The Training of Tawny - Part 6

I've run out of Tawny pics, so have to repeat ...

‘Outside’

At first, as we’ve seen, this command pertained only to toilet-training. Not until that problem had been overcome was its use extended to other circumstances.

            Tawny wanted always to be with me. Why should she go outside when I was inside? What was I up to? She viewed the whole idea with the utmost suspicion.

            To overcome this I made use of the pantry, which has only one door. The dogs are not allowed in there because it is a very small space and they soon realise that they get trapped in there and trodden on. When Tawny followed me in to the pantry I pushed her out with a firm ‘Outside!’  After about a week of this she came to realise that she couldn’t sneak out any other way; only then was she able to accept the command and wait patiently in the kitchen.

            Once that part of it was achieved it was no problem to use the command in regards to other rooms, and then to the outdoors – but only ever for good reasons.  One of the best reasons was to get the dogs to take their bones out of the house; they soon associated ‘Take it outside’ with the fun of chewing on their post-meal evening bone. Then one could use the command for any reason – always, preferably, quietly and firmly delivered rather than furiously, even if you are cross about something.

‘Down!’

‘Down!’ I use to mean ‘Don’t jump up’, rather than ‘Lie down’, which gets its own command.   There are few things more annoying, not to mention painful, than having a dog jump up on you just when, for a change, you’re impeccably dressed.  And if your dog does it to your visitors it’s embarrassing, the people standing in a clump while you skid around their hemlines slapping ineffectually at an exuberant dog.

            Many owners decide to slam this habit out of a puppy right from the start, but I consider such harsh treatment to be grossly unfair – a betrayal of the trust the puppy might just be starting to place in you, and thus ultimately counter-productive.

It is basic and natural behaviour for a puppy to greet her mother by touching noses and “kissing” her. In the earliest stages, naturally, this stimulates the mother to regurgitate whatever she’s managed to hunt for her brood; and to do this, the puppy must jump up. From this it has developed to puppy-talk for “Mum! Hallo!”  What then if “mum” turns on her and slaps her down?  This might happen later, when the pup is much older and should be hunting for herself, but not at this early dependent age. We expect our dogs to learn an awful lot of our language; I think we should make an effort to understand at least a little of theirs.

So I was quite gentle with wee Tawny when she greeted me this way. While greeting her enthusiastically in return I would bend down to her rather than have her jump up, just pushing her down at the same time. When the first wild moments were over, I gave the command “Down!” firmly, coinciding whenever possible with the moment when her forepaws touched the ground, for emphasis, and praising her calmly when she stayed down. I think she understood the principle of the thing quite early but was unable always to contain this exuberant and instinctive behaviour.

As she grew sturdier I grew firmer, and when she was ten or eleven weeks old I moved the lesson to Stage Two by meeting her leaps with my raised leg, causing her to lose balance, and giving the command sharply.  At the same time I was careful to keep my hands out of the way, behind my back or tucked in beside me,  This is I think of the greatest importance. I often see owners using their hands to push or knock the dog down; but this makes it harder and longer for the dog to learn the lesson. It is precisely those hands whose attention the dog wants, and as long as they are coming towards her, even crossly, she thinks she is being greeted.

Because I was pretty sure Tawny actually understood the command, her first few lessons in Stage Two were mild, and that was all she needed. For quite a while she still jumped up, but at a small distance: she’d prance on her hind legs, paddle her paws in the air, but was careful not to put them on anyone. Just once in a while, when she was quite beside herself with joy, there would be a bit of a slip.

The owner of a tough, older dog  would probably have to be a lot sharper on this than I was with Tawny. He’d have to be ready to bring his knee up smartly to the dog’s chest as he jumps up, knocking  the dog backwards, if necessary with increasing severity until the lesson is learned. But it is too easy to injure a young puppy by doing this: at an early age, you have to be gentle, and you have to use your hands.  A great many puppies learn the lesson right there, and never even have to reach Stage Two.

Provided the trainer is consistent, persistent and firm, I have seldom known this method to fail.   But here is the trick: if she’s jumping up in greeting, I knock her down with the knee, snapping the command simultaneously – and then immediately go down to her and greet her lovingly, so that she understands that it is not the greeting that is at fault, but her method.  If it’s excitement about going for a walk, again I give the command, but swing away and invite her to come and get on with the walk.

 'Mind'

Puppies have a way of getting underfoot that can be positively dangerous. Right from the start I took a whippy, leafy twig with me whenever I walked with Tawny.

            I first stumbled over her a couple of times to show her the hazard, saying “Mind!” sharply. Each time she got in the way after that I swished the twig at her, telling her to mind in the same tone. It took three days of countless repetitions for her to understand.  She was then just seven weeks old.

            When she was three months old I extended the command to mean that she should move from her position even when she was remote from me.  By this time she knew the word well, but only in relation to avoiding being trodden on.  The first time I tried the extended meaning was when she was standing too close to the wheels of a visitor’s car that was about to move away.  When I called her to “mind” she looked across to me and wagged her tail in acknowledgement, then looked all around as if to see who was about to trip over her. Her tail dropped a bit, she looked at me again, moved her tail apologetically and put her head on one side questioningly. I went to her and drew her away from the wheel, saying, “Mind, mind car!”

            Opportunities such as this didn’t occur as often as (nearly) getting trodden on, and it took another three months before she would readily move from her position on command, especially when she could see no reason to do so.  Again, consistency is the key: there always needs to be a reason, as she would always find out.  “Mind” remains one of the most useful and flexible of commands.

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