On Remembering the Big Picture

Recently I read an article written by a dog trainer about the importance of not getting overwhelmed by every little bad thing your new dog does.  Instead, she stressed the importance of focusing on the big picture.  On looking back.  On seeing just how far you've come.  And, of course, the value of praise when your pup does something well.  And I've been trying to do this.  Really--I have!

Even after I walk into the kitchen to find the garbage can upturned and a fair amount of its contents "missing."  Even after I've been awakened at 2:19 a.m. to the sounds of a dog vomiting up the contents of said garbage can, or was it the bird seed that she keeps eating from the ground, or was it all of the poop she can't seem to stay away from?

And I keep trying because, despite these irritations, Hattie really has made progress.  She even rides fairly calmly in the car now.  So calmly, in-fact, that I can drive through a Starbucks  without her barking so loudly that the barista can't hear my order.  And although she does still bark at some strangers, this, too, is happening less.  (Unless it's dark outside)  So, although I know we still have a long way to go, when I remember how she behaved when she first came home with me, I feel like we have made some real progress. Foolishly, I even thought her progress was a direct result of my love and "training."  

Until today.

Today I realized her progress has been nothing but a bunch of little, tiny, baby steps.  And there is still A LOT of training to do.

As I rode up the trail today, Hattie bringing up the rear (she hadn't warmed up yet) we came up behind a little Asian woman.  After barking her quick "hello," like she sometimes does, and then continuing down the trail, Hattie decided to terrorize this poor woman.  And, despite my calls for her "to come," she stayed.  And she barked.  And she kept barking.  With her hackles up, she had literally trapped this poor woman in the middle of the trail.

I have NO idea what prompted this behavior.  As far as I could see, this lady was not dangerous.  And she was no bigger than Nora Jane.  She was simply out for a morning stroll.  Hattie, however, saw a woman wearing a surgical mask, a big backpack and very bulky clothing.  Nothing, in my opinion, that warranted such crazy behavior, but I try to remember that Hattie has a history, even if I don't know what it is.  

Finally, after hearing this woman yell, "why you bothering me!" I threw down my bike and ran back down the trail, leash flying behind me, apologizing profusely.  

Well, she didn't give a you-know-what about my apology and I can't say that I blame her.  And she just kept walking.  No faster, no slower than before.  After waiting a bit, to give her a chance to get down the trail, I grabbed my bike and we headed back down the hill.  To the car!  Because I was far too frazzled to continue.  Hattie, on the other hand, was prancing down the trail as if nothing happened, happily sniffing the dirt.  (Looking for poop, no doubt.)

Before we reached the car, however, there was another incident.  And this one did involve poop.  After seeing a woman approaching with one of those gentle, obedient, and friendly to everyone Golden Retrievers at her side, I swerved off the trail to cut through the soccer field.  The soccer field that was completely covered in duck and/or goose poop.  The soccer field that Hattie believed was her own personal buffet.  And she wasn't leaving until she'd had all she could eat.  

So, again, I turned my bike around, and leashed her.  And dragged her, nose barely rising off the ground, through the sea of green.  I didn't even try to swerve my bike around the poop.  There was too much.  It was everywhere!  And my tires now proved it! All the while, I tried to keep my dignity as we passed a man and his yippy little terrier.  The little terrier that I believed was mocking me.  Mocking Hattie for being such an idiot!

"Boy, that dog alone is a hand-full," he laughed.  "My dog just likes to chase the seagulls," he continued.  

"Ya, she's got some quirks," I smiled wishing he'd just shut up and let his damn dog off the leash so Hattie could eat him.  

Finally, we arrived back at the parking lot where I wanted nothing more than to throw my bike inside (and possibly my dog) and get the hell out of there.  But by then, I'd calmed down a bit.  Just enough to give it another go.  (What can I say, I'm a stubborn Norwegian)

And I'm glad we did.  For Hattie was fine.  She sniffed and smiled at all the humans and canines we met on that side of the lake, she mostly avoided my front wheel, and she didn't get her mouth on any feces of any kind! (I don't think.)  She did manage to flush a few hundred ducks off the pond and into the air, but I figured they deserved it for leaving such a mess on the soccer field.  

When we were both sufficiently tired, I loaded up the van, 

(there was absolutely no throwing of bikes or dogs)

drove through Starbucks to pick up a coffee, and drove home.  Hattie quietly rested her head in my lap the whole way.  

So, yes, I need to remember the big picture.  

I need to remember that life with Hattie is about patience.

There will be ups and downs.  

There will be barking.  

There may be spilled garbage and there may be more dog vomit.

But there will also be quiet drives and snuggles on the couch after a run, a ride, or just because it's the end of the day.

The End