[Dailydrool] May with our Elsinore and young Charlie, part 3 of 3

[Elizabeth Lindsey]

Just before we left for Florida, our Elsinore took her pet therapy  
recertification test, something she and I have to do every other  
year. This time I signed us up for a refresher course beforehand,  
which Elsinore did well in. The morning of the test, I got up at the  
unreasonable hour of 5:30am so I could get her out for an hour-long  
walk to try to stem some of her insatiable energy. I swear that dog  
has terrier in her because she has a terrier's intense personality  
and energy level. So we walked the mile-long loop in the park and  
came back for breakfast. We left in good time for the testing site  
and then walked a little more there.

Elsinore was full of pep and vigor and high-spirited energy. Until we  
entered the building and began the test. After she spent a few  
minutes checking out the smells on the floor and we started the test,  
her sparkle and energy inexplicably began to dissipate. I wound up  
having to fight for her attention and focus the entire time. I was  
dismayed at how poorly she walked through a "crowd" of three people,  
when just the day before I'd had her at the Country Music Marathon  
finish line, and she'd walked through those crowds close by my side  
and without trying to veer off to get pats from everyone. When we  
reached the part of the test where she had to leave the "friendly  
stranger" patting her and come to me when I called to her, she  
apparently decided she was done with the test. She looked me in the  
eye and refused to come. And that was that.

I was pretty annoyed with her because I know she knows the material  
and has the skill set for passing this test with three paws tied  
behind her back. All that work we'd put into getting her ready for  
the test and she decides to put down her pencil and close her test  
booklet not even halfway through because she doesn't feel like doing  
it anymore? I had to leave a party early the night before so I could  
get home and bathe and groom her for the test. If I'd known she was  
going to blow it off, I could have stayed at the party longer. And  
slept in the next morning.

I could tell her evaluator and the assistants were just as dismayed  
as I, and it was heartening to realize they'd really been rooting for  
us. They all came up with theories for why Elsinore had quit. Perhaps  
she'd been walked too far before the test and was tired. Our ever- 
busy Elsinore tired? This is a hound who can run for hours, come  
home, and spend the rest of the day twitching around the house with  
still more inactivity and boredom. If I hadn't walked her, it's quite  
likely she would've been crawling out of her skin with too much  
energy during the test.

Perhaps it was my apparel that had kept Elsinore from performing her  
best. I work from home, so she's used to seeing me in jeans, baggy  
sweaters, and no shoes. For the pet therapy test, however, one must  
dress as one would if one worked for Corporate America. This baffles  
me because pet therapy involves dogs and being on the floor and in  
other situations designed to soil good clothes, but as hoops to jump  
through go, it's not an onerous one. If you're a woman, you get an  
extra point for wearing a blazer. Silly me, I thought that'd be an  
easy point to score, so I picked out a blazer at Goodwill and set it  
aside for test day, the first day Elsinore saw me wearing it.

I just can't see Elsinore being so thrown for a loop by my being in a  
skirt, hose, dress shoes, and blazer that she comes completely undone  
and can't remember how to follow the commands she's been practicing  
intensely for the past nine weeks. But stranger things have happened,  
I guess. The suggestion was made that I wear my testing outfit  
whenever I train Elsinore so that she sees it as being normal. If I'd  
known I was going to be condemned to wearing a blazer every day until  
the retest date, I would've chosen one I liked. Ah, well. I don't  
have to look at it, only Elsinore does.

Really, I just loved the way everyone was making excuses for  
Elsinore's poor performance!

I was out of town for about half the month, which greatly reduced the  
number of days I had available for working with Elsinore. But  
whenever I was home, I put on my "outfit" and took Elsinore down the  
block to a church parking lot to work on sitting, staying, coming  
when called, and walking past a pink ball (just like the one used for  
the test) without stopping to sniff it. All last week, I put on my  
"outfit" twice a day to work with Elsinore not only in the church  
parking lot but also at a Home Depot store that allows pets on  
leashes. We'd spend an hour walking the aisles, practicing ignoring  
shoppers and other dogs, practicing our turns, practicing ignoring  
interesting things on the floor, practicing being patted by "friendly  
strangers" without getting up from a sit position, practicing  
throwing some of her dance steps into the obedience work to keep her  
attention focused what she was doing and not on what was going on  
around her. On Thursday she did everything picture perfect, and  
Friday was almost as good. By Friday some of the store clerks were  
greeting Elsinore by name when we came in.

On Saturday I took Elsinore back to the dog training club for her  
retest. I scheduled it for late morning so that I could keep her  
morning routine as normal as possible. I did not take her for a walk.  
I wore my testing "outfit," which by that point could have stood a  
good dry cleaning. We arrived at the testing location 40 minutes  
early. I took Elsinore for a walk the length of three warehouses,  
which was as long as it took for her to fully take care of all her  
outside business. She bounced along and sniffed things and seemed in  
good spirits. By the time we got back to the car, it was starting to  
feel as if we'd about reached the forecast 89 degrees, and Elsinore  
had begun to pant. I gave her water and changed into my dress shoes.  
Just before we entered the building, I asked Elsinore to heel and to  
do a twist (one of her dance steps) in the shade of the building. She  
did both very slowly and with much coaxing. This did not bode well.

Once we were inside the building, Elsinore's energy didn't pick up  
and she wasn't interested in smelling the ring before the test began.  
It was warm in the building, though the windows were open and fans  
were on. The evaluator, after giving me the standard introductory  
directions, added that I should remember not to lock my knees because  
it was warm enough for locked knees to lead to fainting in there.  
Elsinore continued to pant. The first element of the first part of  
the test is for the dog to sit beside the human and not move an inch  
when a "friendly stranger" approaches to shake the human's hand. I  
told Elsinore to sit. I told her to stay. I pointed at the "friendly  
stranger" and told her "leave it" and that that person was "not for  
dogs." The "friendly stranger" approached, stretched out her hand  
towards me, and Elsinore slowly got up and drifted across me to greet  
the "friendly stranger."

Elsinore failed her retest almost as soon as it'd begun. And she gave  
every appearance of having intentionally, deliberately failed it.

Both the evaluator and I stared at her in open-mouthed amazement.  
Elsinore has always, always done this part of the test well. She's  
been known to cross in front of me to greet the "neutral dog," but  
never the "friendly stranger." All I can think is that she didn't  
want to go through the whole half-hour test because she was hot, and  
she knew that if she goofed it up immediately, she'd get to leave for  
someplace cooler. I told her I was hot, too--especially in that  
stupid blazer I had to wear so she wouldn't get "upset" by my "odd"  
appearance during the test--and she didn't see me copping out early,  
did she? But dogs are all about living in the moment, I guess, and  
that particular moment was too hot for our Elsinore.

The evaluator sadly told us that she was going to have mark Elsinore  
"not ready," and I just as sadly asked her when the next test would  
be. We'll have to wait until December, the month Elsinore's  
certification expires, before we can take the test again, and there I  
was trying so hard to avoid having to retest at the last minute.

After we left the testing site in disgrace (well, I felt disgraced,  
but Elsinore felt pretty darned good, especially after I turned on  
the car's ac), I drove us to the hospice where Elsinore works once a  
month. It's a well air-conditioned building. We got inside, and  
Elsinore spent the next hour and a half happily putting in a classic,  
textbook pet therapy performance, providing high quality interactions  
with unsupervised toddlers, depressed old ladies, and even actual  
hospice residents in their beds (*not* her favorite group of people  
to interact with). She did her job with ease and beautifully  
controlled but genuine friendliness. She listened to me and followed  
my directions without my having to fight for her attention or  
cooperation. If only such exemplary work behavior could count as the  
recertification test!

On our way to the hospice I'd started to wonder if her repeated  
failing of the test was her way of telling me she was ready to quit  
her job. But once again, she gave every appearance of absolutely  
loving the work she does there. If she really hated it, surely she'd  
be dragging behind me in the parking lot as we headed for the  
building. Instead, she's all wiggly eagerness to get inside and start  
greeting people, and she can stay focused on that for a good hour  
before she starts to get tired. I've also been wondering if she  
failed the test because she knew the daily visits to Home Depot, with  
all the treats and affirmations that came with those visits, would  
end once she passed the test. Alas for Elsinore, the daily visits  
have ended anyway. I just can't keep up that level of test  
preparation like that. There are other things that must be  
accomplished each day.

I remain disappointed in Elsinore's test performances and can only  
hope that the next retest date will coincide with a day she might be  
feeling "on" and actually ready to get all the way through the test  
without deliberately blowing it off.

Next time, I'll train her in Home Depot again, wear that stupid  
blazer every time I work with her, and--this is called desperation-- 
put in a call to the pet psychic just before the test so I can be  
sure Elsinore knows that if she fails that one, she won't be allowed  
to go back to work at the hospice until she passes the test. It'll be  
interesting to see what happens next time.

Elizabeth