Over the Christmas Holidays we got a dog. We found her on the Internet. We saw her photo and description, collectively made the "awww . . ." sound, reserved for cute human babies and puppies, and fetched her. She was a stray saved by one of the region's many excellent animal rescue missions.
Given the name "Rosemary Song" she quickly adopted her new family. Like new players on a team, she needed to test the boundaries of what behaviors are acceptable and those that aren’t.
Working with an outstanding trainer (who trains both the owner and canine) is very educational. We all are learning through this experience.
Now, I can take virtually anything and parlay it into an analogy or parable related to coaching. This is one of them.
The bone of contention, so to speak, is the outside kennel. We want to have an outside place where she can bask in the NW winter rain and sun-breaks. I purchased a pre-designed chain-link, put-it-together-yourself special. It is pure doggy luxury. If a player, child or spouse, made the statement, "I am in the doghouse", and this baby was what they were referring to, it would be like announcing, "I am going on vacation!" Not so, for Miz Rosemary.
The kennel is well appointed. It is spacious. It has a nice tarp that covers three quarters of the kennel, keeping out the rain, but allowing an area to enjoy the sun. It has its own doghouse for privacy. Plenty of bones, balls, chew toys, and other accoutrements for her pleasure. It is a five-star establishment.
In her first stay she ignored the playthings and went to work on demolition. I do not know how long it took her but she unleashed her teeth, paws, and jaws on the chain-link, opened a hole and was free. When we returned she was on the porch with, what I am convinced was a smug look. Oddly, I wasn't irritated, but reveled at the challenge. "Okay, Rosemary, let's get it on."
"Say when." Her face told me.
I reinforced: Put in patio blocks on the inside perimeter to prevent digging, centered the doghouse so it couldn't be used as a launch pad to jump the fence, and re-wired the damage with serious gauge wire.
"Try that, doggy-do."
"Don' throw me in dat Briar Patch, Oh! NO!", Her look chuckled.
I put her in and spied on her. I was in awe at how fast she found the weakness. Rosemary put her paws through the lower links and dug on the outside of the chain-link, pulled the connectors off the frame and, with echoing laughter, escaped. My respect for her grew. Intelligent, determined, persistent, competitive. All ingredients I want on my team.
I went back to work putting patio blocks on the outside perimeter. I buried close knit chicken wire. I attached 2X10's all around the chain-link base.
Rosemary came out and examined my work. She smirked, slowly shaking her head.
"Lesson time." She said, "Let me in so I can get out."
With gritted teeth I did. And she did, finding a weak spot in the door. This dog is a winner, thinks I. But I have opposable thumbs and a marginal human brain.
The kennel is now like a five-star fortress. I hung a sign that states, "Da'fense Against the Dark Arts."
She can't escape now. (Or, it will take her getting an engineering degree and a fine set of tools. Not impossible . . .) Of course, I want Rosemary to like her kennel; to know we always comeback; that we care for her.
But, for now, she is learning that I AM the Alpha Male, doggone it!
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