Battling Beasts

I heard somewhere that if a dog is being absolutely insubordinate that you should hold them down until they submit to you.  This isn't always appropriate or necessary.  I've only made it work with Jack twice.  Both times I was in a calm mood and he was tired.  Usually, he will tirelessly fight.

One night the taxmen and bill collectors were at my gate, the homework had piled up, and I was at my wit's end.  Jack was not being particularly obnoxious.  We were in my room with the door shut and I was reading a weighty text.  He was chewing on stuff he shouldn't, but he'd stop when I snapped at him.  He'd try to take my pencils while I was writing, but he'd walk away when I growled at him.  He started digging at my bed and I was done with his crap.  I wanted him calm.

I went over and swept his legs out from under him.  Before he could recover, I put my hand gently on his chest and held him down.  He started nipping at my hand, so I held his face and chest down.  Naturally, he started fighting.  He clawed at my arms and wiggled like a fish on the shore.  He was always on the verge of escape.  I was constantly shifting my grip.

My frustration mounted as our battle raged on.  He was incessant; moving like an angry snake, growling like a Harley, biting and scratching like a one-man cat fight.  I found myself yelling, "CALM DOWN," between biting my lips to keep my anger "contained."  My grips grew tighter and tighter.  Our ferocity mounted together.  Then I had a clear moment.



I looked down at his gaping jaw and wild eyes.  His ears were straight up.  I could taste blood from where I been biting my the inside of my mouth. There was a tiny thunderstorm erupting from his little neck, which I was clenching like a vice.  I realized my own rolling rumble and I realized: This dog is not fighting for dominance.  This dog is fighting for his life.

I picked him up, put him in his kennel, and walked away to calm down.  I felt like the worst person alive.  I figured myself a vicious, abusive jerk.  I thought about returning him, conjuring that I was a danger to this delightful dog.


A friend of mine had invited me to do a trance-type meditation that evening and I resolved to go. Apparently, I needed it.  Before I left, I opened Jack's cage door and sat in front of it.  He lay there, looking up at me.  He was no longer panting.  His curled tail lay flat.  His ears flopped forward.  His gaping maw had transformed back to his beloved fox-face.

"I know that was not okay," I told him, "and we will never go there again."  

He licked my face and laid back down.  

Later, between meditative crests, I realized we both have raging beasts within and those beasts had met that night.  I've always been controlling.  I've always been moody. I'm occasionally explosive.  "Sleeping Dragon," close friends have called me.  I don't know Jack's history, but since he was a stray, he must have had to scrap a time or two.  His little beast comes out when we play tug of war or when he plays with his sock, which resembles a small animal.  He's already caught a mouse and a bird.  Despite how adorable he is, I have no doubt that he is a predator.

We were made for each other.  At least, I like to think so.  During one of the meditative crests, I saw his war face reaching toward me from the void.  As it reached for me, a red flag with white designs filled in the background.  Crossbones appeared behind his face.  Each time I inhaled felt like my first and as I breathed, this image of him etched itself over my heart.    Giving him away would not be giving up on him.  It would be giving up on myself.

We beasts shall live together.  

Command over myself is command over Jack.  

Jack demands gold.

 

Basic Training: Come, Sit, Wait

Of these three, "Come" (来て、kite) has been the easiest, followed by "sit" (座って 、 suatte), and we're still working on "Wait" (待って、matte.)

When we first began training, I tried my best not to use words.  It helped me with self control.  He didn't know what my words meant and being quiet kept me from yelling the same thing repeatedly and feeling foolish when he stared at me.

To get him to come to me, I kept treats on me constantly.  I would wait until he was far away from me and then squat down so that he was eye level with me.  Then, I'd make an interesting sound to get his attention- usually a whistle or a raspberry- and when he came over, I would give him a treat.  After that, I started integrating word commands with my posturing and when he came, I rewarded him.  Today if either I say 「来て」or he sees me squatting, he will come to me.  As long as there's nothing more interesting going on.  He is still a puppy!  Ultimately, I would like for him to come and sit directly in front of me when I call him to me, but we'll have to work on that.

As for teaching him to sit, I would crouch and hold something precious to him (treat, toy, whatever), and not let him get to it.  I would fend him off for as long as it took for him to sit down, and then I would hold it out to him and wait for him to relax.  He has a curly tail and I know that when the tip touches the ground that means he's relaxed.  Then I would hold up one finger as if to say "one moment" and I would give him his prize.

The great thing about this tactic is that in the process of teaching him to sit, he also learned to wait and he learned who the boss is, although the latter still comes into question!  Now, when I have his attention and I hold up my finger, he is quite inclined to sit.  I can call 「座って」across the room and he will plunk down.   He's also already inclined to politely take things as a result of this teaching.

Since I already had him waiting for his prize, I began giving him a command to wait as I offered him a prize. He's already associated the ideas.  We're still working on getting him to wait as I cross the room. I can only get a certain distance before he thinks his food is running off and chases me down.




First, I have him sit.  I make sure he knows that I have a treat and I back away from him, with my hand out, palm facing him.  I repeat 「待って」, despite my previous no-word formula.  When I'm ready, I give him the command to come.  I like this method because it works all three commands at once: sit, wait, and come.





Training is challenging.  It takes time, patience, and a positive attitude.  I learned the hard way that it is important to take a break when I get frustrated.  When I am happy, calm, and know I have control, everything more smoothly goes.  When I become frustrated, everything becomes difficult.  If I lose command over myself, I lose command over Jack.  Together we live, together we learn.

Food Aggression

I got Jack from the pound.  He was five months old and only in the pound for a week, so his history's a mystery.  They told me that they had to feed him separately, but no body knew why.  I found out the first time I tried to take a bone from him.  He made a sound like a garbage disposal and attempted, with his tiny teeth, to tear my hands off.

While this may be the cutest face I've ever seen, behind it lurks a vicious predator with a gaping maw.  Make no mistake.  Even tiny dogs can be dangerous.

I didn't know what to do.  My tiny adorable puppy was a killing machine.  Even though I got the bone away, he had scraped skin off my fingers with his tiny teeth!  Imagine what could happen when his chompers started coming in.




I thought about taking him back to the pound.  It may have been my worst mistake.  Food and toy aggression are actually pretty easy to deal with, especially at a young age.  What happens is either a dog is attacked while eating or has limited food for a period of time and they become very defensive of what they have.

I imagine the Captain had been scrounging for a while, unable to find solace or sustenance and had learned to hoard or gobble whatever he'd come across.  Poor Jack was probably wondering the streets of Albuquerque, tearing up McDonald's wrappers for the melted cheese.  He's still got a habit of trying to eat gum off the ground (Yuck!).

So, after thinking about it for a while and doing a little web research, I decided I was going to try to help him get over it.  I set out a bowl of food and I watched him eat.  He hunched over it, completely tense and growling as he chomped the food down with his head in the dish.  Body language.

I took several deep breaths and did a brief meditation to calm myself.  I wanted him to see me as tranquil.  I wanted him to know that I was not a threat.  With my side to him, I very slowly moved toward him without looking at him.  I was worried that he'd make his garbage disposal noise, but I had determined that even if he did, I was going to keep moving in.  He only made crunching noises as he chowed.  When I got close enough to him, he moved away but was still focused on the food.

I picked up the bowl and, sitting, held it between my legs without making eye contact.  When he stopped watching the food and started watching me, I waited for his tail to relax and then gave him the food. After a couple of feedings like this, I realized that I saved a lot of time feeding him from hand.  Now I can pet him while he eats without getting growled at or bitten.  In this way, we cured his food aggression.


In an effort to get over his toy aggression, I repeated the same process with a bone that he liked.  We are five weeks in and while we still have issues with things that he's very focused on, he never bites me anymore and only rarely growls at me.  

I have not been able to get a picture of his War Face, but I assure you:  it is so cute that it's scary.

Beginnings

                                                                                       

I spent days thinking about it.  My northern neighbor had a cat.  My southern neighbor had a chihuahua.  The lease said "NO PETS" and yet...

Everyday for a week, I thought about going to the pound.  I made every excuse not to.  I had classes and homework.  It was so far away.  I was too tired from life. Et Cetera.  I woke up on October 9th and I knew that was the day.  I got into the car and made the trek to the pound.  I saw many adorable dogs, but the one that captured my interest- a timid chow- was not available.  Then I found Jack.

He was in a kennel with three chihuahuas and, though they were crowding the gate to bark at my roommate and I, Jack pushed passed them and sat silently before us.  At that moment, I knew he was my dog.  He was a stray who had been brought in that morning.  It's said he was found at Central and Wyoming.  I couldn't walk him, then.  We barely got to say hello before the chihuahuas pushed him back.  I placed him on a priority hold.

What followed was the longest week of my life.  Night by night I wondered where he would sleep. Would he be a lap dog?  Would he be a cuddler?  Should he sleep in a kennel?  What kind of food would he like?  Would it be hard to train him?

I knew he would have issues from being a stray for five months.
I determined that I would teach him in Japanese to be unique.

When the day finally came, I was racked with nerves.  What would come with this new responsibility?

Although this all began a month ago, I aim to here chronicle the adventures of Captain Jack.