HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Goderich Signal-Star, 2009-07-15, Page 24Page A24 - Goderich Signal -Star, Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Jake's residential training program and the accidental postie
For reasons that are still a mystery to me,
my dog has never loved a man in uniform.
I acquired Jake through a dog rescue net-
work and information about the five years he
spent with his previous owner was sketchy.
He may have been neglected but not abused,
he was overweight and out of shape, leery at
first but then loving once our trust was estab-
lished. A social scallywag, he loved every-
body, particularly women. He would give
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me this kind, demonic, teeth -bared
crooked smile whenever 1 arrived
home from town or a tip. He wiggled
his big bum almost off upon meeting
friends and new people.
So I was left stunned and scream-
ing his name the day 1 was getting
him into the car in Port Colborne and
he bolted across the street to attack a All the
postie (mail carrier). Jake was in full A Circ
flight and barking menacingly when
the postie stopped, drew his spray can and
maced him right there on the sidewalk. The
dog collapsed and the delivery guy carried
on calmly like it was as routine as the route
itself. And as much as I would have liked to
stuff the young man into his navy blue Cana-
da Post bag, all I could do was apologize as I
helped my dog to his feet. It was absolutely
my fault and the only bad surprise Jake had
brought from his past, to that point and to this
day.
He had . never threatened my own rural
postie because she was a woman and come
to think of it, she never got out of her truck.
Not knowing the history of the dog made
me nervous and his hate for uniforms made
me think: what if a police officer came to the
door, the fire marshal, an air cadet canvass-
ing for money. Out here in rural Wainfleet,
thank God Jehovah Witnesses don't wear
uniforms.
About a year went by without another in-
cident. Then one day I was driving along a
well -treed street when I spotted a tall postie
in full uniform making his rounds, enjoying
a warm spring morning. So I pulled the car
to the curb, opened the back door and hauled
Jake out and onto the sidewalk.
"Go get 'em!" I yelled and Jake took off
like a shot after the man in uniform. Growl-
ing loudly, he hit top speed about twenty feet
from the postie who just stood there grinning
at him.
At fifteen feet, the postie yelled: "Hey!
Whadderyadoin' !" Jake's head jerked up
and he slowed to a stop. First he growled,
then he barked, then he looked back at me
and whined.
As the fur on the back of his neck began
to flatten, his tail gave a couple of tentative
wags and finally, completely confused, he sat
down and looked from the postie, to me and
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back and forth. In one split second
of recognition, Jake learned never to
attack a man in uniform because this
particular postie was my brother-in-
law Danny, a guy Jake loves as much
as he loves me.
"Jake!" was all Dan said after that
and my dog was onto him, smiling,
World's wiggling his bum and giving him a
vs... kiss when he knelt to pet him on the
lawn.
Now every time Jake sees someone walk-
ing with a uniform on, he assumes it's one of
his favorite people and he can't wait to get
close to be petted.
This accidental training session worked
flawlessly for years until one day we drove
up to the United States border crossing at
Buffalo, New York. Jake saw the armed and
uniformed customs officer before I did. He
began to growl in a menacing, low guttural
tone. I'm not fond of these guys either but at
least I feign politeness.
"Sit!" I yelled and he did and although
somewhat stifled, he continued to growl at
this officer wearing sunglasses and exuding
an awful lot of power.
No problem, I thought, I'll just keep the
tinted glass window up in the back.
"Mind opening that back window for me?"
was the first question he asked after taking
my photo I.D.
And as soon as the window went down
Jake sat up nicely, wiggled his bum and be-
gan smacking his lips at the officer.
"You got papers for that dog?"
"Yes sir," I said. I was actually pleased to
be able to speak without laughing.
"Looks like a frient ly dog," observed the
customs official, casually.
"Actually officer, he thinks we're at the
Tim Horton's Drive Thru."
"Really"
"Yeah, he's waiting for his Timbit. "
Thinking perhaps I too was a little disori-
ented, he handed back my 1.D. and said: "We
don't do that here."
"Thanks"
"Have a nice day."
"Woof! Woof!"
Even though Jake gets cheated out of a
Timbit every time we cross the border he
never stops trying with his "pretty please and
thank you" act.
So Jake has been accidentally trained to be
a well-behaved dog. You can take your pup
to a professional trainer and you should, they
can improve both your lives. But you'll nev-
er find one that features a postie and donut in
the program.
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