I took a few breaths and looked up some interesting solutions online. The one I chose to try was what I had been lacking all along: making it fun. Let's face it, we don't do anything in life because it's miserable; we do it because we enjoy it, because we get something out of it. Gretchen needed to get something out of not pulling on the leash, and what I chose to give her was treats.
Keeping my expectations low, I was amazed with the success. Gretchen kept close by, almost in a heel position, as every now and again, I'd say, "Good girl," and hand her a treat. And on this walk of calmness and obedience (or rather, on this buffet-in-motion walk where the focus was consuming tasty treats), more people commented on how beautiful she was, asked more about her, and even approached her. Previously, her lunging and tugging me off balance made people cross the street.
When I explained to a woman that I was trying to train Gretchen to walk on a leash, she said, "They know when someone loves them; that helps."
"That, and my pocket full of treats," I replied as Gretchen sat calmly, intent on my left hand where some remnants of treat molecules still lingered.
However, with every success comes consequences. For Gretchen, that meant a night of diarrhea, and for me, that meant trying to watch TV with a canine butt on my lap that expelled noxious gases every few minutes.
Gretchen is a particular pooper to begin with. When she finds an adequate location, she must pace back and forth for a few minutes, getting just the right place to squat and her nose sniffing the right direction. If she doesn't find this within the first few paces, she gets agitated (and might I even say, impatient), and begins whining and huffing about the place.
If a human walks by, then the poop task must cease. Often not momentarily, but as if the human has taken off with the very idea of defecation, leaving Gretchen wondering why the hell she was standing there to begin with. Perhaps five minutes later, she remembers that she has a load, and then the process of finding a proper dumping ground begins again. With diarrhea, this becomes a far more urgent need.
I'll accept the flatulence consequences for a calm and enjoyable walk twice a day. And I'm pretty sure Gretchen didn't mind her consequences as she looked up at me with those amber eyes, sitting sweetly, end of her long tail wagging ever so slightly in anticipation of tasty goodness in her mouth.
It also helps to accept these consequences and learning experiences when the student is one loveable pup who really just wants to love and be loved... regardless of her stature.
"Look, I can fit on your lap."
No, you can't.
"Yes I can. See?"
No sweetie, you can't, but good try.
"Aww, but I want to."
At night, in typical pit bull style, she lay next to me, her head on my shoulder, her muzzle pointed into my neck, and dreaming her doggy dreams. (So much better to have that end in my face than the other end.)
Pat called to pick up Gretchen, and although I needed her to pick her up so I could get ready for my next houseguest (yes, Casa de Canine is now booked through the end of next week), when I got off the phone, a little pang of sadness crept into my heart.
I was going to miss my big, bumbling lady Gretchen. I convinced myself it was best for her. And it was. And is. The poor girl would whine and cry every time she saw another dog, and in fact that was the only trigger left to her pulling. She would get so excited and then frustrated on not being able to interact with them, that she would rush ahead, as if she could walk away the memory of seeing them.
Gretchen needs other dogs to play with. In their absence, she tried to play with me as a dog, and I wasn't very accepting of that. She would bat my face with her paw, try to "play nip" which I put an end to pronto, and would full body tackle me on her way back from fetching a ball. The kid needs some friends of her own species.
Gretchen spent most of her days sleeping:
Here:
And here:
And here.
And here:
And even here, making herself as small as possible...
When she would release a grand dramatic sigh, I was consumed with guilt. My place is great for a dog who is person-oriented. It's fantastic for dogs who are ill and can't be with other canine companions, or for those who just hate their own race. But for a gregarious, fun, and playful dog, this isn't a place for them for very long.
Gretchen is a good dog. In the beginning I thought she was nowhere near being ready for adoption. But honestly, she is. She just needs to the right person who is willing and patient enough to teach her things, and the right person Gretchen feels like learning from and for.
Gretchen's adoption link is:
http://www.adoptapet.com/pet5999807.html
When she finds her soulmate, I'm sure she will do anything for him or her. But they need to realize that she was a street momma, an independent woman on her own, and it might take some doing to convince her to see it your way... if she does get convinced at all.
Whether or not she does, she will always give you love and snuggles, and that certainly isn't a bad a deal as far as consequences go.
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