On training

A lot of people have been asking me to record my August 18 appearance with Frieda at the Red Fox Bookstore in Glens Falls, N.Y. (seating limited – 518 793 5352). I don’t want to videotape or record it. Frieda needs a quiet and focused coming out and I want to concentrate on her and on my training talk.

But I have this blog and why not talk about training here? So I will do a regular series of columns abut my experience with training. Couple of caveats. I don’t want to argue about dog training. These are my methods and other people have theirs. I’m just passing along what I have learned. Take it as that. Or leave it if you can do better.

If you think your dog is  your kid, or understands ideas like grief, spite, wicked calculation, or can tell you when he is going to die, or thinks in human language, or is a kind of psychic or healer, or is your therapist, then my methods are not for you. My training is based on food centered and other positive reinforcements, and a series of exercises I call calming training that involve daily repetition, rewards and consistency. Sometimes up to 2,000 repetitions over the course of several months. My training methods are predicated on the idea that dogs are animals with a limited vocabulary, no sense of human narrative, and keen instincts for manipulating people for food and attention. But they do not think in words, and are not like us.

I believe training cannot be acheived in a few lessons, or by reading the manuals of celebrities and monks. It’s a personal experience, and a spiritual one involving you and your dog in the environment in which both of you live. It goes on forever.  It is never done, and is woven into the daily lives of you and your dog. The most elemental part of it requires a comprehension of the dog as an animal, not a little angel with fur. If you train a dog like a kid, you will get what you deserve.

Training is the method by which we teach our dogs to live safely and happily in our world. Not an easy thing. My training approach with Frieda began with the observation that she was anxious and territorial, and very much a working dog. She protected fences and property, and had a very high prey drive, as Rottweilers and Shepherds do. She had no sense of rank or place in a pack, and thought she was in charge of everything all of the time. She would not let me touch or come near here. So the first step was trust. I went to see her in her barn-home every day for nearly six months and brought meatballs, beef jerky or other treats every time I appeared, tossing them on the ground in front of me, saying nothing, and then leaving. Over time she came to see me as a good thing, bringing good things.

People don’t want to believe it, but dogs love almost anyone that feeds them regularly, as do most animals. Food is life to them, and how you use it and give it to them is essential in gaining their attention positively and in establishing trust.

More later.

Return of Affordable Art

July 30, 2010 – The Creative Union art show was a bg hit. So we are doing it again, for the people who want to return and those who couldn’t make it the first time. And for those who want good Christmas presents for a reasonable amount of money:

We are calling it Creative Union 2/ Holiday Artfest, to be held November 13, 2010, at the Redux Gallery in Dorset, Vt. The idea is to continue the affordable art project – Maria doing fiber art, me doing notecards and photography, only this time just in advance of the Holiday Season, when people especially need it. Looks like the recession is hanging around a bit. So the time for affordable art has come. Dorset and Vermont are among the best places anywhere to prepare for the holidays.

Maria is really hitting her stride as an artist,  doing all sorts of new stuff – e-book bags, cell phone and eyeglass cases, placemats and quilts, as well as potholders (which she sold out of last week).  Check out her website, where there is a quilt sale underway. I should mention here that all of my notecards sold on Redux are signed. I will sign all of the notecards we make for the gallery.

So more to come as we move along. Just wanted to get the news out.

There will be plenty of things for sale inexpensively, and some for more than $15. I will basically be offering notecards in five-packs and singles. The new flower notecards are being printed now. We are considering some new ones – more Red Barns and winter shots and some other holiday ideas. Christine Nemec, the founder of Redux, is also considering the fun ideas like a cookie swap.

Fire in your heart

It takes strength to live one’s life, to find a spiritual center, to trust it, to get off the societal addiction of fear, anger and soul-draining weariness. Politics, technology, religion often do not lift us up, as we deserve. They lift themselves up. So I want to find the fire in my heart, and let it burn.

Set the world on fire

Sunset, Friday, Grafton, Vt.

Sometimes, when I am feeling discouraged, or bewildered, or frightened, or stumped by life, or weary in body our soul, I take my camera and I go look for the fire in the world and if the wind is right, and the sun is right, and I am willing to move, to lie down and wait, literally, for the light, then the world is suddenly on fire, and I am lifted up, and cleansed.

Back on the farm, I had a wave of uncertainty, recalling all the Fridays I came home to trouble and worry, and had to reset myself, reboot myself, send another signal out into the world that I am good.

Maria is having a great quilt sale. $150. Beautiful stuff. sale

This is a new time for me in many ways. I am married. I share my life on the farm with someone I love and who very much wants to be here. I have returned to fiction – short stories, novels, and turned to children’s books. My photography has become an essential part of my creative life (you can see and buy my Bedlam Farm notecards online at Redux. I am preparing to go on a new kind of interactive book tour in October, celebrating the most exciting book I’ve written in a long time. I will be using dogs, bookstores, Facebook, my beloved blog, an Ipad, my camera, people, Twitter. Taking responsibility for getting my books out there in a very competitive and fragmented world.

I think I will become a devoted water tuber. I so loved my ride on the Battenkill last week, even if it did wreck my back. I will figure out how to take photographs of this beautiful world. This afternoon, I will go on a one-night trek with Maria into Vermont and I will experiment with my first remote postings from my new Ipad, which I love.  I am proud to be having my first public appearance with Frieda on August 18. We are preparing another Affordable Art Show at Redux before Christmas, when Vermont sparkles.

We are making some of the most wonderful friends. Sometimes you just have to let life happen.

Porch companion

A Daddy Longlegs is my new porch companion, sitting outside the screen while I read. He seems quiet and quite contemplative, and to a photographer, very graceful and gracious in posing in front of a good background. An odd but interesting photography. I have to say it seems quite beautiful to me.

Rose and Frieda

I never thought I’d see Rose and Frieda sitting out on the lawn, staring out at their kingdom, two fiercely focused working dogs, both dominant, challenging, strong-willed and with a passion for work. I have long argued that dogs, unlike humans, are profoundly adaptable, and evolve as their lives change, and accept their fates. Still, I doubted these two would ever be as easy together as they are now. They love to sit at the edge of the fence and keep an eye on things and more and more, gravitate towards one another. It is something I doubted, and also proves that if you give dogs a chance to succeed (safely and thoughtfully) they often will.

The more chances Frieda gets to live in the world, the better she does. We had a friend over for dinner last night, and Frieda woofed, huffed, and then lay down next to her during dinner. An enormous change. We are coming to trust her, bring her out into the world. That’s the big reason for the Frieda Coming Out night at Red Fox Books in Glens Falls, N.Y. (518 793 5352) at 6:30 p.m. Wednesday, August 18.

It’s important to make the point that if you understand that dogs are not people, not children who think the way we do, then they can be trained, changed and brought safely back into the world. Central to this is the understanding that Frieda is an animal with an alien mind, not some child with fur who is defiant, angry, spiteful, wounded or grief-stricken. Understanding her instincts and behaviors has made it possible to help her. This is what I want to talk about at the Red Fox, and also take questions and discuss the most popular training methods and books. We will talk about Cesar, the New Skete Monks, and other popular training ideas. I’m not sure if there are any seats left – this event is by reservation only and a lot of spots have already been taken – but people interested can check with Red Fox at 518 793 -5352. No dogs or children, please, (cept Emily.)I will ask people not to grab or touch Frieda at her first public event. She is not aggressive, and has never harmed any human. But she can get anxious around strangers and crowds. And big trucks.

I am happy to be giving Frieda her first bookstore reading – something she is entitled to – and grateful to Susan and Naftali of Red Fox for hosting it. The Red Fox is a great bookstore, and they are also beginning to sell e-books off of their website. Frieda is a great and loyal working dog. She is bright and has a big and generous heart. It’s been a great thrill to work with her, and I love her dearly.

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I loved going water tubing yesterday on the Battenkill. Going to order two new water tubes today. Going to Vermont today and tonight and I will try and post my first remote photos and posts from the blog, in preparation for the book tour.

Why flowers?

July 28, 2010 – We went water tubing on the beautiful Battenkill River today, something I’ve never done before. It was amazing floating on the currents past the beautiful woods, trees and fields. We are going to get  water tubes, it was one of the nicest experiences I can remember. Can’t wait to go back if I can get my hands on a waterproof camera case. Got to take photos.

A friend asked me tonight how I came to take photos of flowers in the light. I said I had no idea. I have little interest in gardening and don’t know the names of hardly any of the flowers I take photos of. I remember someone e-mailing me early on. He said it isn’t about what the camera  sees, but what you see. I think that’s so true. I see them now, the emotion in them, the hope and the light. I see them everywhere and lie on the ground and wait for the sun to come and give me some support.

Rose and Frieda. Two working girls get closer

For months, I thought Frieda and Rose might kill each other. Two strong willed dominant creatures did not get along. Lately, they seem to have bonded in some way I don’t understand. They are often together now. Frieda is now often out in the yard with the other dogs, which she loves. I see that she and Rose are similiar in many ways, and are increasingly comfortable around one another.

For the past day or two, there has been a fascinating thread running on my Facebook page – more than 100 comments in one day – in response to a question about whether dogs are aware of their own deaths. I love writing about dogs and other animals, one of the better moves in my life, but it does sometimes put me at odds with the intensifying – sometimes it seems explosive – emotionalizing of dogs and other animals. Because people love them so much, they increasingly seeing them as human-like, and in possession of human type emotions – spite, anger, calculation – and of human awareness of things like death and guilt.

Plato write that the thing that most separated humans from animals was a conscience. We desire to be better, and we change our lives, even if not always successfully. Dogs and cats and other animals do not, in my mind, possess human emotions, language or consciousness. They have their own, and while we understand little about that, people I respect believe that animals think in visual imagery, certainly not in our vocabulary or language or narrative, which they do no possess. This idea – that dogs and cats are different from us – is getting lost in the rush to turn them into children, spiritual beings, therapists, healers and mystics. It’s a lot to put on creatures who are basically simple.

Seeing dogs as people is not good for them. It makes training impossible, and puts so much pressure on them – hundreds of thousands of dogs in America are now in anti-depressants for issues like “separation anxiety” – that behavioral problems are the leading cause of death for dogs, along with overfeeding. When you treat a dog like a small human, you will see all sorts of issues often cropping up. And the dogs often pay with their lives. The emotionalizing of dogs is a far more destructive form of abuse than neglect – it kills many more dogs. People who attribute human foibles, motives and ideas to dogs are not doing animals any favor. Far from it. In my own case I try and separate what I need from what is good for them. And there is a big difference, although I sometimes stumble over the line.

So no, I think dogs have many instincts which affect their behavior when they are sick or dying. But there is no evidence I know of to suggest that dogs have a literal consciousness about life or death. Everybody seems to have a story or two about dogs mourning and grieving. I have never seen it. Tragedies like the Katrina disaster teach us yet again that dogs are adaptable. They can and do adapt and move on. They are not like us. And good for them.

Get your ears brushed. Feel good

If you’re a donkey, life is good if you live with Maria. You get corn, carrots and get your ears brushes. Smile. Fanny understands the importance of being positive, appreciating life and being loved.

Whispering to me

When I lie on the ground, waiting for the sun to join me on my mission, feeling the spirit surge inside of me, I hear life whispering to me. Love is important. Passion is essential. Time is precious, and ought not be wasted on fear and sorrow and small things. There is beauty everywhere if you have the right lens, in and out of your head.

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Frieda is a rock star. The response to her coming out party has been strong. People coming from as far away as Boston and Pennsylvania. I believe there are a few seats left. Frieda is getting her much deserved coming out party Wednesday, August 18, 6:30 p.m. at the Red Fox Bookstore in Glens Falls, N.Y. Frieda will be there, as will I. I will talk about Frieda’s remarkable story, and the challenge of training her to live on the farm. I will talk about the importance of dog training, take questions, discuss the pros and cons of the most popular training books. No children or dogs, please, except for Emily. 518 793-5252.

A perfect life?

I went into intensive therapy several years ago when my life began to unravel, and I was drowning in depression and anxiety. I am no longer in intensive therapy, having graduated to occasional visits. I say this because it is important for people to know that there is help, we can change, and it can get better. Yesterday I told the therapist – a remarkably direct and tough-minded woman who led me back from the abyss – that people were always telling me that I had the perfect life, and I never quite knew how to respond, other than to keep saying nobody’s life is or should be considered perfect.

“Jon,” she said, looking directly at me in that forceful way she has. “You do have a wonderful life. It is, in some ways, a perfect life.” This shocked me to the core. In the world I grew up in, if you said an optimistic thing, people started spitting and throwing salt over their shoulders. To say one has a perfect life seems nearly blasphemous to me, a direct invitation for lightning to come right down out of the sky and hit you on the head.

I have many of the same troubles other people have – worries about life, money, family, work. But my therapist was correct. I do have a wonderful life. I have a partner that I adore and who shares my life with me. I have work that I love. I have a farm that roots my soul, and wonderful dogs and endearing donkeys. I am making the best new friends one can imagine. My photography has erupted as a great passion in my life.

She said it was okay to acknowledge this. That lightning wouldn’t strike me. Of course, she said, you do not have a perfect life. There is no such thing. But you have a wonderful life, and it is perfectly fine to acknowledge that and simply say yes, my life is wonderful and I appreciate it.

Quite a different way to think.

The Love Dog meets the Vermont Sheep

July 27, 2010 – Lenore went out to meet the Vermont-bound sheep in the back pasture for the first time. They were fascinated by her, and she charmed them, of course.

I would highly recommend the posts on Facebook last night regarding a topic I opened on animals and death. I asked if people thought animals like dogs and cats were aware of their impending illness and death. A lot of responses, and almost everyone of them said absolutely yes, dogs and cats knew when they were dying. This is of interest to me as I’m finishing a book on animal grieving. The responses were interesting, thoughtful, very compelling.

I am a bit at odds with most of the responses.   If animals know they are dying, it must be in an instinctive, intuitive way, as they have no language or narrative with which to frame ideas about the end of their lives. Humans are believed to be the only species whose members know they are going to die. To me, the fact that many dogs or animals go off to be by themselves or hide or change their behaviors before they die does not mean they possess self-consciousness or awareness of their death. They are reacting to their complex instincts.

Dogs and cats live by these remarkable instincts, and  they do and sense man things we can’t do or sense. Humans don’t really value instincts as motives – it doesn’t make us feel as good – so we tend to attribute our ideas, thoughts and emotions to dogs and cats and assume they must view death and illness the way we do. I don’t believe that. Animals live in the moment, and accept fates in ways unimaginable to humans. Personally, I don’t see animals as being like us in consciousness. I think the difference is what fascinates me. I have seen no evidence whatsoever that dogs or cats or cows or sheep or chickens understand the nature of sickness and death. They feel it, and follow their instincts about it. I’ve seen so many animals die on the farm, and I’ve never seen one go off anywhere to die, although that happens. Nor have I seen any other animals mourn them or show self-awareness about it. Life goes on.

I think our grieving for animals is much affected by our inclinations to see them as experiencing death and loss the way we do. It is a very compelling subject and I am up to my neck in journals, behaviorists, vets and dog and cat owners. More to come.

A story

Once a day, Maria and I go out to the barns, check the water, clean up any mess, eyeball each of the animals. We leave the barn door open and in a minute or two the donkeys come in. Maria puts some corn or grain in the bucket, or I do, and one or both of us brushes them. I love these photos. They tell their own story.

Animal friendships. Lenore and Lulu

I’d love to do a children’s book – or any book – on animal friendships.  Lenore has the gift of being non-threatening and almost all of the animals on the farm are comfortable around her. She and Frieda are easy together, but she and Rose and Izzy often hang out in the garden. Today we were out doing barn chores and I looked up and saw Lenore and Lulu just hanging out in the cool of the barn.

They lay together for about a half hour while I cleaned up. I have no idea what’s going on with them, but I’d like to explore it some more.

Training: A catastrophe

To me, dog training in America is a catastrophe, a Ponzi scheme whereby a few people get very rich telling people to do things with their dogs that most people can’t do. Dog training is a huge industry in America – books, TV shows, classes in malls, CD’s, videos. But how many well trained dogs do you know?

It isn’t that people are dumb or incompetent. It’s that training is present as something a few experts really know how to do, but the reality of training for most people is much more complex. Famous trainers don’t live in crowded neighborhoods with traffic and kids and grandkids and two jobs. Most Americans get dogs in ways that can be impulsive – puppy mills, mall stores, rescue animals that are sometimes troubled or damaged, bad breeders. They don’t have the time or the skill to train dogs, and training is usually presented in absolutes – always do this, don’t do that, hold your leash this way, look that way, click now. Few of us can even remember these dictums, especially in the press of life.

People don’t know that training never ends, and is a complex process of body language, verbalizing, individualized life circumstances, the nature and breeding of the dog and extraordinary patience. Training a dog is hard. This is why Frieda presents the opportunity to really talk about the challenges and difficulties of dog training, and its importance.

More and more, dogs are being seen as children with fur, our buddies, therapists and best pals. It is difficult to train an animal when you treat it as a child. Thus many dogs lose their lives through poor training – behavioral problems, biting, overeating – than from abuse. Training saves the lives of dogs. Teaches them to live in the world. Shows us how to communicate with them. It isn’t easy, cute or cheap, alas. Training Frieda will never end, and it was and is tough.  Thus worthwhile to talk about. As the number of owned dogs in America rockets past the 72 million mark, training becomes more important by the day. And still, very rare.

Loving Minnie

Minnie and Lenore may be the two sweetest creatures on the farm. Every morning, when I come outside, Minnie is waiting for me, and flirting with me. She is getting to me. I have not really gotten close to a cat before. Mother is wonderful, but not all that snuffly. Minnie loves to be held and scratched. She is a shameless flirt.

You are invited (25 of you) to meet Frieda and hear Frieda’s story at 6:30 p.m. August 18, 6:30 p.m., at the Red Fox Bookstore in Glens Falls, N.Y. if it is not already filled up. 518 793-5352.

This is Frieda’s coming out, an important time for me, for Maria, a time of celebration for Frieda. An affirmation of the importance of training and of our responsibility to not just see these wonderful animals as cute and loving but to make sure they can live safely and happily in the world. Thomas Aquinas was right. It is important to treat animals well and take our responsibilities to them seriously because it is a  reflection of our humanity. I do not agree that the only proper way to get a dog is to rescue one – people should get a dog in the way that works best for them. It is obnoxious and self-righteous to tell people how to get a dog, or to use dogs to make us feel superior.

I would not trade my purebred dogs – Rose, Izzy, Lenore – for anything. Nor would I want to have missed out on the wonderful experience of helping in Frieda’s rescue and return to the world. Maria deserves most of the credit for that.

It was wonderful of Maria to take a chance on Frieda, a dog who ran wild in the Adirondacks for a long time and then spent nearly a year in a crate at an animal shelter before Maria took a chance on her and brought her home. Frieda (I call her “Satan’s Spawn” and “The Helldog” rocked me to the core, and challenged every idea I had about dog training. Some of my ideas really worked, though, and I want to share that.)

When Maria and I got together, I knew that Frieda was going to be a daunting task. A Shepherd/Rottweiler mix, she challenged my dogs, ran after chickens, tried to run down donkeys, did run down a deer, escaped repeatedly into the woods, where she had once lived. I began a year long training regiment with Frieda involving food, reinforcement, and giving her the opportunity to succeed and live in the world – cautiously.

For the first year I couldn’t touch her. She was ferociously protective of and loyal to Maria. Bit by bit, she entered the world. Meeting kids, going to small events, coming into the farmhouse, learning basic obedience and the calming techniques I have used successfully with my dogs. Lenore was also instrumental in getting Frieda comfortable and socialized. She bravely challenged her to play and kept her company while the other dogs stayed far away. Now she lives in the house, walks and plays with us, and sits by the feet of dinner guests (although not without some grumping and huffing). She is the protective spirit of the farm.

I want to tell her story and make the point that training is a profoundly spiritual and moral obligation when it comes to dogs. They ought not just be adorable little child substitutes. Training a dog is tough and cannot be done in one book with a few commands or in a couple of hours.

So thanks to the Red Fox on August 18, I have undertaken to begin telling  Frieda’s story. I don’t see this as a book, but as an important symbol. Frieda deserves her reading, as my other dogs have had theirs. And I will talk about training her, discuss training methods and books, take questions from the audience. Because it is Frieda’s first reading, we are being super-cautious about it, for her sake and everybody else’s. We are limiting the group to 25 people. No dogs or children (excepting for my friend and Frieda’s admirer Emily). Frieda has never harmed a human being or tried to and I intend to keep it that way. She is a sweetheart.

As of last night, many of the spots were already gone. To come, please call 518 793 5352. And thanks to Susan and Naftali at Red Fox for helping to make this happen.  If this works out, I hope to find other ways and venues to tell Frieda’s story and argue for the importance of training dogs well. Dog training in America is a catastrophe. Lots of well-selling books, TV shows, and CD’s, few trained dogs. Feel free to bring your questions. We will also discuss popular training books (and Red Fox will have them available for sale), and what I see as their strengths and weaknesses. Of course, I’ll sign notecards and or books but there is no requirement to buy any.

What makes a perfect life

Most of my e-mail is about books, dogs and animals. The second largest chunk is from people telling me I have a perfect life, the one they have always wanted. They would not have enjoyed seeing Maria shovel donkey leavings out of the Pole Barn in strong sun amidst flies, heat and restless sheep. I did it last week, and I will do it next week.

I love the notion of the Perfect Life. Because, perhaps, I know not only that there is no such thing, but that it is not a life worth having. What makes a life meaningful isn’t perfection or the absence of pain, fear and struggle. What makes a perfect life perfect is that it isn’t perfect. The nature of life challenges us to overcome adversity, loss, fear and the drain of our hope and spirits. When we overcome these challenges, or when we can live our lives, or be creative, or find and pursue happiness, or turn away from guilt and anxiety – then our lives have meaning.

Anybody can buy a farm and get some animals. Both are cheap and plentiful. Living on a farm with animals is not a simple thing, any more than it is simple to train a dog. Life is not about pretty views and pastoral scenes with donkeys and sheep. It is challenging. It has ups and downs. What makes a perfect life perfect is that it isn’t and noone ought to envy anybody else’s life. I am lucky, and I am even happy much of the time. A miracle. Fear is becoming a shadow for me, not the driving force of my life. I have found love and someone to share my life with.

But it would be a disservice to suggest that my life is anywhere near perfect. Or to think I would want such an empty existence. For without challenge, life has only one dimension, and little meaning.

Today I am returning to the Glens Falls bar where some people chased me and tried to get my camera. If it isn’t too hot, I’ll bring Frieda. We’ll see who chases who.