Easy to please

One thing I love about dogs is that, unlike so many humans, they are generally easy to please.

One time I was over at a breeder's house, working with her to train some new show dogs. These dogs had never been on a lead before, and were learning to free-stack, which is basically standing four-square facing the handler so that the judge can see a side profile. Not too difficult, but if the dog has never been worked with before, it takes a lot of reinforcement with food to get them to understand what they're supposed to do.

Because you have to feed the dogs so frequently when they are first being trained, I usually give small pieces. I figure it's the gesture that counts. You do something good, you get a reward. The dogs are not going to stand there and measure each piece to see if it meets quota. Most of the time they gobble it down without even tasting it anyway. And if you give smaller pieces, you can train longer without enlisting your dog in Weight Watchers and trying to figure out how many points are in a serving of dog food.

At one point, the breeder noticed the size of the chunks of cheese I was feeding the dog, and exclaimed, "What is that?!"

Cheese. Duh.

"That's not a chunk," she said, taking the cheese out of my hand and breaking off a piece the size of about half of a baby carrot. "THAT is a chunk."

She then compared it with an exaggeratedly small piece of cheese that was supposed to represent my pieces. "Which would you rather work for?"

I didn't argue--they're her dogs and they'll be fed as much as she wants them to. But did the dog work any better for the bigger piece of cheese? No. (Though she'll claim that they did.)

Big or small chunk, that dog wanted cheese and was willing to work for it. Dogs aren't like humans--they rarely demand a higher salary. It's not the amount of the reward they've been given that matters as much as the principle behind it. I believe dogs like to do good work. They like knowing what to do and being able to do it well. Sure, the dog I was training wanted cheese, but I believe she also just wanted to know what to do.

Rock and roll lifestyle

Taking someone to a dog show for the first time is almost like taking someone to a rock concert for the first time, then taking them back stage to see that the guitarist and bassist hate each other, the drummer's going to shoot up in the bathroom, and the lead singer is screwing someone else's wife.

The dog show life may seem glamorous when all you see of a dog show is what's on TV. At those shows, they roll out the plush carpet, drape the exam table, and accent the ring with flower arrangements. The ribbons are long, the trophies are heavy, and everybody claps. But go to a real dog show with your eyes and ears open and you'll discover that dog show people really aren't as dignified as they may wish to appear.

A few weekends ago, I took my boyfriend to his first dog show. It was a specialty show, which means that only one breed was competing, and winning Best of Breed is the same as winning Best in Show. Many exhibitors travel great distances to compete in specialty shows, as there is greater breed competition at these shows than at regular all-breed shows. They usually occur less often, and the judges are better acquainted with the breed. Because they are special events, specialty shows are commonly held in hotel banquet rooms.

We walked in to the lobby and saw a professional dog portrait studio set up on the far wall, with dozens of sample portraits on display. Most people were dressed nicely, many in suits. We headed into the banquet room and took some ringside seats.

Instead of clapping, many of the classes ended in stunned silence from a disapproving crowd. We overheard some gossip from spectators and exhibitors standing behind us, including a comment on an exhibitor that will always be remembered as the woman who appeared to the show dressed in a full-length mink coat. When we weren't casually eavesdropping, I schooled my boyfriend on the basics of dog showing: the lingo, points and procedures of conformation.

We sat and looked at the dogs in the lineup. He leaned in and asked quietly, "Why are people picking at their mouths like that?"

It then occurred to me that there are very few occasions when respectable adults dressed in formal attire will dig into the pouch of their cheek to retrieve a tidbit of meat and feed it to their dog.

"That's called baiting," I explained. "Bait is food you feed to your dog to get their attention."

I had to chuckle. Only at a dog show...