Jeff Silverman

It looks like Professor Chaos (or Kaos) is going to be the puppy’s name.   My wife, the breeder, and several friends mounted a lobbying campaign for Chaos, but it didn’t seem right to me by itself.  Professor Chaos, on the other hand, has a cuter ring to it for me.  I think we may settle on it today.  I’m trying it on for size throughout the day.  He’s been an absolute joy so far.  He’s a lover who always wants to be touching someone (human, dog cat, whatever).  He’s already bonded to me with particular intensity, but he loves my wife as well. 

Much of the last 48 hours since he left his mom and litter-mates has been pretty text-book.  There’s a lot of important stuff going on with him already.  He got a great dose of socialization both days.  In the last 48 hours or so, he’s experienced:

A couple of weeks ago, I heard an NPR story (http://tinyurl.com/ydxe7wt") that, for a brief moment, I mistook for dog training satire.  The story featured dog trainer Vladae Roytapel, who bills himself as “The Russian Dog Wizard.”  NPR tells us that Roytapel emphasizes making certain sounds – which he refers to as “Doglish” – in his training, and views knowing who’s in charge as a dog’s single most important need in life. The story plays up Roytapel’s youth working alongside his behaviorist grandfather and being tutored by an unidentified legendary deaf-mute Russian dog trainer as evidence of his status as an expert.  Sadly, the story was not satire, but instead a reflection of how dog trainers are now understood by popular culture.      

Most of the time I enjoy helping people train their dogs so much that I feel almost guilty getting paid for it. Still, even the best job can get frustrating at times. Sometimes I get a really difficult class or a stretch of trying clients at the same time that I fall behind in paperwork, and start to look at work as a chore. At those times, I like to remember cases – or even just small moments – that can remind why I love what I do. I had one of those cases just recently. It was a simple case, but one I won’t forget soon.

Most of us readily accept that our human loved ones and acquaintances have both good traits and not so good traits. We understand that good people with good intentions can get into serious conflicts. We recognize that children must be taught how to behave with others and will occasionally make mistakes along the way. We even know – and in most cases can forgive – that even the best people occasionally act very poorly. That kind of nuance often goes out the window, however, when we judge dogs and even dog owners. The specifics of how we judge dogs differ, but I’ve been noticing that the judgments tend towards the black and white. Some people seem to think that dogs are born either good or bad, with little room for anything in between. Others come right out and state that all dogs are born sweet and loving. If a dog behaves otherwise, they tell you, then blame the owner.