Campo Dog

I picked up a book on dog training from the Peace Corps library. I read it often for amusement, mostly, and occasionally to keep from killing my dog when she craps on the floor. I’m happy to say this is not happening quite so often anymore, so at least one thing has proven successful. The book says: “if you catch a pup making a mistake, make a startling sound by clapping your hands. This will often stop him midpee. Then scoop him up, take him to the right spot and praise him when he finishes what he started.”

That was really fun the first 15 times we did it. Never did she stop in the middle even though I swear I always caught her right in the middle; I think I probably scared the rest out of her in a hurry. Soon the delightful clapping turned into a snarly, growling LEONA!!! NO!!! and then finally a solid swat on the nose, which the dog bible positively condemns. But guess what? She hasn’t had an accident in three days at least.

There is a whole chapter on ‘puppy-proofing’ your home. I could not stop laughing, as it is obviously written for the comforts of a Midwestern suburb. There are no ‘common household dangers’ in Bolivia, but plenty of uncommon ones. “Any bone your dog can crunch should be kept away from your pet. Use sterilized bones from the pet store …”

We don’t have pet stores. The rest of the dogs in town subsist on bones, thus it’s a virtual bone yard in my backyard and in the street, too. In the beginning, I was pulling gross things out of her mouth left and right including the skin of that goat she keeps finding in the garage, dead possum like creatures on the street (which, thankfully, she does not roll in like Emily’s dog), the trash that my host family refuses to put up out of the way and the chicken bones the other dogs leave lying around. Now I just don’t bother or we’d be arguing all the time. I bought more de-wormer and I just pray she doesn’t eat something that’ll kill her.

I feed her puppy chow three times a day, per The Book’s instructions, but she’s always hungry. My host family leaves out alternately pots of the bloody water they used to rinse meat, a corn-based soup with a week’s worth of bones in it or suero, the sour remnants of the cheese making process that gives her diarrhea every time. Leona, of course, is first in line for these specialties. I am slowly training myself to refuse dog kisses.

There are a few tips that are spot on. For example, FRAP, Frenetic Random Activity Periods, a behavior I had already labeled “puppy spaz.” It happens when she’s walking along just fine and suddenly starts leaping in the air, spinning in circles, rolling and running. At least once on our daily constitutional she goes nuts and it’s truly hilarious. I am sad to read that she’ll outgrow it, as well as her propensity to lie with her back legs straight out in the “flying frog” position. If you catch her in the right minute, she’ll even crawl over to you on her belly. It’s not in the book, but we call it “stealth mode.”



She was getting really good at table manners and not jumping, but I’m sort of stuck in that my little host brothers are forever encouraging her to beg and jump and roughhouse. I often ask them to stop or scoop her away for a while, but I always catch them again later when they think I’m not looking. I wonder how their parents would feel if I gave them each a solid swat on the nose.