Yep,
it was my intention to provide readers with a guide to selecting a
harness, but you know what? First of all, I need to talk about
something.
About why I am doing this.
And, just in case you were wondering, as much as I love it, it ain't easy.
Deciding
to sign up to the IDTE was one thing. That took a leap of faith and a
sense of commitment which was easily carried along by the exciting buzz
of the first module. Bubbling with the thrilling dread of being under
Turid's steely gaze; bouncing off the enthusiasm of the other students.
Then, homework done, observations made, set-reading devoured (along with
any other article I could get my hands on) I packed my spotted hanky
for module two, up in Durham.
Then it hit me. And has continued to hit me every day afterwards.
I
have opened my eyes so wide to the extent to which people casually
abuse and misunderstand their dogs on a daily basis, that I can no
longer ignore it anymore than I can walk around with a blindfold. It
happens when I see the Pedigree Crap in the cupboard, it happens every
time I see someone tugging on a leash, or forcing a breathless arthritic
dog into a trot to keep up with their loping stride. At worst, it
happens if I see someone hit or punish a dog for a perceived
misdemenour. I choke on words I'd like to say, my gut twists with the
anguish of recrimination. It's a physical sensation, like a chronic
sickness that I know I'm helpless to cure.
A
sense of helplessness is dangerous. It acts like a slow venom. You
start feeling a bit numb, then slightly paralysed, before you know it
you are hovering on the brink of apathy. The task seems so huge, so
momentous, it seems downright fucking impossible. Just what's the point?
I feel like an evangelist for a radical challenge to mainstream dog training. And it feels like taking on the whole world.
Fortunately,
having a peer group at hand is a great support. One of my fellow
students gently warns me about the dangers of taking on people who
simply aren't interested - a waste of energy that will leave me too
depleted to help those who are genuinely motivated to learn and evolve
their own dog skills.
I
know she's right, but for the last couple of weeks, I've felt my
confidence gradually slide to a lower and lower ebb. Then a couple of
small things happened that gave me a huge boost.
A
client remarked that she couldn't believe how calm her dogs were
whenever she came to collect them. "What do you do?" she asked. Then,
the same day, a runaway dog (workmen in the house had frightened her)
approached me as I was sitting in a park, tucked her head under my arm
and pressed her head against my chest.
When
I shared this, another IDTE colleague remarked, "Even when you doubt
yourself, animals always have a way of showing we should trust
ourselves, and you have certainly been shown that."
So,
I remind myself - as I do when people remark that Turid is a harsh,
uncompromising teacher - we are doing this, not simply indulge ourselves
in our passion, but to make real changes.
One dog at a time.
