Fate was the Great Disruptor today. I took her to Pompanuck for my Tai Chi lessons and she stuck her head between my legs, jumped on Scott, plunged into the pond in search of koi, ran off to cuddle with Wally, a member of the farm staff, chased some chickens, tried to steal some bread in the bakery, tried to eat the compost, ran through the garden. Scott is do desperate for a dog, he didn’t mind. Red was wonderful, he sat behind us during the lesson and didn’t move.
After she trashed a good part of my lesson, we went over to the vets and dropped Red off for his laser treatment. Fate and I went for a walk, a terrified baby rabbit ran almost smack into her (and escaped into the meadow), a hedgehog popped out of the grass and scared her half to death, then we went to the vets to pick Red up and Fate crashed the proceedings, cuddling with Nicole and jumping all over the summer interns.
I have never seen a living thing with so much energy and curiosity. Every single thing on the earth is her business. On the way out, Fate ran straight into a huge Great Dane and nearly fainted in shock. He growled a bit. She got into the car quickly.
Then we went home. “How was Fate?,” Maria asked. “She was a monster, ” She Is The Great Disruptor.”
Today I felt the encouragement of light, it was a beautiful day, cool, sunny, windy. The grass is coming up, the wind blew the insects away, our new ear ointment has kept the flies off equine ears, Fate was doing spectacular outruns in the meadow, to no particular end, and Red sat on the edge of the pasture presiding over this beautiful scene like a king.
On such a day, everything seems possible. Behind me, Maria walked with her pony as Chloe grazed on the tall grass. Almost everything that I loved was in that field with me and life never seemed fuller or more rife with promise. Our wonderful little farmhouse sat nestled among the big old maple trees, rolling hills beyond us.
I know that crisis and mystery is just around every corner, but so is fulfillment, growth and meaning. I’ve won the great lottery, at least for now.
I’ve struggled my whole life over how to engage my body in conventional exercise and movement, I’ve never been able to do it. I love to walk, and my cardiologist told me Wednesday that was probably the best exercise there was for me and my heart. All told I walk two or three miles every day.
For years now, I’ve been intrigued by Tai Chi, I fell in love with the idea of it when I was in San Francisco and saw a group of older Chinese men and women doing Tai Chi in a public park one morning, I love the grace and ease and simplicity of it.
And my friend Scott Carrino is a Tai Chi Master teacher. He wants to work on his writing, I’m interested in Tai Chi, so we are bartering – writing lessons for Tai Chi lessons. I have great trouble with directed physical exercise, and also great trouble with symbols, rituals and metaphor.
Scott is a gifted baker, builder, musician many other things, but he has always struggled to find his voice in writing. He had a raggedy childhood and somebody put the idea into his head that his writing was no good. My job is to put another voice in there.
We meet every Thursdays for an hour, the first 30 minutes devoted to Tai Chi, the second to writing. I am struggling to get easy with Tai Chi, it is hard for me to remember the movements, my mind has never really worked that way, I have no doubt I am mildly autistic. Learning disabilities were not much discussed in my youth, and i am grateful for it.
Because I never learned what to think, I could think. Scott’s issues with writing are psychological, I believe, and quite common. He hasn’t found his voice, and doesn’t feel entitled to one. So our hours together are pleasant but also challenge both of us as teachers. It isn’t easy to teach a close friend, and Scott teaches me like I might blow up at any minute, he knows my resistance to ritual and being told what to do.
For my part, I struggle to get him to stick to our writing plans, and I also wish to encourage him, not hector him. We are both learning a lot about ourselves, including the fact that we love one another, we are both being so patient and gentle. I don’t know if Tai Chi will stick with me, it hasn’t so far, but I’m still drawn to the idea of it and I am going to work on my five steps, if I can remember them. I took a video of Scott going through the movements to guide me.
Tai Chi would be good for me, and I like the idea of it. But resistance to that kind of ritual is very deeply embedded in me, and it is difficult. I am determined to help Scott get over his writing block, he is talented and creative, there is nothing wrong with his writing. He wants to give me the gift of Tai Chi, which he believes would be exceptionally good for my health and fluidity of movement.
I don’t envy him with me as a student. It’s not easy for me, either.
So we each want to give a gift to the other, and we both face the challenge of a willful, stubborn and sometimes troubled older student, set in his ways and beliefs. The Pompanuck Trials, I call them, Fate came and pestered us, and she loved watching Scott feed the fish in the pond, she jumped in and tried to catch one.
A national survey by a veterinary association recently found that only 30 per cent of dogs actually knew their name, especially in houses with multiple dogs and children. Dogs thought their names were “Susie, come here,” or “Pudge, get over here!.” But most dogs don’t really know their names.
They respond to habit, food or tone of voice.
Word recognition is a tricky thing when it comes to dog training, humans throw a lot of words at dogs, and as brilliant as we keep hearing that they are, they don’t understand the meaning of most of the words they hear. When a dog is young, I hold food up to my eyes, look them in the eye once they are looking at me, say the dog’s name as I drop the food. This may take awhile, as we use a lot of words around dogs.
But I want to see the head swivel when I say their name, and some eye contact.
Dog commands should be brief and only repeated once in my experience: “Red,” and then when he is looking at me “Sit” or “Stay” or “Lie Down.” If the dog doesn’t respond, I look away, try again in four or five minutes. If you follow my videos, you will see that I often screw this up. “I’ll say “Red, lie down” or “Fate, get over here!” These are not really commands, they are lot of words it is hard for the dog to grasp.
Commands should really all be one word, even one syllable.
It’s tricky with two or three dogs, especially when sheepherding with more than one dog, so I have begun using the dog’s names. “Red, come bye,” or “Fate, go to the sheep.” The dogs are picking up their own roles and identities and responding well to these commands, but there is still confusion.
Out in the woods, I am introducing new commands all the time. At the end of each walk, I ask the dogs both to lie down and wait for me and Maria to catch up. We don’t want them running into the road or off after a cat or chipmunk. At first, I said “Dogs, Lie Down,” but they were confused. They are used to hearing their names now, especially when together.
So then I said, “Red, Fate, lie down.” They were still confused, not sure who I was talking to do.
So I introduced a new command “Down.” One word, as all good commands are, said simply and clearly, no shouting.
They looked at me at first, and I added, the hand command for “down”, an outstretched palm being lowered. They looked at each other and then at me, and then Red dropped, and then Fate dropped.
I saw that “dogs” got their attention, even though they weren’t sure what to do. If I waited, and then said “down,” that seemed to work.
This was the breakthrough, I praised them both and even used the obnoxious and to me, unnecessary high voice. My dogs know me well and they know if I am happy or not happy. I don’t have to squeak like a mouse.
The next day they went down quicker, and this morning, both lay down right away.
“Dogs,” to get their attention.
Then, “down,” the command.
Then, when they lay down, “good!” in a positive voice.
As I got closer, I added “stay” to keep them there. It’s working. Took about a week.
So far, so good. Today, they both dropped instantly and stayed.
You just have to think about it and be simple and clear. And patient. It’s a trial and error thing don’t believe the trainers who tell you there is only one way to do it.
If you want to know if your dog knows his or her name, simple: Say “Susie,” and if Susie knows your name, her head ought to swivel and she ought to look you in the eye. If she doesn’t, you have work to do.
I was taking a photo of some trees out in the deep woods this morning, and I looked over and saw Maria kneeling, she and Red were having a moment. It was a lovely and uplifting thing to see, two living creatures so full of love, for the world, for one another.
