The Most Important End of The Leash
From STORM RISING author, Sara Driscoll:
No matter which way your compass points, the dog is the most important end of the leash. It’s the dog who will make your walk safe and pleasant, give you a dream search in a scentwork competition, and make a therapy visit a joy for both hospital patients and the handler. The human end of the leash may think it has to control everything, but the real pleasure for both handler and dog lies in enabling the dog to be its best self.
When training a dog for scentwork—drug detection, search and rescue, competitive nose work—the handler looks for an independent, methodical, and enthusiastic dog who is very much in love with both the work and the reward following a successful search. One of the first lessons the handler must learn is that every training class, and every actual search effort, must always end on a successful note that is rewarded. The most successful scentwork dogs control their searches. Once it knows what to search for, the dog is the only one who can actually detect the hide. After the dog shows interest in a particular area, the handler may select the most favorable approach (e.g., go around an obstacle rather than over it), but the handler depends on the dog and its body language to know when, and if, the team has arrived at their target.
The dog aimed for therapy work is a somewhat different beast. The handler starts with an intelligent dog of calm demeanor who is outgoing and not shy, that is trainable and unflappable so that it can work even in hectic situations. In addition, it helps if the dog has some special “hook” like a big smile, cute appearance, or a wiggly butt to help engage with clients. During therapy visits, control is shared between both ends of the leash. The handler may issue a “swing” command to move the dog parallel to a wall to let a patient gurney pass by, but the handler depends on the dog’s intuitive people sense of how to approach and interact with clients. My own therapy dog Kane had the chance to work with an autistic child whose abusive behavior caused his family to re-home his service dog. The child would approach and scream at a dog every time he saw its face. After the second scream, Kane simply moved away and turned his back on the child—typical canine conflict avoidance. The child would approach and Kane would turn away, all the time tracking the child with his amazing swiveling ears. After an hour of ambush screams, the child and Kane fell asleep together on the floor. At our next visit two weeks later, there was no screaming.
Kane is also trained as a competitive scentwork dog. He titled in his first competition. But it took over a year of classes to move Kane into a new headspace where he was in charge or following his nose.
Grab your copy of STORM RISING by Sara Driscoll today: http://bit.ly/2FwD8pW