4/13/2021 0 Comments THIRD EDUCATION - ANIMALS I love dogs. No, that doesn’t reach it. More like, if by some cosmic disaster, dogs no longer existed, it would be like a cloud always blocking the sun. When I see a dog, any kind of dog, little, big, shaggy, three legs, or really any type, I feel happy. There is something about the spirit of the species that wows me. I notice dogs leaning out of car windows, happily walking or pulling their owners, sometimes running at the beach. I see them everywhere. It has come to the point where I cannot NOT notice them. They have fully invaded my consciousness. But, it was not always so. My dog transformation began on March 17, 1987, St. Patty’s day. This is the day that Catherine, Liz (then 9) and I (just turned 40) drove to New Hampshire to get our first family dog, a 12-week-old golden retriever puppy. I had been the one who had resisted getting a dog. I thought we were far too engaged in the theatre and adding a dog would be too much. Or perhaps, probably closer to the truth, I resisted because I was completely ignorant about dogs. I had never had a dog growing up and really had no relationship with dogs. Fortunately, Catherine had grown up with dogs and already was connected with animals. We named him Shamrock, in honor of the day we got him, and which also celebrated Catherine’s Irish roots. The remarkably cute 12-week-old puppy snuggled into Elizabeth’s arms on the ride home. Shamrock became our “family” dog and really made us a better family. Catherine, Liz and I all shared the responsibilities of walking, cleaning up, feeding, playing, and just hanging out with him. It was great fun indeed. However, we soon discovered that when we all left the house, he would play with, that is, destroy all sorts of things. We found an excellent dog trainer, (Jen Kesner), who offered classes starting with puppy classes. We all went to the classes and rotated who worked with Shamrock. For those who have not been to a puppy class run by Jen, they are a wild and wondrous experience. Picture 8-10 puppies that cannot contain their energy who are introduced to some of the basics of obedience training. For example, one of the exercises was to simply sit in a circle and literally pass the puppies around. We held, patted and massaged the puppies so they would get used to different hands and energies. It was at this point that I began to notice that each puppy was quite different in how they reacted to touch. Some flopped in front of me, others pulled away, and a few snuggled in. We were advised to use a crate to teach Shamrock about peeing outside. This worked to some degree and included getting up in the middle of the night to take him out. Some months passed and we brought Shamrock to another training course, but still he was destroying things. When he ate the cushions on the couch, we knew we had to do SOMETHING. Catherine’s solution – let’s get another dog to keep him company. We all (meaning Catherine, Liz, me and Shamrock) went to a local shelter and Shamrock “interviewed” several dogs and picked one out. She was the typical looking rescue, a medium size black lab-mix with a little white spot. Elizabeth decided to call her “Daisy”. She was shy and fearful with people but a good companion for Shamrock. As a bonus, Shamrock stopped destroying things in the house when we left the dogs alone. We continued our training classes with Jen and agreed that both dogs would work on their “good citizenship” certifications. This basically means that they consistently do what you ask of them and are safe with other dogs and people. This training took at least a year and I began to actually see what it was like to live with dogs. The tale of the turkey At the time, we lived in a suburban neighborhood in Beverly, one block from an elementary school with a very large playing field in the back. A perfect spot to train Shamrock and Daisy on our nightly walks. Little by little, we allowed them more freedom to run. All was going well until Thanksgiving Day. It was dusk and we looked away for a moment and Shamrock vanished. “Come Shamrock!”, but no Shamrock. We became concerned after 5 minutes and were about to explore the neighborhood when who should return but a bouncy, happy Shamrock with a large cooked, now half-eaten, turkey in his mouth. Proud as he could be, he showed us his “catch” and pranced around. We imagined the reactions of the person who had cooked the turkey and had simply left it outside to cool off. Would they first experience disbelief (“I know I put the turkey there!”) that would then turn to irritation and anger? If this had happened now, I probably would have searched and found the person, apologized profusely and asked what I might do to help. But in those days, I looked around, (actually we all did), and seeing nobody coming, we hightailed it back home. So, to the person who cooked that lovely turkey 34 years ago, I formally apologize!
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David FeldmanDog walker, Dog Mediator, Father, Husband, Categories |