Herd Mentality

Yesterday was not a good day on many levels, including finding the garbage in the kitchen brimming with maggots. What a job that was, after realizing that the kitchen floor was moving, covered in what looked like mobile grains of rice. Of course, I knew exactly what they were, but eradicating them was a labor extensive, exhausting, and totally yucky experience involving lots of bleach and really hot water.

Ranger decided, perhaps because I was distracted, that he would just do his potty business wherever he happened to be at the moment. Not only was I irritated, but I was annoyed that my carpets were being soiled at an alarming rate. Yeah, sure, it's only a tablespoon of whatever, but it doesn't take all that many tablespoonsful to become a cup, you know? Finally, in exasperation, I tapped his teeny tiny butt, gently rubbed his nose in it, and set him outside AGAIN. Closing the doggie door to keep him there no longer works as he can get himself back inside by hooking his front paws on the bottom ledge, then scrappling his back feet up the metal to provide momentum that propels his front onto the kitchen floor. He is smart and well-motivated.

Mia and Daisy must have picked up on my frustration because they stepped up to the plate and started herding him outside every time I took him to the patio. They took him out into the yard and stayed with him until they had proof he had done what was expected. The rest of the day improved drastically, with more waste being deposited outside than inside.

This morning, when we got up at 5 am to take Ranger outside before we have to put him back into the crate while we go for our walk, the girls took him out to the dog run, where the big dogs poop and pee. They stayed out there long enough that I was pretty sure he'd done both jobs, perhaps several times. When we returned from the walk, back out to the dog run the girls went, with Ranger on their heels. Yippee!

I am fascinated that animals communicate without ever making a sound. One of the girls sniffs Ranger's private parts, then pushes his behind with her nose and walks him out the slider. She takes him to the places he's already used, so he sniffs, knows this is the place, squats and does his business. When he's finished, the girls stay outside with him for a bit longer, then bring him back inside. He's found the big pillow under the patio table and has started dragging out a toy to play with during the cooler hours of the day. Once he knows the outside and programs his mental muscle to go there to do his business, I think we'll be good to go.

If dogs can get this concept, how come young mothers don't seem able to replicate it? I've always said that raising children is a whole lot like training a dog: constant repetition, strong positive reinforcement, but a bit of negative when it's called for, too. Yelling at children works the same way it does with dogs: it scares them, they squat and pee, and then find a good hiding place until the danger passes. I hear constant screaming coming from home after home as we pass them during our morning walk, often laced with profanity. The grocery store often becomes a battleground, with mothers screaming, threatening, hitting ... and scared children crying and trying to hide. The woman next door only seems to know how to communicate with her teenage daughter at a scream, day in and well into the night. Model the behavior you want to teach, we're always told, and these parents are doing a great job of replicating themselves in their children.

Sad to say, but when the children grow older, the behaviors they learn at home often go to school with them, so a teacher who is "nice," who speaks in a moderate tone of voice and does not threaten violence, is often ignored as inconsequential. The children are so programmed to respond only if/when the war erupts that they ignore anything and anyone benign, saving their fight or flight response for someone who warrants it. "Do your homework or you fail the class" is meaningless to a child who has been physically, verbally, emotionally, and mentally abused since infancy.

And so it goes in Liza Land.