Zuzu is prepped and ready for college
- col-leslie-pearce-keating
- August 25, 2023
- 658
I have learned from nearly 29 years in the classroom and 14 years teaching children’s theater that there is an art to teaching.
Some people make it look easy, but it takes two ingredients: the how-to and the heart. Now it’s time for Zuzu to emulate her big brother Finnigan, who left us a year ago after many years in the OSU classroom.
I’ve done all the preparatory work in the past few years. I took my 3-year-old Standard Poodle to training classes for a few years. First, there was beginner puppy class when she was still a wee dog of about 5 months. Then she graduated to intermediate schooling. After earning her second ribbon, she attended advanced obedience. Zuzu’s next adventure was Canine Good Citizen class, which she passed with flying colors. Last was Therapy Dog class, which she also aced. We studied at Best Paws Forward in the Medina area.
Truthfully, that’s when the real work began. You see when Zuzu was a puppy, she was a wild girl. She ran through my living room like the house was on fire. She stole socks from my tennis shoes and undid paper rolls in the bathroom like it was an Olympic event. But underneath that naughty girl was a heart of gold. From her first days with me, I also took Zuzu on 2-mile walks each day, and then we visited my favorite stores, like TJ Maxx and Michael’s, Hobby Lobby, and, of course, all the pet stores.
With pockets full of treats, I commanded Zuzu to sit in public amidst the crowds. I rewarded her when she didn’t jump on admirers. I begged onlookers not to touch her when she was misbehaving. Little by little, she learned. She eventually came to the conclusion getting petted or being given a cookie really did warrant good behavior. I don’t know if it is their Retriever heritage that made every one of my five Poodles jumpers, but Zuzu has been perhaps the hardest to break of this habit. It didn’t help much when those sweet dog lovers cooed, “Oh, I don’t care if she jumps on me. She is just so darling.”
But eventually, the 56-pound canine figured out my rules. She began sitting, her fluffy tail swiping the floor behind her as she whimpered with joy, her right paw reaching to give a high five to her latest fans.
During last spring semester at OSU, I began taking her to the classes I tutor, the meetings with my FRIENDS group in the evening. The kids fell madly in love with my often-crazy girl, who quickly settled after the first few moments. Whenever I would find myself getting upset with her excitement, I would remember Joe, the therapy dog trainer who said, “Yes, it can be hard when they are young and excited, but all too soon, the puppy is gone, and then it isn’t long until the old dog surfaces.”
Every one of us in the class — the handlers of Doodles, Goldens, Labs and Boxers — all paused, wiped away a tear from our eyes, then forged ahead with our boisterous babies.
So this fall I am going to try her out at OSU. I even purchased a few little girl dresses, a sweater or two, a few T-shirts and, of course, a boatload of bandanas. Again, I will start with the tutoring sessions, and then I will gradually move her forward to a class here and there.
Last week I stopped by campus to pick up a new textbook and clean some paper from my office desk. As I was walking up the hall, I could see my big, tall fella Finnigan running ahead of me. He would look back with a huge doggy smile on his face, his baby doll in his mouth, his bandana and T-shirt swinging to and fro. Finnigan really was one in a million. He had that heart for teaching. The kids lined the hallways as we walked to class, with him pausing for a scratch or a kiss. When he died, I really did feel like a piece of me went with him, but then I remembered the beautiful life I had been entrusted with: this new baby dog who so needed a mother. After all, I needed a baby too.
And now when I sit on the couch every evening, Zuzu brings me one of her babies, lays her head on my chest and, with a sigh, slumps on my lap like a giant lap dog. And I know she’s right where she is supposed to be.
Just like all the others before her.
Leslie Pearce-Keating can be emailed at leslieannpearce@gmail.com.