10:38 a.m.
Saturday, Jan. 11

Chester has been in training with me for the past three days. Before taking him off his chain, I make sure the lead is attached and one end securely in my hand so he doesn’t get away from me. Then we start walking, with him learning to heel beside me, and to sit.

He’s already catching on, as they do. Dogs are smart, and eager to please -- even this one, who doesn’t listen worth shit.

The second day, the kids were getting off the bus as I put Chester on the chain, and Barney had put his favourite cat on his shoulder and was walking around the yard with it and following me. When the cat hit the ground, Chester lunged for the cat and damn near pulled me off my feet. Without Barney also grabbing the chain, the cat would’ve been caught.

The first day, when I gave Chester shit for lunging at the horses, he cowered away from me as if afraid I would hit or kick him. In a way, though I felt bad about it, I was relieved that he fears me a little. Before that, I was afraid he might turn on me if I was too forceful with him.

The only collar Chester has is a chokechain, and using one is the only way I know how to teach obedience. When we lived on the acreage in Alberta, a neighbour was taking his dog to obedience classes, and he’d come over and show me what he’d learned so that I could teach it to our dog.

She learned surprisingly quickly too, and seemed to love the lessons and be proud of herself when following the commands. We moved into a town and she wouldn’t stay in the yard, and I didn’t want to keep her chained, so gave her away to someone in the country. I sometimes wonder what happened to her; I phoned once about a year later, and was told she wouldn’t stay home there, either. That does not bode well for a dog.

She was part Shepherd too, so I am reminded of her when I look into the golden-brown part of Chester’s face.