Dog Training The American Male by Steve Alten

Author:Steve Alten [Alten, Steve]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-05-28T04:00:00+00:00

DOG TRAINING THE AMERICAN MALE

Lesson Five: DEALING WITH SEPARATION ANXIETY

Spencer watched approvingly as Nancy walked Sam up and down the sidewalk using the long leash. “Very good. I think that’s enough for today.”

“Thank God. How about an iced tea?”

“That would be lovely. First, let’s see if Sam remembers his new command.”

Nancy detached the leash from the dog’s choker collar. “Sam, house!”

The German Shepherd sprinted through the open backyard gate and entered his dog house.

Spencer followed Nancy into the enclosed yard, locking the gate behind him.

The moment they were inside the house, Sam went wild, sprinting around the yard before digging in the garden.

“Look at him, Spencer. He does this every time I leave for work. Damn you, dog! I just planted those Bromeliads!”

Spencer watched the German Shepherd tear apart the row of colorful red plants. “I’d say Sam has a bad case of separation anxiety.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“My dear, I never joke when it comes to the welfare of a canine. Separation anxiety is the second most common reason dogs are abandoned by their owners and eventually euthanized. Remember, dogs are pack animals; being left alone is against their nature. A dog suffering from anxiety will bark excessively, can become destructive, and, if given the opportunity, will defecate in the house. The animal may become so nervous that it will chew parts of their own body down to the bone. I knew of one dog that chewed on its tail so much the appendage had to be amputated.”

Great . . . another roommate suffering from panic attacks. “Okay, Obi Wan, what am I supposed to do?”

“For now, I’d suggest walking Sam before you leave for work every day. Unfortunately, a dog of this size and intelligence will need something more stimulating to fill your void—at least until he accepts you as his pack leader. My wife and I had the same problem with Tilda when we adopted her.”

“I bet your wife would have preferred a small white foofie dog.”

“Actually, Kate liked the bigger breeds. When we first met, she had a one-hundred-and-seventy pound Newfoundland.”

“I’d love to meet her—your wife, not the dog.”

“Unfortunately, she passed away a few years ago. Breast cancer.”

“I’m so sorry. I lost my father to stomach cancer.”

“It’s a frightful disease.”

“Do you have any children?”

“A daughter, she’s about your age. Married an Aussie; now they live in Melbourne with my three-year-old grandson. I suppose I’m suffering from my own separation anxiety.”

“Have you tried dating? My mother was against it at first, now she’s on a senior single’s cruise—at least she was. God knows where she is today.”

“No actual dates, though I’ve attended a few social functions where I live. Sadly, the women tend to be either hounds or terriers.”

“Where do you live? The American Kennel Club?”

Spencer smiled. “Sorry, old habit. I tend to segregate women into show categories. Terriers are your yappers, women who drone on endlessly. Hounds are the sniffers; always prying into your affairs, wanting to know everything from the place you were born to the last time you had a solid bowel movement.

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