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Dog training is something near and dear to my heart because it can be so nuanced and yet so simple at the same time. The most impactful thing I have learned is that what you train isn't the most important thing and neither is how you train. The most important thing is simply that you spend the time working with your dog. You will find yourself learning more about each other, learning how to work together, and celebrating little milestones as a team. The bond you develop by going through that process is the real treat here. The tricks they learn are just a bonus.

I adore dog training and Chapter 9 is when I first dipped my toe in to that world. It also features Danielle getting patted on the head like a dog by an elderly lady in front of a puppy pre-school class. Fun!

If you missed the last chapter you can get caught up here and you can now buy Nova's Tale as an e-book or a paperback by following this link here. Thanks for your support and enjoy!

Chapter 9

Training

Despite the rocky start, our first training session went fairly well. The biggest problem was caused by the combination of Nova’s furry bottom and our slippery hardwood floors. Every time he sat on his haunches he would slide back and back until he was either lying down completely or sitting with both front legs stretched out in front of him as far as they would go like he was a drunk clinging on to the floor so he wouldn’t fall off. This, combined with his habit of getting half of his lip stuck on his teeth, didn’t exactly convey the image of a dog brimming with potential. Or intelligence. 

Shortly after we started our training journey I was out with Nova on one of our routine walks around the neighbourhood. As we walked I thought about what I had learned from my online research on dog training. There were some specific pieces of wisdom about training that made sense to me: keep training sessions short, stay positive with your dog and don’t get frustrated, follow up each training session with a play session, and be consistent. All great advice, but there were two other points I had read that really spoke to me. 

The first is that training isn’t something you do to your dog, it’s something you do with your dog. It sounded initially like one of those meaningless touchy-feely things people say but the more I thought about it the more it made sense. I kicked a soccer ball for Nova to chase and thought about how much I had to change my own thinking. When things aren’t going well with training I would wonder what was wrong with him that he couldn’t figure this out. Perhaps I needed to instead look at how I can adjust my methods to make it easier for him to learn. It wasn’t just Nova who was being trained to follow my lead, I was also training myself on what it meant to lead. How to be worth following. Part of that is being able to empathise with your student. 

Nova pounced on the ball I had thrown him and then brought it back to me under the shade of a big rain tree. I picked it up and wandered off through the field, my little companion jumping around my legs waiting for me to throw it again. I obliged and returned to my thoughts of training. 

The second thing that stood out to me was understanding how your dog actually learns and using that to shape how you train them. We know that prioritising rewarding good behaviour over punishing bad behaviour has great results. A simple example is catching your dog chewing on something he’s not supposed to, like a shoe or a baby. Our first reaction is to give him a smack and yell out “NO!”. The problem with that is while he may figure out that you don’t want him to chew the shoe (or baby), you’re not giving him a viable alternative. Next time he may not avoid chewing the wrong thing but simply avoid getting caught. Or maybe just to avoid you altogether. 

Instead, you simply take away the shoe (or baby) and replace it with something he is allowed to chew on. Like someone else's baby. When he chooses that you praise him for doing the right thing. Then you can add the shoe back in - when he picks the toy over the shoe it’s more praise. If he picks the shoe you take it away and start again. 

Nova got the ball, wandered away from me and plopped down to poke as many holes in it as he could. I went over and threw it for him again. Off he went, bounding through the long grass.

When you prioritise reinforcing the good over punishing the bad you’ve made the whole experience positive for both you and the dog. He’s not learning to avoid you, he’s learning the opposite. That only good things come from you. And that if he works out what you want then everything goes great for him! If he chooses the shoe he doesn’t get punished, per se, but he also doesn’t get rewarded either. 

Back in the field he grabbed the ball and headed away from me again. I was beginning to get a bit annoyed that he wasn’t bringing it back to me until I stopped to take a moment and think about what was going on. 

Nova was almost all black at this stage. We were out in the field underneath a hot Australian summer sun. He was bouncing around like only puppies do, never stopping for long. He was coming back to me but not every time. And then it clicked. He only came back to me if I was standing in the shade. If I was in the sun he would go to the nearest bit of shade and sit there instead. He wasn’t not coming back to me, he wasn’t even ignoring me, he was simply hot and needed some shade. It was so simple but that simple realisation made all the difference in understanding each other. 

Fueled by this new found enlightenment I began planning out our next training session. 

In the meantime, Danielle and I decided to enlist the help of professionals in our ongoing quest for the perfect canine companion. We joined the Canine Obedience Club of Townsville and enrolled Nova in the next session of Puppy Pre-School. I hope you groaned at that, because I know I did. I’m not entirely sure why we can’t just call it dog training but you have to choose your battles and I didn’t have the energy for this one. Puppy Pre-School it is. I attended the first class where we were instructed to come alone without our dogs. 

As I waited for the other owners to arrive I surveyed my surroundings. The club met in a little clubhouse next to a large field. Off in the field were dozens of pairs of dogs and owners doing drills walking up and down the length of the field. It was quite an impressive sight, to be honest, and I immediately pictured Nova and I out there showing the rest of the class how it’s done. 

I decided to introduce myself to the people running the club while I was there. They were all women and the youngest of them had at least a decade on me. They were all quite friendly and shared that they were German Shepherd fans and so were excited to meet Nova. I swelled with fatherly pride and described my little pal. As the conversation progressed I asked how they became trainers. There were some incoherent mumbles, some non-committal answers, and some mention of how many years they’ve been doing this sort of thing. I asked what qualifications a person would need to do what they do and got the answer I was beginning to suspect. 

None. 

Right. No matter – I’m sure we’ll still have lots to learn from these folks. 

I reported back to Danielle that night that the obedience club might not be all it’s cracked up to be but that we should still give it a shot. At the very least it will give Nova a chance to socialise with other dogs and make some friends. 

The next training session fell on a date that saw me travelling for work so Danielle decided to go in my stead. Having not been to the first session she was not familiar with the layout of the club and so didn’t know exactly where to go at first. She tried a few doors and asked a few people and finally arrived at the circle of puppies that would be her class. The instructor was obviously not pleased with Danielle’s tardiness and took an immediate dislike to her. Not a great start. 

As the session progressed, Danielle grew more disheartened with the whole experience. There was no chance to socialise with other puppies as everyone was spaced well apart and the instructor running the session seemed hell bent on making an example out of Danielle and Nova. Fortunately, all the tasks she was working on – sitting, standing, dropping – were all things Nova had pretty much down pat. Danielle would ask Nova to do it, he would, she would click and reward. As we had been progressing through different commands in our own training we had been trying to wean out the treat rewards so that eventually he would do these things for praise alone. With Nova learning to sit so quickly, Danielle decided to click and give him a pat as his reward this time and skipped the treat.

The instructor saw this and latched on to it like a Titanic passenger latching on to a life preserver. 

She brought Danielle to the middle of the circle and asked her why she didn’t reward the dog. Danielle explained that we were trying to wean Nova off treats for simple commands and so we mix up the reward between treats and praise. The instructor insisted that a pat on the head is not a reward for the dog and that we needed to treat him with every click or he would lose trust in us and the clicker. Danielle persisted and argued that he obviously reacts well to the pats as well. Then the instructor reached up, put a hand on Danielle’s head, and shook her hand back and forth sending blond hair flying everywhere. 

Yup, she pet her. On the head. Like a dog. 

“See,” she said, “it’s not a reward, is it?” 

Speechless, Danielle returned to her spot to finish out the lesson. When she told me the story of what had happened I was shocked for a few moments before nearly falling out of my chair laughing at the thought of it. What was this lady thinking? We laughed at all the comebacks Danielle could have used at the time, ranging from “Well, I’m not a DOG!” to some clever innuendos involving the word ‘bitch’. We also decided that that would be our last trip to the Canine Obedience Club of Townsville. 

Danielle and I doubled our training efforts with Nova at home from then on. We would have regular 10 minute sessions with the treats and the clicker. We would do all our sits and stays and recalls. We stuck to consistent, short training sessions followed by lots of play. I did my best to stay positive and when Nova wasn’t catching on to a new activity I tried to focus on where I was screwing up in the teaching. It wasn’t long before I had run out of things to teach him. Nova was about 4 and a half months old and he had come so far. I was so proud of my little buddy and all the progress we were making. 

It was late in the evening about a week after the obedience incident and Danielle was already in bed. I did my loop of the house – locking doors and turning off lights while Nova watched me from his bed by the door. I stopped for a moment and thought back to the first few days we had him home. I remembered how sad he looked, how worried I was that this was not going to work out, and how he didn’t even know his own name. 

“Nova!” I called. 

His head shot up and I heard his bed scrape against the wall as he pushed it back and jumped up. His nails click-clacked off of the floor as he trotted over to my feet where he sat down and looked up at me, his tongue balanced over his sharp baby teeth and his eyes firmly fixed on mine. He looked up at me with a certain look on his face. It was a look I would recognize every day from that day forward, one that other dog owners will recognize as well. 

It was a look of pure, unconditional love.

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