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Shortly after I arrived in Spain I met a man called Juan. He came to see me because he wanted to train his dog. It turned out he did not need me at all. Soon we became friends and Juan taught me some very important lessons. What struck me when we first met was the way he saluted me. He used to put his right hand on his heart while bowing slightly forward with a broad smile on his face. No one else in the village did that.

It took a while before I could understand him because my knowledge of the language of Cervantes was still very basic in the early days. After a few months he invited to come along to his chabola. Not wanting to admit I did not know what a chabola was, I got in his old Skoda pick-up truck {called a bakkie in South Africa} and off we went for a long trip. After many turns over small roads the track got smaller and smaller until it almost became invisible.

Close to a deep gulley Juan stopped the truck, got out and walked away. Following him what struck me was the stillness of the place. I was surrounded by rugged mountain peaks, saw huge boulders at the bottom of the gulley and a few stark bushes trying to grow in the hard and dusty soil. Juan gestured me to come closer to what was obviously his chabola. It was the back part of a lorry pushed against the rocky face of the gulley.

Here my friend was living, without the use of tap water, bathroom, kitchen or electricity. However he proudly showed me a small plot where long-stemmed plants were growing. Don’ you recognize it, he asked. I didn’t. He smiled at me and said he used it for porros. It took a while before I understood it was his personal stock of marihuana.

This lovable man had come to see me because he wanted to train his dog. What could I possibly teach him?

His request seemed strange because according to me he did not need me at all. The way he lived with his dog enabled him to do what no member of my dog training centre could do with her/his dog. Not one pupil could walk her/his dog off-leash although they were constantly yelling HEEL. But whenever I met Juan in the village his dog was always staying close to him although the animal never wore a leash. When Juan went for a drink in a bar, his dog would simply wait outside. When he was doing the odd job for a client, his dog would wait in the back of the old truck. Juan Domingo never had to say, let alone yell, anything at his dog. Man and dog fully understood each other without the use of words. They were a team, just like the members of a canine pack in the wild are a team. Juan’s dog was for me the clearest example of a very happy dog.

A year later I got a phone call from a German person asking for help with a problem dog. Arriving for my appointment I found an estate surrounded by a very long and high wall. At the massive wooden gate, I rang the intercom and announced Bruno der Hundeman. The gate opened purring like a contented cat and I drove my small van inside. At my right hand side was a vast and immaculate lawn surrounded by flower beds and palm trees. At the end of the drive-way I stopped in front of a huge and magnificent mansion. A maid came down the steps and said her master would soon be there.

I did not have to wait long before an impeccably dressed gentleman welcomed me with an extended hand. Over the following weeks I got to know him quite well, along with his wife and his young, gorgeous Saint Bernard dog. The huge dog was not a problem dog at all. He was simply bored stiff. Yes, theoretically he could run over an endless and immaculate lawn, but he was alone and did not do it. Yes, he was living in a fabulous mansion, but no other dog was ever playing with him. Yes, his owners were wealthy but were not interested in walking him. Yes, his owners were dressed in tailor made clothes but they did not want to throw a ball for their dog.

In other words, the dog was not only bored but unhappy. For weeks on end I visited the mansion and for each visit I brought along my own dogs. That was the best remedy for the ‘problem’ dog. As soon as my pack jumped out of my van they did not have any problem running, sniffing, peeing and pooing. Each time I was picking up their droppings the lord of the manor would say I did not have to do it. The gardeners would clean it up, he said.

At the end of each session I was invited inside the mansion for a chat. I very much liked the delicious cups of coffee, served in a set of famous German porcelain, accompanied by heavenly home made cookies. One day my client asked me if I would like to see his hobby. Could I say NO?

He took me to the back part of his mansion. In a garage that was tidier than my study has ever been, he proudly showed me an old Bentley cabriolet. I said hhmm and hhmm but did not have the courage to tell him his dog did not give a damn about the Bentley.

One rainy day I arrived at the huge wooden gate for another session, rang the intercom and…… the gate did not move. I called my client on my mobile but nobody answered. After a while I left. Later I was told how the business empire of my clients had suddenly gone to the…dogs.

Anyway you must have grasped the point I am making. Haven’t you? Juan did not have a mansion. He lived in a chabola and his dog was a very happy dog.

The young Saint Bernard was living in a beautiful mansion, but he was a very lonely, bored and unhappy dog.

See what I mean when I say how dogs are my teachers?

Kindest regards from Brunothedoglistener
Well-educated dogs are obedient dogs.
Obedient dogs are stable dogs.
Stable dogs have stable owners.
www.brunodogs.com

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