Our big mistake

They say animal training has as much to do with the humans as with the dog. They're right.

While up in Oregon, Tom's sister invited us to dinner. We headed over to Barbara's place with delight. We looked forward to spending the evening with his two sisters and brother-in-law and knew it would be a great meal -- topped off by a blackberry tart made with berries we had picked wild that morning.

Lottie, a very well-adjusted white Lab, lives with Barbara and her husband Martin. So we thought we'd park behind the house in a shady area and leave Daisy in the car with the windows down. As Tom carefully backed into the spot, though, it felt like we were entering a steam bath. Too many trees breathing heavily in the muggy air. That wasn't going to work.

Oregon isn't like our little California coastal town, Montara. It's hot there in the summer, even in the early evening.

We moved the Mini Cooper to the front of the house. It was quite shady there, too, but less steamy. We rolled all the windows down, put a screen in the front and started down the steps toward the house. Little did we know that Daisy had already spotted big sister MaryBeth's tiny Yorkshire terrier, Winston, through the distant window. Winston lounged in MaryBeth's lap and stared up belligerently toward Daisy. Or at least she thought. Daisy started yelping almost immediately. She began barking more heatedly. Soon she was in a panic.

Winston just peered through his tiny brown curls at her. Horrible.

We asked Barbara to close the shades in the house but the damage was done. Daisy would not be left in the car, not with that little guy behind the shade, staring at her. And by then she had barked herself into such a panting frenzy that we didn't dare leave her alone.

Tom came out and comforted her. We had only one more option. It was cooling off nicely outside, so we got a rope and tied it to the waist hook on Daisy's halter, then tied her to a tree. We set a big bucket of water beside her and began walking nonchalantly toward the house. Daisy knew what was coming next, and she wasn't going to let it happen without a fight. All along she had been sure this time would come. One day we'd abandon her, and clearly this was it. She barked, she whined, she cried nonstop. We called down to her from the deck above, but even our nearby voices couldn't console her.

I think we withstood her misery about 15 minutes, at the most. Finally, Barbara's husband Marty suggested a solution. MaryBeth drove Winston home and Lottie went out to the car. Daisy got to come inside. She drank a couple cups of water, dribbled across the kitchen floor and collapsed in a relieved heap.

It's obvious we should have known better. Daisy isn't ready to be left alone, especially in a strange place tied to a tree. While she doesn't mind waiting in a car, it does stand to reason that the experience is totally different. The next day we set out for California, but we were all traumatized.











The rope after removal.