Boarding a bus is just like approaching stairs. Work the dog up to the bus, the dog will halt and you can find the step up with your foot. Command forward and start seat-hunting. Tuck the dog under the seat or as out of the way as possible and continue as normal. It’s the same basic principle for getting off. We got off in Madison, a small town just west of Morristown.
After a quick run inside a store for more inside practice we headed to the train station. There, Bryan showed us just how well-trained these guys are. He had me and Prada face the tracks and told me to command "forward," which I did. Prada, however, did not go forward. She dragged me left, quite determined that no matter how many times I told her to go forward we weren't going anywhere NEAR the empty tracks. "GOOD GIRL!" was the reward for this intelligent disobedience. The dogs are so conditioned to train tracks that if there's no train there they will absolutely refuse to go near them. (I fear Prada’s training may have atrophied in this area due to our lack of trains in Huntsville. I’ll have to test this assumption sometime, then develop a re-education regimen as necessary. This is a natural part of doggy psychology: if there’s no sue for a particular skill or ‘trick’, it’s likely the dog will forget it, but pick it up fairly quickly if reintroduced to it.)
When our train arrived Bryan told us to have the dogs sit facing the train as it pulled in. This is to help get rid of the fear of that big noisy thing flashing past us at such a high velocity. Bolting dogs are dangerous. After the train stopped and the doors opened Prada took me right to the door and we proceeded from there like it was a bus.
On our walk back from the train station an SUV sped past us and splooshed through a huge mud puddle along the sidewalk we were on, sending a tidal wave over myself, Bryan, and another student. Since the car was on the right side and the dogs on the left Prada and the other dog, Van Gogh (nicknamed Van Goofball for his mischievous antics), barely noticed it, already damp from the light drizzle. We humans, on the other hand, looked like we'd just gone swimming in the Hudson!
Fortunately we got back to TSE in time to shower and change and dry off the dogs* before the annual Board of Directors' banquet, a semi-formal event that our class was invited to. Of course, Prada put on a stellar performance and preened incessantly in front of the Board. Because of her unusual coat she always draws a lot of attention and has no problems with this. My little diva quieted down a bit for dinner, though, and behaved remarkably well, not even getting up when I rose for a toast to one or two long-time staffers that were retiring that year.
Tonight at 8pm park-time I found out just how much of a priss I've got on y leash, though. She usually reserves her #2 action for early morning and late night park-time but tonight she did her typical #1, and then demanded to go inside when the rain increased from a drizzle to a steady downpour. I was fine, out there in a t-shirt, something nearly unheard of in chilly Oregon rains, but she wanted none of it! I warned her not to get me up to go park in the middle of the night and let her back inside. Hope that works...
*NOTE: Prada LOVES to be toweled off. This surprised me, given her distaste for
grooming, but she rubs herself against the towel and circles my feet, asking
for more rubdowns after a rainy walk.
(She did not
get me up after that change in routine, and continues to refuse lengthy
park-times if the weather’s bad)
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