Born to Bark (5 page)

The second Hollywood influence on dog training came from Carl Spitz, a German immigrant who was another student of Most. In 1927 he opened the Hollywood Dog Training School and became famous for being the trainer of many canine film stars, such as Terry, who played Toto in
The Wizard of Oz
.

One more direct import from Germany rounded out this early dog training world. Josef Weber learned to train dogs from Konrad Most’s training manual when he was an instructor in the Berlin Police Force dog training unit. Ultimately he set up a “residential” dog training school in Princeton, New Jersey, for the dogs of people who were too busy (or uninterested) in training their own pets. His clients were an international Who’s Who of the wealthy and famous. One person who came to him for instruction, not for her dog, but for herself as a dog trainer, was Blanche Saunders.

Destined to change the way dogs would be trained, Saunders never would have started on that career path had it not been for a breeder of standard poodles, Helene Whitehouse Walker. At that time (and even today), many people thought that poodles were wimpy, stupid, and useless dogs—fit only to be primped and coifed and shown in beauty pageants. Walker’s experience with the breed had shown her that they were actually intelligent and hardworking.

While visiting Europe, Mrs. Walker saw some dog obedience competitions and wanted her dogs trained to perform these tasks in order to demonstrate to the world how clever poodles really were. Josef Weber recommended that Saunders do the actual training and also handle the demonstrations, noting, “She is very good with dogs, although she inclines toward being somewhat too gentle with them. However, for a breed like a poodle, that might be a virtue.”

Blanche Saunders would later say that she was sitting on a tractor when Mrs. Walker approached her and said, “I’m told that you are good with dogs. How would you like a real job training them?” Saunders did not ask for any details but simply jumped off the tractor and asked, “When do I start?”

While Saunders trained the poodles, Walker used her persuasive skills and approached dog clubs and breeders with the idea of holding competitive obedience tests at dog shows. To further popularize the new sport of dog obedience, Saunders organized public demonstrations, some held in highly visible settings, such as Rockefeller Center, Madison Square Garden, and at sporting events at Yankee Stadium during intermissions.

In 1936 the American Kennel Club (AKC) agreed to award titles to dogs who reached a high enough standard of performance at dog obedience trials. Once the rules were in place Walker and Saunders engaged in a nationwide trek to popularize dog obedience as a sport. Together they loaded three poodles and all of their jumps and other gear into a trailer and started a 10,000-mile tour around the country. Going from one dog show to another, they stopped to give many public performances under a “Train Your Dog” banner. These made Blanche Saunders one of the most respected dog trainers of the time a
nd, when her book appeared in 1946, it was virtually guaranteed to be a success.

Even though her mentor Josef Weber thought that she was “too gentle” with dogs, Saunders had not completely broken away from the force-based, military-style training inherited from Germany. She did, however, bring a broader understanding of the principles of learning to the field of dog training. Specifically, she observed, “Dogs learn by associating their acts with a pleasing or displeasing result. They must be disciplined when they do wrong, but they must also be rewarded when they do right.”

Force and compulsion were still acceptable means of training for Saunders. Thus, the main tools that she used were the
leash and the choke collar, usually a length of light metal chain with a ring at either end. When the chain is slipped through one of the rings and the leash is attached to the other ring it creates a nooselike device. When the leash is pulled or jerked, the noose tightens, causing discomfort as it cuts off the dog’s air supply. Releasing pressure on the leash removes the pressure on the dog’s neck. With choke-collar training, the dog is basically working to avoid the punishing effects of the tight collar. Saunders’s innovation was that, along with the forceful guidance, she tried to
add some positive rewards, noting, “There is magic charm in pieces of cooked liver and chicken.” She anticipated what modern dog trainers call
positive dog training
methods when she said, “It is important that you know that kindness will accomplish much more than harshness and cruelty. A dog has a wonderful memory and he won’t forget your attitude toward him.”

When I was only 9 years of age, none of the specifics of the history of dog training methods mattered to me, but it did matter to me that Saunders wrote, “The reason that dogs and children get along so well must be that they are so much alike. They think alike, act alike, and they even train alike.” I read this passage as meaning that it was reasonable to think th
at I could train my dog even if I had not yet grown up. As far as necessary equipment went, I already had a leash, so all that I needed was the choke collar.

My family was hard-pressed for money, so I dared not ask for funds to buy a second collar for Tippy that would be used just for training. But I remembered that one of our neighbors had had an old dog that had died a few months earlier and that she had worn what looked like the choke collar shown in Blanche Saunders’s book. I gathered up my courage and crossed the
street to their home. I knocked on the door and Mrs. Friedman answered. My voice quavered a bit as I started speaking, since I knew that my parents would not have been pleased to find out that I was asking the neighbors for any sort of “handout.”

“Hello, Mrs. Friedman,” I said. “I’m really sorry that Rosy died. I have my own dog now and his name is Tippy. My mother says that I have to train him, and I got this book that shows me how to do it, but it says that I have to use a choke collar and I don’t have one. I was wondering if you kept Rosy’s collar and if I could borrow it until I trained my dog or until you get another dog. I’ll give it back afterward.”

Mrs. Friedman smiled sympathetically and said, “Well, Rosy was a lot bigger than the little dog that I’ve seen you walking. But if you think that it will help, I’ll give you her collar.”

She disappeared for a few minutes and then returned with what seemed like an enormous piece of chain. Rosy had been a very large Labrador retriever. Her collar was two or three times longer than what was required to circle the slim neck of a fox terrier, but it was a choke collar and it was not costing me anything, so it would just have to do.

I thanked Mrs. Friedman and ran home. I sat in front of Tippy and looked at the picture in the book that showed Blanche Saunders shaping a chain like the one that I now had into a loop collar while a black poodle watched her with a happy expression. It looked easy. Next I slipped the collar over Tippy’s head and when I released it I heard a clunking sound. The collar was so large that if Tippy nodded his head just a few inches the ring that hung down would bang against the floor. My trim little dog wearing the long, wide-linked heavy metal collar looked like a prisoner chaine
d in a dungeon that I’d read about in books about knights and castles.

“It’s okay, Tippy,” I reassured him. “You only have to wear this when you are being trained. The rest of the time you can wear your own leather collar.”

Tippy gave a little wave of his tail suggesting that he understood, or at least forgave me for the indignity of it all.

Carefully following the instructions in the book, I began training Tippy to sit and lie down on command. Physically positioning and guiding the dog was an important part of Saunders’s training procedure, so I would tug up on the choke collar and push Tippy’s hind quarters down to get him to sit. Getting him to lie down involved a bit of a wrestling match, with me grabbing his paws to pull him down and if necessary even lying down on top of him to keep him in position. As Blanche Saunders hinted, sneaking him a bit of food when he cooperated really helped.

Every day after school, I would put that enormous chain collar on my dog and work with him for an hour. On weekends I would train him for an hour or so early in the morning before the rest of the house was awake. The sounds of “Come!” “Sit!” “Down!” “Heel!” and “Stay!” uttered with all of the power that my high-pitched young voice could manage became the background music to my family’s life.

Looking back, it is a great wonder to me that Tippy learned anything. My timing was awful, and all of those jerks, pulls, pushes, and tugs should have ruined my relationship with him. Perhaps the treats helped offset the buildup of any negative emotions, plus I gave him a lot of patting and praise. Unfortunately, a significant obstacle to my success was the “Dennis Factor.”

My brother Dennis, 6 years younger than I, thought my dog training efforts were hilarious and invented a game in which he would try to distract Tippy or get him to disobey me whenever possible. When I would tell Tippy to “Stay!” in a sitting position, Dennis would run around or make catlike meowing sounds to try to get him to move or lie down. When I would give Tippy a “Come!” command he would stand on the side and call the dog while waving a bit of food to entice him away from me. When I would tell Tippy to lie down and stay, while I moved across the room to stand for a minute or s
o, Dennis would bounce a ball
in front of Tippy, and, if that didn’t cause him to move, would run behind him and tug on his tail. Whenever Tippy responded to him instead of obeying my instructions, Dennis would wag his finger at him and yell, “Bad dog!” and then roll on the floor laughing hysterically. When I tried to get my mother to intervene, she would smile and tell me that I was doing a good job training Tippy and that Dennis would learn by watching me so that he would be able to train his own dog when he got older. Dennis was standing beside me when I had this conversation and he responded by waving his finge
r at me and squeaking, “Bad dog!” He then fell to the floor laughing again while I tried to imagine some form of unpleasant retribution.

The 8 weeks flew by, but Tippy did seem to be under a reasonable degree of control now. His test was scheduled for a Sunday morning. We all went into the living room and my father, mother, and Dennis sat down on the sofa. My mother then said, “So show us!”

Tippy seemed to understand that something important was happening and was calmer and more observant than usual. He even seemed to give a little nod of encouragement to me, punctuated by the end of his long choke collar chain thumping against the floor.

I began by walking Tippy around the room, keeping him beside me in what trainers call the “heel position.” Left turn, right turn, fast, slow, halt, and sit—all seemed perfect and he moved as if he were glued to my left leg. Then I placed him in a sit, stood in front of him, and told him to lie down, then to sit, both of which he did precisely. Next I told him to stay and I marched across the room.

“Tippy, come!” I called. The handsome little terrier bounded to me dragging his overlong chain collar along the floor and sat
directly in front. Then I showed off his crowning achievement. Standing tall, I told him “Tippy, go around!” He stood up, circled behind me in a clockwise direction and sat down by my left side. My mother actually applauded and my father gave a smile that made his pale eyes sparkle. Tippy had passed the test and all was well.

Dennis gave his usual comment, “Bad dog!” but this time I didn’t mind.

Later that week I returned the choke chain to Mrs. Friedman. I would still occasionally practice obedience commands with Tippy, but I had promised him that he would only have to wear that chain collar while I was training him, and I now considered him to be a perfectly well-trained dog.