My family got a puppy going on two months ago. She’s a red merle Australian Shepherd, four months old by Christmas, with pretty curls at the tips of her ears and amber eyes. We named her Ginger (for Rogers, not the one on Gilligan’s Island).
Training her has been an experience to say the
least. House training aside, we must
teach her not to jump on things, not to scratch at things, not to bite things,
not to eat things like eyeglasses, not to attack our two cats, not to chew at
our pant-legs, not to bark constantly, to give, to sit, to stay, to lay down,
to get off, to come, and not to beg or get up on People Furniture.
It’s exhausting, and probably the only reason we
persevere is because Ginger is so stinkin’ cute. I mean, just look at her:
Photo Credit: My Mom. Picture Book Collection Credit: Myself |
I’ve been foregoing a lot of reading of actual novels
that I want to read, and researching Australian Shepherds and dog training
instead. Most of the books talk about
psychological things like positive reinforcement (giving treats when the dog is
good versus negative reinforcement of yelling at them when they are bad), and
saying “Good sit!” or “Good stay!” whenever the puppy happens to accidentally
do those things.
The books remind humans that dogs are not born speaking
human. We are literally teaching this
baby dog a new language, one that she won’t be able to speak even when she does
understand it. This made me think of
that picture book, I’ll Teach My Dog 100 Words by Michael Frith
(illustrated by P.D. Eastman).
Like the story’s narrator, the boy who’ll teach his dog
all sorts of things like “Jump the fishbowl, bring the bone,” we’ve started training
Ginger with such lofty goals. We don’t
want her to beg for food or jump up on the couch. But she is SUCH a handful. And since 2017 is scampering toward us as
fast as a little teething Aussie ready for her dinner, I’m beginning to think
we should copy the narrator of this book and say.
“I think I’ll start next year.”
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