Thwack-thwack . . . thwack-thwack . . .

If you spend any amount of time at our house, this is a sound you’ll hear eventually. Almost every time it’s followed by Peanut or me yelling, “Just run through Abby! You can do it!”

A Dog’s Education

Abby Normal is now seven years old but she’s never really learned to use the dog door like other dogs. A couple of early attempts of the plastic portal resulted in a brief pinch of her tail and she’s never totally forgotten the insult. For some time after those first attempts, she refused to go through anything but a big-people door. It didn’t take long for that to lose all novelty and require parental intervention.

She’d been given plenty of examples by our other two dogs at the time, Arwyn (pronounced like heroine) and Kirby, but she seemed to think she should be treated differently due to her extreme cuteness. Since Arwyn and Kirby weren’t successful in educational subject, Peanut and I grabbed a bag of treats, propped the door open and went to work. She did just fine when the door was opened for her, the challenge was getting her to open it for herself. So, we closed the door and show her that it could be pushed open, we simply used our hand to push (thwack) then catch the door and hold it open. At times it would take a couple of attempts to catch it (thwack-thwack) and then she could run in or out. That’s when she figured out what the other dogs had missed – you use your paw to push the door, not your nose. Did they not watch how Mom & Papa did it?!

Success!

Ever since that evening of tutelage, we hear the thwack-thwack . . . thwack-thwack . . . and know she wants to go out. She may be hot on the heels of another poopie that just ran through, but she’ll stop and use her paw to push the plastic and time her exit. All too often she gives up and looks to us for assistance – often running to another room to find us. Her tail will be up, wagging, a smile on her face and her ears perked up, just needing that reminder to “Just run through! You can do it!” On those rare occasions when she survives the opening without our help, she couldn’t be prouder. She’ll run in to find one or both of us, ready to accept that hard-earned praise.

Abby is the first dog I’ve raised from puppyhood, she’s my little shadow all day, every day. She’s gentle and obedient, but don’t try anything against me, ‘cause she’ll let you know that’s not allowed. She’s smart as a whip at times, and a silly girl at others, and I can’t imagine ever tiring of that thwack-thwack . . . thwack-thwack . . .