Give a Little Whistle

I love my dogs, but I can’t get them to do tricks or commands without offering a treat. Allegedly my dogs come from a long line of miniature American Eskimo dogs that were trained at one point to perform in the circus. Those dogs could ride horses and do back flips and hop around wearing tutus. My dogs beg at the dinner table. And they drop toys at my feet for me to throw. Nothing even close to flips. Apparently dogs are only as smart as their owners.

Labor Day weekend brought the Soldier Hollow Classic Sheepdog Championship to our own backyard. Talk about smart dogs. I sat and watched as a man whistled short commands to a dog that was sometimes two or three football-field lengths away. Some whistles told the dog to “Go right,” or “Go left,” or “Stop,” or “Hey! One of the sheep is bolting and you’ve got to round it up before it blows the whole competition for us!” I wish I could simply whistle and my dogs would respond instantly like those Border Collies did. It was fascinating to observe each handler’s unique style and each dog’s skill with the sheep. At times it appeared that the handler was operating the dog and sheep with a remote control, because the cooperation on all sides was near flawless.

I’m sure many of you here in Heber and Midway have had an opportunity over the last few years to attend one of the sheepdog events at Soldier Hollow. Whether you’re a dog person or not, the dogs at these events are sure to amaze and delight. What I loved about the whole experience was the variety of exhibitions and activities. Not only were sheepdogs flaunting their expertise on the hillside, there were dogs leaping off a platform into a pool (which anyone could enter and try to win a prize), there were other dogs jumping through hoops and catching Frisbees, and there were still more dogs showing us humans how to properly herd ducks. It was such a pleasant experience.

After I arrived home Monday from the Soldier Hollow Classic, I instantly began trying to train my dogs to do anything other than “sit” or “lie down.” Fifteen minutes later I was frustrated, so I took them to the park to walk it out. When I saw a group of ducks near a little stream, I remembered what I had learned from the duck-herding dogs, but rather than train my dogs to herd ducks, I allowed them to chase the ducks away and then I used my new-found skills to round them all back up. We did that a few times and then my dogs got bored and indicated that they wanted to go home to beg for treats. I’ve decided to accept the timeless axiom: “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.” Except for my dogs are only a couple of years old. So I’ve tweaked the saying to fit my circumstances: “I can’t teach my dog tricks.” But hey, I won’t let that get me down; I learned something from a dog at a dog festival: “A young dog can teach a relatively old human (compared to a dog) new tricks.”

Someday I will learn how to communicate with my dogs through whistling. I think it would save time. Rather than explain why my books should not be eaten and watch as my dog cocks its head to the side as if she doesn’t understand, I could give a little whistle that means the same thing and she would get the message loud and clear. No mistaking “treat” for “tree,” or “no” for “snow.” Next time the sheepdog competition rolls around, I want to display my dogs in the “How to Speak Genuine Dog Language” exhibit. Course, you’ll have to walk half a mile to come see it, otherwise my whistles would screw up some poor Border Collie and instead of fetching a group of sheep down the hillside, she’d wind up trying to find a newspaper to bring to her owner.