The window to our bedroom was open even though it was a cool
April morning. Sam our 60-pound, black
mixed breed dog, heard the delivery truck maneuvering up the gravel driveway
long before Ed or I did. Always alert
Sam barked. It was his rapid fire, high
pitched bark, BARK, BARK, BARK. My stomach tightened as it always did when
someone arrived at the house. It was 2011 and I had become a certified dog
trainer two years earlier. Little did I
know that on that morning circumstances would soon unfold leaving me to
question my career, and Sam’s future in our household.
I had been thinking about getting another dog for
months. Our last dog had passed in
February 2003, and I was missing canine companionship. My sights were set on a medium size mixed
breed dog. On a warm spring day in
2004, I walked down to the village convenience store to look at the ads in a
couple of local papers. Perhaps I would find a dog for sale or even free? Maybe someone was looking to re- home a dog
they could no longer keep? While
glancing through the papers, I mentioned to the clerk working behind the
counter, may desire to get a dog. “Susie
would like to find a new home for Sammie,” the clerk informed me. “Really, I didn’t know she wanted to get rid
of Sam,” I replied. “Yeah, she thinks
he is too much to handle, I’ll see if she’s in the back and you two can talk
about it.”
When we moved to our home in Montgomery Vermont, my husband,
Ed and I became acquainted with Susie. She
owned the “mom and pop” local gas station, and convenience store within walking
distance from my house. I stopped in
regularly to pick up milk, snacks or fill up my car with gas. Often when I stopped, I would see Sam at the
store, visiting with customers, or laying back behind the check- out
counter. He was a puppy at the time not
more than three or four months old. Sam
seemed happy at the store and I was a little surprised when I heard Susie was
looking to re-home him. Several months later after we brought Sam to
live with us, I began to question whether I should do the same.
I could tell what Sam was thinking by looking in his
eyes. They were dark, and alert,
sometimes questioning, and often mistrusting. His mother was a lab mix and his father a
collie. Sam had attributes of both
breeds. He was almost entirely black
like his mom. His fur was not short like
a lab, and not long like a collie, a nice blend of both. Sam’s ears showed the most confusion over his
mixed bloodlines, they wanted to point straight up in the air, but the ends
simply couldn’t, flopping down but only at the very ends. When
he arrived to live with us, I felt like an experienced dog owner having had
three dogs at one time, losing the last one only two years earlier. Soon I realized that my dog owning experience
was no match for Sam.
One of Sam’s most redeeming qualities was his tenacious
loyalty, which he bestowed on Ed and me without question. He learned things
very quickly with an inquisitive tilt of his head anytime he was in learning
mode. Sam was a playful, friendly puppy when we
adopted him at six months of age. Unfortunately,
several months later he began to show aggressive behavior to people he would encounter
for the first time. Ed and I owned a
retail business during this period. As
his previous owner Susie had done, we brought Sam to the store with us. This worked well for about two months and
then suddenly one day Sam lunged, and jumped at one of our customers, clearly
intending to bite him. From that time
on Sam was either crated while at the store or left at home. Another concerning behavior was Sam’s
propensity to chase cars, trucks, motorcycles, anything that moved even a
bicycle, or jogger, triggered Sam. The
moment he saw something move he was gone, there was absolutely no reasoning
with him until the moving object either left him in the dust or he caught the
object and did or tried to do what instinct told him, bite!!!
Now on this April
morning, a stranger was arriving at the house. Sam began his frantic barking and lunging at
the window.” Don’t let Sam out, the oil man is coming”, Ed said. As if I didn’t know this with all the barking
Sam was doing. “I’ll go get the
checkbook so we can pay him”, Ed added as he walked into his office.
The barking continued as I lured Sam away from the
window. Why I thought it was a good time
to practice the obedience training I had been working on with Sam is something
I’ll ponder into my next life. “Sit” I
told Sam, “Stay” He’s doing it, I thought to myself. What a good dog. Without looking at me or Sam, and with check
in hand, Ed opens the door to the front porch. In a nanosecond Sam darts past me and runs
out the door, leveling a bite to the delivery man’s arm. Blood is dripping and I hear the man utter, “Jesus
Christ”. I hadn’t kept Sam far enough
away from the door. I hadn’t even put
him on his leash. He made the decision
to run out, and I had done nothing to prevent it.
Ed grabs Sam and throws him back inside, slamming the door. Seconds late, while my mind is swirling and my
heart is racing, I hear Ed say, “I’m really sorry, take this money for any
medical treatment you need.” A $100.00
dollar bill lands in the man’s hand. Tears streamed down my face; how could I
have been so careless? I sour taste
rises from the pit of my stomach, moving to the back of my throat. My stomach is tighter than any fist I could
ever make. The feeling of shame is doing
its best to drown me. As I look at Sam, I notice his wild-eyed
stare, his panting and shaking, all clear indicators that I failed him.
Ed and I counted our blessings that there were no
ramifications from Sam’s bite to the delivery man. The thought that the oil company may no
longer deliver to us, or worse yet, expensive medical bills, or a lawsuit were
all thoughts that loomed in our minds for months after the incident. As time went by hearing nothing, we relaxed. If I was honest with myself, I knew that
dodging one bullet wasn’t going to cut it. Owning Sam was a liability, and I knew every
time he showed aggression was a setback for him and for me.
The winter of 2009 was for me a time of discontentment. My sister had died in October 2008 at the age
of 46. She was my only sibling and I
struggled to understand why I had become an only child. That September I turned 50 and in December Ed
and I decided to sell our retail business.
Change was everywhere, and with it came trepidation. Ed wanted to retire. I knew I was too young for that but had no
idea what to do with my life. I spent
hours that winter gazing out the window watching snow fall and asking the
universe for direction. Sam was my
constant companion during this time. I
loved taking him with me when I snowshoed or cross-country skied but the joy we
experienced together was tainted by fear that we might meet a stranger. Encountering people in public places or
people arriving to our home unexpectedly, or strangers of any kind triggered
aggression in Sam. Ed stopped taking
him anywhere, but I still believed he would get use to people if he saw them
more often. Who was right? What was best for Sam?
Over the years I had visited the small public library in my
town to check out books, but on this day, I was at the library sitting in front
of a computer. I had little to no
experience with google, websites, emails or other nuances inherent with
computer technology. I resisted getting a home computer, which is
way I was now in the library struggling to obtain information which might help
me find a new career. There are four computers available for use in the
library. Two were occupied by male
patrons and like me they were staring at their screens. I thought about asking one of them for help,
but decided they looked very entrenched in what they were doing. Besides I didn’t want to appear too
ignorant. But I couldn’t stare at the
screen all day. “Can you show me how to get information about
dog training?” I asked the
librarian. She looked me up and down as
if I had just appeared from under a rock.
“Do a google search,” she replied. The perplexed look on my face must
have told her I didn’t know how to do that.
“What specifically are you trying to find out about dog training?” “Oh, I just want to know if there are any
trainers in Vermont and maybe programs that train people to be dog trainers”, I
responded. She told me to type into the
google search area, “dog trainers in Vermont”.
“If you need any more help, I’ll be over here at my desk”, she said walking
to her desk at the other side of the room.
During the winter of 2009 I contemplated new career
opportunities. I felt strongly that I
needed to do something that made me feel good about myself, as well as
something that mattered to the world more than selling beer and cigarettes. I
continued to think about Sam’s behavior and wondered how I could help him
overcome his fears. Maybe a new career
working with dogs would help us both.
Was there any money to be made in dog training? How legitimate a career is it, do people hire
dog trainers? I will never forget that
visit to the library. The google search
proved most helpful. As I typed into the
search bar, “dog training in Vermont”, a message immediately appeared on the
screen. Canine Dimensions-Dog Training
Franchise available in Vermont. The
words flashed across the screen and continued flashing as I quickly jotted down
the contact information. Seeing the
message was a sign for me. At that
moment I knew the universe was working in my favor.
I returned home immediately after learning about the
franchise opportunity. Ed was watching
something on TV, and I burst into the room filled with hope and
excitement. “I think I found what I want
to do, I said. What are you talking
about, you seem really excited, Ed replied?
“There’s a dog training franchise available for sale in Vermont, I have
the phone number to call. I think I
should call the number and talk to them about this. Let’s both get on the phone and ask whoever
owns the franchise some questions.” Ed was always more levelheaded than I and
certainly less emotional when making business decisions. That night after dinner we put a list of
questions together and phoned the owner of Canine Dimensions the next
afternoon. Ed was concerned that with
Vermont’s small population I wouldn’t be able to earn enough money running the
franchise. My heart was ruling the
situation and I already saw myself training dogs. We both asked questions, received answers,
and the decision was made in a few days that I would become a Canine Dimensions
dog trainer contingent on passing three weeks of training which would happen in
early September.
As I had hoped, becoming a dog trainer gave me a career I
loved and felt passionate about. What I
learned during training and put into use with clients ultimately benefited
Sam. I became a more confident handler.
Sam was bright and learned things quickly.
Within months of working with him based on my newfound knowledge, I had
him walking next to me off leash, healing on leash, no longer lunging at cars,
people, or other moving things. He
performed basic obedience commands, such as sit, down, come and stay with a
reasonable level of distraction.
Training had taught me that there is no 100% cure for aggression and
that I would need to learn to anticipate Sam’s behavior given what he
experienced in his environment. Most of
the time I was able to do that. I
completed my training in September 2009 and until Sam’s death in 2016 he still
reacted when people arrived at our home. However, training had given me the skills to
introduce him to a new person and when done properly he showed no aggression. A level
of comfort I hadn’t known in years made its way back into my life. Unfortunately, on that April morning, two
years into my dog training career, when Sam bit the oil delivery man, I neglected
to manage his behavior.
Over the past ten
years I have discovered much about the human/dog relationship. Both dogs and people need to understand their
place in this world. Rules and
boundaries aid with this understanding. Like people, canines want and need a family
structure. A dog’s pack mentality
evolved from their wolf cousins, is an innate part of their being. Teaching a dog to obey the basic commands,
sit, down, come and stay offers him the opportunity to learn, listen, and
focus. Children enjoy play and so do dogs. In fact, play is essential to the well-being
of dogs. Engaging a dog’s play drive by
chasing a ball or playing a game of tug instinctively bonds the canine to the
person who engages with him. I found
all these skills of great benefit when working with Sam. Discoveries about myself surfaced as well. I realized that training other people’s dogs
puts me at a distance, an emotional distance that I don’t have when working
with my own. Because I’m a dog trainer
I expect my own dogs to be flawless. I
still remind myself each day that this is an unrealistic expectation which does
a disservice to my dogs and myself.
The memories of that
April morning in 2011 will always haunt me. The poor judgement I made allowing Sam to run
out the door and level a bite to a stranger activated a sense of failure within
me. Not only did I know better
professionally, failure one, but as a responsible dog owner I should always have
my dog under control, failure number two.
I teach my clients that there is always an element of unpredictably with
dogs and therefore they should maintain control, always. There
is no doubt I failed that obligation thoroughly that spring morning. But despite
his imperfections, Sam was my dog, and deep within I knew I needed him to teach
me lessons I had yet to learn.
Over time, working
with client dogs helped me hone my training skills and realize that there are
countless dogs like Sam living with people who need help understanding and
managing canine behaviors. One
client’s dog I particularly remember was a German Shepherd named Roscoe. Like Sam, Roscoe had fear based aggression. He would bark, and lunge at visitors when
they entered the home. A successful dog
training outcome depends on follow through from owners. I provide a training blueprint; the owner
must take the instructions and build a relationship with their dog. As I tell every client, “I have no magic
wand, it’s up to you to put in the work.
It’s a matter of consistency.”
Roscoe’s owners followed my advice, did the work and saw the
results. I taught them the proper way to
introduce Roscoe to a new person. They
repeated the greeting exercise many, many times. Roscoe’s mom and dad took on the role of true
leaders and Roscoe was happy to follow.
In a matter of two months they reported to me a marked improvement in
Roscoe’s behavior. Success such is this,
helped to bolster my confidence and refuel my spirit. I had allowed what I thought were Sam’s
shortcomings to define who I was as a trainer.
Each new dog training case reminded me there is no flawlessness, only
tiny increments of success.
And yes, success can be sweet. Recently, I received an email from a client
after I did a ten day training program with her Goldendoodle, Oakley. In part the email reads, “I wanted to let you
know that Oakley is doing well.
Everywhere we go people comment on how well behaved she is….I just
wanted to thank you again for what you did.
It’s hard to think she was ever anything other than perfect but I have
the torn jackets and a few scars to prove otherwise…. I’m so grateful.” Receiving a testimonial like this makes it
all worthwhile. I’m so thankful I
didn’t give up on Sam or myself.
So here is the story, at last on paper. For many years shame and blame wouldn’t allow
me to think about the “April bite”. But
life has a way of healing wounds, because without healing it’s impossible to
move forward. Often, we need something
or someone outside of ourselves to point us in the direction of
forgiveness. I needed to forgive myself, and a canine mutt named Sam showed me the way. He was a
true teacher. I learned from him the
importance of loyalty, attentiveness and living in the present moment. But the most important lesson Sam taught me
is that we are all imperfect creatures.
I worked with Sam to help him overcome his imperfections and we had some
success. He gave me his all, and for
that I’m thankful. Striving to be better is an admirable
trait. Reaching perfection is
impossible, and like Sam I’m alright with that.
Maryanne Wood, CDBA
April 27, 2020
April 27, 2020
