Learning Issues 2

Recently we had a visitor from Holland at the dojo, a young woman named Thirda who makes her living working with horses and taking people on horseback excursions into the Pyrenees and other wilder sections of Europe. Thirda is strong and athletic and fairly tall, though she claims to be “small” for a Dutch woman.

I told her about the lecture by Jennifer Arnold that I had heard, mentioning Arnold’s comment that dogs were not interested in vying for the alpha position, that they know very well that their persons are “alpha” because they control the food. Thirda raised an eyebrow at that claim, and said, “Well, it depends on how you give them the food. If you give your dog his food timidly, as if you’re afraid of him, he might not think that you’re the alpha person.” Thirda breathes self-confidence and could model the way to feed a dog authoritatively.

I’ll confess that I hadn’t thought of how I feed my dog Ashford as a potential issue. He is so excited at the prospect of eating that I don’t think he notices whether I’m being bold, timid, or neutrally objective in handing him his dish. It’s pretty obvious that he accepts the fact that I control his food and am thus identified with a huge source of his joie de vivre.

Thirda has worked with dogs as well as horses, and she told the story of a big dog she once had, a 110-pounder, young and arrogant. When she first gets a dog, she said, she covers her sofa with a protective sheet until the dog has learned that the sofa is off limits. This particular dog jumped up on the sofa, settled in and stared at her with a “so what are you going to do about it?” look, the look of a dog staking his claim for the alpha position. Thirda said, “I reached over for the edge of the sheet and bundled him up in it, rolling him right off the sofa. Then I sat down on top of him and stayed there for a while, with my whole weight on him. Finally I peeled off the corner of the sheet and looked him in the eye. And he just gave a big sigh. It was over then.” The alpha question had been settled.
It struck me that there was something decisive–and also humane and appropriate–in the way she’d moved with that dog. Thirda is good at aikido too, as you might imagine.

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