Because I am on spring break with some extra time on my hands, I made a plan to practice some behaviour modification therapy on Shawn. I wasn't going to tell him he was in therapy, I was just going to conduct it without his knowledge, much the way I trained the puppies without asking their permission. (Actually I was hoping for a better result than I have achieved with the puppies who occasionally backslide into periods of utter defiance for reasons known only to themselves.)
The goal was to train him to stop leaving the sugar bowl on the counter and to put it back in the pantry when he was done. I had big plans, ideas to "shape" the behaviour with rewards for any progress in the right direction. Rewards for every step toward the pantry. I figured it would take about two weeks for the full modification to take place.
However, I just noticed this morning, on only the third day of therapy, that he has actually trained me. Since I've been on break, I've taken over the job of making the coffee, pouring it, adding his sugar, and putting the sugar bowl away. Interesting. He has some skills.
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8 comments:
Laughing out loud here. Yes, your biggest puppy definitely has skilz.
Ha ha! The student has become the master!
Clever man. I'd be bored if he wasn't.. but he's frustrating!
Puppies always know when they are being trained. Cover it up all you like, but you can see in their eyes they are on to you. Monkeys.
Rotten, aren't they? They're probably training me too.
I figure training requires some modification on the trainers part. That's what makes this whole behavior modification notion flip two ways....and interesting.
My husband is the one who's always trying to train me (well, used to always). The sad part is, I consider myself an empathetic person, but would the sight (or sound) of my dear husband sailing across the room to certain injury after tripping over one of various shoes dropped at random, cause me to change my ways, or at least leave my footwear in predictable places? Not so far...
...I'm not sure what's wrong with me...
Maybe the dogs are the ones training me too, Jerry. After all, I'm the one stuck picking up after them and not the other way around. Hah.
Bridget, I love this. I'm amused by your shoes, tossed at random, to trip your poor husband. Some people believe there are no such things as accidents...
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