Katrina was here on Cedar’s first day home. In the ensuing seven weeks, Cedar’s cells have divided a gazillion times; her weight and size have probably tripled. She’s gone from infant to tween.

Katrina helped us both through Cedar’s first nights, and eased the separation anxiety. We’ve lived apart since we started seeing one another in 2006, so we do know a thing or two about separation. I’m not sure how to take this, nor do I really care, but it took Cedar’s arrival for Katrina to get out a calendar and plan a regular series of visits. As happens often, life intervened on the November plan, so Katrina and Cedar are today catching up on half of Cedar’s life.

One sweet thing Katrina did back in early October was leave her shirt behind for Cedar to bask in her smell. I’ve left it in her pen area. Occasionally I marvel that Cedar has never torn into it, but I’ve thought about moving it several times.

Katrina slipped in around midnight through a winter storm warning (with an actual winter storm attached). What a relief.

This morning, Cedar greeted Katrina with heart, paws, tail, and teeth full of love. After full on zoomies and a complimentary escort to the bathroom, Cedar came out, picked up Katrina’s shirt, and began parading around the kitchen with it— a stunningly beautiful piece of communication from Cedar’s heart.

Momma’s home.

Dang it. It’s true. The behaviorists at the American Veterinary Society of Animal Behavior, instead of using their precious resources to con more vets to move to Juneau, have come out with this Zero Tolerance position paper. There is absolutely no role for “aversive” techniques in dog training. While I’m certainly monitoring my YN ratio, I’m going to plant my feet in the slush and practice some somewhat civil disobedience.

I double checked the article this morning… “Did I really read that right?,” I wondered after a day of “meh” responses to simple COME commands, and after a morning walk with a whole lotta pulling and a whole lotta three-step corrections. An angsty little neighborhood waltz. I was mulling pulling out the “good dog” collar.

When the going gets mushy, I occasionally need a dose of Wolters’ common sense. From Water Dog:

“Teach HEEL on a leash and choke collar. Hold him in tight, command HEEL, slap your leg with your hand. Keep repeating the command. If he wants to be out front like the bandleader…yank. Pull him back, command HEEL… If he insists on getting in your way, give no quarter: bump him out of the way. Let him learn to walk on his feet, not yours; he’s got four, you’ve got only two…Once he knows what to expect, then get tough on him.”

richard wolters, water dog, 1964

I haven’t started on HEEL yet, but Wolters helps me reload just a bit. (And I’ve majorly disarmed myself by trying to avoid training with treats. There is some evidence, dear fam, that she does NOT live to please me. My one exception to the treats–a test case–is using ice cubes to bribe DOWN. She’s getting there, but I have no idea how to get her out of the short term reward phase.) The vets’ study points to the dangers of creating anxiety in pets through aversive feedback. I get it, and think I’ll know how to watch for it.

Wolters again, on COME.

“He’s got to understand that you must be obeyed immediately. Not tomorrow, not next week, but right now…. By the time he’s about 15 weeks old, he should come any time he’s called.”

Uh oh.

So… feet firmly in the slush, I say this oh ye hallowed vets. I’ll reward. I’ll praise. I’ll keep those cortisol levels down, I hope. I may even give in and carry treats.

But I’ll also know that look that says, “Yeah no.” (Did I get that right, Katie?) And… sorry dear Cedar, there will be an occasional aversive.

Wish me luck. It’s a good thing she’s cute.

It occurred to me on our Not-So-Great-Circle route walk today that one good thing about being outside with Cedar is how often I get to celebrate something new, or some little bit of joy with her by saying “Yes!”

Probably just the French press kicking in, but this morning I was thinking of just how good it is to have occasion to say “Yes!” out loud, so many times in a day.

I get to say “Yes” when Cedar has waited at the door, “Yes” again when I clip in the leash and we start walking. “Yes” when she responds to the leash check and walks in step, and…my favorites…”Yes” when she zooms around in fresh snow joy, or stops to listen to a raven or an eagle.

Having killed the French press over an hour ago–when I thought of what I’d write today–I should admit there are plenty of “No”s, even outside, when she tries to resist the leash check for that nose full of someone’s crap, or when she tries to gobble up a plastic bag. But the ratio of Yes to No is way better than when we’re inside (with shoes and couches and slippers and flesh).

Just this week, I learned that fellow middle aged men (mainly) actually use an index to judge hockey players called their CF. Doing my best to be one of them, here’s what I learned this week.

Corsi For Percentage (CF%) is used to evaluate a player’s team’s puck possession on the ice. A typical hockey player has a CF% between 45% and 55%.  CF% is calculated as the sum of shots on goal, missed shots, and blocked shots over the shots against, missed shots against and blocked shots against at equal strength. Basically, CF% is the +/- rating for players, but instead of goals, shots taken and attempted are counted. 

I also learned there is, pathetically enough, a site called PuckPedia.com

So maybe it’s time for me to establish my “YN rating” in order to get a better handle on being Cedar’s guide/master/commander/follower. I’d say my rating on our 20 minute morning walk was positive, but as she licks my sweats and looks out the window while I finish this short post, I’m trying to remember what the kids say… Is it Yeahno, or Noyeah?

I’ve never been much of a stats guy. Let’s keep this simple.

Should we head outside, Cedar?

Yesterday I listened to Michelle Obama address a crowd of English teachers. One of her messages to adults, offered in the spirit of understanding our unspoken communication, and thinking of who may or may not feel empowered to confide in us, was to make ourselves vulnerable.

It’s in that spirt it that I offer you not only the remarkable similarity between my own and Cedar’s jowls, but a little secret to our co-existence. We have these little heart to hearts at least once a day. I like to think they assert and re-assert my dominance, but the jury is certainly out. She seems to be missing the piece that the rules still apply even when I’m not in the room, or even not within arm’s reach.

Cedar listened to the First Lady as well, so maybe a little woman-to-woman thing went down, and maybe I’ll see Cedar coming around today?

Honestly, our heart to hearts, usually night time rituals of a bit of play and a bit of love, are becoming one of my favorite parts of the day. For all my grousing here, I’ll admit it: she is a sweetheart.