Sounds simple enough, doesn’t it, dog walking? Having a cute little furry friend trot angelically alongside you as you admire the breathtaking views of the picturesque countryside. That’s what I had in mind when I first decided to get a dog, and boy was I in for a surprise. But would I change a single thing? Absolutely not.
My dog is a two-year-old Hungarian Vizsla, who to the untrained eye, may deceive the viewer into believing she’s a kangaroo, a dear or even her namesake, Seal. Full of beans is an understatement, even at two years old and past the puppy stage, she still keeps us going for hours, always primed and ready for the next adventure, and that, I now realise, makes having a dog all the more fun.
The first time I tried recall with Seal, I was both surprised and horrified when instead of gleefully running up to me, she instead sat still, giving me the classic Vizsla head-tilt. I didn’t know you had to make them want to come to you. Naturally, and after over a year’s worth of practice, I now know if you’re not acting completely berserk, as though coming to you is the most exciting thing in the world, it ain’t happening. Granted, after training, treats can also have the same effect, but try not to remind yourself that it’s not you they’re coming back for, it’s the bag of sausage in your hand, as that realisation can also be quite upsetting. I’ve had Seal almost a year and a half now, and have more of an understanding of what exactly works. Getting down low, running away, making questionable, loud, high-pitched noises, and the classic ‘what’s this?!’ usually have her bolting back to base.
Lead walking is an entirely different kettle of fish, and by no means the ‘easy option’. Not with a dog like Seal anyway. I’ll hold my hands up and say that this is largely down to not enough training and practice walking nicely on the lead, but for now, taking her out for a road walk means a heavy arm and chest workout for me. For some reason (and I recently learned that this is the case for many other dogs too), off the lead, Seal will walk nicely next to us if we ask her to ‘stay’ by our sides. On the lead? Absolutely not a chance. For some reason, strangulation is an appealing option at this point, and our Seal will opt for discomfort if it means being half a step in front. After a lot of stopping and starting, she knows now where she should be, but you can guarantee that she will conveniently forget unless reminded. Stopping in our tracks has her skipping backward as she realises the error of her ways, but no more than two steps later, she’s dragging us along with her once again. The stopping method is great, as she does eventually begin to get the hang of it, but it just means you need twice as long for a quick stroll around the block, so it depends where your priorities lie in the depths of winter.
The thing we’re working on at the moment is not jumping up at us when she comes back, although it’s hard because she’s so excited to see us after being somewhere else for all of thirty seconds. Admittedly, though, this is largely our fault for acting so damn exciting to get her back. But it doesn’t exactly enhance your walk if you’ve been punched by a paw in the stomach, or almost fall flat on your face after being pushed in the back. The mud everywhere is part and parcel of having a dog, so it’d be quite ridiculous to complain about that.
Dog walking is mostly an absolute joy, once you get the hang of it. Even now I’m still trying to keep one eye on her as she dives into a pile of bracken, and I’m still itching to call her back if I know there’s a road less than two miles away. Learning to trust her has been a massive thing for me, and trusting that she actually doesn’t want to run away from you at the first chance. I’m learning this slowly, and I can see it in her as she checks back every thirty seconds or so. I’ve also seen the look of relief on her face when she finds us again after thinking we’ve just taken off without her. I’m learning to let her have her fun, and that makes me having mine all the easier. Dog walking is something we’ve all seen before, but I’ve discovered the hands-on way that there’s a lot more to it than using a whistle and picking up poo. It’s not always pretty and it’s not always fun, but there’s just something a bit more special about going for a walk with a tail-wagging, tongue-flopping, mud-ridden, energy-filled four-legged creature whizzing along somewhere in your vicinity.
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