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Emma Lee, December 2004
As I write today, the screen looks blurry through my partially blackened, teary right eye. “What happened to your eye?!” the sweet woman at the grocery store asked while ringing up my training treats. She already knows I train dogs, so my response, “Had a hard lesson this morning,” was explanation enough.
I’m dog-sitting two of my favorite dogs alive this week, Talis and Templeton, mutts-in-arms; smart, sweet, goofy guys rapidly destroying their new rawhides on my carpet, leaving behind that hideous slimy solution that only dog spit and rawhide can create. Templeton, the black-and-tan Swiss Mountain Dog/American Pit Bull Terrier mix whose beautiful eyes I first spotted at the Larimer Humane Society where I was evaluating and amusing stray dogs before their temperament tests, is the party responsible for my current vision impairment. At about fifty pounds, Templeton is a big kid with big teeth and little knowledge of manners or etiquette. His free spirit remains young and his brilliant mind unfocused, yesterday having been his first introduction to formal obedience training. He’s a quick and eager student, his enthusiasm matched only by his desire to “get it right”. Talis, who is probably about two years Templeton’s senior, has long since left his uncontrolled puppy energy in the past. A wonderful family life and plenty of love and space have given Talis a spectacular ability to understand when and where to appropriately release his energy.
I’ve had my share of dog-induced injuries. An extremely painful scratch on the back, a harsh pressure bruise from a bite to the calf, a gouged hip resulting from a stiff shove into a kennel, a broken pinky toe, and more than a few minor bites and scratches. But man does my eye hurt! Templeton has an extremely common but frequently overlooked behavioral issue. He’s a “pop-tart”, leaping up in excitement straight into the face of his target. In socializing dogs, I’ve frequently observed a pop-up following a rejected play bow--where the dog’s front legs hit the ground up to the elbows and the back end raises up. While a play bow is a polite invitation to play in dog society, a pop-up is less civil, and may incur a snap from another, annoyed dog. Even though dogs who know each other well may spend an hour in a mock fight, mouthing each other’s faces and vocalizing, the sudden--and frankly rude--pop-up doesn’t seem to be appreciated. The pop-up behavior seems to be closely related to maturity; it can be compared to a three-year-old, after having been told he’ll have to wait to play his game, slamming the game down on a table and demanding you play. His “please” has been rejected, so instead he turns to “now!” In dogs, this behavior tends to attain the desired result, a strong reaction from the target. Whether it’s a snap from another dog or a shout from a person, the pop-up has had an effect. It has drawn the target into interacting with the pop-tart.
It occurred to me today how dangerous this behavior can actually be. If Templeton’s teeth had been a quarter-inch to the left, I would be at the hospital and he would not have his new rawhide. There is no doubt in my mind that Templeton didn’t intend to hurt me. He’s just not particularly conscious of the consequences of his behavior. He also lacks confidence in himself, which manifests itself in submissive urination, destructive chewing, and separation anxiety. Templeton is a prime representative of thousands of smart, big-hearted American dogs who would benefit enormously from obedience training. Properly done, training would build his confidence and help him understand polite social behavior.
I think I’ll recommend a new year’s resolution to Templeton: “This year, I’ll learn how to be a good dog!”.
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