The Dogfather

his pretend prey with the obvious intention of breaking its neck. From the human end of the leash, Guarini said, “Stop that! Frey, no! No, Frey! Bad dog!”
    “When we speak to Frey,” I said, “we are reinforcing his behavior. If we say his name, we are providing especially powerful positive reinforcement.”
    Royal we.
    At the sound of my voice, Frey quit the game. Bright puppy that he was, he knew that I had better games in mind.
    “Frey, sit!” He sat. Instantly, I used my clicker and followed the sound with a treat, specifically, with one of the morsels of liver brownie that remained in my pocket. Smiling at the puppy, I stated the obvious, namely, that positive reinforcement works. Then I delivered the line about violence begetting violence and my pitch for gentle methods. “You brought the clicker I left at your house for you? And treats?”
    We were now next to the building, between the laundromat and the liquor store that’s next to Loaves and Fishes. If Guarini had forgotten to bring food, we could get some right around the corner. Same old same old! Dogs are easy to train: Provide positive reinforcement for the behavior you want and only for the behavior you want. What is positive reinforcement? Anything the dog likes. Result: good dog. But people? Damn!
    Guarini did, however, produce a clicker and a few pieces of puppy chow.
    “That’s good that you have the clicker,” I said. Positive reinforcement for the behavior you want, right?
    “The nuns used to use these things,” Guarini complained, “and not for positive reinforcement.”
    “We’re not nuns. And you don’t have to use the clicker. The clicker is an event marker. It tells Frey exactly what we like. But you can just use food and praise. Just remember to give the food and the praise after Frey does what you want, not before. We’re not using food as a lure. A lure comes before the behavior.” Translating the distinction into my pupil’s own language, I said, “In other words, we’re not bribing him. We’re paying him off. But if we want the payoff to work, it has to be a really good payoff. Meat. Cheese.” Examining the kibble Guarini had shown me, I said, “This stuff isn’t going to get us the results we want.” As we strolled toward the front of the mall, I continued. “What we’ve got here are one-dollar bills. What we need are twenties. At least.” We’d now reached the liquor store at the corner of the mall. “But ones are better than nothing,” I said. “I’m going to run into Loaves and Fishes and get some cheese and beef. I’ll be right back. In the meantime, stay here and work with Frey. If he watches your face, click and treat. Or if someone goes by here with a shopping cart, and he’s calm, click and treat.” After muttering the slogan of this school of dog training (“Catch him doing something right!”), I dashed into Loaves and Fishes, made my way past the worshipers genuflecting in the aisles to read labels, and after waiting a while at the deli counter and then again at the checkout, bought a quarter-pound each of roast beef and sliced provolone. My own dogs prefer cheddar, but in case I haven’t mentioned it lately, let me remind you that Frey was growing up in an Italian family, hence the provolone.
    When I emerged from the store, Guarini, flanked by the bodyguards, was just where I’d left him. (Good capo!) Frey had his eyes on his master, and Guarini was not only clicking and treating, but smiling and saying, “Good dog!” Except to hand Guarini some beef, I didn’t interfere. Let me mention that it never crossed my mind that Guarini might have moved during my absence. Let me also note, however, that I’d been fooled more than once during the Open obedience group exercises when I’d left Rowdy on an apparently solid sit, marched out of sight with the other handlers, and returned to find him in the identical position—only to be told by the smirking judge that the spectators had gotten a big kick out of watching Rowdy break position, step forward, roll onto his back, wave his big paws in the air, return to the exact spot where I’d left him, and sit where I’d authoritatively commanded him to stay. Guarini’s eyes lacked the telltale gleam I’d come to recognize in Rowdy’s; absolutely nothing made me wonder whether Guarini might have budged. In any case, training Guarini to train his puppy immediately occupied all my attention, and now that Guarini was offering beef and