During Angus' third training session, the trainer and I took him for a long, slow walk through the park. Angus behaved beautifully — walking with a slack leash, showing some restraint (with our encouragement) when he encountered squirrels.
When a huge golden retriever flattened out on the path in front of us, blocking our way, Angus snarled and lunged at it, but a gentle touch at his waist and a few words from the trainer got him to back off immediately.
Instead of being thrilled, I was filled with dismay.
He is so good with her! He is not this good with me! I need her to go on all walks with us forever!
She laughed when I said this. "Yes, before training sessions I spray myself with a magic potion," she said. But seriously — these sessions show me what Angus is capable of. They also show me that the responsibility for his bad behavior lies at least partly with me and my reactions to him.
Perhaps to prove it, the next evening he was about as difficult as he has ever been — chewing the leash, pulling my glove off, whining after squirrels, dragging me up the street. Doug finally took pity on me and gave me Rosie to walk, perfect easy Rosie, and he took The Beast.
I cursed and muttered the whole way home.
Meanwhile, at the trainer's suggestion, we are working on impulse control in all areas of Angus' life in the hope that it is a transferable skill.