When you think peanuts, what dog comes to mind?
A beagle like Snoopy?
How about a Portuguese water dog like Rock'O.
The trained pooch allows 8-year-old Riley Mers to go to school and have some semblance of a normal life.
Mers has an allergy to peanuts so severe that even touching one can send her to the hospital. Rock'O sniffs out the offending substance and alerts her to its presence.
Here's the story and video from ABC News's Neal Karlinsky.
Showing posts with label training. Show all posts
Showing posts with label training. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Training, training, training
I was coming home from doing some shopping yesterday and as I drove in my complex there was a brindle pit bull running around the parking area.
The dog darted in front of my car several times as I slowly tried to drive to my parking spot.
Then a guy appeared, waving at me as if to say "Oops, runaway dog alert."
I parked and got out of my car and the guy and the dog were still doing that "dance" that dogs and their owners do when the dogs don't want to be "caught."
I tried to get the dog's attention but it was having TOO much fun having everyone chase after him. Apollo was the dog's name, so the guy kept calling him.
I figured we could try and get the pooch to come into my patio area and capture it, but the dog came close to me and I was able to grab its collar.
The 1-1/2-year-old dog was having such a good time, making his owner chase him around the parking lot.
That took me back.
Kate was a real pisser in the early days. We would go to the dog park and she would make me chase her, until, eventually, she would let me catch her.
I consulted our trainer, who suggested I either keep a leash attached to her (so I could step on the leash and get her that way; not always a good idea in a crowded dog park) or just "walk away."
The "walk away" strategy was supposed to work this way: I walk away from Kate, who will suddenly realize she is being abandoned and will pine to be taken by me back to our home.
That was the way it was supposed to work.
In reality, Kate wouldn't come to me when I wanted to leave the dog park and started playing "catch me if you can." After several embarrassing minutes, I walked away from the park.
I kept looking back and she was having a wonderful time playing with the other dogs. I was completely out of her sight and, I was told, she never gave any indication that she missed me.
Eventually, I came back to the dog park. Eventually, one of the other dog owners grabbed her collar.
It was a long walk home.
Eventually, Kate began responding to the "come" command.
It took a lot of work and a lot of practice, but we learned the command — eventually.
The dog darted in front of my car several times as I slowly tried to drive to my parking spot.
Then a guy appeared, waving at me as if to say "Oops, runaway dog alert."
I parked and got out of my car and the guy and the dog were still doing that "dance" that dogs and their owners do when the dogs don't want to be "caught."
I tried to get the dog's attention but it was having TOO much fun having everyone chase after him. Apollo was the dog's name, so the guy kept calling him.
I figured we could try and get the pooch to come into my patio area and capture it, but the dog came close to me and I was able to grab its collar.
The 1-1/2-year-old dog was having such a good time, making his owner chase him around the parking lot.
That took me back.
Kate was a real pisser in the early days. We would go to the dog park and she would make me chase her, until, eventually, she would let me catch her.
I consulted our trainer, who suggested I either keep a leash attached to her (so I could step on the leash and get her that way; not always a good idea in a crowded dog park) or just "walk away."
The "walk away" strategy was supposed to work this way: I walk away from Kate, who will suddenly realize she is being abandoned and will pine to be taken by me back to our home.
That was the way it was supposed to work.
In reality, Kate wouldn't come to me when I wanted to leave the dog park and started playing "catch me if you can." After several embarrassing minutes, I walked away from the park.
I kept looking back and she was having a wonderful time playing with the other dogs. I was completely out of her sight and, I was told, she never gave any indication that she missed me.
Eventually, I came back to the dog park. Eventually, one of the other dog owners grabbed her collar.
It was a long walk home.
Eventually, Kate began responding to the "come" command.
It took a lot of work and a lot of practice, but we learned the command — eventually.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
The tail wagging the emotion
The New York Times had an article yesterday that said the direction a dog's tail wags means that the dog is either happy or cautious. I oversimplify, because I need that in my life every once in a while.
I came home last night and studied Kate's tail — keep your minds out of the gutters — and, frankly, she is an enigma.
She seemed to be neither happy I was home nor afraid that I had returned.
And when I fed her, either she was overjoyed at the dry kibble or chagrined at being served it again.
It's not that she doesn't wag her tail. Her nickname is Seth Thomas.
The Times article reminded me of an episode of "Three Dog Bakery" which was on the Food Network a few years ago.
The hosts of the show had a "dog trainer" on to demonstrate training techniques after the guys cooked up some doggie treats.
One of the hosts said that the demo dog was happy to be in the studio because its tail was wagging.
The "trainer" said something to the effect that the dog was wagging its tail to maintain its balance. That was the only reason.
What?
How many of your dogs fall over if they don't wag their tails?
The "trainer" got his later in the show when the dog he brought wouldn't do anything he asked it to do. Even something simple like sitting on command.
Ha.
I came home last night and studied Kate's tail — keep your minds out of the gutters — and, frankly, she is an enigma.
She seemed to be neither happy I was home nor afraid that I had returned.
And when I fed her, either she was overjoyed at the dry kibble or chagrined at being served it again.
It's not that she doesn't wag her tail. Her nickname is Seth Thomas.
The Times article reminded me of an episode of "Three Dog Bakery" which was on the Food Network a few years ago.
The hosts of the show had a "dog trainer" on to demonstrate training techniques after the guys cooked up some doggie treats.
One of the hosts said that the demo dog was happy to be in the studio because its tail was wagging.
The "trainer" said something to the effect that the dog was wagging its tail to maintain its balance. That was the only reason.
What?
How many of your dogs fall over if they don't wag their tails?
The "trainer" got his later in the show when the dog he brought wouldn't do anything he asked it to do. Even something simple like sitting on command.
Ha.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Wet dog
It's really raining today. Rained all morning. Forecast says it is going to rain all afternoon.
Anyone in the mid-Hudson Valley knows that. It's not exactly news.
But anyone with a dog knows that days like this are when we earn the big karma bucks.
The other day it was raining and I told a colleague that I was running home during lunch to let Kate out. He said, "In this weather?"
When you have a dog you don't get to decide "oh, it's drippy out so we'll just stay inside all day."
Luckily Kate is usually focused when it's raining; she doesn't exactly like being out in the cold and wind and wet either. One of the neat tricks we learned from our trainer was to condition the dog to "go" on command. It's not 100 percent, but the word will usually bring her back around to the task at hand if she's spending too much time checking her "pee-mail."
For the record, with us, it's "hurry up" for peeing and "do your business" for, uh, the other. (You start by saying the word or phrase every time the dog does whatever it is the word or phrase is going to be associated with. Every time. Every single time. Until the dog links it with whatever.)
The first time it really worked I was beside myself. It was one of those cold, slushy post-snowstorm Manhattan mornings. I said "hurry up" and Kate peed immediately. Lots of praise was heaped on Kate then.
This morning I was hoping she would shake her wet self on the front porch. I waited; she almost shook; I waited; she almost shook. Nothing, so we go inside.
Kate held off for about two minutes — until she got right beside the bookcase in the living room. No first editions, so no big deal.
We'll have to go out again before I leave for work.
It's still raining.
Anyone in the mid-Hudson Valley knows that. It's not exactly news.
But anyone with a dog knows that days like this are when we earn the big karma bucks.
The other day it was raining and I told a colleague that I was running home during lunch to let Kate out. He said, "In this weather?"
When you have a dog you don't get to decide "oh, it's drippy out so we'll just stay inside all day."
Luckily Kate is usually focused when it's raining; she doesn't exactly like being out in the cold and wind and wet either. One of the neat tricks we learned from our trainer was to condition the dog to "go" on command. It's not 100 percent, but the word will usually bring her back around to the task at hand if she's spending too much time checking her "pee-mail."
For the record, with us, it's "hurry up" for peeing and "do your business" for, uh, the other. (You start by saying the word or phrase every time the dog does whatever it is the word or phrase is going to be associated with. Every time. Every single time. Until the dog links it with whatever.)
The first time it really worked I was beside myself. It was one of those cold, slushy post-snowstorm Manhattan mornings. I said "hurry up" and Kate peed immediately. Lots of praise was heaped on Kate then.
This morning I was hoping she would shake her wet self on the front porch. I waited; she almost shook; I waited; she almost shook. Nothing, so we go inside.
Kate held off for about two minutes — until she got right beside the bookcase in the living room. No first editions, so no big deal.
We'll have to go out again before I leave for work.
It's still raining.
Friday, March 23, 2007
In Dog We Trust
When Kate and I were living in Sharon, Conn., we used to walk over to Jack's package store after all the important morning "business" was done to pick up a Poughkeepsie Journal. Jack's store got a couple of copies every day; the Journal didn't deliver to Connecticut; I was a steady customer since I worked from home most days.
Well, Jack -- who is the unofficial "mayor" of Sharon, a volunteer firefighter and a hell of nice guy -- kept a box of dog biscuits under the counter. He would see us walking up the street and have the biscuit ready as soon as Kate and I entered the store.
She always plopped her paws up on the counter in eager anticipation of a morning treat. We used to joke that Kate had him well trained.
Does your dog or cat or whatever have you well trained?
Or is it something more sinister?
According to the folks at Obey the Purebreed, there may be a revolution approaching.
Sure, they want you to buy T-shirts, bumper stickers and posters, but, come on. A chihuahua as a dictator? Something with that small a brain can't rise to a position of power ... can it?
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