Retrieving my Retriever

“That does it. I have had it up to here (gestures in region of eyebrows). You are going to school.”
I had just run the length of the beach in order to retrieve my retriever who seemed to find anybody’s company preferable to mine. I was not in the mood to be conciliatory.
Determined to put it off no longer, I phoned the training school immediately on my return home. The telephone number had been in my possession for some time but I had managed to make excuses until now — “He’s too young” or “I haven’t got time”.
I spoke to Helga, the trainer, and explained the problem. “He just wants to say ‘hello’ to everyone and he won’t come back when I call him.” She suggested that I take Harvey along to the next session the following Saturday.
We duly turned up at the hall with some trepidation on my part and much slobbering and excitement on Harvey’s. On seeing the other dogs already gathered there, Harvey dashed in, dragging me behind him, and proceeded to bound from dog to dog greeting each one in turn with a wag, sniff and bark. I couldn't help but feel that this wasn't a good start!
“Oh yes, you do have a problem,” said Helga, “he is very dominant.” Dominant? I was puzzled. Who said anything about dominance? Was I in the right class?
By the end of the morning I had come to appreciate that the root of the problem was indeed Harvey’s dominance. Helga explained that as dogs are, by nature, pack animals, they need to be in an environment where there is a leader otherwise they will try to take on that role themselves.
Okay, so the theory was fine, but what about the practice? I had to show Harvey that I was ‘the boss’. Now when it comes to assertiveness I’m the original doormat, so I figured there would have to be some major changes in my attitudes.
At the end of a gruelling morning I left with a list of instructions and lots of leaflets to read and absorb. As I walked home I felt some trepidation about the coming weeks...
One of the major problems I had with Harvey was his tendency to pull while on the lead. Now then what did Helga say about that? Oh, yes. “When he pulls, take him back to the spot at which he started pulling and make him walk properly.” Doing that we weren’t likely to get beyond the end of the drive in anything like a reasonable time. I realised I would have to modify the rules just slightly.
In spite of my lapses, by the following Saturday I was fairly pleased with the way we had improved. Helga was not impressed.
“You haven’t come on very well have you? There is normally a great improvement after one week of following my instructions. Have you been obeying the rules of dominance?”
“Um, well, er, um, I have been trying,” I spluttered.
“Trying is not good enough. You must obey the rules. You must be dominant. He must know who is the boss.”
My headache was starting already.

The weeks that followed are a bit of a blur. I came to dread Saturday mornings. Each week I would pray that a new dog would join the class and be really badly behaved. Then we old-timers could smile indulgently and proudly pat our temporarily quiet hounds. On my part it was a delusion but at least it took the pressure off Harvey for a while.
There were occasions when I was very proud of him, but they were few and far between. Our progress was slow and the classes were long. We did move up to the advanced class but I’m not sure how. Then one day something happened.
I was in the kitchen, watching Harvey trying to persuade Toby, our old and superior cat, to join him for a game of chase. I looked on as Toby’s tail started to twitch slowly and angrily as Harvey bounced around him. Suddenly the cat stretched out his paws and caught Harvey’s nose in his sharp claws. As Harvey backed away whimpering and momentarily cowed, I saw it all too clearly. In any home, as in nature, there is a ‘pecking’ order and in our house, Toby reigned supreme while I knew my place — squashed at the very bottom.

Harvey is not and never will be the best trained dog in the world. Even if I had the perseverance required I suspect his retriever’s natural stubbornness would still get the better of me occasionally.
Most of the time he is as obedient as I require. He comes when he is called ... usually. He sits on command ... unless he’s very excited. Most importantly he is gentle to the core and a wonderful companion to all the family.
Now where was the telephone number of that assertiveness class?

This article was published in Pet Dogs magazine a long time ago but reading Marley and Me made me look it up and reprint it here.

Not a lot has changed over the years except now Harvey has the excuse of being slightly deaf and blind to fall back on when he ignores me and my commands. And we wouldn't change him for the best-trained dog in the world.