Free Bad Dog by Martin Kihn Page A

fearsomely, supervised separation.
    Once the test items were finalized, there remained the significant challenge of socializing it. To this day, external perceptions of the exam—which isn’t an obedience title, exactly, and has few obvious, nonspiritual benefits—vary widely. According to an editorial in the
AKC Gazette
, it was originally believed by many that the CGC was a temperament test, similar to the American Temperament Test Society’s instrument, and therefore did not require training.
    “This view completely misses the point of the program,” ranted the
Gazette
. “Dogs are not born trained nor are their owners born knowing how to train them.”
    Amen.
    The test includes a number of basic commands, including sit, down, stay, and come, that no dog knows intuitively. But since there are elements of temperament testing, including acceptingstrangers and not shying from examination, it is the case that some dogs require less training than others to pass.
    As Burch says, “Some dogs don’t really have a hard time with the test at all.”
    And then there is Hola.

CHAPTER TWELVE
Family Manners
    F OR A CLASS with such a laid-back name, Family Manners Skills gets complicated very fast.
    “This week,” says our instructor, Wendy, much too soon, “we’re going to practice our lid work in preparation for ‘going to mat.’ You get the dog to touch the lid with her nose, and click and treat. Then you put the lid on the mat so she targets that, and then you fade the lid. That’s when you can start training the down-stay on the mat. It’s great for when you have guests, say, and you want your dog out of the way; you just say, ‘Go to your mat!’ and she goes. Right, Hola?”
    This is a class for
beginners
? She might as well have me teach Hola the ancient art of paper folding. We are in Family Manners because it’s a prerequisite for the more advanced Canine Good Citizen preparation program, at the end of which the dogs are tested.
    Our goal is to take the test in December and invite Gloria, who will then move back in with us for the best Christmas ever. It is now nearly October. We are doomed.
    Wendy is a syrupy-voiced fiftysomething woman with limp hair and elastic-waisted jeans, quite slender, unusual in a dog person, with an actual smile—a smile that vanishes with her sentence as Hola, seeing a friendly puss, darts toward her and tries to play some tonsil hockey.
    “Make her sit,” Wendy tells me.
    “Hola, sit,” I say, in my ultramanly training voice, which sounds like a cross between Pee-wee Herman and the Grinch Who Stole Christmas.
“Sit.”
    To her credit, a vague look of recognition passes across Hola’s deep brown eyes before she kisses our instructor on the nose.
    Being an expert, Wendy doesn’t flinch; she turns away. Dogs understand the cold shoulder better than people do, and Hola falls back on all fours. Turns out the best way to get a dog to leave you alone is to avoid eye contact, a technique well known to women in bars.
    “Okay,” says Wendy, still facing away from us, “let’s see some walking on a loose lead. Use treats if you have to. I’d rather see you cheating with the treats than walking on a tight lead. The dog should be at your side and not pulling. Let’s have the Berner show us how it’s done.”
    “Okay, Hola,” I say. “It’s showtime. Let’s go.”
    She stays.
    “Come on, Hola,” I say, squeaking up a register. All twenty-two eyes, canine and human, are upon us. “Come on, heel.”
    Hola starts panting and whining, making a sound that is like a cross between a tiny whoopee cushion and a woman approaching orgasm. (Or so I’ve heard.) She seems strangely rooted in place, like she is stunned.
    “Does she know how to walk?” Wendy asks. “Do you know what a food lure is?”
    It would take a very special person not to be able to figure out what a food lure is, but I don’t blame her for asking. We are burning daylight here.
    “Try luring her out into the