I was complaining online to my three children about the training of Chocolate, our toy poodle.
We bought him a toy to improve his IQ. It was a sort of treasure hunt, with swivelling layers of containers covered by lids, and Chocolate had to use his wit and paw, often helped by his nose, to turn each layer to a position where the lids could be removed. The reward would be the snacks placed inside the containers.
He was not choosy where food was concerned, so we just used kibble for the snacks. So far, so good. Once he got the hang of it, however, the toy lost its novelty, and he started looking for harder challenges. The upshot was he developed the habit of snooping for food everywhere.
My obedient, docile pet poodle had turned overnight into a scrounger for food. I took him to task for it but, then again, I'd inadvertently trained him to do it.
My grown-up children, who together presented their parents with Chocolate as our 30th wedding anniversary gift some years ago, said they wished they had been given the same latitude in their upbringing when they were small.
My daughter, Phoebe, had vivid and horrifying memories of being force-fed medicine at preschool age. Fabian was more of a fighter, and we had to wrap him in a bath towel so his limbs could not move before we could give him any medicine. Once he demanded to taste the medicine first. After a lick, he said, resignedly, 'Better wrap me up'.
