Why is the most obvious thing often the most unexpected? When you run with a dog, letting him pull you by just holding onto his leash, your anchor point, meaning your shoulders, is pretty high up. You can be toppled over pretty easy. Let's get going downhill. Let's get into the pulling thing. Let's spot a car. Things can just get out of hand.
Our first wreck. All it took, on my part, was to start leaning forward a little and it was all over. I really did not want to let go of the leash, because this dog is nuts about cars and really loves to free run. Sometimes—well, usually—Harry seems to interprets "Come", in the most abstract, theoretical, and expeditious sense. I hit the grass at the side of the track, expecting to spend twenty minutes convincing him that submission to my control would be the best thing possible at that point in his life.
But that did not happen. He went maybe fifteen yards, turned around, and came right back. We are a bikejoring team.
We went about twice as far as yesterday. I need to review the proper commands for speed up and slow down. Right away. Harry is still somewhat incredulous that I want him to pull and lets the line go slack, I think, for my benefit—a concession to that whole don't pull on the leash human worldview. I think he is going to have little trouble compartmentalizing our home and bikejoring lives.
And, a couple times today, my oh my, he was one pulling dog.
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