dog training – Lionsandtigersandbearsetc

I’ve been working hard to ensure that Ruckus the Great Dane puppy has as many new and varied experiences as possible. Covid lockdowns slowed us down, but now that things are opened up, we are going places.

Literally.

At eight months, she hasn’t been to a restaurant. Yet. At that age Jasper was a regular at a few LA dining spots. Taking a Great Dane to eateries is a little more complicated than, say, bringing a Chihuahua along for the festivities, but we got pretty good at it.

In before times, not all eating establishments had outside dining areas, and what they had was usually fairly small. While a small dog can tuck under a table, a Dane, even a young one, tends to sprawl into the aisles.

Which means that the dog in question has to be incredibly good natured and agile, because they may get stepped on. They also should be super cute, so the wait staff turn to mush when they dodge around them, rather than get angry and bitter.

Jasper is charming, and let’s face it, he is adorable. Wait staff melt at the sight of him.

Jasper at eight months eyeing a glass of Chardonnay in an LA restaurant. Wait staff love him.

Whenever I take my dogs anywhere, it’s like travelling with a toddler. While I don’t need a bassinet, or a car seat, I bring practically everything else. I have the doggy equivalent of a diaper bag even if we’re just eating out or going to Starbucks. Bowls? Check. Chew toys? Check. Bully stick? Check. Poop bags? Never leave home without them.

Ruckus was six months when she went her first out–of-town horse show. This meant we were going to have to stay overnight somewhere. The show was located in one of California’s wine regions, which meant that there were a lot of hotels and Air B’n’Bs. Once I added Ruckus to the mix, the choices dropped dramatically.

I had a pick of three.

One was a suite at a resort located on a gorgeous vineyard. It featured a variety of well-reviewed restaurants, a spa and a pool. Nightly wine tastings. It sounded dreamy. All for a mere $600+ a night.

Next.

There was also a La Quinta, which are decent hotels and the entire chain is dog friendly. It was, however, almost an hour away from the show. I had a few 7:30 am classes and was planning to stay to watch the late classes.

Nope.

Then there was an Air BnB listing. Located on a small ranch, just minutes from the showgrounds, it was just a room and a connected bathroom. There was a $50 dog cleaning fee, which is normal at hotels if you bring dogs. There was no size limit on the dog, which can happen.

I booked it.

While I was packing the car the night before we left, it looked like I was getting ready to move. Or were bugging out in a war zone. All my gear fit into a small duffel bag and a hanging bag for my show coats, shirts and breeches.

Ruckus? Her kit included three bowls (one water and food bowl for the room, one food bowl for the show); a large container of kibble; a cooler to keep her turkey loaf chilled until we got to the room; a bag of toys; biscuits; two dog beds, dog towels and a sheet to cover the bed to protect it from dog hair since of course she sleeps with me. And of course, poop bags.

At the last minute I looked at the listing again to ensure there was a small fridge and coffeemaker. But I was horrified to notice that the space featured a spanking new beige carpet. Beige! I added a painter’s drop cloth to cover the rug. We were going to be spending our days at a horse show, even the best of which are filthy, dusty and often muddy all at once.

Ruckus being a Very, Good, Dog at the Temecua Horse Show. Photo by London

When I arrived and the Air Bnb host watched with amusement that slowly turned to terror as I unloaded my clown car of stuff. I think she was afraid I never going to leave.

It was all good. We got a rave review because that room was spotless when we left.

Ruckus on the drop cloth that covers the Air B’n’B bed. And her own blankie.

I don’t always bring that much stuff when I take her out in the world, but there’s always a lot. Last week my friend Twinkle and I took Ruckus and her puppy, Mighty (also a Great Dane) to the amazing dog beach, Hendry’s just north of Santa Barbara.

We weren’t sure how much the puppies were going to enjoy it; sometime the waves and the noise upset dogs. But it was crazy hot in the Valley and we figured if we spent 45 minutes there, it would still be better than being at home.

We packed a bucket for water; five bottles of water, four towels, poop, sunscreen (for us and the dogs) and a sheet to spread on the sand while we all rested.

The latter was unnecessary. They never stopped. As soon as we crossed onto the dog part of the beach and removed their leashes, they were off.

Ruckus ran straight into the water with Mighty at her side. They jumped over a wave, landed and bounced into the air and chest bumped each other like drunken frat boys. About that time Mighty realized he was neck deep in water and practically levitated out, and ran for the beach. Ruckus followed but stayed in the surf.

About then the puppies noticed that there were packs of dogs playing in the water and zooming around the beach. So they just joined in.

Most of the dogs were good-sized, Labs, Goldens and big mixes, none were as large as our house horses. A couple of the dogs stopped and stared, but soon they were all tearing around after each other like lunatics. Mighty stayed on the beach as did a few of the other dogs. Ruckus was all about the water. Beach to water, water to beach. The zooming never stopped.

When their playmates owners took them home, I thought our puppies might need a break. They had other ideas and found different friends further down the beach.

Much to our surprise, both dogs came instantly whenever we called them. But they never stopped running. Even when they knocked me into the water, they just leaped around me. Ruckus was pretty excited that I’d joined her in the surf.

(Pro tip: my Samsung phone was in my back pocket. I immediately ran for the towels and removed the case and dried it off. Except for a few glitches that didn’t last, it was fine. A friend tells me if it was an iPhone, it would have been done.)

They were the absolute epitome of doggie delight.

After a couple of hours, we clipped their leashes and literally dragged them away. If I didn’t insist on taking her home I was afraid Ruckus would play till she collapsed. She had such intense FOMO that she didn’t even take a drink until we were back at the car.

Ah, the car. Oops.

She leapt in, and while I was trying to dry my butt off (I hadn’t brought a spare pair of shorts and I was still soaked from hitting the water) she saw a small dog being led by a proper looking lady. Delighted to meet yet another pal, she leapt out of the car to greet it.

In the ensuing 30 seconds, she terrified the owner, spooked the tiny dog, who then growled and confused Ruckus. Her feelings were hurt, but she came right back to me.

The lady was incredibly nice about the whole thing.

Lesson learned. Never leave the tailgate down with Ruckus in the car. Even if I’m standing there. Even exhausted, she is fast.

That was practically the last time Ruckus moved all day. As soon as we started moving, she fell fast asleep. Mighty took a little longer to get comfortable and spent most of the drive home struggling to keep his eyes open.

So far, she has had a blast and been pretty good every time I take her somewhere new. Next up, a restaurant.

They almost all have outdoor patios now.

I am a huge believer in education, particularly when it comes to my animals. (We won’t even discuss the constant training my horses receive, other than to point out that it mostly serves to repair all of the damage I do every time I ride.) Every one of my dogs — except for Keeper, who pretty much arrived trained at birth — has gone with me to dog school.

As has been repeatedly pointed out, it’s not just the dogs that need to learn.

The late, great Murray the Dane, was so well-educated that he had the equivalent of a canine PhD. That was primarily because while Murray was super easy to train, he was extremely dog reactive. Dog school, particularly the terrific one I use, (shout out to J9sK9s !), was a safe, smart way to teach us to work through it.

While Murray never got to the point that he loved strange dogs, with hard, constant work, we were able to go anywhere safely. He was once attacked by a pack of Chihuahuas and pugs — yes, I know- but instead of killing them – which he had every right to do -I put him in a sit- stay until I dispersed the nasty, biting monsters. And he did.

Murray competed quite successfully in agility, which is all off leash. More than once at competitions other dogs went after him, but he never responded. It was always the littler dogs. Napoleon syndrome? Or was it just that all the dogs were smaller than he was.

Naturally, I signed up Ruckus for classes as soon as she was fully vaccinated. Her best buddy, Mighty, and his person, Twinkle, also signed up for the class.

This was either the best, or worst idea either of us have ever had. They definitely have less interest in listening to us when they are with each other. Who can blame them? We are so much less fun.

This school believes only in reward based training. This is not only more humane than the old dominate/alpha dog methods of the past, but is scientifically proven to be more effective. That makes sense – a happy pup is much more likely to enjoy and retain training than a fearful, terrified one.

We started school a couple of weeks ago. It meets on Tuesday nights at 8 pm.

This is a problem.

Ruckus is very much a morning puppy. She wakes up plays, naps, goes to the barn with me. plays there, and then naps again. She usually has a late afternoon burst of energy and dinner. After that, she’s pretty much down for the count.

This means that I after I pack her stuff for class, which includes a water dish, training treats, toys, poop bags, etc. (taking her places is like moving a human baby), I -have to wake her to put her in the car, where she promptly falls asleep again.

Ruckus is never pleased to be woken up for class.

Twinkle and Mighty live a block away from us so we carpool. When Mighty and Twinkle join us she wakes up and two of them wrestle the 15 minutes it takes to get to class.

The school we attend is over a laundromat. The parking lot is busy even at night and is not particularly well lit.

The first night we unloaded the dogs and their accoutrements and all four of us briskly walked to the door. I opened the door with the one finger that wasn’t loaded down with stuff. At which point Ruckus slammed on her brakes, spun out of her collar and fled into the parking lot.

A black dog in a dark parking lot filled with people and cars. Fun!

I dropped our crap and purse and ran after her. Thankfully, she is a big mama’s girl and was terrified; after what might have been the longest minute of my life she let me grab her.

I carried her wiggling, miserable, deadweight into the hall and slammed the door behind us. Together we climbed the stairs with Mighty bringing up the read.

We were late, and class had begun, but everything stopped as we walked in.

No one can say we don’t know how to make an entrance.

She freaked out again when the teacher – a lovely lady, but a stranger – bent down to pat her. When Ruckus recovered from the shock, she realized there were four other puppies in the room. They were all accompanied by strange people. Who were looking at her.

We maneuvered into our space while Mighty, who has regular visits from family and grandchildren, and is not quite as delicate as Ruckus, went to his spot on the far side of the room. He wasn’t happy either. Until the assistant put screens up blocking their view of each other, they locked pleading eyes and paid no attention to us.

The dog nearest us was a lovely, 10-month-old yellow lab puppy. It might be half kangaroo. It kept bouncing up over its screen to check out Ruckus.

I thought it was hilarious, but Ruckus, never having met a marsupial dog before, was scared and quite vociferous. Her barking set off Mighty, and immediately the room was filled with all the other puppies leaping and yowling.

Okay, not ALL the others.

There is one mini Australian shepherd that is perfect. It does everything with grace and style. Quietly and the first time. I think it’s judging all of the uncouth puppies and their owners. Mostly the owners.

I don’t want to spread conspiracy theories, but I believe it’s a ringer. It’s not really a puppy and I am certain its owner is professional dog trainer. Just saying.

Honestly, during class I don’t have time to worry about it. In that room, Ruckus has full on puppy ADD. What we can do somewhat effortlessly at home is a no- go in school. 30 seconds is the longest she can concentrate.

The only comfort I have is that Mighty is equally distracted.

I spend most of class getting her attention away from the full length mirrors (she can’t figure out who that other black puppy is) or trying to keep her from crawling over the screens to find Mighty.

The class is only an hour, but by the time it’s over, we are both exhausted.

I’m pretty sure the instructor needs a drink when we finally coax Ruckus and Mighty down the stairs and the door slams behind us.

I get it. But she might want to get over it; Ruckus is definitely looking at following in her in Murray’s footsteps. I see her on a doctoral track.

Tag: dog training

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