Dog Trainer

I am starting my fifth 8-hour day of training to be a pet training instructor. I’ve watched the area trainer, who is a marvel. Nearly every dog she interacts with follows her directions as if he’d known her all his life. Granted, she has the best selection of training treats to be found anywhere--we trainers have ready access to everything in the store—but her confidence and consistency are what really does the trick. There is a fluidity in her movements to which the dogs respond as one totally natural animal to another. A remarkable role model.

My first two days on the job were to be spent studying the training manual, which covers elementary information on canine behavior and positive reinforcement. The studying was broken up by various exercises meant to familiarize me with the store layout and its merchandise, and to desensitize me to initiating conversation with patrons and their pets. Within two hours of my arrival I approached a pair of German shepherd pups, one of whom leapt up and bit me on the thigh. It didn’t break the skin, but it left a bruise. I felt rather disheartened, as I had held my hand out to the pup in a position calculated not to express dominance. Moreover, I had looked away in order to void appearing confrontational. Nonetheless, he bit me. I guess he and I had read different books on canine communication. It can only be my fault. I don’t remember seeing any frightened stiffness in his gait prior to the lunge, but I may have overlooked it. At least it was not a serious injury. Perhaps it was a simple miscalculation of jumping distance with an open mouth: puppy teeth are sharp, and collisions are frequent. But his angry barking after the bite made me suspect that he had wanted to bite.

It reminded me of a vet tech at my regular veterinarian’s office, who was lifting a large dog from the surgery table to place it in a cage, when the dog—still partially anesthetized--bit his face. The young man could not drop the dog, and had both his arms full. There was nothing he could do but place the dog where it was supposed to be and, only then, attend to his face. His lip and jaw were cut clean through and bleeding profusely, but he bore no ill will toward the dog, because he know that bite inhibition is a function of the higher brain centers, and this dog was too drugged to control an automatic behavior. Of course, all this theory is well and good, but imagine the reaction of the tech’s poor wife, who was working the front desk of the veterinary office, when she had to drive her husband to the emergency room! Although the majority of dog bites do NOT become infected (in contrast to cat bites) he needed the attention of a plastic surgeon to minimize scarring.

Vicarious experiences like that one help me keep my perspective. However, I was ill equipped for my first at-home training session. On my first day off, I happily loaded my senior Golden, Elliot, onto a 6-foot lead and took him to our large front porch to do some individual training work. He sat for treats without even being prompted. He did not remember “down”, however, so I had to add the visual cue of lowering my hand to an inch above the cement. On our second try, Elliot sprang upward and drove his head into my nose. Afraid that my nose might be broken, I grabbed up the lead and took him back into the house. Although it felt as if Elliot had driven my nasal cartilage into my frontal lobes, he did not really do so, so I have no shiners or swelling to show for that aborted training session. Elliot managed, though, to punish me for trying to treat him like a PetWorld dog instead of a family member. Later in the day he continued to seek me out as usual. I was glad that I had not screamed at him in anger, but simply terminated our training. I do hope, though, that I won’t be sent fleeing from our training area with tears running down my face as they were on my porch.