Training & Behavior

The wardrobe is taller than the dog. Maud, my rescue cat, found this first, climbed the shelf, the stack of blankets, the top, and claimed it like a queen claiming a hill, and Bramble, my terrier, who'd have chased the cat to the moon if the cat let her, stood at the base and looked up, which is the first time she'd looked up at a cat instead of at a cat, and the looking up was the beginning of the peace.

The dog wanted the cat. Terriers do, the chase is the breed, the point, the oldest job, and Maud, who'd been hunted in a past I didn't know, read the want and removed herself from it, straight up, to a place no terrier reaches, and the height was the boundary she drew without a word, the boundary the dog couldn't cross, and a boundary the dog can't cross is a boundary the dog learns, slowly, by failing to cross it, day after day.

I helped it along. Treat for the dog who looked up and sat, not leapt, because the leap was the problem and the sit was the cure, and a terrier who sits at the wardrobe base is a terrier who's been told the cat is not prey, is a fixture, is the queen on the hill, and the treat said the queen pays, and the dog, who'd chase for free, chased less when the queen paid better to be left, which is the maths of a terrier, always the maths.

The cat came down on her terms. Not because the dog was safe, because she'd decided the dog was safe, a different thing, the cat's call, and she'd watch from the top, judge the room, judge the terrier, and descend when the terrier was calm, which taught the terrier that calm brought the cat, and the cat brought the game, and the game was better than the chase, and a dog who learns the game beats the chase will play the game, and the chase went quiet, the way a want goes when a better want arrives.

The wardrobe stayed hers. I don't tidy the top, the blankets, the odd toy she drags up, because the top is the cat's country, and a cat with a country is a cat who stays, and a cat who stays is a pet, not a tenant, and the dog learned the map, the base is mine, the top is hers, and the line between is the look up, not the leap, and the look up is the whole of the training, a dog who looks up at a cat is a dog who respects the height, and the height is the rule.

There were bad days. A squirrel at the window, the terrier forgetting, the leap, the cat gone in a gray blur to the top, and I'd reset, treat for the sit, the look, the calm, because training isn't a line you finish, it's a rope you hold, and the rope slips and you take it up again, and the cat forgives, cats forgive less than dogs but she forgave, because the top was safe and she knew it, and the safe is the thing a rescue cat counts before the love.

Now the dog sits at the wardrobe and the cat comes down to her, nose to nose, a ritual, the terrier frozen so as not to spook the queen, and the queen touches the nose and goes back up, and the dog stays, because the touch was the pay, the rarest pay, and a dog who's paid in a cat's touch is a dog who's learned the boundary from the cat herself, which is the only boundary that holds, the one the cat draws and the dog keeps, up, not at, always up, and the wardrobe is the treaty, signed in fur.

I leave the wardrobe door a little open, the better to climb, the better for the treaty, and the room has two countries now, the floor and the top, and the dog patrols one and the cat rules the other, and the war everyone expected never started, because the cat picked the high ground first and the dog, after a fight she couldn't win, took the treaty, and the treaty is the look up, which she does, every time, instead of the leap, and the leap is a memory, and the memory is the cat's, safe on the hill she chose.

The treaty holds through the nights, the cat on the hill, the dog on the floor, the two countries dark, and the dark is the test, because a terrier in the dark forgets, and the forget is the leap, and the leap is the war, and the war is the cat's fear, and the fear is the past, and the past is the rescue, and the rescue is the top, and the top is the safe, and the safe is the sleep, and the sleep is the cat's, and the cat's is the dog's, because a dog who sleeps under a safe cat sleeps calm, and the calm is the room, and the room is the home, and the home is the wardrobe, open a crack, the climb ready, the queen able, and the able is the peace, and the peace is the look up, not the leap, every time, the terrier who learned the height, and the height that taught the boundary, and the boundary that holds, signed in fur, on the hill she chose.

The dog brings her toys to the wardrobe base now, a peace offering, a squeak at the foot of the queen, and the queen looks down, forgives, descends, touches the nose, goes back up, and the offering is the dog's thank-you, the small gift of a terrier who'd have chased her to the moon and now brings her a toy instead, and the toy is the treaty's proof, that the chase became the give, and the give is the love, and the love is the cat's, earned on the high ground, and the high ground is the wardrobe, and the wardrobe is the home's second country, and the countries are at peace, the dog below, the cat above, the look up the only border, and the border holds, because the cat drew it, and the dog keeps it, and the keeping is the calm, and the calm is the win, and the win is theirs, both, the terrier and the queen, on the hill she chose, safe.