ADVENTURES IN DOG TRAINING

The Basset in the foreground is Warf. He is the first Basset we ever had. He is older in this photo but he had some problems, notably using his teeth to get his way with everyone. It was very effective.
When he was about a year old I took him to a Park District training class with a friend who had a Golden Retriever puppy. Warf had had some training by then but he also required two muzzles, two strong people to restrain him and a Vet to trim his nails.
In class we got past "sit" and began the "down." The instructor noticed that he was still sitting. She came over and knelt down to show me that he would lay down if I pulled his front feet forward and very quickly I said "I would NOT do that."
Very slowly she withdrew her hands and stood up, regarded Warf for a moment and said "Oh well: he's almost down as it is."
End of "down" training.


The black dog in the photo is Quiller as a youngster. My first Belgian. I used a very poor trainer to start with and really screwed this dog up, but he was very compliant and willing. It was just that he was so anxious to do it right that it overwhelmed him, and he got nutty. One day I was at a "fun"match with my friend and his breeder, Susan, and I was complaining that on the "watch me" command, Quiller didn't. She suggested I hang a long piece of string cheese out of my mouth where he could see it and give the command. So I did. I hung this piece of cheese out of my mouth, turned to Quiller and said "Wat------------" and instantly had my lip split in half as he hit it with his teeth grabbing the cheese. I was laughing so hard it was difficult to stop the bleeding. I guess he knew the command after all.

(The Keeshond in the photo is Kailey, my daughter's absolutely wonderful, loving and mischievous dog who lived a happy 17 years and who we all miss on a daily basis.)

This, by the way, is what Warf looked like as a baby. That really is me holding him. Those days are over!!

This is Walker. He was with us only for a very short time. He had the longest ears of any Basset we had had or have had since. At training class (for show, not obedience) he could not get around the ring without tripping on his ears.

Walker also taught me that teaching the "stand" to a young Basset is a lot like working with a slinky: you get one end up and the other is already down. You fix the back end and the front is laying in a puddle on the floor. Keeping one hand under the rear you lift the front. There is absolutely not one bit of help can you expect from the hot little bundle in your hands. The tail wags. Other than that, you are on your own.

This is Arsenal the cat. (As if you couldn't tell.) Arsenal actually came when he was called except for the one time he got out of the yard when we had had him about two days. We combed the neighborhood to no avail. My son was distraught, I was hysterical. Finally on a whim I got Warf out and had him smell the cat's blanket. We took him around the corner to where Arsenal had run under the fence.
He walked to a bush.
I pulled him back and started over. Neither of us had EVER done tracking of any kind.
He went to a bush.
I pulled him back and started over.
He walked about 6 feet down the street did a turnaround and went back to the bush. This time he resisted being pulled back to the fence, so I got down on the ground and peered under the bush and found myself staring into two green kitty eyes. Arsenal. Under the bush. Right where Warf knew he was.
We gave Warf a nice bowl of ice cream for his reward. He loved it.
Two days later he had pancreatitis (from which he recovered) and the Vet was screaming at me YOU! OF ALL PEOPLE! SHOULD KNOW BETTER! THAN TO GIVE HIM ICE CREAM!!!!!

Thus did I learn about training.