To Be Humbled By a Dog

Jack was a sturdy guy. A bit large by Australian Cattle Dog standards, but athletic and hard all the way through. His owner was surrendering him for destructive behavior. And I would have to say, Jack did the destruction thing well. The motorcycle ferring, the wood deck, the swimming pool pump, and the siding on the house had all fallen effortlessly at his attentions. Not to mention the gaping craters in the yard. Jack was one year old, a beautifully roaned blue, with intelligence beyond belief.

It was my third year in humane society work and I was moving along nicely. Already I had learned many tricks to solicit the desired behaviors from my charges. I was the most efficient kennel worker because I taught the dogs to move out of the way while I was cleaning, always promising a few extra moments of attention if they let me get my work done first. Jack was determined to rock my world. And he did.

The first day was no big deal. We have indoor/outdoor runs, and seeing as it was Jack's first day, I just closed him into the area I wasn't cleaning. No sense in stressing him in a new environment. Training for kennel life could start tomorrow. The next day, hose with nozzle in hand, I started my cleaning duties and came to Jack's kennel. "Get inside", I said. Jack cocked his head and looked at me. "Get inside", and a small flick of water in his direction. Jack ran inside as I cooed 'gooddog' and entered the kennel. Jack made a U-turn and came running back out, fully equipped with his food dish. My hose running full force, I was not prepared for Jack to fling his dish at me (he had very good aim). As I deflected the dish flying at my face, Jack launched his entire bulk at me, catching me square in the chest with his front feet. I stumbled backwards and lost the grip on the hose. I'm sure you all know what a hose with a nozzle on full force does if you don't hang on to it, right?

I emerged from Jack's kennel wet, bruised, scraped, and insulted. Jack was at the other end of his kennel in a play bow with his gay tail doing a tick-tock taunt at me. The food dish lay within easy grasp. In frustration, I picked it up a flung it towards him. He caught it and immediately flung it right back at me. I surrendered and shut him in while I cleaned.

For the next two days, I went through the routine of locking his door while I cleaned. But this is time consuming, and once again I felt up to the challenge of giving Jack some kennel manners. "Get inside, Jack". Flick of water at his feet, "get inside". He entered his inside area. This time, I eliminated the running hose from the equation before I entered. Same U-turn, same Jack with food bowl in mouth, same deadly precision, but one prepared kennel attendant. I caught the bowl, and used it to intercept the body slam, shoving it in his face as he came up at me. Jack wrenched the bowl from my hands and retreated to the other end of the kennel. Play bow, tick-tock tail, and the lethal weapon between his front legs, Jack gave me the best of Clint Eastwood, "well, punk, do ya….do ya feel lucky?" Once again I surrendered and shut Jack in.

Well, now that I had eliminated water, I decided I would eliminate his weapons. I picked up his dishes before I started to clean. Today was the day I was going to win! "Get inside", and Jack politely responded. He returned quickly, unarmed of course, and decided he would move right into the full body contact part of his routine. Using the time-proven knee-in-the-chest move, I expertly deflected his launch and wished I had it on video tape for demonstration. Jack twisted in mid-air and counter attacked low, grabbed my shoe and yanked my leg out from underneath, causing me to land flat on my back in the kennel. I was REALLY glad this wasn't on video now! Jack was shut in during cleaning, again.

For several days, I didn't even try to teach my kennel manners to Jack. I was mentally exhausted, physically burned out. I was seriously doubting anyone could teach Jack anything. And that would mean his chances of adoption were very slim. I shut Jack in and headed out to clean. Halfway down, I noticed Jack in his outside kennel. Someone must have thought I was done, and let him out. I didn't feel like walking all the way around to close him back in, so I faced off one more time.

"Get inside, Jack", I said in a tired voice. Jack retreated and promptly returned with his food dish. He tossed it at me, and I tossed it out the kennel door behind me. Head cocked, Jack looked from me to the bowl, and then back at me. "Get inside". Jack returned with his water dish. Toss, I tossed it out of the kennel. Now for the part where I always get hurt. SLAM! I had turned my body away from him and took the full brunt of his launch on my back. I stood there, holding the fencing for support, waiting for the next slam to come. My back was turned to Jack. I waited……nothing. I didn't dare look. I was sure that was what he was hoping for. I stiffened my legs, anticipating another shoe grab…..but nothing. Then I felt a gentle nudge on my leg. I glanced down and there was Jack, the picture of innocence, sitting by my side. We had a good day that day. I gave him a pet and a 'gooddog', and I let him stay out while I cleaned as long as he didn't try to get out of the gate.

Jack trained well from then on. My trick? Rejection. He could not stand to have me turn my back on him. The harshest reprimand was to be rejected. He taught me a lot about seeing the individual dog and giving that dog what it needs. He taught me that flexibility will get you a lot further, with fewer headaches (and bruises). Thank you, Jack.

I needed to be humbled.