This morning Rufus had his first doggie training lesson in about four years. Hard to believe it’s been that long. As with so many dogs, Rufus turns into a different, more difficult and often a more aggressive dog when he’s on a leash. And his track record for coming when called is abysmal. Good behavior on walks and responding when called are simply non-negotiables, and Tim and I have been lazy slobs about addressing them.
One of the things we love about France is that dogs are welcome in all sorts of places, and we’re excited that he won’t have to be left at home so often. But, we’ve been worried that when he acts up we won’t be able to apologize or explain the nuts and bolts of Rufus as easily as we can now. It’s that whole lost in translation/language barrier thing.
So, off to a two-hour private training class we went – Tim, Rufus and myself. And, it was good. Rufus, the cogs turning in his head, was a beautiful sight to see. When he came home, the first thing he did was find a patch of sunlight in which to take a snooze. The little guy was tuckered out. As were Tim and I. It’s never just the dog that’s getting trained. Two-thirds of the training is for the people.
One thing I always noticed about French dogs is how well behaved they are. I never figured out if it was because all French dogs are well trained or if people only take out dogs that they know will behave!
Ha! It’s funny you mention that, because the trainer has a theory: only the well behaved dogs are out and about. The ones that aren’t aren’t.
I knew it!!!