“Annabelle….Oh, Ann-a-belle….ANNABELLE!”

Yep, that’s what I’m listening to as I sit on my front porch. It’s coming from my neighbor across the way. Our houses are separated by a dirt road, and each sits on top of its own little hill. But noise carries in this canyon like no one’s business, which makes pretty much everything everyone’s business. I see the man standing in front of his house, and although I can’t see her, I can hear Annabelle’s dog tags jingling as she romps along on her merry way. She’s an adorable Petey-looking pit bull who seems to love the Come-and-Catch-Me game she’s trained her owner to play so well.

I go back inside and take a call from a potential client. She’s got a few things she’d like to change about her dog’s behavior, including his selective hearing whenever she calls him. To be fair, he does come when she calls him from one room to another, and most of the time if he’s in the back yard. But take him to the dog park and let him get started playing with other dogs, and…well, you can guess the rest. Of course, calling him at the park usually means he’s going home. Smart dog.

My husband, having been married to a dog trainer these last twenty years, laughs when he hears the neighbor calling for Annabelle, and says, “Yep, if she doesn’t come, just call her again louder, that’s it…” It is funny, though, how many of us humans seem to subscribe to that philosophy. When my training clients call their dogs more than once, I gently mention that a dog can hear a potato chip hit the carpet in the next room; it’s a pretty sure bet your dog heard you calling the first time.

This is all amusing in a way, but its gravity becomes apparent when you realize that having a solid recall can mean the difference between life and death for a dog. Years ago, when my German Shepherd Soko was seven weeks old, I began training her to come when called. Sure, the training sessions were as short as her attention span, but we play-trained at it for mini-sessions each day. We kept practicing as she grew, moving gradually to more distracting environments and more difficult situations. There were lots of wonderful treats, games, praise and petting that happened whenever she complied, although she never knew which to expect.

All of Soko’s training paid off one day when my husband and I took her to the beach. That particular stretch of beautiful southern California beach was just downhill from the Pacific Coast Highway, an extremely busy freeway. Parking happens along the tiny shoulder that borders the cliffs leading down to the pristine sand. After I parked, my husband opened the beachside door of the tiny, boxy Honda Civic Wagon and bent down to tie his shoelace. Quick as a flash, Soko was over the back seat, out of the car, and headed into traffic. My first urge was to chase her. But I stopped, heart in my throat, and in my best “we’re training now” voice, said, “Soko, come!” Already partway into the first traffic lane, she stopped on a dime, turned, and came to me. Profuse praise followed. Soko passed away two years ago, but she had such a solid recall that I half-expect if I called her now, she’d come bounding out of the Great Beyond.

It takes a lot of work to get a solid recall, but I can’t think of anything more important to teach our dogs. And it’s really not that hard—just practice, more practice, and make it fun while we’re at it. Just ask Annabelle…