RETRIEVING, TUGGING AND PEANUT BUTTER

While I had early aspirations of Chris bringing up the laundry from our basement, I soon changed my tune and wished that she'd just pick up something I dropped. To achieve this, I acquainted her with a squeaky stuffed toy she enjoyed. When I dropped it and gave the command "pick it up," she learned that if she picked it up it would become hers. This gradually expanded to her placing it in my hand and eventually bringing it to me from elsewhere. When she brought her toy to me upon command, I would throw it and play ensued.

Chris never mastered the skill of fetching what her person wanted, but she's a whiz at tugging.

The most commonly used training incentives are praise, toys and treats. "Whatever it takes" was my motto. My intent was to teach Chris both to pick up dropped items for me and to retrieve specific things like remote controls, shoes, the newspaper or a cordless phone.

With a year of repetition Chris became a pro at these skills, with one exception: She would only pick up or retrieve her toys.

Whenever I dropped an item of mine and told her "pick it up," she'd look at me and sit, wagging her tail. The same held true for retrieving items. Chris was fantastic at distinguishing among her toys and bringing me exactly what I asked for -- as long as it was her toy. There was no fun in it for her otherwise. I moved on to another lesson.

If you have sufficient arm strength, you can use either a long sock with knots tied in it or a common tug rope to teach your dog a useful skill. Chris loves to tug and it's still a game I frequently allow her to win.

She learned to bring me her tug rope in the mornings and "tug" me into an upright position. I also find this helpful when I lie on the bed to get dressed. Expanding on this, I attach her rope to a door or drawer and ask her to "tug it open." Sometimes she will, sometimes she won't, depending on how badly she wants to play "tug," I suppose.

Turning lights on and off can be a handy skill for your dog to have. Imagine yourself saying, "Fido, get the lights," as opposed to transferring into your wheelchair from bed in order to flip the light or ceiling fan switch. Following Canine Assistants' practice, I placed cheese or peanut butter on the light switch and she'd flip the switch while licking off the food. The dog is supposed to gradually realize that moving the switch turns lights on and off and then do it on command.

But not Chris. Without the food, she would check out the switch and then walk away. Maybe you'll have better luck.

ON THE ROAD AGAIN

Chris was never allowed to run free outside but she needed to run off energy somehow. To combat this, I took her on Saturdays to a fenced-in four-acre community garden where she could run loose. She ran to her heart's content for three or four hours while I did some volunteer gardening, but when it came time to go, Chris refused to come. It took another hour of chasing her before she finally surrendered.

After a few episodes of that game I kept Chris on a 50-foot lead fastened to my scooter base. Gradually I let her have more lead, calling her to me at various times for practice. After a solid year, Chris learned to "come" without being on a lead but I believe it was also because she knew she was contained by the fence.

A Halti Headcollar can help in training a dog to follow you.

This accomplishment didn't help me much outside the garden or outside my home. If the weather was good and Chris got loose, forget about seeing her until morning. As frustrating as this was, it wasn't the worst thing to happen.

Chris, we learned, is not only a digger, she's a car chaser. In our first year together, Chris escaped from me probably a dozen times, practically thumbing her nose at me as I called for her. After my first few experiences chasing her around to no avail, I refused to go after her again. It took only about an hour of exploring before she became bored and turned her attention to car chasing.

I knew that, no matter what skills Chris might accomplish down the road, without my confidence and trust that she'd come when called, Chris could never become my service dog. When she squeaked free from her collar while I bathed her outdoors, or darted from our doorway, Chris was a liability. What if she caused an accident or took after a jogger or bicyclist, or got hit by a car?

We tried everything to be on alert when she might escape, and to catch her or make her return. But running away was a game she wouldn't give up.

My husband especially wanted Chris, whom he called Psycho Dog, gone. After a year he located a family moving to a farm in North Carolina who wanted to meet Chris as a possible pet for their children. But I couldn't abandon her or place her in a fourth home in four years, and Lee had become attached to her as well. While my hope for Chris' becoming my service dog dwindled, my love for her continued to grow. I had a real dilemma on my hands.

  IN RETROSPECT