Amy Newmark - Chicken Soup for the Soul: Lessons Learned from My Dog: 101 Tales of Friendship and Fun

Chicken Soup for the Soul: Lessons Learned from My Dog

Amy Newmark

Royalties from this book go to American Humane

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Be Ready for Adventure

Ridiculous Sometimes Works

In order to really enjoy a dog, one doesnt merely try to train him to be semi-human. The point of it is to open oneself to the possibility of becoming partly a dog.

~Edward Hoagland

L ike most young pups, my little Beagle/Jack Russell mix grand-dog was an escape artist extraordinaire from his harness, from the gate around my patio, and from me. While most people might be able to catch a runaway puppy, I use a mobility scooter, and its maximum speed is only four miles per hour no comparison to Dan, who seemingly could go from zero to sixty in five seconds if something caught his eye. Fortunately, while doggie-sitting one day, I discovered a surprising alternative to speed for catching him.

When we returned from a walk, I opened the door to my gated patio to let Dan out to get a drink and then went about preparing lunch. A few minutes later, I realized he had not returned inside. He was nowhere. Gone! While fretting and pondering what to do, I glanced out my kitchen window and spied him running loose in the common area between my communitys townhomes in pursuit of a rabbit. I gasped. It would not have been such a concern except that I am just a half-block away from four lanes of busy traffic, and I silently prayed his prey would find a safe haven in the opposite direction.

I quickly jumped on my scooter without a clue as to what I would do. And then I noticed his harness and leash on the counter. I quickly grabbed them in hopes that, if I did catch him, I would have a way to bring him home.

I rode on the sidewalk until I saw him again, running behind other townhomes. I instinctively shouted, Dan! He turned to look, and I knew I had one shot at making him come to me. Panicked and unprepared, I wondered, Now what do I do? Suddenly, an idea popped into my head, followed quickly by, This will never work. But what other choice did I have?

I grabbed his harness and leash from my lap and dangled them so he could see. Walk? I asked. I silently cringed, thinking how ridiculous it looked for a woman on a scooter to hold out a harness and leash to a dog who was already running free. To my complete surprise, it worked! Dan ran over to me ready for another walk, which he knew would only happen if he wore the appropriate attire. That is when I learned a lesson: There is no such thing as ridiculous if it works.

Vicki L. Julian

The Expulsion

Discipline isnt about showing a dog whos boss; its about taking responsibility for a living creature you have brought into your world.

~Cesar Millan, Be the Pack Leader

E xpelled from dog-obedience school! That was the headline I envisioned by the time I drove Trooper, my Welsh Springer, home from our first, and last, day of school. I was embarrassed and angry. How, fifteen minutes into our first day of dog-obedience class, could I find myself heading home, kicked out of school?

In a time long before Cesar Millan, the dog whisperer, and before it became fashionable to have your dog trained in the social graces, I found it necessary to have Trooper properly trained in the basics. Not the roll-over, give-paw, or even sit basics. Im talking about the no-bark, no-jump, no-pull, no-acting-crazy basic boot camp for dogs. My husband and I had tried for months but we just couldnt get through to him. We began to think that adopting a forever pet might not be forever for us. Perhaps the old adage you cant teach an old dog new tricks was true, but Trooper was only two years old when we adopted him certainly not a pup but still only a teenager in people years.

I had been thrilled to read in our local newspaper that a woman was offering dog-obedience classes. The ad said she would teach our dog how to behave. Wow! That was for me. I could see it: In four short weeks, Trooper and I would be walking the neighborhood. Heads held high. He at my side. No pulling, no sniffing. I mailed in my seventy-five dollars.

The dog-obedience trainer called to set up an interview with us. An interview? I asked. She explained that she needed to meet Trooper before accepting him, and I made an appointment with her for the next day.

The following day went well with the trainer, and I was happy that Trooper and I passed inspection. After being given a thumbs-up to proceed with a four-week course in socialization, she supplied me with a shopping list of assorted items I needed to get: a new collar and leash, even a Dog Training for Dummies book for me to read. All of this could be purchased from the trainer for an additional seventy-five dollars. Its only numbers, I said to myself. Anything for my precious Trooper.

On Friday evening of the following week, Trooper and I left home for our first class. I was hopeful. The clock read 7:00 P.M. when we arrived.

There were approximately eight dogs of assorted sizes and breeds. Forming a semi-circle, all were quiet and heeling at their masters sides. We joined the semi-circle. Trooper, jumping and barking. Me, red-faced, pulling and tugging, occasionally uttering, Shhhh. Across from me stood an English Setter. His eyes bore down on Trooper with a look of disgust and disinterest on his face. A Boxer on the other side of Trooper, looking smug and self-righteous, backed away, apparently afraid he might catch something.

Excuse me. Excuse me, the trainer shouted over the cacophony. I looked up to see that she was talking to me. Im sorry, but can you take your dog outside to calm him down a bit? I grabbed Troopers leash and dragged him out to the back yard for a time-out. After gaining some control, we returned to the training room. All was quiet for the moment. The clock read 7:11 P.M.

Several barks and a few shoulder-dislocating tugs by my four-legged Cujo later, the trainer asked us to leave permanently. I looked at her in disbelief as she explained that Trooper was too disruptive, preventing the other students from learning. I begged for another chance and reminded her that her class was on socializing. Thats why we were there. She was unforgiving. I grabbed my dog equipment and dog-training book, and we left, heads down, tails between our legs. The clock read 7:15 P.M.

Nancy Hesting