Visit to dog park provides lesson for dog and owner

When my daughter bought a Shiba Inu puppy this summer, I plunged into the joy of puppy training whenever I could sneak off with the puppy.

It had been six years since my own dog, Romeo, had been a puppy. Some people never tire of watching a pudgy puppy discover the thrill of watching a leaf blow across the grass, barking at the terrifying flowerpots in the yard, or jumping around the street grate but not walking on it.

For a puppy, training is the process of becoming a dog, familiar with home, life with people, and figuring out how to get a good meal.

Bringing the Shiba puppy into our home meant that Romeo was part of what the Shiba found fascinating. Romeo wasn’t so taken with the puppy. As the puppy grew, Romeo began snarling, growling and threatening to snap at the ever-expanding puppy.

I decided that Romeo was also in need of some training. Maybe a quickie weekend type of seminar. So for the first time in his life, I took my 6-year-old Chihuahua to a dog park. I figured this immersion activity would cure him of his antisocial ways.

Dog park immersion therapy did not seem to be working for Romeo. He stood there with his little sweater on and refused to even look at the other dogs. He appeared very strangely out of place.

While other dogs were two-stepping with each other, poor little Romeo appeared to be praying for this to end.

To make him look even more ridiculous, he slowly high-stepped to avoid getting his feet dirty. Dog parks, I learned, are very muddy places.

Realizing that immersion therapy was failing, I went home and tried a little immersion training for me.

With a bowl of popcorn and 60 episodes of “Dog Whisperer” with Cesar Millan, I learned that I may have completely misunderstood Romeo’s problem. I packed up little Romeo and returned to the dog park with my new calm and relaxed attitude and my husband.

I learned that Romeo was nervous and aloof around other dogs because my husband and I were terrified that a larger dog could easily hurt him. We practiced being calm and relaxed, and by the third visit to the dog park Romeo was having some nose-to-nose interactions. They were minimal and in fleeting seconds, but this was a step forward.

Part two of Cesar’s method was to really observe the dog and not apply human psychology. OK, Cesar, I’ll empty my head of being a therapist for 25 years.

After draining my head of all things psychological, I noticed that Romeo liked the older and handicapped dogs. He preferred the slower-moving dogs. All the energetic bounding puppies were the only dogs he rebuffed.

I’m going to keep up my dog park visits with Romeo cause dogland is lots of fun. I’m giving up on expecting him to enjoy puppies. Of course Romeo liked the Shiba puppy just fine when she was on tranquilizers after being spayed.

I’m just going to wait for the Shiba puppy to grow up. Romeo won’t mind her visits when she is older.

Sarri Gilman is a freelance writer living on Whidbey Island and director of Leadership Snohomish County. Her column on living with meaning and purpose runs every other Tuesday in The Herald. You can email her at features@heraldnet.com.