Autism Service Dogs

Glindy is pretty non-reactive in public. By that, I mean that her inquisitive nature and natural prey drive are under solid control when we're in people places like stores and restaurants. However, she's still a bit of a nut in animal-filled places; taking her to stores like Petco can try the patience of a saint.

At the day care facility, there is a small group of feral cats living in the bushes outside the front steps. Glindy always goes a little crazy around those bushes. I'm not sure what she wants to do with those cats when she catches up with them, since she's more than happy to cohabitate with our three felonious felines, but she sure wants to do something--maybe sell them life insurance. Who knows?

At any rate, I made a rookie mistake. Since she's been yanking me around every time we get near those bushes, I've been using a bungee leash for the past few weeks so that she can run over and get a few good sniffs without yanking my shoulder out of its socket. It seemed like such a good idea at the time.

However, this weekend, tragedy struck--well, some minor drama, anyway. As I was clambering out of the car, Glindy spotted one of the feral cats near the bushes. This was the moment she'd been sniffing for! This cat wasn't just a fun and interesting smell at that moment; it was right there, just a few feet away. Glindy decided not to pass up an opportunity to try to sell the kitty an affordable term-life policy, and took off after her prospective client.

Unfortunately, Spencer the tubby terrier had somehow gotten his leash tangled up in hers. He was dragged haplessly along behind her as she went running at top speed. The cat, happy with its present insurance coverage, took off across a nearby vacant lot, with Glindy in hot pursuit and Spencer's dock-tailed body streaming out behind.

The cat changed direction suddenly to avoid an SUV parked in the mud, and so did Glindy...but poor little airborne Spencer had no chance to do the same. As Glindy darted around the parked car, centrifugal force whipped Spencer under it, where he and his leash ended up trapped under the front tire.

Glindy, meanwhile, never even slowed down. Somehow, the sudden immobility of the conjoined leashes didn't bring her up short; instead, her collar (not the break-away kind, mind you) gave way in a phenomenal wardrobe failure that would have done a Jackson proud.

She was off across the vacant lot, and didn't turn around until the cat was long gone over the fence line at the other end--presumably to reconsider the value of life insurance in light of the recent strain on its panicked little heart. Spencer, meanwhile, was a bit shaken but apparently unharmed by his own ordeal.

While a cat faced with financial questions relating to its own mortality makes for an amusing story, the potential harm to Glindy, Spencer, and myself--and possibly the cat, too--from this sort of unbridled enthusiasm had to be dealt with. As always, the question was "how?"

I couldn't do anything right then, because you should never yell at or punish a dog for coming back to you. That does nothing but spoil the recall, and I rather wish that the kindly lady attempting to help me had known that as well, instead of scolding Glindy repeatedly when she returned.

My solution would horrify the clicker-training purists, so don't tell them, okay? I returned later that afternoon with a different leash and a new attitude. Gone was the bungee leash, and the idea that it was okay to let Glindy sniff at those bushes or show interest in the cats. I wasn't going to punish her, but by golly, we were going back to obedience basics in that parking lot.

On went the London slip-leash, high and snug, just behind her ears. All the slack in the leash was taken out, except for the barest few inches required to keep tension off the line. The door into the parking lot was flung open, with full anticipation that a few sharp leash corrections would be required to enforce the "wait" command. And once we started moving, we marched down to the car, with corrections for any lagging, forging, or investigative behavior. We were on a mission!

We did this a few times, just enough for her to get the idea, and then into the car she went. I went back for Spencer separately, and then we were homeward bound.

Since then, I've taken care to project the sense that we are headed straight from the car to the front door, and back the other way, in order to avoid the problems that my permissiveness created before. After all, Glindy is a smart girl, so any failure to set the agenda is purely mine.

So far, the new attitude is working. Time--and some positive, clicker-based heeling work--will tell if it's enough to keep all of us safe in the future. I hope so...and so do the bush-dwelling cats.