By Tim Forge
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statemaryland • Flickr.com
og training isn’t for everyone. It requires mounds of patience and consistency, kind of like child raising but better because they aren’t asking you for money all of the time, and you can always chuck them out into the back yard when they get too annoying or are roughhousing beyond control.
It was early in the morning, still dark, my four dogs were lying about in various places in the room, I was already used to the random sounds they make during the night, Dually, the Catahoula, whining slightly in her sleep, Dakota, the Golden Retriever, having his loud dreaming which often sounded like hyenas on a dead carcass, and Whalen, one of the puppies, hiccupping like a drunken sailor somewhere out there. Occasionally, during the night, he would decide he wanted to climb up on the bed. His tub of lard body would get halfway on the bed and then he would just stop like he was stuck or maybe contemplating something deep, deciding what he was going to do next. Grisly, the other pup, was usually quiet on the end of the bed. At six months old, the puppies had finally become trustworthy enough to get through the night without incident. Only now, Grisly would start licking my face to let me know she needed to go out, which was OK if I was not sleeping soundly because I wake right up, but if I was in a deep sleep... Oh my god, dog lips. I would get up, crack the door to the side room and let her slip out through the doggy door I had installed a month before. Dog training isn’t for everyone. It requires mounds of patience and consistency, kind of like child raising but better because they aren’t asking you for money all of the time, and you can always chuck them out into the back yard Page 50 • Midwest Hunting & Fishing - March-April 2014
when they get too annoying or are roughhousing beyond control. They’re more like alien kids who don’t speak your language, and pee a lot more. But the universal translator is anything edible. It’s like magic. “Load up into the boat if you want a bone.” I would say to Whalen and Grisly, the two puppies, when they were twelve weeks old. They could stay in my room as long as they remained in the small swamp raft moored at the side of my bed. I use the raft for hauling duck decoys out into the marsh. It was the perfect size to keep the two where I could watch them for any signs of going to the bathroom. A couple of old pillows and some chew bones and they would be content, for awhile, and then Grisly would start trying to sneak out. Training time had already begun a few weeks earlier for a couple minutes a day, mostly throwing the training dummies around, walking them on their leashes and basic obedience commands. “Sit, stay, come, sit, stay, come, sit, stay, come, sit, stay, come, sit, stay, come. No, I mean it, damn it. Come here right now! Come here! God damn it! COME HERE RIGHT NOW!! Oh my god… There’s nothing more infuriating and humiliating than a dog that will not come back when you call it, especially when you’re out in the field. MidwestHuntFish.com