see is a Dalmatian. As Joey explained, after the movie, 1001 Dalmations, the breed became so popular that breeders rushed to produce puppies, leading to a great increase in the dogs’ aggressive behavior. And now no more Dalmations.

Fortunately Pit Bull mixes like my Pip will never be popular. Most people are afraid of them because before it was illegal, they were trained to fight, and as we are leaning in our class, a dog can be taught almost anything.

In New Mexico Black Pip