But Training was something different. It was better. Because Training was a job that Teresa and I did together.
After we’d practiced walking on leashes together for a day or two, Teresa came outside to the backyard. She called to the other dogs and put them in the house, but she didn’t tell me I had to go inside.
I was special.
I learned that if Teresa said, “Shelby, Come!” I was to go to her side right away and get a treat. If she said, “Shelby, Sit!” I was supposed to put my rump on the ground and get a treat. And if she said, “Shelby, Stay!” I was supposed to sit and keep on sitting until she told me to “Come!”
That one was difficult. I thought Teresa understood that she and I should always be together. Wasn’t that why she’d gotten the leashes? But when she said, “Stay!” she walked away from me and I wasn’t allowed to go with her.
Even though Stay was hard, I managed it.
Most of the time.
Then a day came when Teresa started teaching me a new job. She put something on the picnic table and tapped it to get my attention. “Shelby, Go Mark!” she told me.
I had no idea what those words meant, but I studied the picnic table with interest. Was there something on it? Something for me? Perhaps a toy that squeaked?
I began to walk toward the table when a lizard darted boldly right under my belly. I leaped after it. Chase! Catch! The picnic table could wait!
“Shelby!” Teresa called firmly. “Go Mark!”
Her voice was loud and clear. The lizard raced up a skinny tree trunk, out of my reach, as I turned my head to look at Teresa.
She was looking at me intently. I looked back. Was there something she wanted?
A smell drifted toward me from the table. Yes! A treat was lying on it. Even better than a lizard! I ran toward the table, jumped up to put my front feet on its surface, and snapped up the treat.
“Shelby, good girl. Good girl,” Teresa praised.
I loved her voice when she told me I was a good girl. It was almost as marvelous as a treat.
We did that game a lot. Teresa seemed to like it. I thought it was not quite as much fun as being connected to Teresa by a leash … but there was a treat involved, so I was happy to play. “Go Mark!” Teresa would tell me, and I would dash over to the picnic table from wherever I was in the yard. There was always a treat waiting for me.
Of course, sometimes there were lizards, too. Lizards did need chasing. Or the other dogs would bark at me from inside the house and I’d run up to the door to bark back, wondering when we would all play together again.
But Teresa did not want to give up the game. “Shelby, Go Mark!” she’d tell me.
There was something in her voice when she said it. She wasn’t angry with me or being fierce, but she meant what she said.
It reminded me a little of how my mother would bark or growl, just a tiny bit, if my littermates or I bit one of her ears and pulled too hard or decided to chew on her feet. We learned to stop, right away, when our mother told us to.
When Teresa used that voice, I was supposed to do what she wanted. When I did, she was so pleased with me that it made up for the lizards I didn’t get to chase.
I loved making Teresa happy. Even when she changed the game.
After a few days of running to the picnic table, I came outside with Teresa and she told me, “Go Mark!”
I ran to the picnic table. I knew what to do.
But there was no treat! I turned to Teresa, bewildered. What had happened to our game?
“Shelby, Go Mark!” Teresa said again. She was watching me closely.
I looked around, baffled. Then the breeze brought an enticing scent to my nose.
There was the treat! It was sitting on a big square piece of wood on the ground. I ran to it and gobbled up my reward. Teresa patted me and praised me, and then we did it some more.
Honestly, lizards were still more exciting.
After we’d played Go-Mark for a while, Teresa and I did a new game. “Up, Shelby! Up!” she said, coming close to me and patting her chest.
I just stared at her, baffled. She bent down and picked up my front legs, putting them near her shoulders.
“Good girl!” she praised. I got a treat.
When Luke or Bode did that, Teresa told them, “Off!” and pushed them away. But when I did it, I got a treat!
I knew for sure that I was Teresa’s most special dog. The next time she told me, “Up!” I leaped up right away so I could lick her face and show her that I loved her as much as she loved me.
Another day, when Teresa and I came outside, there was a big wooden box in the corner of the yard. I ran to it and sniffed it to see if it was interesting, but it wasn’t.
Teresa dropped something on the ground—a rubber bone! I grabbed it happily. The other dogs were inside, so we couldn’t play It’s-My-Toy-You-Can’t-Have-It, but maybe Teresa would do it with me.
Teresa stood over by the box and clapped her hands. I perked my ears up at the sound. “Pick It Up! Put It in There!” she called out.
I came over to her side so that I could show her the bone. Didn’t she want it? Wouldn’t she chase me?
“Put It in There!” Teresa said, pointing. Her hand was actually inside the box, and she was using her Training voice. I knew she wanted me to do something. But I didn’t know what.
Then I saw that she had a treat in her hand. One of the best things about Training was that it involved so many treats! I stuck my head into the box to get at the treat. I dropped the bone from my mouth so that I could nab the treat from Teresa’s hand.
The bone hit the bottom of the box with a thump, and Teresa opened her hand to let me get at the treat. “Good girl! Good girl, Shelby!” she told me. She scratched behind my ears.
Then she took the bone out of the box and tossed it away across the yard. “Pick It Up! Put It in There!” she told me.
What? Didn’t she want the bone to be in the box? She’d told me I was a good girl for dropping it there, but then she’d thrown it away.
How confusing. I ran to get the bone. Then I settled down to give it a good chew.
“Shelby! Put It in There!” Teresa called out.
I looked up at her. She’d said my name. What did she want? I went to her side to see. I dropped the bone on the ground at her feet and nuzzled her hand so she’d remember that dogs need petting.
(People need a lot of reminders about this.)
Her hand smelled like treats. I licked it. Then I sniffed at her pockets. I could smell that she had more treats somewhere. The thought made saliva start to gather in my mouth.
“Nope, no treat yet,” Teresa said to me. “Pick It Up! Put It in There!”
I tilted my head. What did she want me to do? Maybe she wanted to play. I took up the bone in my mouth again and showed it to her. Chase?
“Put It in There!” Teresa said, pointing to the box. Her hand was over the box now. Did that hand have a treat in it again?
I went to the box and stretched out my neck so that I could get close to Teresa’s hand. I pushed at her hand with my nose.
“Put It in There!” Teresa repeated.
I dropped the bone in the box so that I could lick Teresa’s hand.
“Good girl! Good girl, Shelby!” Teresa told me.
Then she remembered to give me a treat. At last!
8
Teresa and I played Training quite a lot. Sometimes other people joined us. Their names were Brian and April. They were kind and I could smell that they spent a lot of time around dogs, some of whom I’d never met. But no one was as special as Teresa.
We played Go-Mark very often, even though Teresa seemed to forget the rules a lot. First Go Mark meant “Run to the picnic table and get a treat!” Then it meant “Run to the piece of wood on the ground and get a treat!” I guess Teresa kept losing the piece of wood, because day after day she’d have to find a new one so that we could play the game. Each new piece would be smaller than the one before.
At last Teresa found a piece of wood that she could keep track of—a small disc about the size of one of my paws. Whenever she’d tell me, “Shelby, Go-Mark!” I’d find that disc and stand on it until she came to tell me what a good girl I was and how smart I was.
Sometimes Teresa even forgot the treat! It’s funny how humans can be so clever about some things—like opening cans of dog food or doors to the outside world—and so confused about others. But I always did Go-Mark right, even if Teresa didn’t. And she was always pleased with me.
One day, Teresa put the leash on me so that we’d stay together and she took me out to the car. I jumped in happily and sat in the backseat while she sat in the front. Things with wheels didn’t worry me any longer, as long as Teresa was nearby.
We drove and drove, until I got tired of sticking my head out of the window to sniff all the rushing smells, and curled up on the soft seat for a nap. When I woke up, the car wasn’t moving any longer.
“Okay, Shelby, we’re here,” Teresa said.
She opened up my door and took my leash. I leaped down and smelled something amazing.
It smelled … huge. And salty. And damp. I looked around in confusion. We were in a parking lot with a lot of other cars but no buildings. There was space and light everywhere, and small hills to one side. That gigantic smell came wafting at me over those hills. A sound came from that direction, too—a sort of growl that pulsed louder, softer, louder again.
I began to pull Teresa that way, eager to see what could be making such a salty odor. “Okay, take it easy; that’s where we’re going!” she said, coming along behind me.
We took a sandy path over the hills and I saw what I’d been smelling and hearing. Water! So much water! It stretched out ahead of me to the horizon and to either side as far as I could see. And it moved in a very funny way. The water in Teresa’s pool jumped and rolled when Hercules leaped into it, but this water heaved itself up in hills and then flattened itself out again as it slid up a long stretch of wet, sloping sand. I was amazed—did Hercules know about this place?
Birds were swooping and soaring over the water, and people were walking beside it. Some of the people had dogs with them. New and fascinating scents rushed to my nose—salt and seaweed and people and dogs and sandwiches and potato chips from a family that was having a picnic nearby and something sort of like the fish Teresa sometimes ate for dinner and many, many more that I couldn’t identify.
It was so exciting that I danced on the end of my leash and Teresa laughed at me. She waved at one of the walking people who was connected to her dog by a leash. “We’re here!” she called.
This new person came over to us. I knew her—it was April! And she had another dog with her! He was a shaggy brown male with a white blaze down his face. He was both bigger and older than me. In fact, he was gigantic! Angel could sleep several nights on top of him and never be in the same spot twice!
“Here’s Gusto!” April said.
“Let’s let them get used to each other a bit,” Teresa said, loosening up my leash so that I could get near to this big dog and smell him properly.
He was calmer than I was. I frisked around him, sniffing all the right places, but after a few polite sniffs he sat and looked up at April, as if waiting for her to tell him what to do next.
But I knew what to do next! We should run! There was all this sand. It would be excellent for a game of You-Can’t-Catch-Me. And there were birds! We should chase the birds. They were not as good as lizards, but they’d do.
I stretched out my front legs in front of the new dog, Gusto, and bowed down so that he’d get the hint that it was playtime. But he just looked at me. Some dogs are all business. I guessed Gusto was one of them.
That was okay. I still had Teresa. I straightened up and tugged at the leash and looked up at her. Chase-Me? Now?
Teresa did not get the hint. “There they are,” she said. She waved again at two more people and they came over to us, walking a little unsteadily on the sand. I’d met them before, back at the place with all the dogs in pens. Bruce and Cathryn!
“Wow, Shelby looks amazing!” Bruce said. He crouched down to greet me and rub both his hands in the fur around my neck. He was pretty good at it. Not as good as Teresa, of course, but acceptable. “You’ve gained weight. You look so healthy!” He glanced up. “How’s her training coming?”
“She’s a smart girl,” Teresa said, smiling. I pulled away from Bruce’s hands and went over to her. I knew the words “smart girl.” They were almost as nice as “good girl.” And they often came with a treat.
Not this time, though. Oh well.
“This is new to her, though,” Teresa went on, still talking to Bruce and Cathryn. “Gusto’s an old pro, but we’ll see how Shelby does.”
She took a small plastic container out of her pocket and showed it to me. My tail began to whap back and forth with enthusiasm. Inside the container were treats! One of the very best things about Teresa was how often she had treats in her pockets.
April gave Gusto’s leash to Cathryn to hold, and he sat calmly watching as April took a small shovel out of a backpack and dug a hole in the sand.
I wanted to go over and sniff at the sand, but Teresa still had the container of treats in her pocket. So I stayed with her.
Life is full of difficult choices like that.
Then Teresa tossed the treats to April. Wait! That was not right! Treats were for dogs, not people!
Teresa seemed to know how I felt. She stroked my head and smiled down at me. “Just a minute, girl. Don’t worry.”
April pitched the container into the hole and then began to pile the sand back in on top of it. How strange people were. First April dug the hole; then she filled it in!
“Okay, Shelby. Okay, Gusto,” said Teresa. “Dig!”
She nodded at Cathryn, and Cathryn let go of Gusto’s leash at the moment that Teresa let go of mine. We both knew just what to do. We ran to the spot where April had filled in her hole and started to paw frantically. There were treats down there!
“So what’s this for again?” Bruce asked, while Gusto and I sent sprays of sand between our back legs. “There’s nothing in the movie script about digging something up on the beach.”
“The avalanche scene,” Cathryn said. “When Gusto and Shelby have to dig the victim out of the snow? You remember? You wrote the book, after all.”
“But this is sand, not snow,” Bruce said. He sounded puzzled.
My claws scraped on something plastic. The container! I’d found it! Gusto pawed right next to me, and in a few seconds we had it uncovered. I grabbed it up in my mouth before he could get it, and pranced around, showing it to him. Now maybe he’d play?
“Good dog, Shelby. Good dog, Gusto,” Teresa said. “Okay, Shelby, give me that.” She held out her hand for the container. I was disappointed. I could smell the treats and almost taste the treats, but I couldn’t get them out. It wasn’t worth all the digging after all! I let Teresa take it.
Then Teresa—wonderful Teresa!—opened up the container and shared the treats with Gusto and me. “Well, we don’t have snow in Los Angeles, so this is the closest thing,” she said to Bruce while she was doing this. Her voice was extra-patient, as it was sometimes with me when we were doing Training and it was hard for me to figure out what she wanted me to do. Bruce, I decided, was very much like a dog finding it difficult to learn new tricks.
“We’ve got to practice somewhere,” she went on. “The two avalanche scenes are going to be Shelby’s biggest challenges. She starts out trying to free herself from the snow—though she’ll actually be in a big buried box and will just climb up a ramp and out. But then comes the most important stunt she has, where she helps Gusto find the victim in the snow and dig the guy out. If she doesn’t get that scene right, we’re going to have a real problem.”
“Shelby’s so smart,” Cathryn observed.
Teresa nodded. “She is, but I like to train my dogs so that they’ve practic
ed exactly what they’re going to be doing in the movie. For this scene, though, pawing through wet sand is as close as we can come.” She shook her head. “Shelby loves to please people, so she’s very trainable, but she’s still young. I hope she can figure it out when we’re actually shooting.”
They were saying my name a lot. I gave Gusto a smug look—clearly I was the most important dog today!
Teresa shook more treats into the container, and April began to dig another hole. It’s very odd how humans like to do the same things over and over again. Teresa tossed the container into the hole, and April piled the sand over it once more.
“Dig!” Teresa told Gusto and me.
We dug. The hole was deeper this time, and it took us longer to get to the treats. Wouldn’t it have been easier just to put the treats on top of the sand and skip all that digging? And why would anyone bury a treat when it was so much nicer just to eat it?
It turned out that Dig was a game kind of like Go Mark, where the humans kept forgetting the rules. First Gusto and I did Dig together. Then Teresa kept hold of my leash while Gusto did Dig. I squirmed restlessly by her side. What if Gusto dug up all the treats? What if this was something like what used to happen in the yard with my mother and my littermates, when there wasn’t enough food for all?
“Wait, Shelby. Wait,” Teresa said softly to me. Her voice was soothing. “You’ll get your turn.”
Gusto did get treats! Unfair! April took him to one side to eat up his reward, and Teresa let me go.
I leaped into the hole that Gusto had started and dug and dug. “Whoa!” Bruce said, jumping out of the way of the sand I was throwing up. I didn’t feel bad for spraying him with wet sand—he had to know we were doing Dig, and if he didn’t, perhaps he shouldn’t be standing so close to the hole.
There were treats in the hole for me, too! I felt much better after Teresa pulled them out of the container and gave them to me.
Then the people changed the game again.
April dug another hole and buried the treats, but this time something very odd happened. When Teresa told Gusto and me to Dig, a loud buzzing sound came out from under the sand!
Puppy Tales 05 - Shelby's Story Page 6
