Wednesday, 28 December 2016

Settling in

Mutual grooming
With a ten-metre rope I’d spliced loops into the ends of, we had a decent length of training lead.  My intention was to allow him a lot of room to roam while gradually making him aware of my expectations of him. He was going to need to come whenever called, sit and stay as and when required, and walk at whatever distance I dictated. These are the basic tenets by which our relationship would bloom, to my mind; no doubt his rested on unadulterated freedom, attention on demand, non-stop love, and a constant supply of choice titbits. So we’d need to negotiate some degree of compromise. That first morning proved interesting, especially for a boisterous young male taking his first steps into the big wide world. From the sounds of it he’s pretty much been shut away in a yard since being a pup. He was overwhelmed, but unafraid. He didn’t know whether to follow sights, sounds, smells or tastes. Every other step he had to cock his leg and spray, he was almost drooling in ecstatic olfactory overload. So he was hyped up from the very start.

"I spy, with my little eye"

My immediate concern was to maintain some semblance of order, not to have him straining on his lead with no regard for my commands. Of course, the problem with such a large dog is that if they really want to pull it’s damned hard to physically stop them. Combined with his complete lack of training those initial walks were fraught with potential problems. Before we got to the end of my road he’d spotted another dog ahead, a little snarly thing that just seemed to make him even more eager to get to it. Not in a vicious way, but he wouldn’t heed a single word I said. Using his full force he nearly took me off my feet. I managed to yank him back, hold him close and try to calm him down. He struggled away, darted round me entangling me in the lead, until finally spilling me over and planting me flat on my back. With this strategic move he’d got to the other dog, only to be confronted by a flashing jaws of a curly ball of fury. But Shyloh was completely unperturbed, in fact he took it all as a great game. He did, however, take a little notice of my harsh voice and tugs on his lead, which is quite hard to do when you can’t stop laughing at the hilarity of the situation. And then we immediately encountered another small snarly dog, thankfully I managed to get him by my side, and calm him down enough for them to pass. I guess it’s not too hard for a little dog to feel intimidated, but why are they so often gnarly?


Venga - My last rescue dog
My last dog, ‘Venga’ initially faced problems with little dogs. He was a big lad too, also a rescue dog of convoluted genetic stock, I must have a thing for oversize crosses of dubious descent. Venga was some kind of Lurcher, having the height and build of a fairly large hunting dog with a thick mane of course fur and distinctive collie characteristics. When I first got him he was seriously intimidated by little dogs, especially the Jack Russel next door but one. We met a few tormented terriers while out walking, he was visibly afraid of them. Every time we passed the neighbours he’d desperately try to get as big a distance as possible between him and the closed gate, where the terrier was apoplectic with rage. Then one day the gate had been left open, and out flew the Jack Russell, all teeth and attitude. Venga had no time to do anything, natural instinct took over. He literally picked the thing up and tossed it high into the air, as if it were a rabbit. He didn’t follow through because I called him back, between chuckles. And as simply as that he lost his fear of vicious little dogs with ideas above their station. I thought it was a brilliant solution. Ever after the Jack Russell in question only ever barked from behind a closed gate.
Sunset over Caernarfon Ba

For Shyloh, his first experiences of going for a walk with me was a steep learning curve. I won’t tolerate being pulled at a dog’s whim, regardless of my commands. The obvious flaw with this is it takes a lot of patience and practice to achieve such obedience, especially with an assertive, strong and confident dog. In general he was quite amiable about walking on an extended lead, but he pulled on a shorter lead. At the sight of another dog he became a real handful, straining on the lead, putting his full force behind it, desperate to reach it. If we were close to the other animal there was no restraining him, and I’m hard pushed to physically hold him back. That initial jerk into motion is unstoppable, then it takes a few steps to re-establish my balance and regain control. Even cross words had no effect, why would they when he had no idea of their meaning? He had some idea that ‘NO’ was a reprimand, mainly from the tone of voice, and that ‘come’ required his presence. The latter was emphasised with lots of slapping my thigh, it took him little time at all to comprehend that command. From all the signs it’ll take him a while longer to heed the call whenever he hears it.

The demise of the stuffed sock

Until I’d taught him a lot more there was little else to do but allow him the freedom of his training lead, and practice the recall command quite often during the walk. It was more to build up a relationship, bond with each other and lay the foundation for a training regime. I had it clearly in mind to be patient with him and not expect too much in the early days, or so I thought. The manic pulling took all my effort, my physical strength and my patience. At the height of frustration it was desperate trying to keep my cool with him. When I showed any anger it caused confusion, he cringed and cowered, knowing he’d done wrong but having no comprehension as to what. It only happened a couple of times, I could see how detrimental it was to a fruitful relationship. Being firm is one thing, it’s essential with assertive dogs, but controlling by fear isn’t how I’d like things to progress. It was going to take a fair amount of patience, and lots of reinforcing each and every command. There is so much more about having a canine companion though, it isn’t all about having an obedient hound.

Nant Ffrancon, south of Bethesda
If your dog can’t put a smile on your face you must be missing something, the vast majority of them are desperate to please their owners. I enjoy seeing dogs being dogs, satisfying their curiosity, exploring their freedom. But our first time up the hillside Shyloh exhibited a near human appreciation of the view. Standing at the edge of a near precipice he surveyed the scene, the village far below, vehicles moving on country lanes, the barking of dogs in the distance. Any new sound drifting on the breeze, or the slightest movement, captivated him. To me he looked regal with head held high, strong stance, alive and alert, surveying his kingdom. He was mesmerised, we sat together for about five minutes taking it all in. This has become quite normal behaviour, resting a while as we take in the scenery from any good viewpoint. He’s ever alert to any movement in sight, especially large balls of white fluff that seem particularly plentiful in the Welsh hills. A simple, ‘no,’ is generally enough for him to ignore them, but when they’re walking less than ten metres ahead of you, down the same trail, the temptation starts to show.

This season's fashion will be the doggy sarong

An emphatic, ‘NO,’ is needed, best used with a flick on the lead to emphasise the point. A little care should be taken though. As he was wandering ahead he left the path, in the direction of a couple of sheep a few metres into the gorse. He was straddling his trailing length of rope as I flicked his lead rather too hard. As the whiplash travelled along the rope it caught his scrotum, I can only say I’d have yelped as loud myself. Poor lad was completely taken by surprise, and seemed to understand that I was responsible for his pain. While making him far less interested in sheep for a while, his phenomenal curiosity cannot be curtailed. This shows in everything we do, any household tasks are done under his supervision. He wants to see and check out everything I pick up, every cupboard, drawer or bag I open. The first time I had a pee outside fascinated him, he tried walking through the stream. Next time he watched patiently until I finished, then used his nose to cover it with gravel.

His antics with various toys are hilarious, especially tennis balls, which he can puncture, split and shred virtually instantly. He loves ripping things up, but isn’t destructive with my things. A sock stuffed with paper proved loads of fun for us both, but he’s not tried picking up any other of my socks. He’s a hoot, quite hard work at times, but making spectacular progress. We walk for three hours or more each day, the majority of which are pleasurable for both of us.