How NOT to Train your Dog

Why expose yourself to the elements when you can easily train your dog to run out the front door to retrieve your morning newspaper? I was halfway home from not having to run out in the rain or snow in my PJs anymore as I already had a 100-pound chocolate Labrador Retriever.  All I had to do was train him to fetch the paper.  This would be a snap!

The first morning of training, I held onto his collar, told him “fetch,” and walked him calmly right outside to the paper, about 30 feet from the front door. (We repeatedly asked the paper carrier that it be delivered right to the porch but in seven years, it hasn’t made it there once.)  I picked up the paper, stuffed it in Buddy’s mouth, said, “good dog!” and took him back into the house, where he was given a biscuit as a treat.  He was starting to get a clue.

The next morning, I repeated the process and did the same again, on the third day. By now he was showing keen interest, especially in the biscuit part, and seemed to be putting two and two together.  Even though a veterinarian had told me chocolate Labs were the “blonds of the dog world,” I was optimistic that this could work.

Come Day Four, I opened the door and said “fetch.” He bolted out the front door, all on his own, and headed in the opposite direction of the paper, where he proceeded to poop on my front lawn. I fetched the paper myself and cleaned up the poop. This was not part of the plan.

On Day Five, I let him out the door on the side of the house into the dog run for his early morning constitution before I had him fetch the paper.  While still in my PJs, I confidently took him to the front door, said the magic word and let him loose. He ran directly to the paper, picked it up and ran around to the right, back between the houses into our unfenced backyard. I ran back through the house, to the side door by the dog run and into the backyard yelling “biscuit! biscuit!”  He dropped the paper in the middle of the backyard and came running for his treat. There was no reward for this kind of behavior.  I retrieved the paper myself from the middle of my back yard.  I should have eaten the biscuit.

The next day, I decided to tie a 30′ rope to his collar so that he could not escape again. He had previously chewed the rope in two, so a knot was in place to keep it the full length. I again let him go in the dog run first to avoid the pooping problem.  When we arrived at the front door, I tied the rope to his collar and thought everything was now in place for a successful retrieve.  As it was early morning, I had on my favorite old chenille robe, my hair was doing the Phyllis Diller-Einstein thing, and I called my seven-year-old son to come downstairs to watch what was surely going to be a proud moment.  I opened the door, yelled ‘fetch’ and off he ran, causing the rope to burn through my hands so fast and painfully that I dropped the rope, which landed on my right ankle and immediately burned the skin around my ankle bone. Before I could jump aside, that darn knot caught under back of the wooden front door which then slammed shut, smacked my backside in the process and propelled me in all my morning beauty out on the front porch in the middle of the cul-de-sac. The dog was about four inches from the newspaper, lunging and stretching to reach it so he could trade it for a biscuit.  He could not go any further because of the knot under the closed front door and I couldn’t push the front door open to get back in the house with all this leaping and jumping toward the paper going on. I finally grabbed the rope and pulled him in, without the paper, pushed on the door and stumbled back into my foyer, where my wide-eyed son was still sitting on the steps. We looked at each other and he said, “Wow! That had to hurt!”     

It certainly did.

Another day dawned and with great trepidation and no witnesses, I got fully dressed and tried it again with nothing but hope and a biscuit.  Somehow that crazy dog grabbed the paper and ran right back to me.  I was stunned.  I exchanged the paper for a biscuit and we were both happy.  It was a resounding hard-fought success after too many failures.  Buddy actually fetched the paper flawlessly from then on, and sometimes I didn’t even have to give him a biscuit!  Getting the paper was treat enough for him.   However, getting the paper from him became difficult.  He discovered that if he shook his head, the inside parts of the paper would fly out and he could get a better grip on the roll.  Unfortunately, I wanted the entire paper, not just the adverts.   Occasionally, I had to wrestle the newspaper out of his mouth because he didn’t want to give it up, biscuit or no biscuit, which resulted in the front page or two being ripped to pieces and slobbered on.  But I felt that was a small price to pay for such glorious success!