7/22/04 - 10:01
Just like me, Sierra does not want to wait for things to happen.
Give me the treat now. Open the gate now. Feed me. Walk me. Let's go!!
If the reward doesn't come within 15 seconds, she assumes there is none forthcoming. She breakes her sit-stay and walks off, forehead wrinkled into a disgruntled expression of exasperation.
To, ahhem, assist her with this poor outlook, this expression of her being in control, rather than her humans, ie: W. and myself, I have attemped to give her longer and longer sit-says and down-stays. Especially at night when she gets a treat after I've cleaned up the dinner dishes, made the coffee ready for W. to switch on in the morning when he gets up at that habitually ungodly hour (for work: baker's hours), and often when I am also having a treat of my own. Ice cream or a hand full of salt water taffee, for examples.
I've had her sit or down for this treat, always a good one, something she doesn't get the rest of the day. We eat our treats together, she on the Turkish rug in the livingroom, me in the lazyboy chair inherrited from my step-dad, Eddie.
Lately I've asked her to down for several minutes. Well, she worked to this gradually, actually. It was tough going, because she believed that the regular way of getting her treat right away was just fine, thank you very much, and to stay in the down for an entire minute-- well, that wasn't very nice. She wasn't going to play that game with me, she let me know. She told me by getting up and leaving the room. When she wondered back around to the kitchen a few minutes later, she was willing to do a down, but her eyes said, "Is there going to be a catch again? I won't like that, you know."
"Stay!" was my firm response, compleat with hand signal.
Sierra looked away, furrowed her forehead and apeared to ignore me. This was her firm response, "Screw you."
I went about my chores, stepping around her, secretly watching the clock. My goal for that first night was 30 seconds. Since I couldn't stand still for 30 seconds, I put dishes into the dishwasher, rinsed the sink and put away leftovers. 30 seconds seemed to crawl by.
Sierra gave me one of her "Put Out" sighs. It's a noise she makes to say that she isn't happy about things, but resigned and she wants it known that she would like things to change, thank you very much.
When finally 30 seconds had ticked by, she got her treat and I could stop feeling guilty about being so mean.
Sierra took her treat very slowly. Her expression was not happy. Not, "Oh boy! I got a treat! I'm going to enjoy this!"
More like, "Oh, well, if you think you can spare it, you witch. I guess I'll go ahead and take it, but only so you won't torture me anymore."
The next night I did 30 seconds again and she acted as though she could tollorate this, it hadn't killed her before, so fine, she seemed to say, "I'll wait."
The following day I went for a whole minute and had to watch the clock while doing other things because I couldn't just stand there for an entire minute. I tried, but broke down because the butter HAD to get into the fridge and the beans HAD to be put into a smaller dish, covered with plastic wrap and put next to the other little dishes that were all going into the fridge as leftovers, all items I'd throw away in a week. But right now, they had to be delt with or else, well, bacteria was growing on them!
Finally I gave Sierra her treat and she slowly stood up, sighning loudly and with quite some drama. She took the treat and meandered away.
"Brat," I said after her.
Then, I switched tactics.
We both waited for our treats until the kitchen was cleaned up, the coffee made, the cat inside the house, the backdoor locked and lights out.
Together we went into the livingroom and she was given the down-stay command.
Ahh! Now I went to my chair and she was ammazed that she had no treat in her mouth. Had I forgotten her?? She wiggled a smidge, not really breaking her down, but fudging a little so she was angled a bit more toward me and could turn to see me without turning her head 90 degrees on it's axis.
Again with the sigh. But she waited and when I called "Ok! Take it!" in a Happy Voice, she jumped over without too much bad attitude and took her big bone-shaped cookie. At least she had been able to look at the treat while waiting!
We did this for a few days, then I changed the game again. Ohh, I'm sooo mean!
Now she came with me into the livingroom, did her down-stay, waited for a release to get her treat, the time lenghthening each time, the goal was two whole minutes (but she didn't know this, of course) and now-- now the treat was on the floor! Right there where she could see it and smell it and stand up and get it with only a short reach, if she wanted to be bad.
Three times she wanted to be bad.
Actually, she was quite sure that after staying down for soooo very long and I had resumed watching tv, eatting my own treat (witch!) and la-la-la ignoring her compleatly, Sierra was just helping me by releasing herself, you see.
No.
Each of these times she took the treat in her mouth very slowly and didn't chew, but rather froze in place, like she was waiting to see what I'd do.
I took the treat away, put her back into the down-stay (as close to the same spot as she'd been before, like the books say) and gave a firm "Stay" along with the hand signal.
She looked away and her forehead furrowed. "Screw you."
Watching the clock again, re-timing toward the goal, I realized (not for the first time) that I was asking her to do what I couldn't do myself.
If I WANT to sit still for two minutes, doing absolutely nothing,that's one thing. But TELL me I HAVE to sit still for two minutes and you will have a fight on your hands!
At least a deep, disgruntaled sigh!
Sierra has worked up to the 2 minute goal and even surpassed it. From day to day I varry the time she has to wait, so every day isn't the looooong draaaaw ouuuuut time of excrusiating bordom. Ahhhie-yi-yi! Sometimes it's a very short wait for the treat.
Sierra likes that best. So do I.
