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Dog trainers deserve our thanks
When I was 11 or 12, I had a little dog that I trained through obedience school.
She was a little miniature schnauzer I named Fuzzy. The quality of the name not being one of the criteria for judging, Fuzzy and I took first place at the "show" that served as graduation.
I was the only kid in the class and Fuzzy was far and away the smallest dog in the class. It didn't matter, we held our own against the adults and the Labradors and other full size dogs that made up the rest of the class.
I was a pretty shy kid who didn't get involved in much. I bowled in a league and won a trophy or two. I played soccer and made a few memorable plays, but nothing special. I set the game of basketball back decades when I tried it for a few years. That silver cup I won on graduation day was something special, though. It was the one accomplishment that remained in a place of honor in our home longer than all the rest. The accomplishment wasn't the trophy, it was the bond I built with that dog and the work I had put into to learning how to communicate with her.
It was my first time training a dog. Before Fuzzy came into our home, there was our beagle, Willy. I didn't train him to do much of anything. He was an old dog by the time I was old enough to do much with him. Plus, he was mostly preoccupied by whatever wafted into his nose at any given moment. I did, however, learn to walk in part by holding on to him to steady myself.
So from the beginning, dogs have been there for me. In fact, I come from a long line of dog lovers. My grandfathers on both sides of the family had dogs an trained them to do various things, either to hunt or simply to retrieve the mail once it was passed through the slot in the front door they way they used to do. They were a part of life.
One of my grandfathers had an especially strong bond with dogs. For him, dogs were a reason for my grandmother to let him exercise. Three or four walks a day, rain or shine, until he was in his 90s. I think dogs were part of the reason he was so healthy so late in life.
By the time he died, he didn't have a dog. His last one had died a few years before and his eye sight was so bad that walking a dog simply wasn't safe anymore. You could tell, something was really missing.
In the last days of his life, he was in the care of a hospice worker who, as luck would have it, had a dog she took everywhere. The apartment home where my grandparents were living wasn't wild about having a dog there (at least one that wasn't backed by a ridiculous security deposit), but it didn't phase the hospice volunteer in the least. "If I'm here, so's my dog," she told my mother in a defiant tone after a brush with apartment management.
I think being around a dog again was a great comfort for my grandfather at a time when he felt so bad and had few things to look forward to. We were all thankful for it.
As anyone who has trained dogs or been around them for any length of time knows, you're the one who learns as much as the dog does. You're the one who learns to tap into the dog's personality and make a connection and you're the one who is richer for it.
I was reminded of all of this when I read a story we have in this week's paper about Colette Worcester, a Castle Rock teenager who trains guide dogs, dogs who serve a much more vital role than my pets as a child or the hospice dog that visited my grandfather. The people who do work like she does are to be revered for their help to others. The hard work is something I know a little bit about, but I also know a bit about the rewards of dogs trained for a purpose.
Colette, my hat's off to you.
Editor’s Note: See Colette’s story online at parker247.com.
Jeremy Bangs is the managing editor of Colorado Community Newspapers. He can be reached at jbangs@ccnewspapers.com.
She was a little miniature schnauzer I named Fuzzy. The quality of the name not being one of the criteria for judging, Fuzzy and I took first place at the "show" that served as graduation.
I was the only kid in the class and Fuzzy was far and away the smallest dog in the class. It didn't matter, we held our own against the adults and the Labradors and other full size dogs that made up the rest of the class.
I was a pretty shy kid who didn't get involved in much. I bowled in a league and won a trophy or two. I played soccer and made a few memorable plays, but nothing special. I set the game of basketball back decades when I tried it for a few years. That silver cup I won on graduation day was something special, though. It was the one accomplishment that remained in a place of honor in our home longer than all the rest. The accomplishment wasn't the trophy, it was the bond I built with that dog and the work I had put into to learning how to communicate with her.
It was my first time training a dog. Before Fuzzy came into our home, there was our beagle, Willy. I didn't train him to do much of anything. He was an old dog by the time I was old enough to do much with him. Plus, he was mostly preoccupied by whatever wafted into his nose at any given moment. I did, however, learn to walk in part by holding on to him to steady myself.
So from the beginning, dogs have been there for me. In fact, I come from a long line of dog lovers. My grandfathers on both sides of the family had dogs an trained them to do various things, either to hunt or simply to retrieve the mail once it was passed through the slot in the front door they way they used to do. They were a part of life.
One of my grandfathers had an especially strong bond with dogs. For him, dogs were a reason for my grandmother to let him exercise. Three or four walks a day, rain or shine, until he was in his 90s. I think dogs were part of the reason he was so healthy so late in life.
By the time he died, he didn't have a dog. His last one had died a few years before and his eye sight was so bad that walking a dog simply wasn't safe anymore. You could tell, something was really missing.
In the last days of his life, he was in the care of a hospice worker who, as luck would have it, had a dog she took everywhere. The apartment home where my grandparents were living wasn't wild about having a dog there (at least one that wasn't backed by a ridiculous security deposit), but it didn't phase the hospice volunteer in the least. "If I'm here, so's my dog," she told my mother in a defiant tone after a brush with apartment management.
I think being around a dog again was a great comfort for my grandfather at a time when he felt so bad and had few things to look forward to. We were all thankful for it.
As anyone who has trained dogs or been around them for any length of time knows, you're the one who learns as much as the dog does. You're the one who learns to tap into the dog's personality and make a connection and you're the one who is richer for it.
I was reminded of all of this when I read a story we have in this week's paper about Colette Worcester, a Castle Rock teenager who trains guide dogs, dogs who serve a much more vital role than my pets as a child or the hospice dog that visited my grandfather. The people who do work like she does are to be revered for their help to others. The hard work is something I know a little bit about, but I also know a bit about the rewards of dogs trained for a purpose.
Colette, my hat's off to you.
Editor’s Note: See Colette’s story online at parker247.com.
Jeremy Bangs is the managing editor of Colorado Community Newspapers. He can be reached at jbangs@ccnewspapers.com.
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