Training & Behavior

The first stone went down like a grape. Widge, my flat-coat, on the beach, the pebbles, the small grey ones, and he swallowed one before I'd registered the bend of his head, and the bend was the tell, the one I learned too late, and the late was the vet, the x-ray, the wait, and the wait was the longest afternoon, the one where a dog lies still and you count his breaths, and the breaths were the only numbers, and the numbers said he'd pass it, probably, and the probably was the word that let me breathe, and the breathe was shallow, because the next beach was coming.

I taught leave it. The word, the boring word, the one everyone says and few mean, and I meant it, with a treat on the floor, the treat he wanted, the treat he could have if he didn't, and the didn't was the lesson, and the lesson was hard, because a retriever who wants a thing wants the thing, and the thing was the pebble, and the pebble was free, and the free was the danger, and the danger needed a word that meant no without a hand, and the hand was the problem, the hand that couldn't catch a stone mid-swallow, and the word had to be faster than the hand, and the word became the hand, the invisible one.

We practised indoors. The treat, the floor, the word, the wait, the reward for the wait, and the reward was the other treat, the one he got for not having the first, and the first was the pebble stand-in, and the stand-in taught the real, and the real was the beach, and the beach was the test, and the test was the stone, and the stone came, and the word came first, and the head lifted, and the lift was the win, the small lift, the one that meant the word lived outside the kitchen, and the outside was the beach, and the beach was safe, that day, the first safe day, and the safe was the word, working.

The pebbles lost their pull. Not all at once, the retriever is a retriever, but the word, said early, caught him before the bend, and the bend became the look, the look at me, the is this one mine look, and the look was the control, the impulse held for a beat, and the beat was the training, the space between want and take, and the space is where dogs learn, the half-second, and the half-second grew, and the grew was the beach walks we got back, the long ones, the ones without a vet, and the vet was the ghost now, the one we'd outrun with a word.

I carry treats on the sand. The high-value ones, the cheese, because a stone is interesting and cheese is more, and the more is the competition, and the competition is the point, that leave it isn't a denial, it's a trade, and the trade is the cheese for the stone, and the dog who trades is a dog who's free to walk, and the walk is the beach, and the beach is the joy, and the joy is the flat-coat with his head up, not down, and the down was the danger, and the up is the freedom, and the freedom is a word and a cube of cheese, and the cube is cheap, and the cheap buys the beach, which is priceless, to a dog who loves the shore.

He still finds them. The pebble, the interesting one, the one that rolled, and the roll catches his eye, and the eye is the old want, and the want meets the word, and the word wins, mostly, and the mostly is the honest truth, that training isn't perfect, it's good enough, and good enough on a beach is a dog who comes home with his stones in the sand, not his gut, and the gut is the x-ray that didn't happen, and the didn't is the win, the quiet win of a flat-coat who learned the word meant more than the pebble, and the more was the walk, and the walk was the whole point of the shore.

I watch the bend now. The head, the tell, the thing I missed that first day, and the miss was the lesson, the expensive one, the x-ray one, and the x-ray is the scar, the good one, the one that made me teach the word like I meant it, and the meant is the beach, safe, and the safe is the retriever with his head up, and the up is the word, working, every time, mostly, and the mostly is enough, and the enough is a dog who swims and doesn't swallow, and the swallow is rare, and the rare is the win, and the win is the word, leave it, the boring word, the one that saved his gut and gave back the shore, which he loves, and I love, watching him, head up, free.