Of Sheep and Obedience

Yesterday I was out with the dog, crossing a field filled with sheep.  As it is Spring, there were many bleating lambs in the field with the flock.  As we entered the field I could see the dog's muscles grow taut beneath her shiny coat.  She was excited and ready for the chase.  But these are not my sheep, not my lambs.  I cannot let her run wild, as fun as it might be for her or for me to watch.  She could well injure one of them, or worse yet, develop a taste for them. I have heard more than once of a domestic dog in the area chasing down and killing sheep or even injuring cattle.  

So, I need for the dog to obey me.  I have been training her to obey my voice.  I have been giving her treats and rewarding her for choosing to obey rather than just running off and doing whatever she feels like doing at any given moment.  It is clear that obedience doesn't come naturally.  She is pretty sure that she understands what would be best for her, or most fun for her, in any given moment.  Only she really is a dumb animal.  She doesn't recognize the subtle threats of disease or long term consequences for disobedience; heck, she doesn't even see an approaching car as dangerous.  She just doesn't get it.  So, I need her to obey for her own good.

As we enter the field I debate whether to put her on a lead.  I reflect on how well she has been obeying on the walk thus far.  I wonder if she can handle the freedom of being off lead, or if she would be best served by having the experience of freedom and the rewards I will lavish on her when she obeys.  I decide to give her a chance to choose obedience.  I pull the lead out of my pocket to provide a visual reminder of consequences for disobedience.  I can see from her submissive posture that she recognizes the possibility of consequence.  Ten, I give her a treat to remind her that I am the giver of all good things.  We start across the field as I call her to heel.

I can see the tension within her as she starts to quicken her pace and move toward the sheep.  I call her back.  She looks back over her shoulder...and returns to me.  I give her a treat.  As we start walking on, I can see that she has her eyes fixed on a little lamb nearby.  She is watching it move and drifting towards it.  I call her.  She does not look back.  I call her again, but it is as if she doesn't even hear me.  Then, quick as a flash, she is racing across the grass toward her prey.  Now I am shouting her name and running after her.  I can imagine the consequences that have never entered her mind.  The lamb hears the commotion and turns to flee, but this only encourages the dog to pursue.  Instinct has taken over now, like something out of "The Call of the Wild" she is a primeval hunter returning to her roots.

I keep calling to her and, just as she is about to close on her quarry, she looks back.  I am shouting, gesticulating wildly, and fervently insisting that she return.  After her quick glance back she continues on, careening into the flock.  The lamb disappears into the mass of hooves and wool and so she takes one of the sheep down.  She stands over her prize, unsure what to do with it now that she has knocked it over.  Then, she looks up at me rapidly approaching and slowly starts to return.  Moments later I am relieved to see that the sheep is back on it's feet and rejoining the skittish flock.  No harm done.

She comes back, groveling all the way.  She knows she has disobeyed and she sees the lead in my hand.  She knows she deserves the lash.  She is right.  I give her one swat across the bottom with the leather lead and give her a tongue lashing that I only wish she could understand.  She makes a big show of submission and obedience, but I can see that even then, in her moment of punishment, her attention was divided between me, her master, and the tempting flock still close at hand.   Even in the midst of the consequence she was thinking about how she might be able to slip away again.

Lord have mercy!