Training Disasters

With the plethora of self-help books available on dog whispering, cat training and TV shows with brilliant results in taming wild pets, you would think it simple to have a harmonious household of well-behaved pets. It has not been my experience; in fact, my attempts at obedience have been a total failure and often ended up with worse behaviour as a result.

Take Eric the Monster Cat as an example; desperate for a way to control the beast that had taken over our house, I watched every pet show and lifestyle program for solutions.  You would think with his pathological hate of water that Eric would respond well to the water pistol technique.  The principle was, as cats were adverse to water, they would cease the bad behaviours if they were squirted with a water pistol when caught in the act.  But all I ended up with was a very wet, very angry Eric doing exactly as he wanted and him adding another item to his list of reasons for taking revenge on his family.

Then there was Bruce. My first attempt of scolding him by raising my voice a few decibels above a whisper resulted in Bruce having an asthma attack for fifteen minutes. He was, luckily, better behaved than Eric, but that is not to suggest in any way that Bruce was a well-behaved, obedient dog.  In fact, I was so embarrassed by his behaviour at his first lesson at Obedience School that we have never returned for a second. 

The Obedience School experience didn’t start out well. Bruce was introduced to the whole assembly of members.  I didn’t even rate a mention.  Apparently, I was just the disobedient end of the lead.  The newcomers were herded into an enclosure and shown the basics in getting your dog to ‘sit’ and ‘come’ based on food rewards.  Some of the other members were disturbingly interested in the process – ‘control-freaks’ I thought unkindly. 

My assessment of Bruce, in comparison with the other dogs, particularly a Jack Russell pup, was that he was doing reasonably well.  He was resistant to the sitting part but with a bit of brute force and some treats, he got the idea.  He did not want to ‘stay’ in the one place or ‘heel’ when I walked with him, but I thought we could work on it.  The reason we couldn’t face going again came at the end of the lesson.

The instructor approached me. I thought it was to comment on our excellent level of achievement for our first lesson. I was brimming with self-confidence, only to have it dashed when she said in rather a serious tone, 'Do you realise that your dog has just relieved himself on your leg?' We my leg had been feeling slightly warm and moist, 'That's the second time during the lesson', she went on, ' that's very bad!' That was it! I couldn’t possibly show my face again at the Obedience School, having unknowingly allowed Bruce to disgrace himself and tarnish not only my reputation as a potential dog trainer, but my pants at the same time.

So from my experience, I’m not sure if you started with a crazy pet whether it is possible to train them into a sensible one. I also have a problem with programs that have pets literally jumping through hoops. But, I guess if I am honest, I would prefer a dog or cat with personality (albeit mad) than an animal is so trained (and restrained) that can defecate on cue.

 For more stories see my website – www.madanimals.com.au

Cats vs Dogs

There has been the age-old debate about whether cats are better than dogs and vice versa. Similar in Australia to the ‘Holdens verses Fords’ debate in relation to cars, apparently you have to have a preference and be prepared to test your loyalty in any argument.

My problem is that I don’t have a preference. I love cats just as much as dogs and, in the final analysis, both have caused me problems with their madness. I can’t say that one has been better, some individuals have been slightly less crazy but I am only talking about degrees and not major increments in liveability.

Which leads me back to my current dilemma about obtaining another pet…What sort of pet would give me less trouble?

Okay on the plus side cats are more portable, can be cuddly, are independent but on the negative side, they cannot be confined to the floor area and, in the case of Eric, can perch on the top of bookshelves and do gravity experiments with fragile ornaments or, in the case of Zappy, find any food left in a seemingly impenetrable cupboards. Dogs can happily stay outside and, with fortress type boundaries, not wander away. They can provide ‘dustbuster’ type efficiency when cleaning accidental spills off the floor but on the negative side, their noise level is twice that of a cat particularly when you add whinging, sooking, snoring, clicky clacky toe nails on floorboards and protecting their household with frantic and persistent barking episodes.

So I sit for hours flicking from Cat Adoption to Dog Adoption on the rescue animal websites and still have no decision and no new pet…

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Why I hesitate to get another cat = Zappy

If you are wondering why it is that I would not rush to get another furry friendly friend, ie. a cat then if Eric was not enough, then there was Zappy…He had many weird and wonderful ways, some of which resulted in a bite on the ankle for me, the others were unpleasant and then there were the baffling ones that had me scratching my head.

One of these bizarre behaviours he developed over this time was his interest in moccasins.  Not to put too strong a point on it but it really was a quite unnatural, dare I say, unhealthy interest in moccasins; the smellier the better.  Freshly removed and warm were perfection.  For those who are not familiar with intricacies of the Australian moccasin, they are fashioned out of sheepskin, the woolly surface on the inside of the shoe. 

A pungent freshly removed moccasin was like a magnet to Zappy; once vacated it was siren to him from the furthest corner of the house.  He would slink up to it to slowly savour it’s aroma like a fine wine.  Circling the chosen moccasin, he would start to rub his face around its warm inviting rim.  Moving from his head, Zappy would then cover his whole body with the scent with a back rubbing motion similar to a beach goer drying his back with a towel, except slower and dare I say, a more erotic movement.

But that was never enough.  When the temptation became too great, the ultimate experience was to thrust his head fully into the moccasin and completely immerse his senses in its perfume.  After some moments he would emerge, slightly intoxicated and very embarrassed by his abandonment of common sense and decency.  Recovering his dignity, he would snap out of his stupor and walk swiftly away from the source of the problem, to take up concerted grooming elsewhere.

For more Mad animal stories visit www.madanimals.com.au