If you're into collectibles, you may want to keep the September issue of the AKC Gazette when it arrives in your mailbox. After nearly 123 years of continuous publication in its ink-on-paper format, the September issue will be the last.
Beginning with the October issue, the Gazette will become an eviscerated PDF document posted monthly to the AKC website.
That information was buried on page 91 of the June issue in a section called the "secretary's page." The item offered the standard "cost effectiveness" rationale for the change. It didn't address the question of how many of us will get stiff necks or go blind trying to read it.
In fact, the item raised more questions than it answered. It assured us that the "new incarnation" will continue to carry the chairman's and president's letters (Oh, thank God!), AKC updates and the breed columns.
Left unaddressed was the fate of the "meat" of the traditional magazine's content: the features, the departments and the other columns. So I called the AKC and learned the bad news.
Gone are the indepth articles about breeds newly recognized by the AKC.
Gone are the behavior and training articles.
Gone are the better-breeding articles.
Gone are the winners of the fiction and photography contests . . . and, I assume, the contests themselves.
Gone are the canine health features.
Gone are the articles about the excitement surrounding the agility, conformation and obedience national championships.
Gone are the judging articles.
I asked about the comprehensive events section that has been available (at extra cost) in every second issue of the magazine. I've found that section particularly helpful because it's always at my fingertips. When the magazine comes, I can settle into an easy chair and plan our show schedule. But that, too, will bite the dust. Of course, it's always been available online, but that's not the same.
The features and columns and stories mentioned above -- as well as other monthly content of interest and substance and importance -- all got the ax. But note that the letters of the president and chairman did not. What a fascinating glimpse into the corporate culture of the AKC this offers. What we see being manifested here are self-importance and organizational politics. And when this scheme came before the AKC board, it was rubber-stamped with nary a dissenting vote.
The new digital Gazette -- what's left of it -- will be available to everyone, free of charge.
Come October, those who have unexpired paid Gazette subscriptions will have the option of receiving a pro rata refund or a corresponding number of issues of Family Dog, the AKC's magazine aimed primarily at pet homes. I'm told a letter to that effect will go out to subscribers later this month.
On a happier note, the Show Awards, a publication that has irritatingly been mailed to subscribers as a CD for several years, will, beginning in January 2012, be available on the AKC website. For free, I assume.
The American Kennel Club does an excellent job in so many ways. Just not this time.
Willard Bailey
Friday, June 10, 2011
Monday, June 6, 2011
THE OTHER DICK GUETZLOFF
Across the Decade of the Nineties, Dick Guetzloff stood astride the world of competition obedience like a great colossus. Crisscrossing America, steamrollering all who dared to show up and compete, the tall man in the black Greg Norman-style hat and his splendid border collie Sweep amassed 7,924 OTCH points. At the time that was by far the greatest number of OTCH points accumulated by one dog in the history of our sport.
Dick and his wife Kay -- equally to be reckoned with in the competition ring -- lived here in Arizona at the time. I got to know them well and benefitted handsomely as I studied them from ringside. Then, for a period of several years in the mid-2000s, we lost them when they moved to San Angelo, Texas. They moved back to the Phoenix area a few years ago.
Blazing across the eighth decade of his life, Dick is still cleaning our clocks with regularity, now with a young border collie named Sparky. And he hasn't changed much, either. Hasn't mellowed at all. Cantankerous, combative, Dick can still storm around like he's not a day over 79.
But there's another Dick Guetzloff, one those at ringside seldom -- maybe never -- see. There's a quiet softness buried in Dick. It was revealed to me one day last fall.
We were at a fun match in Ahwatukee, a southeastern suburb of Phoenix. During a lull in our ring run-throughs, Dick beckoned me to a quiet area where no one else could hear. "There's something I want you to know," he told me. I thought maybe he was about to fess up: Confess that back in the glory days he had a transmitter in his belt buckle and a tiny receiver implanted in Sweep's head --which it was said accounted for Sweep's near-perfect performances. Yep, that was one of many wild rumors that circulated during the period when Dick and Sweep were all but invincible.
But no, that wasn't Dick's message at all on that fall morning. Instead he stood out there in the warm Arizona sunshine and recited (perfectly) from memory the lines that follow here. He had written them, he said, in the hope that they might help ease a traumatic decision for others, the decision to put a pet to sleep.
When he was finished, I told him how nice it was and that it needed to be liberated from his head and shared with others. During the ensuing months, I cajoled, arm-twisted. I have it now . . . and so do you.
Dick and his wife Kay -- equally to be reckoned with in the competition ring -- lived here in Arizona at the time. I got to know them well and benefitted handsomely as I studied them from ringside. Then, for a period of several years in the mid-2000s, we lost them when they moved to San Angelo, Texas. They moved back to the Phoenix area a few years ago.
Blazing across the eighth decade of his life, Dick is still cleaning our clocks with regularity, now with a young border collie named Sparky. And he hasn't changed much, either. Hasn't mellowed at all. Cantankerous, combative, Dick can still storm around like he's not a day over 79.
But there's another Dick Guetzloff, one those at ringside seldom -- maybe never -- see. There's a quiet softness buried in Dick. It was revealed to me one day last fall.
We were at a fun match in Ahwatukee, a southeastern suburb of Phoenix. During a lull in our ring run-throughs, Dick beckoned me to a quiet area where no one else could hear. "There's something I want you to know," he told me. I thought maybe he was about to fess up: Confess that back in the glory days he had a transmitter in his belt buckle and a tiny receiver implanted in Sweep's head --which it was said accounted for Sweep's near-perfect performances. Yep, that was one of many wild rumors that circulated during the period when Dick and Sweep were all but invincible.
But no, that wasn't Dick's message at all on that fall morning. Instead he stood out there in the warm Arizona sunshine and recited (perfectly) from memory the lines that follow here. He had written them, he said, in the hope that they might help ease a traumatic decision for others, the decision to put a pet to sleep.
When he was finished, I told him how nice it was and that it needed to be liberated from his head and shared with others. During the ensuing months, I cajoled, arm-twisted. I have it now . . . and so do you.
SOME DAY
One day I got a dog. God gave it to me. But, there were certain conditions that had to be met before God would allow me to keep the dog. God said, "These are the conditions. You will have to take good care of the dog and never let him suffer. You must give him food, water and shelter and keep him safe from harm.
"But that isn't all," God said. "There will come a day when your dog will have to be returned to me."
"But God," I said, "when will that day come, and how am I to know?"
God replied, "Do not worry, my child, when that day comes, you will know, you will know."
Then God told me, "In your years together, your dog will bring you much joy and happiness, asking little in return. He will give you unending love and devotion. He will make you laugh when you are sad; he will give you companionship when you are lonely. He will be truly faithful and trusting. He will lick your face and hands, showing everlasting love for you."
God then said, " "Many years will pass before the day comes when your dog must be returned to me. This will be a very difficult day for you, but I will be there to console and comfort you, and give you strength. After your veterinarian has given your dog his final sleep on earth, I will take him and lead him through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, protecting him from evil and harm. We will walk through beautiful fields of flowers, and songbirds will be singing as we go up the stairway to Heaven, to the Rainbow Bridge in the sky. It is there, by the Rainbow Bridge, where your dog will be waiting for you. Some day, when you arrive, you can cross the Rainbow Bridge together."
Dick Guetzloff, Heelalong Kennels
November, 2003
Friday, June 3, 2011
"TRAININ' IN THE RAIN"
If you live and show in an area where all dog shows are held indoors, what follows may be of little interest to you.
Responding to my comments about the training advantages PetSmart offers, makrasouth spoke of liking to train in PetSmart in the winter or on rainy days.
Winter? What's winter? Here in the Sonoran Desert winter is one day in January.
We do get occasional rain, though. And it can come in torrents. Because most of our obedience trials are outdoors, there's always a chance a dog show will be held in a downpour. Remember, dog shows get cancelled only if there's close-in lightning or if the grounds are flooded -- and I do mean flooded, not just a lot of puddles.
So I have strong feelings about preparing my dogs to be competitive in the rain. Not everyone around here shares my enthusiasm for training in the rain. In fact, they think I've gone around the bend. However, I've observed that often it's not Fluffy who's averse to it. It's the people; they don't want to get wet. Funny thing: I've learned that all that gets wet will also get dry.
Around here (Phoenix) the problem has less to do with getting wet than it does with finding rain to train in. So if Bravo! isn't scheduled to train tomorrow but when we wake up it's raining, out we go. And it has paid dividends.
Honeybear picked up a substantial number of OTCH points on days when other dogs couldn't or wouldn't perform in the rain.
At the time, Bonnie Lee had a marvelous papillon named Rosie. Honeybear and Rosie were neck-and-neck as they headed toward the OTCH finish line. We'd run into each other at shows all over the West. Once we squared off in Las Vegas. It had rained all night and the ground was soggy. Truth-be-told, Rosie out-performed Honeybear in the Utility B ring that morning . . . in every way but one. Rosie said, "Oh, I'm not going to sit in that." She didn't. HB won Utility B and picked up nine OTCH points.
The coupe de grace came on the morning of October 17, 1999 in Las Cruces, New Mexico. It was 39 degrees at ring time. The wind was howling and the driving rain was coming at us sideways. Simply the worst day we had ever shown, by far. My little golden "mudder" never flinched as she finished her Obedience Trial Championship.
So yes, we train in the rain. We seek rain to train in. When I hear people say, "Oh, Fluffy won't work in the rain," I think of the long-running smash musical South Pacific and the song from that show "You've Got to be Carefully Taught."
Willard
Responding to my comments about the training advantages PetSmart offers, makrasouth spoke of liking to train in PetSmart in the winter or on rainy days.
Winter? What's winter? Here in the Sonoran Desert winter is one day in January.
We do get occasional rain, though. And it can come in torrents. Because most of our obedience trials are outdoors, there's always a chance a dog show will be held in a downpour. Remember, dog shows get cancelled only if there's close-in lightning or if the grounds are flooded -- and I do mean flooded, not just a lot of puddles.
So I have strong feelings about preparing my dogs to be competitive in the rain. Not everyone around here shares my enthusiasm for training in the rain. In fact, they think I've gone around the bend. However, I've observed that often it's not Fluffy who's averse to it. It's the people; they don't want to get wet. Funny thing: I've learned that all that gets wet will also get dry.
Around here (Phoenix) the problem has less to do with getting wet than it does with finding rain to train in. So if Bravo! isn't scheduled to train tomorrow but when we wake up it's raining, out we go. And it has paid dividends.
Honeybear picked up a substantial number of OTCH points on days when other dogs couldn't or wouldn't perform in the rain.
At the time, Bonnie Lee had a marvelous papillon named Rosie. Honeybear and Rosie were neck-and-neck as they headed toward the OTCH finish line. We'd run into each other at shows all over the West. Once we squared off in Las Vegas. It had rained all night and the ground was soggy. Truth-be-told, Rosie out-performed Honeybear in the Utility B ring that morning . . . in every way but one. Rosie said, "Oh, I'm not going to sit in that." She didn't. HB won Utility B and picked up nine OTCH points.
The coupe de grace came on the morning of October 17, 1999 in Las Cruces, New Mexico. It was 39 degrees at ring time. The wind was howling and the driving rain was coming at us sideways. Simply the worst day we had ever shown, by far. My little golden "mudder" never flinched as she finished her Obedience Trial Championship.
So yes, we train in the rain. We seek rain to train in. When I hear people say, "Oh, Fluffy won't work in the rain," I think of the long-running smash musical South Pacific and the song from that show "You've Got to be Carefully Taught."
Willard
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
VICTIMS
On January 17, 1994, we were awakened by the bed shaking. I thought it was Honeybear (my Novice A golden retriever) leaning against the side of the bed, scratching. But a moment later Barbara said, "It's an earthquake."
Indeed it was. We were in a Holiday Inn Express in Costa Mesa, California, and we had been awakened by the Northridge earthquake. We had come to Southern California to compete in Open B at a show hosted by Shoreline Dog Fanciers of Orange County. It was held on January 16 at the Orange County Fairgrounds.
Honeybear's run that Sunday had been uninspired. Her piece de resistance of listlessness had been the heeling pattern. She stayed about a foot behind me all the way -- except on the fast where she dropped back to two feet. Our score was 189.5, one of HB's worst performances, ever.
When we arrived back in Phoenix, I told our story about the earthquake. And about the other disaster, Honeybear's lackluster performance. Several people ventured similar theories: "Dogs have a sixth sense. Maybe Honeybear sensed that the earthquake was coming and that affected her performance."
Nice try. Had I chosen to buy that, it might have been a comfy excuse. Time would reveal, however, that what Honeybear had sensed -- and there was nothing extrasensory about it -- was that I was boring the hell out of her with my training methods. And it had come back to bite me in the ring in Costa Mesa.
Fast-forward five years. Alameda Park is a narrow stretch of green in downtown Alamogordo, New Mexico -- if there is such a thing as a downtown in Alamogordo. The park is flanked on the east by White Sands Boulevard and on the west by the tracks of the Union Pacific Railroad. We had made the 459-mile trip as part of the final leg (we hoped) of OTCH Quest '99. Honeybear needed one point to become a member of an elite club -- dogs who go from Novice A to OTCH.
There was another Phoenix-area competitor there that weekend. In Remembering to Breathe I referred to her as Hangdog. We'll stick with that here.
Actually there were two sets of railroad tracks flanking our ring, which was set up in the middle of the grassy area. In addition to the Union Pacific tracks to the west, there was a kiddie-ride train running parallel to the boulevard. Both sets of tracks were a considerable distance from the ring.
Several Union Pacific trains passed through that morning and didn't seem to bother the dogs. Except that Hangdog came huffing out of the Utility A ring fuming that the train had caused her dog to bring back the wrong article. Later, Hangdog swore the dog went went down on the sit "because that little train over there made her do it."
A few months ago a local club held an obedience fun match. They had a special ring set up for Novice and Open sits and downs. Late in the morning Hangdog had her dog in that ring. She had been at the end of the line as the group filed in, which put her dog close to the side ring rope. At the same time, one of the most astute trainers in our area brought her young Belgian Terveuren to a position just outside the ring, in line with the row of dogs but about 10 feet from Hangdog's poodle. Standing close, her dog on leash, she worked quietly with her young dog. Soft praise, encouragement, an occasional treat. Near the end of the long down, as usual, Hangdog's poodle got up. Scowling, Hangdog quickly pointed to the handler with the Terv and loudly announced, "It's because she's out there!"
Oh, give me a break!
Hangdog, across more than two decades in our sport, has been one of the people who have heightened my awareness that we have in our midst a few poor souls who are perpetual victims. Every time their dogs flunk it's clearly the fault of something external to their training, their competence, their self-eteem.
Somebody slams a car door. A squeaky-wheeled cart goes by. There's a kid over there with a hamburger. Someone drops their watch in the grass 100 yards away.
What we have here are fragile egos. So fragile that the person's self-esteem is inextricably bound to their dog's success. The dog flunks. The person has just been victimized by something, someone, far beyond their control. It's inconceivable that the error emanated from a hole in their training.
Sorry, I'm convinced that when my dog, any dog, makes a mistake in the ring (assuming that dog is not sick or injured) 99 percent of the time it can be traced to a hole in that dog's training.
So after nearly every trial I listen to these poor souls' indignant ramblings about how they were victimized this time. I listen but say nothing.
Inside, I'm saying, "Good God! Stop whining and go train your dog!"
Willard
Indeed it was. We were in a Holiday Inn Express in Costa Mesa, California, and we had been awakened by the Northridge earthquake. We had come to Southern California to compete in Open B at a show hosted by Shoreline Dog Fanciers of Orange County. It was held on January 16 at the Orange County Fairgrounds.
Honeybear's run that Sunday had been uninspired. Her piece de resistance of listlessness had been the heeling pattern. She stayed about a foot behind me all the way -- except on the fast where she dropped back to two feet. Our score was 189.5, one of HB's worst performances, ever.
When we arrived back in Phoenix, I told our story about the earthquake. And about the other disaster, Honeybear's lackluster performance. Several people ventured similar theories: "Dogs have a sixth sense. Maybe Honeybear sensed that the earthquake was coming and that affected her performance."
Nice try. Had I chosen to buy that, it might have been a comfy excuse. Time would reveal, however, that what Honeybear had sensed -- and there was nothing extrasensory about it -- was that I was boring the hell out of her with my training methods. And it had come back to bite me in the ring in Costa Mesa.
Fast-forward five years. Alameda Park is a narrow stretch of green in downtown Alamogordo, New Mexico -- if there is such a thing as a downtown in Alamogordo. The park is flanked on the east by White Sands Boulevard and on the west by the tracks of the Union Pacific Railroad. We had made the 459-mile trip as part of the final leg (we hoped) of OTCH Quest '99. Honeybear needed one point to become a member of an elite club -- dogs who go from Novice A to OTCH.
There was another Phoenix-area competitor there that weekend. In Remembering to Breathe I referred to her as Hangdog. We'll stick with that here.
Actually there were two sets of railroad tracks flanking our ring, which was set up in the middle of the grassy area. In addition to the Union Pacific tracks to the west, there was a kiddie-ride train running parallel to the boulevard. Both sets of tracks were a considerable distance from the ring.
Several Union Pacific trains passed through that morning and didn't seem to bother the dogs. Except that Hangdog came huffing out of the Utility A ring fuming that the train had caused her dog to bring back the wrong article. Later, Hangdog swore the dog went went down on the sit "because that little train over there made her do it."
A few months ago a local club held an obedience fun match. They had a special ring set up for Novice and Open sits and downs. Late in the morning Hangdog had her dog in that ring. She had been at the end of the line as the group filed in, which put her dog close to the side ring rope. At the same time, one of the most astute trainers in our area brought her young Belgian Terveuren to a position just outside the ring, in line with the row of dogs but about 10 feet from Hangdog's poodle. Standing close, her dog on leash, she worked quietly with her young dog. Soft praise, encouragement, an occasional treat. Near the end of the long down, as usual, Hangdog's poodle got up. Scowling, Hangdog quickly pointed to the handler with the Terv and loudly announced, "It's because she's out there!"
Oh, give me a break!
Hangdog, across more than two decades in our sport, has been one of the people who have heightened my awareness that we have in our midst a few poor souls who are perpetual victims. Every time their dogs flunk it's clearly the fault of something external to their training, their competence, their self-eteem.
Somebody slams a car door. A squeaky-wheeled cart goes by. There's a kid over there with a hamburger. Someone drops their watch in the grass 100 yards away.
What we have here are fragile egos. So fragile that the person's self-esteem is inextricably bound to their dog's success. The dog flunks. The person has just been victimized by something, someone, far beyond their control. It's inconceivable that the error emanated from a hole in their training.
Sorry, I'm convinced that when my dog, any dog, makes a mistake in the ring (assuming that dog is not sick or injured) 99 percent of the time it can be traced to a hole in that dog's training.
So after nearly every trial I listen to these poor souls' indignant ramblings about how they were victimized this time. I listen but say nothing.
Inside, I'm saying, "Good God! Stop whining and go train your dog!"
Willard
Thursday, May 26, 2011
PETSMART, HOME DEPOT AND ME Part 2: Home Depot
For the dog who is ready -- really ready -- Home Depot offers a splendid environment for advanced proofing, a training site with no-nonsense distractions.
I learned a valuable lesson at Home Depot years ago. Bebop (Ch. Bebop UDX2, my first border collie) was on a long sit in a side aisle in the lumber area. He was off-leash near the end of that side aisle, where it joined the main aisle. I was standing some distance away, near the other end, the interior end. Everything was cool; Bebop was calmly doing his thing.
Suddenly a power saw went off behind me. Bebop took off, out into the main aisle, toward an entrance which opened onto the parking lot, then a major thoroughfare. I was behind him, calling, "Bebop come! Bebop come!" The panicked dog probably didn't even hear me.
I must have been living right. Bebop tore right past the door and into the garden area. There, several other people took up the chase and eventually he headed back into the main store, where I met him.
"DOWN!" I bellowed. The poor dog dropped like he had been shot and the chase was over.
The lesson? In that type of setting, always position yourself between Fido and the outside entrance.
The most unique proofing opportunities Home Depot offers are outside the store. At least where I live, Home Depot opens at 5 a.m.. By 6 o'clock, contractors are clattering out of the store with building materials on large carts. And, with a lot of crashing and banging, loading those materials into their truck beds. Beyond the din of loading, many of those trucks are diesels, and they add their own special distractions as they leave the lot.
For the advanced dog, Home Depot is a wonderful place to work on focus while heeling, doing signals, practicing scent articles, and whatever else you can dream up. I recommend short sessions (5 minutes?) with lots of rewards.
If Fluffy can perform well in that environment, you've got four paws up on focus.
Willard
I learned a valuable lesson at Home Depot years ago. Bebop (Ch. Bebop UDX2, my first border collie) was on a long sit in a side aisle in the lumber area. He was off-leash near the end of that side aisle, where it joined the main aisle. I was standing some distance away, near the other end, the interior end. Everything was cool; Bebop was calmly doing his thing.
Suddenly a power saw went off behind me. Bebop took off, out into the main aisle, toward an entrance which opened onto the parking lot, then a major thoroughfare. I was behind him, calling, "Bebop come! Bebop come!" The panicked dog probably didn't even hear me.
I must have been living right. Bebop tore right past the door and into the garden area. There, several other people took up the chase and eventually he headed back into the main store, where I met him.
"DOWN!" I bellowed. The poor dog dropped like he had been shot and the chase was over.
The lesson? In that type of setting, always position yourself between Fido and the outside entrance.
The most unique proofing opportunities Home Depot offers are outside the store. At least where I live, Home Depot opens at 5 a.m.. By 6 o'clock, contractors are clattering out of the store with building materials on large carts. And, with a lot of crashing and banging, loading those materials into their truck beds. Beyond the din of loading, many of those trucks are diesels, and they add their own special distractions as they leave the lot.
For the advanced dog, Home Depot is a wonderful place to work on focus while heeling, doing signals, practicing scent articles, and whatever else you can dream up. I recommend short sessions (5 minutes?) with lots of rewards.
If Fluffy can perform well in that environment, you've got four paws up on focus.
Willard
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE
Ray Lewis, 12-time Pro Bowl middle linebacker of the Baltimore Ravens, predicts a national crime spree if there's no NFL season this year. "People live through us," Lewis told ESPN. "Do this research. If we don't have a season, watch how much crime picks up. There's nothing else to do."
There's no dog show here in Phoenix next weekend. Looks like I'll have to knock off a convenience store.
Willard
There's no dog show here in Phoenix next weekend. Looks like I'll have to knock off a convenience store.
Willard
Saturday, May 21, 2011
PETSMART, HOME DEPOT AND ME Part 1: PetSmart
If, from home, I drive eight minutes in one direction, I come to PetSmart. Home Depot is about the same distance in another direction. Both stores offer excellent opportunities for competition obedience training. I have used those opportunities for two decades as I have prepared my young dogs for the ring.
Both offer unique types of distractions, and timing is everything. I don't expose my young dogs to the high-intensity distractions found in those environments until they are super-ready. That means they've had a long period of work in the sanctuary of the backyard (probably a year) followed by incrementally more distractive distractions in city parks and similar environments. When they are solid and comfortable in those venues -- and only then -- we're ready for exposure first to PetSmart.
PetSmart
Stinkpot's first training exposure to PetSmart is heeling on leash. We begin in the back of the store where it's generally pretty quiet. But we're gradually working our way toward our objective, the center aisle where all the action is.
We start on-leash for the most obvious reasons. But there's one more. I'm playing head games not only with the dog, but with the store management as well. PetSmart welcomes on-leash dogs. Ultimately we're going to be doing lots of things off-leash, and I want the store management to get used to seeing this oh-so-good little dog performing beautifully on-leash. Then one day he's heeling with the same precision . . . only off-leash.
Once we've passed that barrier, we've opened up the opportunity to do signals and scent articles off-leash and right in the epicenter of all the activity.
The experience that I value the most at PetSmart is long sits and downs. Again, I must emphasize that sits and downs at PetSmart come only after the progression of solid performance has passed through the backyard, parks and playgrounds. How long does that take? It depends on the dog.
At PetSmart, we start on a longline. Not a flexi; a flexi pretty much requires me to stay in sight. Besides, have you ever seen a 50-foot flexi? Again, we'll probably start in a remote, quiet area of the store. But not for long. Stinkpot has graduated to PetSmart because he's solid. I trust him.
Quickly we're in the center aisle where he'll have to contend with people, people with carts, people with dogs, people without the sense they were born with. Yes, there are environmental problems that must be dealt with, but the proofing advantages are worth the trouble.
Here's this little (or big) dog parked in the center aisle, being so good, so cute. Such an attractive petting object. Or worse: " I just wanted Fluffy (a 100-pound Rottweiler) to meet this good dog." At which point, by the way, both of my border collies would excise Fluffy's Adam's apple.
To counteract the schmoozing reflex, I've printed stand-up signs. One sits on the floor in front of the dog, the other in back. Each says (in large bold type) "Please don't pet me. I'm practicing obedience." That stops most of the knuckleheads, but not all.
With the dog on the longline and eventually the line on the floor, I gradually back away to 50 feet. Again, that line serves two purposes. Of course it's there if I need it. Its presence for a few sessions also reassures management. In two decades of doing this, I've never had a store manager sqawk when the line disappeared and so did I.
I have one more piece of equipment in place while this is going on, a rubber mat. PetSmart's floors are slippery and the dog's hind legs slide out from under him during the sit. The type of mat used in a shower works perfectly.
Once I've moved back to the full distance, I begin disappearing behind the store shelves for brief then lengthening periods. I always find an out-of-sight spot where I can see the dog but Stinkpot can't see me. Most recently, working with Bravo!, I found two rows of bird cages, back-to-back. I had a clear view of Bravo! but he couldn't see me.
It's also fun to watch people as they approach the dog. Often they're intent on shopping, then suddenly they realize there's this dog sitting in the aisle all by himself. They look back over their shoulder; maybe there's no one there. That's when they realize what a good dog they're seeing. And often they say just that as they pass the dog.
Coming in a few days, Part 2: Home Depot
Willard
Both offer unique types of distractions, and timing is everything. I don't expose my young dogs to the high-intensity distractions found in those environments until they are super-ready. That means they've had a long period of work in the sanctuary of the backyard (probably a year) followed by incrementally more distractive distractions in city parks and similar environments. When they are solid and comfortable in those venues -- and only then -- we're ready for exposure first to PetSmart.
PetSmart
Stinkpot's first training exposure to PetSmart is heeling on leash. We begin in the back of the store where it's generally pretty quiet. But we're gradually working our way toward our objective, the center aisle where all the action is.
We start on-leash for the most obvious reasons. But there's one more. I'm playing head games not only with the dog, but with the store management as well. PetSmart welcomes on-leash dogs. Ultimately we're going to be doing lots of things off-leash, and I want the store management to get used to seeing this oh-so-good little dog performing beautifully on-leash. Then one day he's heeling with the same precision . . . only off-leash.
Once we've passed that barrier, we've opened up the opportunity to do signals and scent articles off-leash and right in the epicenter of all the activity.
The experience that I value the most at PetSmart is long sits and downs. Again, I must emphasize that sits and downs at PetSmart come only after the progression of solid performance has passed through the backyard, parks and playgrounds. How long does that take? It depends on the dog.
At PetSmart, we start on a longline. Not a flexi; a flexi pretty much requires me to stay in sight. Besides, have you ever seen a 50-foot flexi? Again, we'll probably start in a remote, quiet area of the store. But not for long. Stinkpot has graduated to PetSmart because he's solid. I trust him.
Quickly we're in the center aisle where he'll have to contend with people, people with carts, people with dogs, people without the sense they were born with. Yes, there are environmental problems that must be dealt with, but the proofing advantages are worth the trouble.
Here's this little (or big) dog parked in the center aisle, being so good, so cute. Such an attractive petting object. Or worse: " I just wanted Fluffy (a 100-pound Rottweiler) to meet this good dog." At which point, by the way, both of my border collies would excise Fluffy's Adam's apple.
To counteract the schmoozing reflex, I've printed stand-up signs. One sits on the floor in front of the dog, the other in back. Each says (in large bold type) "Please don't pet me. I'm practicing obedience." That stops most of the knuckleheads, but not all.
With the dog on the longline and eventually the line on the floor, I gradually back away to 50 feet. Again, that line serves two purposes. Of course it's there if I need it. Its presence for a few sessions also reassures management. In two decades of doing this, I've never had a store manager sqawk when the line disappeared and so did I.
I have one more piece of equipment in place while this is going on, a rubber mat. PetSmart's floors are slippery and the dog's hind legs slide out from under him during the sit. The type of mat used in a shower works perfectly.
Once I've moved back to the full distance, I begin disappearing behind the store shelves for brief then lengthening periods. I always find an out-of-sight spot where I can see the dog but Stinkpot can't see me. Most recently, working with Bravo!, I found two rows of bird cages, back-to-back. I had a clear view of Bravo! but he couldn't see me.
It's also fun to watch people as they approach the dog. Often they're intent on shopping, then suddenly they realize there's this dog sitting in the aisle all by himself. They look back over their shoulder; maybe there's no one there. That's when they realize what a good dog they're seeing. And often they say just that as they pass the dog.
Coming in a few days, Part 2: Home Depot
Willard
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