History is a Bitch - a weblog by Jeanne Kalogridis

Every blog must have its mascot, and mine is no exception. She is my muse, Miss Sweetie Pie. It is a terrible responsibility, but one she bears well, even though now, at the venerable age of twelve, she must bear it alone (her live-in lover, Hershey the chocolate wonder Lab, shuffled off to the happy hunting grounds this past January).

At least until we get a new puppy.

While it's true I have an office -- quite a lovely one -- in fact I almost never work there. You see, Sweetie is far more comfortable up on our king-sized bed, either curled upon Ser Giorgio's pillow (which he kindly presents to her every morning when he leaves for work) or upon my feet. I am therefore obliged to work on said bed, with a laptop in my lap and a dog's chin resting upon my instep.

Writer's block? Let Miss Sweetie settle her sleepy head upon your ankles and commence to snore. I guarantee you'll remain at your post until the day's work is done.

Hershey was the canine love of my life. He came to me back-yard bred and sickly, stubborn and independent, terrified of loud noises but certainly nothing or no one else.

He started out as dog-dog aggressive; when he was eighteen months old and I brought Sweetie Pie home as a puppy, he tore her face off when she went near one of his toys. I immediately recruited a local trainer. We set up a little sting: The trainer sat next to Hershey, her hand on his leash; I sat on his other side, my hand on the innocent ten-week-old Sweetie Pie's leash. Enter the jealously-guarded toy. We set it in front of the ninety-pound Hershey's nose, then coaxed Sweetie over to it. Of course he went for her, fangs slavering -- but Bethany, the marvelous trainer, took him down in the blink of an eye. He yelped, not because it hurt, but to signal his submission.

We set the trap up again. This time, when Sweetie wandered over to Hershey's favorite toy and began to play with it, Hersh looked up at the trainer, looked up at me, and buried his face in my lap while Sweetie played happily. From that instant on, he was a perfect gentleman with her. He had just needed to be informed of our pack's rules. And I was in love.

Hersh learned to heel off-leash and walk past barking dogs without blinking an eye; he retrieved the newspaper and the mail like a pro, whispered on command, and in the end, wasn't quite able to perfect his ability to turn lights on and off, because his crippling arthritis made it difficult to reach the switch. And as for being terrified of loud noises -- well, because I always praised him to the skies every time I turned the vacuum cleaner on (no food bribes, just praise), he eventually decided he got a blast out of walking up to the vacuum cleaner and lying down in front of it until I pushed the vacuum up against him. I guess he enjoyed watching me laugh.

He died in January at the age of 13. I grieve him as I would a person.

I thought perhaps that I was the only person to love a dog so deeply, and feel that love returned. That's until I began to read Patricia McConnell's beautiful, amazing books about her relationships with her dogs -- specifically, a border collie named Luke (who also died at 13).

McConnell is an ethologist (student of animal behavior), and her books are fascinating, educational, and poignant -- not to mention elegantly written. Please, pick up copies of THE OTHER END OF THE LEASH and FOR THE LOVE OF A DOG. And if you have an interest in dog training (or like me, a passion for it), please visit her website, www.patriciamcconnell.com.

No, this isn't turning into a dog blog... at least, not until I get the new puppy. But after re-reading and re-thinking the post about Hershey the wonder Lab, I wanted to make things clear about my attitude on dog training sooner rather than later.

First, about the "take-down" Hershey endured: I do not, I repeat, I DO NOT condone the use of "alpha rolls" or take-downs. My point was that Hershey learned on the first go-round because he was so intelligent and he communicated the fact poignantly. The *method* Bethany and I used, however, was unforgivably harsh and unnecessary, and in that sense, the story is very sad; Bethany and I just didn't know a better way at the time. For about a decade, we've known that Hersh could have learned not to attack Sweetie Pie in the presence of toys if we humans had used a clicker and some food or other positive reinforcement. (Also, I should not have used the word "bribe" with "food." Food is a perfectly legitimate reinforcement for training, and no one should ever shrink from using it for that purpose.) It was the clicker (reinforced by Hersh's favorite treat) that allowed him to learn the really cool golly-gee-whiz tricks like turning the light switch on and off.

So for Hershey's sake, don't use negative training methods on your dog. Instead, go read about the magic of clicker training at Karen Pryor's website. (Her book DON'T SHOOT THE DOG, on reinforcement-based conditioning, has become a classic.) Be sure to watch the amazing short video of the mule.

The great thing about reinforcement-based training? You can use it on anyone: a dog, a cat, a chicken. Even your spouse...

Okay, everyone straight on that? Don't ever punish your dog for something he's done wrong. Or your spouse, for that matter. Instead, reinforce them for what they're doing right. You, and they, will be a lot happier for it.

It's how I get my work done. I've mentioned before that I work best with two dogs on the bed. That's Sweetie Pie the yellow Lab draped over her little black cohort, Django. Django's a new addition to the pack, but as you can see, he's fitting in nicely.

So while the pack and I are hard at work, go check out Blogging By and About Authors, whose goal is to connect writers with their readers. It features reviews by the amazing Harriet Klausner.

In keeping with our cute fuzzy theme...

I'd forgotten all about the effort required to raise a Labrador. I vaguely remembered that my late great chocolate Lab, Hershey, was hell on wheels at six months old, but I thought it was because I knew nothing about dog training back then.

Oh, how the proud are brought low.

You might remember mention of the newest Kalogridis family member, young Django. Django is now pushing six months old and weighs in at fifty pounds. He is the essence of perpetual motion.

Of course, Django and I have been working on his public persona and manners. I am used to taking my dogs with me when I go to the bank, pharmacy, and our quaint downtown shops, where dogs are welcomed by all the local merchants.

So Django and I set off for downtown with great hopes last Friday. I was of a mind to do a bit of clothes-shopping for fall, and so went into a little department store where my other dogs were well-known for their calm, courteous behavior and for lying calmly at my feet while I shopped and tried on clothes.

Of course, Django -- who had been completely emptied out after breakfast, and had gone hours without eating anything -- stepped inside the door of the store and promptly dropped a massive log.