Chapter 6

Finn and Shake's first year flew by. As is always the case with proud parent's we thought that their growth into their adult forms would magically translate into intuitively better behavior. We worked to get them to behave as we thought that they should, but learning the toughest stuff was something that we were certain would be solved through simply maturing. Like most new parents, we knew that our babies were prodigies.

Finn had learned the basics through his training. Coming, sitting, staying, and lying. He was not particularly good at them yet, but we knew that it was the obstinance of youth that held him back. Shake was a cat, but he likewise had learned much. He knew that he was not allowed to attack the dog (although this might have had more to do with learning than training), he no longer ventured into the unfinished attic, and he would sit on command-- when induced with a Pounce treat.

It seemed pretty obvious that we were over the hump and on the downhill side of training the pets. Pretty soon, they'd be like those stunt animals on television that would fetch you a beverage from the fridge and tune the radio to your favorite station on the way to get it. It turned out that there was a little more to it than that.

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One of the

Black eyes

sniffing bums when people fart

first snow

walking back and forth with leash to stop him from pulling

One of the most important lessons that a young dog learns is how to fetch.  I had allowed him a relatively carefree puppyhood, but the dog was rapidly growing into a lanky adolescent.  It was time for him to take on some new responsibilities. 

From an owner's point of view, learning to come, to sit, and to fetch are the most important things that a dog must do.  These lessons are ultimately important to keep up with the Jones'.  Owners of dogs who can not fetch are ultimately outcasts amongst other pet afficianados because their pets have failed to grasp the most basic and essential of lessons. I was certain that this would not be a problem for me; however, as my new dog was a Labrador Retriever/ Golden Retriever cross, and the application of logic would indicate that the breed and name had to count for something. In practice, Finn defied rational explanation, as usual. 

The first time that I took him out to learn to fetch, I took two frisbees and a bag of treats.  The two frisbee method was one that had been explained to us by our dog trainer.  The idea was that a puppy was greedy, and that he would only release the frisbee that he had fetched, if you had another to show him that you were ready to throw again.  I had the equipment, I had a plan, and I had a very eager student. 

It was a cold night.  Fall was in the air, and the snow free opportunities to learn how to fetch were rapidly running out.  Finn followed me out, or more correctly ran circles around me while I went out.  Alternating between nipping at my heels and jumping for the frisbees, I knew that his enthusiasm was going to make this whole fetching training deal an easy task.

I threw the first frisbee, which he chased down and plucked out of the air.  I held up the second disc as he ran back with a mad look in his eyes and the toy flapping against his nose.  As soon as he saw that I was ready to throw again, he dropped the first frisbee right at my feet.  Smiling at how easy this would be, I bent over to retrieve the first projectile off of the ground.

Suddenly, there were stars on the grassy ground, as well as in the night sky.   

talk about stealing the bucket here