pet connection

In my third week at the San Francisco SPCA’s Academy for Dog Trainers, I’ve been dancing to tune of “Beverly Hills Chihuahua” as I work to train Roscoe, the indelibly cute Chihuahua. It’s a big difference in dog from the hyperactive, confident, and ecstatic Lab project I had the previous two weeks to my new 5-pound partner, to whom the world seems so big, as it would to any dog who reaches only to the height of my ankle.

I no longer need to take my project dog out on a daily run because Roscoe prefers being held in my arms as I carry him back from class,and would much rather sit on my lap than run. Both of my last two project dogs were “lap dogs,” but Tyler the kinetic Lab wanted to run laps around the exercise yard while Roscoe wants to sit in my lap.

Roscoe is shaking in typical Chihuahua style when he greets me in the morning, but as soon as I hook the leash on his collar — small enough to fit Barbie’s lil’ plastic dog — he rears, flinging his paws in circles as if doing an impression of “Hi–ho Silver!” He gallopst in front of me with an air of confidence as I hold steady on the reigns, or in our case, the leash. Little paws that print only about the width of my thumb prance on the ground — as if he’s walking on a hot skillet — when he reaches a steady lope, while I am still a walking at a comfortable pace behind him. Roscoe greets each person with a few swishes of greeting from his tail like a horse swatting away flies, and then he surges back into the race, cutting me off at the ankles and gaining the lead as we reach the door to our training room. By the time we reach the training pen, the short walk, which to me only takes about three minutes, is the equivalent of a five-kilometer sprint for Roscoe, who by that point is spent,and ready to begin our first training exercise, which involves a long down stay on a blanket.

After another rearing in the training pen, paws extending up towards the heavens NS Roscoe dances over to the wool blanket and plops himself into a down, expectantly awaiting the treats to come. By far the most difficult part of training Roscoe has been to keep him in a down-stay and at a distance from me, because HIS motivation is to be a companion and a friend. Treats are tasty, and for the tiny size of his little stomach, Roscoe really can throw them down the hatch, but Roscoe prefers company over treats.

In one exercise, I had to get Roscoe to leave another person who was holding his attention, while I called him from the opposite side of the pen. My partner was petting and playing with him, and I began yipping and shrieking and slapping the ground with my hands to get his attention. At first, Roscoe ran over to me with gusto, and I praised him and slipped some delectable cheese into his mouth. But after a few times of my partner petting him at the other end of the pen, and me trying to call him back for a treat incentive, Roscoe grew slower and slower on coming back to me, until he didn’t want to leave my partner at all. I was puzzled at why Roscoe wouldn’t gallop over for a chance at treats, but then I looked over at his little body arching his back into my partner’s hand like a cat, and I realized that what Roscoe was after most of all was affection.

The next time, I called him back to me, and after a long duration, Roscoe looked up longingly at my partner — as if to say “I’ll be back for more rubs in a moment!” — and dutifully walked over to me on the opposite side of the pen, his little feet dragging at a reluctant pace. As soon as Roscoe got to me, I showered him in a puppy party of treats, praise, and best of all, pets and hugs from me. The look on Roscoe’s face was unmistakable this time, as his tiny brown eyes widened and looked up at me with adoration, and he nestled his little body up against my chest to indulge deeper into the heavy petting. After that one experience, Roscoe didn’t want to even leave my lap again and would have to be coaxed over to my partner. He would turn 180 degrees the moment he heard my voice and bound in flying strides towards me, expectant of the hugs and petting he would receive.

With treats and praise not nearly as delectable as physical touch to Roscoe, the challenge of getting him to stay on a blanket for two minutes while I am on the other side of the training pen has been agonizing for the little man. So far, we’ve reached a 30-second stay on the blanket, visibly excruciating for Roscoe, who squirms and wiggles.

Thursday isour final test day, and the two-minute down-stay will be the ultimate test for our human-doggie team. However against Roscoe’s nature it may be to be separated from his person for even two minutes, I can tell his little body holds the willpower, if I can only use the next few days to find the means to get him there.

After our main training exercises are done, Roscoe finishes the session with a trick that would make any circus pony jealous. With the audible drum roll playing in my head, I fish out the hula hoop hidden behind the kennel, and put it a few inches above the ground. Roscoe does his signature rearin, before he canters up to the hoop and takes a gigantic leap, clearing the obstacle and again rearing up on his hind feet waiting for the affirmation of a job well done, along with a paycheck of goodies from my treat bag.

He cuddles into my arms as I lift him up off the ground and begin our walk back to his shelter room. His eyes are dreamy, as I can tell the training has left his little reserve weakened and ready for a nap. With kisses planted up and down his face, I place him in his shelter room where he is greeted by his Chihuahua friends, whom he greets with enthusiasm and then moves over to his blanket-lined bed, with his buddies following, as they all curl up in a dog pile, moving in next to each other for warmth and ready to share in their Chihuahua dreams.

With a smile, I take one last glance at Roscoe and leave in anticipation for our next training session, where I know I’ll be greeted by Roscoe, who will once again be literally rearing to go, as he throws his body up in the air as I attach the leash, ready to race again.

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