Walking around the Richmond Marina with Poppy, I noticed a slipped sailboat with the name "Mental Patience" applied with an intentionally crude brush that brought on a good chuckle and a brief exploration of what the name might mean. Boats are a lot of fun but a whole lot of work. Keeping them in good repair and battling the ever-present effects of water on wood... Owning a boat requires a goodly amount of mental patience, discipline and foresight. So does being a responsible dog guardian.
Patience is a key component in the process of training both dog and guardian. No dog is going to be completely trained after just six classes. It's an ongoing process, not unlike the rote, grade school teaching of multiplication tables. Repetition, repetition, repetition. Sit, stay, down, stay... and just like an elementary school teacher, a dog owner/trainer needs a constant, even tone of voice. Personally, I don't think dogs understand what's happening when someone shouts at them. They get the "loud and angry" part but they don't get why their steady, loving, giver-of-treats-and-cuddles suddenly becomes a scary monster. No wonder they cower or run away. I don't pretend to be an animal behaviorist but having seen my own furry friends look at me in what I interpret to be terror when I lose my temper is telling. As I work with Poppy to teach her basic commands, I find that I am required to be my best, temperate self. It's a lot like being the parent of a two-year-old child again. Patience...
There are about as many schools of thought on dog training as there are modes of teaching children. How do you select the right one? I can't tell you but I can recommend that you try everything that does not subject your canine companion to cruelty or some crazy notion of human dominance and canine submission. Really? Really. The notion that I am the superior being in the relationship with my dogs is utterly ridiculous. I didn't grow up in a "pack" and am just barely beginning to learn the subtle nuances of a dog's body language. I have years to go before I understand even half of what Poppy is trying to communicate.
Which brings me to the next lesson: observation. What is my dog telling me with her body language? The more I learn about my dogs and their temperament, body language and idiosyncrasies, the more I realize how little I understand them in a real and substantial sense of the word. Sure, there are some basic queues as shown in the illustration by
Lili Chin, but just as our spoken language is nuanced, so is what a dog says with it's posture, eyes, and movement.
I'm not a dog-savant, I'm not a dog-mind-reader, I'm just an ordinary person who wants to do my best to make my dog a good citizen who plays well with others. Yet I find myself working really hard to try and translate Poppy's non-verbal statements without anthropomorphism kicking in. Every time I think I "know" what she's communicating, I have to check myself and look again.
Aleksandra at Love and a Six-Foot Leash gives an example this month about overlaying a dog's feelings with those a human might experience. Again, the idea of patience pops up and reminds me that this, above all else, is key in training up a pup and her guardian.
I try to remember the need to be consistent, I work as diligently as I can, and Poppy keeps trusting me. That's all I need to stick to the path of patience.
