Anyone who has seriously undertaken the project of training a dog soon realizes that the biggest challenge is in training the dog’s human companion. So it has been with Boojum and me. Our good fortune was in meeting Kyle before our relationship had disintegrated entirely, and because of Kyle’s perceptive identification and sensitive handling of fear-based issues – aggression on the part of Boojum (a five-year-old Border Collie) and misguided efforts on my part – Boo and I are now on a solid road to rehabilitation. Let me tell you how far we have come.
When Kyle began his work with us, I had already spent lots of time, money, and emotional capital on a situation that was worsening despite my best intentions. Boojum, who most of the time seemed to be a happy, adoring young and energetic dog, would morph into The Incredible Little Puppy Hulk whenever I would attempt to groom him, touch his paws, or otherwise enter his personal space for reasons other than benign petting. He had bitten me several times. He bit two dog trainers who had mistakenly identified Boojum’s behavior as dominant-aggressive and attempted to remedy it by force. One trainer lost patience with both of us and pushed a chair at Boojum, leaving a frightened Boo drooling in a corner and my confidence in tatters. We began training with a sheep herder and discovered that herding satisfied a basic urge in Boojum and gave us the beginning of a work-based rapport. But the aggressive behavior persisted, worsening after a week-end of “boot camp” style behavioral training. By now Boojum was very mistrusting of me, growling whenever my hand would linger too long on his body. I was nearly phobic about the possibility of getting bitten again, and my feelings for him were a toxic mixture of anger, confusion and regret.
Enter Kyle. I found him by serendipity, the outcome of a conversation at a pet store. Kyle listened to my story, and in listening he learned more than simple facts. He learned about my perceptions and misperceptions, my fears and my strengths, my good intentions and faulty judgments, and the degree of effort I was willing to commit to the situation. I cannot emphasize the importance of this straightforward but rare quality – listening. Then came Boojum’s turn. Kyle observed Boojum’s responses to my behavior and handling in a variety of situations. He made no outlandish promises and did not attempt to dazzle me with his handling skills. He did, however, help me to identify my inconsistencies, ambivalence and hesitance as a leader, both physically and emotionally. He helped me to develop better leadership skills through a combination of focused thinking in the present and adhering to a preconceived plan. And he helped me to feel safe while I was doing this.
Our crowning achievement came after a leg injury that left Boojum with sutures and in daily need of a new bandage. We devised a context for this activity so that Boo associated it with grooming skills we had already learned. By the end of three weeks Boojum was allowing me to attend to his wound calmly and quietly, sometimes offering his paw even before I asked for it. Not one growl. I can only surmise that he too finally felt safe.
As a musician who spent many years taking piano lessons, I know that it’s not the piano that needs the training. It’s the piano player. It took me a little while to understand that the only meaningful way to train a dog is to train its handler. Thanks to Kyle, Boojum and I are well on our way to making beautiful music together.
–– Connie Beckley, High Falls, NY
