Early Training

Category: Early Training (page 1 of 5)

Back to School

August 23, 2022 / Tom McKenna / 0 Comments

I heard someone say that August is the Sunday night of the school year. We’re well into Tuesday here, even though we have a chunk of the month left.

Tim and Katrina left last week. Katie goes this week. And dear Cedar–who failed her second bear encounter test–may soon be meeting “The Educator.”

I love her. The kids love her. And she comes when called most of the time. Bear 2 was a pretty epic failure, though. She had been out in the boat with us–admittedly cooped up for some time–and I let her out of the truck as I detached the boat in the near-darkness…about 9 pm. Cedar immediately got her hackles up, woofed, and took a few quick steps towards a HUGE shadow of a creature in the neighbor’s driveway.

She bolted for the bear.

I called her somewhat calmly. I bellowed. I blew the whistle. She came about halfway back, then spun back around for Ursa giganticus, who also turned out to be Ursa mellowest. Cedar eventually came back (to an audience of a neighbor or two) and Gentle Ben sauntered on, a shadow leaving shadows.

So … maybe it’s time for me to remind Cedar that I am not bound by the terms of conventional warfare. I am not above trading my pride, and a fair bit of cold hard cash, for a little bit of e-schooling.

Meanwhile, a few shots from the dog’s days of August.

The blazing shore of Douglas
whole lotta fetchin’
Another brown dog
Photo by Katie in a kayak
bath time
Sleepy side of the boat
Don’t go, Katie!
dog in the deer heart
Where does the time go?

I was wrong.

July 7, 2022 / Tom McKenna / 0 Comments

There. I said it. It feels kind of good. Tempted as I am to make this post title the title of the blog itself–I was wrong to get Cedar with the understanding we’d be raising her together–I don’t think that’s what this post is about. (I’m so glad I made that mistake at least.) There are many other things–some very big and some very small–that I could apply this cathartic sentence to, but at the moment, I’m going to talk about Cedar training.

If there were readers of this blog, they might remember my debate over siding with the behaviorists (treats and “aversives”) vs. the Monks (love). I came down on the Monks’ side. Well here we are at 11-months-ish, and our girl isn’t all that keen to COME for the sheer bliss of pleasing me. I have had to reprogram her brain (sparingly) with treats. And dammit, it seems to be working.

If there were a reader of this blog named Ray Hudson, he might give a groan remembering my “Seven Steps to Survival” commencement speech in my early years of teaching at Unalaska. (I have a bounty out for any extant copies of the Betamax video in order to destroy the record of forcing a packed gym to listen to SEVEN lessons for how to survive a shipwreck when they really wanted to just applaud their graduates .) Maybe I should have stopped at one: Recognition.

Recognition is that “oh shit,” “Houston-we-have-a-problem” moment. Then you start Inventorying what you have to solve the problem.

In this case: treats. Case closed. Admission made. Catharsis complete. Readers gone.

As for the bigger stuff, I guess just recognizing we’re at Recognition is where I’ll leave it for now.

With enduring apologies to the Class of 1991.

Time and Luff

May 19, 2022 / Tom McKenna / 0 Comments

Please allow me a moment to grieve about something completely unimportant before I get to this most important message: The Bruins are out of the playoffs.

I happened to catch David Pastrnak’s “press availability” on the Monday after the fall, and was blown away by what went down at the end, when the reporter snuck in “How did you get through this year?” (Pastrnak and his partner, Rebecca Rohlsson, lost their 6-day old son last June.) Indulge me and scroll to 3:56.

I won’t reduce that beautiful statement from a kid with more than just swagger to dog training, but I will say that maybe that’s the biggest thing I’m learning from our pup as we try to teach each other.

The guilt look: How 'bout a walk, Dad?

Keep it Loose, Keep it Tight

April 13, 2022 / Tom McKenna / 0 Comments

The AKC missive for week 35–yup that’s how old The Brown One is–warns of regression in training and implores the good dog owner to review even the simplest of commands.

Random fetch sesh at Sandy Beach yesterday…

As always, I find myself wondering if we’re gaining or losing ground. Cedar’s response to COME lately is often a “Yeah, I’m coming Dad, right after I sniff this, chew that, peek around the corner… and yeah, here I come (slow saunter).” Often she waits for my mean voice, which actually tends to work these days. In the end, she mostly gets the job done.

State of the State: Week 35

I’m reminded of my principal days. I had a supervisor who was big on implementing canned programs with “fidelity” but when that made absolutely no sense (as in most of the time), he would back off and say some things required “loose” management, other things “tight.” (Another post some day on that horrible co-opting of the beautiful word, “fidelity.”)

A dog walker I encountered on Sandy Beach the other day spoke about an obedience instructor who insisted that a dog should NEVER be off leash, unless in an enclosed area. Now that is tight. I’m on the loose end of the spectrum, as I probably was as a teacher, thinking that “lessons” will find their way to expression eventually, even if they don’t seem to stick right away. My buddy Jeff and I called that “teaching by osmosis” (or radiation)…Like, eventually the “kids” will mature enough to “get it” … and the experience has a half-life…but it’s better to move on than perseverate and bore or frustrate us all.

Yesterday, neighbor Buck noticed Cedar keeping a loose leash as we met up (Buck with girl-toddler June and dog-toddler Midnight) while “Middie” strained against her leash. I hadn’t even realized Cedar was being nice and chill.

Cedar spends a majority of our time outside off-leash these days . And because I like it that way, that’s the way it’s going to be (unless one of us really screws up). We’ll keep working on the recall (have a had a good couple of HEELS with distraction lately, after a kind of miserable fail trying to keep her away from a skate skier who passed us up the other day). Maybe I just shouldn’t let that happen.

I’ll leave you with part of this Amos Lee tune (smart musician who quit teaching after a year), whom I’d rather listen to than my old boss. Keep it loose, friends.

Learning Loss: Remedial Recall

March 4, 2022 / Tom McKenna / 0 Comments

I have to admit hating the term “learning loss” when it’s applied to kids in the pandemic. It’s a deficit model, right? The kids learned something during all their non-classroom time; it just wasn’t what their teachers thought they should learn.

Maybe that’s the story with Cedar, who was spoiled (in the best of ways) by super dog lover Jordan for a full week while I was in Seattle. I met Jordan in the driveway as I arrived home and I swear I heard the words, “Your dog is so well trained.”

Came home to a some god light.
The kid is in another oral phase: chew, chew, chew.
“It’s a wonder tall trees ain’t layin’ down.” (Oh, wait.)
I think she’s morphing into a seal.

Not two minutes later, I was following a BAD GIRL down the street as she disobeyed my various COME commands. This happened several times on Wednesday. Did I lose authority by being gone? Was this Cedar’s way of punishing me for leaving? Or maybe she just advanced into some rebellious stage while doing all that growing and getting her fur so shiny while I was gone.

In any case, I’ll say it: Learning loss, much like shit, happens. So, we’ve spent the better part of the last two days recalling recall, in “intervention” as we might call it in a deficit-based elementary school triage system.

Back to basics for Cedar pup.

There’s lots not to be happy about here: her testing me, her balking causing me to repeat the command COME, her running past me when she does return. I know I’m supposed to run away to beckon her to come to me when she stalls or runs past me. I know I could put her back on a long lead and practice (that is dumb because she comes every time). I know I’m not supposed to use aversives. (Sorry about that, kid, but you’re pushing me.) I know I *could* fold and start retraining with treats. Bears will soon be emerging, and if I can’t overcome the distraction of dog biscuits or random scents, we might have an issue or two.

For now I’ll try to switch my deficit-based thinking to asset-based thinking. She’s apparently very good at forgetting things. Maybe that will apply to her grudge and her new attitude, too. Meanwhile, it’s time to get curious about what she DID learn while I was gone, other than how to enact the doggy middle finger.

Muddling Along

February 19, 2022 / Tom McKenna / 0 Comments

I’m a day or so away from not posting at all this week, which would be a first in Cedar’s 19 weeks of being blogged. Methinks the world would still wobble around on its axis, and that my audience out there, if there is one–Have I lost you yet, Mom?–would be okay, too.

Here in Week 27 of Cedar life, we’ve moved out of cute puppy mode, and into “How much exercise can you possibly give me, Dad?” mode.

While AKC tells me I should be brushing her teeth, trimming her nails, and playing “safe but fun interactive games,” I’m working on keeping up with her exercise needs, and more solid recall, especially around distractions. We’re not that far from bear emergence, and yet it seems we’re a country mile from a solid HEEL when we really need it.

So, we muddle onward, swimming with less panic, not chewing too much stuff up, skijoring with only an occasional nip of my ski tips, and sometimes even listening in the presence of other dogs.

It’s 11 am and she’s snoring, so score one for Dad.

Magnificent Failure

January 28, 2022 / Tom McKenna / 0 Comments

To conclude his scathing critique of my Jungian interpretation of King Lear, Professor Paul Cubeta wrote in blood red ink, “But what a magnificent failure!” The phrase came to mind today as Cedar decided to let go of terra firma, in a couple of almosts at being a successful retriever. I found them magnificent. And it’s my blog. (And I did somehow pass Cubeta’s class.)

P.S. While we’re on the subject of magnificent failures, Katie texted me this clip of one of her classmates’ ski race the other day, which goes a long way to explaining why I always felt a kinship with ski racers.

Watch the goggles!

She Means Well

January 27, 2022 / Tom McKenna / 0 Comments

In our Irish family, compliments were rare, and usually served with a bit of backspin. My dad used to say routinely that one or the other of us had a “certain nuisance value”. “Don’t get a big head,” (ironic in a family full of 7 and 7/8″ + hats) was an unspoken family motto, along with “Do your damndest and let the chips fall where they may.”

I recognize a bit of that in myself as I receive and deflect Cedar compliments. I’ve heard myself returning, “She’s beautiful!” with, “We’ll, she’s a baby in an adult costume.” And, “Wow, her training’s coming great,” gets, “Yeah, until another dog comes around,” or, at best, “She’s a pretty good kid.”

I was just thinking about her big, kind heart on my way back from our morning walk when she bolted , ran over to Ace’s house, ignored my command to come back, and jumped up on each of Ace’s parents. So this morning, we’ll settle for “She means well.” Hard to top my brother’s response this weekend when he sent a photo from Auke Rec, a spot where king crab are harvested in shallow water in January. When I suggested he teach his water-loving gentle giant Lab, Bula, to dive for king crab, he responded, “Well, learning isn’t really her thing.”

Yesterday I took Cedar to the closest thing Juneau has to a dog park: Sandy Beach. I kind of hate the place, in part because it’s a beach made of mine tailings, in part because I’ll never really shed the horribly depressing divorce scene that takes place there in Jonathan Raban’s A Passage to Juneau, but mostly because it just gives me a dark feeling. But Cedar’s sweet heart was in full there yesterday—her first visit. She delighted in the water, tried her best to join some play with other dogs, came to the whistle (most of the time), even when she really wanted to bolt and check out a new friend.

The outing made clear to me that she really does mean well. (And I say that with only the slightest bit of backspin.) Lucky me to have another good kid.

Reading Cedar

January 24, 2022 / Tom McKenna / 0 Comments

A recent AKC newsletter reminded me to stay tuned to Cedar’s body language. I’m sure I do that half consciously, and I had certainly read about it from the Monks’ perspective, but it’s good to have a refresher.

Images from The Monks of New Skete, *The Art of Raising a Puppy*

The AKC piece organizes similar information into categories: tail wagging, raised hackles, posture, facial expressions, and eyes. I loved this bit:

“The direction of the wag may hold clues as well. A recent study on tail-wagging showed that dogs tend to wag more to the right when they feel positive about something, like interacting with their owner. Tails wagged more to the left when dogs faced something negative. Then, there’s the helicopter tail wag where the dog’s tail spins in a circle. Without question, that’s a happy wag. You’ll usually see it when a dog is greeting a beloved person.”
Stephanie Gibault, “How to Read Dog Body Language,” January 27, 2020

I need to check when Cedar is more righty, and more lefty.

Meanwhile, though, I thought I’d share some results of my not-quite-ready-for-publication study of Cedar’s corporal communication.

Hell yeah! Snow!
Stinky stuff to eat. I am ON it.
Oh no, I didn’t sneak upstairs. Not me.
I didn’t mean to kill Debbie. Are you sure she wasn’t already dead?
ENOUGH with that computer thing, Dad.
Can’t a girl have a moment of Downward Dog in the morning?
Whale eyes? You want to see whale eyes?
Ain’t NO PLACE I’d rather be.
In, already?
But. I. Was. Just. Getting. Started.
Righty! On the trail with good stuff for the nose.
You can be the boss. Just pet me now, please.
Big trees, please. Let’s do this thing.
Smile right back atcha at the end of Montana Creek.
Cedar, out.
You have to be F-in kidding me.

Our study, of course begs inquiry into human body language communication. Pretty sure I have a constant expression that says, “Sorry folks. I’m doing the best I can with what I have here.” Pretty sure Cedar doesn’t judge.

In fact, is that a smile?

Mendenhall Campground the other day. We (both) have some work to do!

No Skiers were Harmed in the Making of this Video

January 20, 2022 / Tom McKenna / 0 Comments

Well, we did it. Finally. Cedar trotted and I skied one 6k roundtrip on the Montana Creek – Kaxdigoowu Héen trail today. No bodies or egos were hurt.

I should confess that we got a much-deserved stink-eye from one older skier as unleashed Cedar dashed right up to her, and I had to use my pole from time to time to enhance my persuasiveness on commands like HEEL, but there were few skiers out there, and after a while she got into a pretty good groove.

We lucked into our allstar dog sitter, Jordan, on the way back, and Cedar impressed a few dudes with her unflinching enthusiasm, despite gunfire at the range where we park.

She had a little après-ski nose indulgence on the way home, and she’s lying by my feet, sound asleep as I type. As it should be.

I might be pushing things a bit on the growth plates, and I’m not at all certain she won’t cause more trouble on a busier ski the next time we’re out, but this feels like a bit of a breakthrough.