One of the amazing things I’m learning about dogs, agility, training… is how often US trainers come to the UK and buy a *very young* pup and take it back to the US. I worry about bringing a pup home when it’s a 3 hour car journey. They worry when it hits a factor of ten over that… But here is one of those posts that makes the distance irrelevant - the learning is core, key - and goes against just about everything standard dog training teaches us (get them out, get them socialising, the way to overcome shyness is *lots* of exposure). Not in this case.
From the ever-wonderful Kay Laurence’s blog, here’s the first part of the story. Trust me, if you have an interest in dog training (why are you here if you haven’t?) you will want to read the rest…
She was not the pup I would have chosen. She sat in my lap as limp as a ragdoll, ears down on the sides of her head, tail tucked up under her tiny pink belly. My heart sank. It felt as though a lead weight had been dropped on my chest. How could this tiny weak soul possibly survive - mentally and emotionally - the 24 hours of travel via noisy cars, buses and planes, from her birth home in England to her new home in California?
This was the fifth pup over the past 20 years that my husband and I had adopted from these lines. Each of the others had been wiggly, happy, chunky bunnies at this age. When I picked them up, they wriggled to get closer to my face, to interact with me and discover yet another novelty in their world. We considered ourselves so very lucky to have a breeder who not only bred beautiful dogs – in body and mind - but who also never failed to choose the most suitable pup for us. Pups that we had loved and raised and shared lifetimes with.
Sadly, this pretty little pup was nothing like the other four. I placed her on the rug at my feet, and gently moved a rubber donut toy in front of her. She touched it gingerly with her mouth. My hopes rose – she wants to play! But they instantly sank again when her littermate, a much more energetic and confident pup, bounced over and pounced on the toy. She immediately released it, turned away, and moved off to a quiet corner in the lounge.
The breeder had left the room. I glanced at my husband, Rich. This was his dog, not mine, so it was his choice. “Are you sure you want this one?” I asked
And the videos are an education in themselves:
