We humans had liver and onions for supper tonight. With bacon. And mashed potatoes. And broccoli.
There was some leftover liver that didn’t get fried, so tomorrow it’ll get turned into training treats for the furchildren.
Fergus is a master at lungeing. He is obviously not a purebred Cardi after all, but a cross between a panther and a draught horse. He bagged his third trouser leg this morning.
E.g. has been reading up on lungeing tonight. She’s the speedreader. Me, I’m so confused after reading tons of advice over the past week that I feel farther asea than ever. Just give me three to five rules to follow. Preferably ones that don’t contradict one another.
What I’ve read so far is:
- Getting angry won’t help.
- Being sympathetic won’t help.
- Ignoring the problem won’t help.
- Socializing him with his victim won’t help.
- Not socializing him won’t help.
- Praising and treating him when he’s not near any lungeworthy stimulus will help. (How?)
- Praising and treating him when he is near a stimulus will help. (But only when the potential lunge target is at a distance between 55 feet, where it won’t set him off, and 50 feet, where it will. And I’m to judge this distance how, exactly?)
So the hell with all that. I’m going to aim for much longer activity periods at the dog park, and extensive treat-training sessions at home, in the hope that he’ll be so physically and mentally exhausted that he won’t even see pantlegs, being too busy concentrating on not tripping over his own tired tooties.
And Cai won’t mind the extra liver bits either.