Come
The next most important word for Tawny to learn was ‘Come’. Come-for-food,
come-for-romp, come-for-grooming... never
Come-and-be-admonished. She learned that in a day or two. Even then she hesitated, reluctant to leave
what she was doing, I kept the command joyful and inviting. If she still hesitated I would prance away,
patting my lap, or else pick her up with a firm but gentle command to come. I
suspect most dogs learn this word quickly but are not always keen to obey. When they are old enough for a collar and
lead one can be more insistent.
I once took
in a young dog, slightly older than this easy small-puppy stage, who had never
been stroked or patted. She had no name;
the only communication she knew was an abusive shout. Her survival strategy was Grab what you can
and run. At first I spoke only one word
to her: Come, softly and gently and
always when close to her.
Come-for-your-food, Come-outside-with-me, Come-to-your-bed... The
puzzled expression on her face as she tried to understand this human sound that
seemed to be directed at her was sweetly comical. I kept this up for a full week before coupling
it with her name – RainShadow.
Seeing Bay
and TellMe react so gladly to the word must have helped her understand, just as
their obviously relaxed contentment must have helped her trust me. On the third day with us I saw the worried
alert look beginning to leave her eyes and the trembling lessen, and soon she
was over her bad start in life and in time became a useful member of our little
animal rescue team.
But back to
Tawny.
When she
was good at ‘Come’ I introduced the first hand-signal for it – patting my thigh
in the usual way while calling her. In a
couple of days she had grasped that combination, and I then substituted as
often as not a whistle instead of the word.
When she was older she learned another signal for Come, where I held my
arms straight above my head and parted and crossed them several times while
calling. This was for use when we were
far apart or in long grass when patting my thigh wouldn’t be seen.
Another
signal useful in thick bush or thickets where movement is restricted, is an
inward beckoning with the hand such as one would use with a person, and this in
time could be reduced to crooking a finger if Tawny was close enough to see
it. These two signals were easily taught
by combining them with the ‘Come’ whistle until they could, if necessary, be
used on their own.
She seemed
inherently sensitive to the sound of a whistle and reacted instantly, as if she
couldn’t help herself, whereas she was often noticeably slower to respond to a
call or a hand-signal which she knew equally well.
Yet another
signal to come she was quick to learn was an inviting toss of the head. It may seem strange that a dog should find
this very human gesture easy to pick up.
But if you watch a young dog trying to get another to come on and play,
you see it moving its head playfully from side to side, its chin tucked
in. Basenjis do this in a very
pronounced way, and recognise the similar action in a person immediately,
without having to be taught.
By the time
Tawny was a year old I had only to give her a certain look and she would
come. I think dogs are a lot more aware
of our facial expressions than most people realise. For this reason I believe it is better not to
train a dog while wearing dark glasses.
‘No!’
Because Tawny was a healthy and lively pup, of course the
moment she settled she was up to every trick. ‘No!’ was the word she heard more
than any other in those early days – so much so I worried a little she might
think it was her name! ‘No!’ was barked
at her, snapped at her, growled at her, in both human and dog-language, and
accompanied by a dark and threatening look.
In time, the look alone would suffice, without a word being said.
At first
she responded very well to this command. Later, when she had grown a bit and
had thoughts of cutting loose from mamma’s apron strings, she sometimes got a
cheeky look in her eye, tossed her little head and went right on with what she
was doing. Now I had to be sure that
when I said ‘No!’ I really meant it, no two ways about it – it could be life-saving,
when confronted by a venomous snake, for example. So sometimes the word had to
be reinforced with a small slap or a sharp clap of the hands.
House-training
One thing that couldn’t wait for English proficiency, of
course, was house-training. For the
first couple of days while things were still strange to her, I tried to
anticipate a puddle coming and carry her outside to a designated spot in the
garden. I did this after every meal or
drink.
Our house
is built on a narrow contour carved out of the steep hillside and has steps on
all sides except the back, and these did present a problem to her until she
worked out a way to tumble down them and scramble back up. Another problem, common to all puppies, was that
while the need to pass a dropping could be felt in advance, a puddle just came
when it came. When a ‘mistake’ was made
in the house I slapped the floor hard beside it, saying ‘No! No!’ then
‘Outside!’ and carried her out to the spot in the garden. If it was a dropping I scooped that up and
took it out as well, if possible to leave it there for a while, as dogs have a
natural tendency to use the same area repeatedly to relieve themselves.
In such
circumstances many people slap the puppy.
I fail to see any sense in this. The idea isn’t to teach her not to
relieve herself, but not to do so in the house.
The action of slapping the floor beside the mistake and one’s stern
expression and voice is quite enough to convey the displeasure.
Within
three days Tawny understood but couldn’t always make it outside in time. The first time she achieved this and passed a
dropping in the garden I saw her look at me worriedly. I told her gently, ‘Clever girl!’ which
reassured her instantly. Even at that
young age an intelligent puppy can read one’s voice, expressions and movements
with amazing accuracy. And undoubtedly
Bay and TellMe’s graphic demonstrations in the garden helped Tawny grasp this
important lesson.
Still, it
wasn’t long before I had to go into hospital for a foot operation, and Tawny
went into kennels. When I returned, all
that Tawny remembered of house training was how absorbent was the sitting-room
carpet.
So we
started again. First thing in the
morning and last thing at night, Bay and I took Tawny outside and gave her a
small demonstration, if you know what I mean, and waited until she had done
likewise. This was not a popular
activity when it was raining.
When I
discovered a mistake in the house at least I knew it was hers. I took her to it
– never calling her to it because that would
soon have made reluctant to come at all – held her to it, pointed it out and
slapped the floor beside it, then took her out, ‘Outside!’ If it was a dropping I’d take it out with her
to her ‘toilet place’ in the garden; then sit with her a while and soothe and
calm her. She needed reassuring until she grasped that it was not doing the
dropping that was the issue, it was where she did it.
 |
| Bay wonders if she's accidentally squashed someone... |
Tawny was
easy – not all pups are – and was quite reliable after another week. Before she
could last out through the night I put down newspapers sprinkled with earth by
the door and encouraged her to go there.
By the time she was 8 weeks old she could last from 10 pm to 5 am,
unless disturbed.
As with all
the early lessons in good behaviour, reliability grew as she grew – and as they
were praised.
(More on praise in the next post.)
******
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