So for those of you who are unaware, my current job involves me working with assistance dogs. It’s only recently, I’d say over the past two or so months, that I’ve begun to properly invest myself in learning how to train the dogs.
I can honestly say that it’s one of the most difficult but rewarding things I’ve ever done.
A majority of the things I do are insular. The only thing that I need to improve on or work with is myself and my own mind. If my writing isn’t up to scratch, that’s entirely on me. If I’m struggling with an IT problem it’s because I’ve yet to come up with the solution.
Dog training is different, because it’s not just about me. You’ve also got the dog, a dog with a personality and character traits. A living, breathing thing that is looking to you to guide it.
It’s not just me, though. Whenever I do dog training I shadow someone, and with good reason, who is kind enough to correct me when I make a ridiculous mistake.
Having control, or the idea of having control over a living thing is confusing. It’s up to me, in this training session, to ensure that this dog continues to grow and develop into an animal befitting of the title of an assistance dog.
And when you’ve spent most of your life dealing with computer issues and being unable to find the right words, both in a social and literature based sense, staring down a four-legged ball of fur is certainly a new challenge.
On the surface, though, dog training isn’t that hard. Teaching a dog to sit shouldn’t be difficult, but it is, because there are so many different variables that go into it. Is the dog focused on you, are you focused, is the dog more focused on the treat, what outside stimuli are there around you, how often has the dog practised sit before etc. Something so simple at face value quickly becomes exceptionally complicated.
Dogs also have this absolutely fascinating, but woefully annoying habit of remembering everything you have them do. That’s the theory, anyway. Sometimes it feels like the dogs remember the things you don’t want them to, while forgetting the things you do want them to remember.
All of this makes it probably the biggest challenge I’ve ever faced. And that’s just all the different things you need to remember with the dogs. When you’re fairly inept with your hands and struggle to make your brain and body work at the same time due to a variety of different issues, it becomes even more difficult.
It’s a struggle for sure. Every single training session, whether it’s one of the older dogs or a little puppy, always brings a new challenge, something I need to adapt to in order to solve.
I’m also not very good at it yet. I’ve always liked to think I’m someone who has a decent grasp at whether or not I’m decent at things, and right now, I’m not a good dog trainer.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying I’m terrible, and I ruin all of the dogs training leading up to our training session because of my absolute incompetence. I’m not that bad. I hope.
I make a lot of little mistakes, though. I’m on the wrong side of the dog, I get my commands mixed up, I reward the dog when I shouldn’t have, I do things in the wrong order etc. Nothing monumental, but these little things soon begin to stack up in your mind and weigh you down. I’m just not confident in my own ability yet, and these little mistakes continue to hamper me.
Despite all of the struggles, mostly down to my own inabilities, why do I enjoy doing it so much?
Because when you make progress it’s the proudest feeling in the world.
During all of the training sessions I’ve been apart of, there is usually a moment in time where everything just clicks. Both you and the dog align, and they manage to perform the command perfectly, or you figure out how to get them to follow the command, or you get them one-hundred percent focused on you.
Then you begin to coo, almost like a father proudly talking about his child’s achievements. It sounds so odd, talking to a dog as if it were a baby, but you genuinely cannot help but express your absolute delight at the progress being made.
When you both manage to make those steps forward, it’s a wonderful feeling. The feeling of progress can’t really be topped, especially when sometimes you feel like you’re banging your head against a brick wall.
My two favourite memories of dog training so far are as follows:
The first involved a perfect following of eight commands by one of the older dogs. Sit, Down, Stay, Heel, Sit, Down, Wait, Come.
The dog being able to do this obviously wasn’t down to me, as she’d had training from the far more competent dog trainers in order to remember all of those commands. But it was nice moment for me, I suppose, that I managed get through all the commands without screwing up once. We’d both remembered what we had to do, and that stands, in my opinion, as the best thing I’ve ever done training wise.
My second favourite memory involves looking like a muppet. I was training one of the younger dogs outside, and I was struggling to get her focus completely on me. I decided to act drastically, took her lead, and proceeded to run and leap and bound away, calling her in a sickly sweet voice, my hand outstretched with a treat in my palm. She bounded after me happily, and we repeated this odd song and dance multiple times.
I looked like a lunatic. I sent a majority of the other dog trainers into laughing fits due to my wonderful leaping abilities, and probably disturbed all of the neighbours with how loud I was exclaiming my insistence that the puppy follow.
But it was so much fun. At the end of that training session I came away from it having had a damn good time, and from the way her tongue lolled out of her mouth, her tail swished from side to side, and the way she was panting for breath, I’d say that the puppy enjoyed it too. Plus, I entertained everyone else, so that was nice.
This memories, although they’re not very old, still make me smile. Coupled with the fact that I am improving keeps me motivated too.
Just like my little mistakes, I also make little improvements. The one that springs to mind is not letting the dog out of the door before you. It’s good manners for the dog to wait until you’ve stepped through the door. I wouldn’t have paid any attention to that before. But now, almost instinctively, I’ll make the dog wait and allow me through the door first.
These little things add up and up, and they’ll continue to add up until they become big things. I’m confident that with enough time and effort (probably some laughter too) I can become competent at dog training.
Is it hard? Absolutely.
Is it a challenge? One of the hardest I’ve ever had to face.
It it frustrating sometimes? Without a shadow of a doubt.
But when you see that look in the dogs eye as you praise her for performing a command perfectly, there’s very few feelings I’ve felt that match that sense of pride, passion and progress for not only the dog, but myself as well.