oh Henry!

I published my post last night, floating in a sea of calm. I'm thinking -- everything is moving forward, with purpose, and with ideas on how to address the most pressing dog issues. Our routine is predictable and reassuring. Always easy, always wonderful. Every night, I go out with Henry for one last bathroom run, maybe around 9:30. It's usually a short walk. We go out, we come in. We move then to the bedroom. He's in a dozy state. I get ready for bed, read a little more, say goodnight, turn off the light. He sleeps, either on the floor, or in his bed at my feet. Contentment reigns. 

That's not what happened last night.

On our last walk, he was distracted. By the snow. By a car. By everything. Well okay, I get it, it's a blustery night. Puts you on edge! We come back inside, and now the barking begins. I think someone on my floor was having a party. Nothing loud. You never hear noise coming from the other units. Upstairs maybe, if they stomp around too much. Their sex must have come to a standstill, or they fixed their bed because I dont even hear them creaking rhythmically anymore. The only time you may remember you're in an apartment building is when people go in and out of their units. A muffled sound of voices, a door closing quietly.

Yesterday, there were muffled sounds of voices and door closings late into the night. They bothered me not at all. They agitated Henry like only an elevator full of screaming people might have done. He'd bark at the door, then run to the bedroom and look outside, waiting for someone to appear. And I guess people did come out, because he would then bark some more. (It was a white winter night and visibility was good, too good I would say.) He did not calm down until close to midnight. You know how middle of the night thoughts drive you nuts? Yeah, mine did. I truly believed then that Henry was getting to be like Marley in the book -- sweet and lovable, sure, but also a big pain in the ass. 

As if recalling his late evening of great fury, Henry woke up early and gave one big woof at the snow outside. I let out one loud "Henry!" and rolled back to the other side. Sleep was not going to come back, but at least I could ignore my pup for a little bit longer. 

It is the last woof I hear for a long, long time. 

He "wakes" me again at about 7. He waits patiently to go out. He is a model outside dog. Despite the fact that it snowed, and it continues to snow for the better part of the day.

He waits for his breakfast, plays a little while I putz around with mine, then settles in to rest as I eat, with my music on, book opened.

We start the Intermediate level training class today and I have to admit, as we set out for it, I am feeling a little apprehensive: if Henry has upped his level of barking, he's going to have a hard time being in a room full of strange people (with their dogs). I pack along his "calming collar," just in case. 

So, did we get thrown out of class for bad behavior?

Heck no!

 

 

 

Henry never barked once. The trainer upped the commands, extending them somewhat, making them more difficult. Henry did his so smoothly that you would think he'd done this class before and was there only to show others how to do it.

Was he good at "Sit" on the spot, even when commanded from a distance? Yes.  Was he great at "Leave it?" Perfection itself. Was he able to "Stay" for a longer period of time, with distractions? Absolutely. Did he "Come" immediately and with joy? Totally.

When the instructor came over to watch us, he wagged his tale and outperformed himself. 

I explained to her that Henry was an A+ dog when in a training session, whether here or at home. He is a little less than perfect when the training is stopped and we go back to normal life. Tell him to sit while he's barking at strangers on the street and he doesn't even try to listen. "Come" is useless as well, and if by chance I got him over with some dangle of a treat, it would not be with joy, it would be a momentary thing, just so he could grab his money and run. But, put us back in the apartment and have me start in on a training session, and that boy is all mine. Eyes focused on my face, positioned to do his best. Just not when I need him to do a little better. Not when it matters.

As I thought about all this much later, I also remembered today's initial class introductions. Some dogs were older than him, but many were younger -- maybe 7 or 8 months. When I introduced Henry I said that he had a famously loud bark. 

They never heard it once. But I also said that he was probably about 10.5 months old. And I realized on the one hand that he is so much older than when I first got him, but, too, that he is only 10.5 months. So much more to learn! So much more to surprise me with!

 

In the afternoon, we drive over to the farmette. It's bitter cold outside, but Henry does need his exercise so Ed and I take him to the nearby dog park. 

Henry runs so much and with such great speed that Ed asks  -- have you been locking your dog in a closet? He sure has a lot of pent up energy. 

Of course, the answer is that Henry is simply a very high energy dog. In the parks, he chases, but more often he is chased, as dogs try to keep up with him.

Henry is devilishly quick. And smart: he'll do a reversal if he feels they're getting close. It slows them down and sows momentary confusion. 

You feel you've put in your own exercise for the day just by watching him leap and lope across the fields.

 

After, we stop at Steffi's house, so that I can take some photos of it for the Home Owners Association -- for fence approval. Don't even ask me how that's going. I'm going to wind up with a court case if things don't settle down there. Yes, it's that ridiculous.

From there, we go to Tati's Cafe -- the place where they still appear to allow dogs. 

The coffee shop isn't packed, but there are at least a half a dozen tables with strangers -- Henry, strangers, eating, sipping, talking. 

Henry stays by the door, refusing to budge. 

But as I point him to the couch, he has a moment of clarity. A light bulb goes off: I know this place! He walks daintily over and hops onto the couch. Ed brings over a lunch for himself, I sip a coffee. Henry sits snugly, half hidden behind Ed. 

He doesn't exactly relax, but nor does he protest being there and not once, not once does he bark. 

First, the grand behavior at training and now this? Is it really Henry we're talking about? The dog that kept me up (and possibly my neighbors as well) until nearly midnight?

Unbelievable! 

And home again.  

I hope that no one is having visitors tonight.  That everyone stays in their homes because of the bitter cold. That Henry hears no strange sounds coming in from anywhere. 

I'll let you know tomorrow how that went!

with so much love...