AA #7 – Focus Is Hard

Agatha is 13 weeks (3 months) old in this adventure. She has started Puppy School, where learning to Focus may help her become more than a good student—it may help her become a good friend to Charlie.

I am a puppy, and I go to school now. My people call it Puppy School. I do not know why puppies need school because I already know how to run, jump, chew, find things, and move things. Sometimes I move Charlie. Charlie does not like that part.

My people packed my leash, water, and many treats. Then they packed more treats, so I knew we were going somewhere important. When they said, “Puppy School,” I bounced, spun, found one toy, found another toy, and then forgot about both of them because it was time to leave.

The big white machine took us to school. I like the big white machine now because it takes me to places, and places have smells. Puppy School smelled like dogs, feet, and treats. Even the people smelled like treats. School seemed like a very good place.

The first thing I learned was called Focus. My person said, “Agatha, focus,” but I looked at the treat. Then I looked at the floor because something had been there. Maybe a dog. Maybe food. Maybe both. When I heard a noise behind me, I looked there too.

“Agatha.”

I looked at my person and got a treat. Oh. Focus means look at my person.

That is difficult when there are dogs, feet, noises, smells, and treats everywhere. My eyes want to look at everything. My ears want to hear everything, and my nose wants to smell everything at the same time. Focus is hard.

Then we practiced Sit. I know Sit because it means my bottom goes down. Sometimes my bottom comes back up very fast, but it still went down first. My person said, “Sit,” so my bottom went down, I got a treat, and my bottom came back up. I was ready for the next thing.

I am good at Sit. I am not always good at staying sat.

Then we learned the best thing. My person held out a hand and said, “Come Touch!” I ran to the hand, bumped it with my nose, and got a treat. Then the hand moved, and I did it again.

Run to the hand. Bump the hand. Get a treat.

I understood everything. I did it again and again until I mastered Come Touch. That means I was very, very good at it. Maybe I was the best puppy student ever.

When we came home, I ran to Charlie and told him everything. “Charlie! I went to school! I learned Focus and Sit, and I mastered Come Touch!”

“I am aware,” Charlie said. “The entire house became peaceful while you were away.”

He said it was natural that I mastered Come Touch because it involves running toward a hand and receiving a treat. Charlie knows many things. He probably went to school for a long, long time.

We have homework now. Homework means my people say school words at home while I am trying to do other important things. When they say, “Focus,” I might look at a leaf. Then I might look at Charlie. Eventually, I look at my person and get a treat.

Sometimes I Focus very well. Sometimes the world is too interesting. Sit is easier, and Come Touch is easiest. I almost always come touch unless I am chewing something important or chasing my tail.

Charlie has homework too, but I do not think he knows it. Every morning, my people put medicine in his eyes. There used to be fewer little bottles, but now there are three. One, two, three.

Charlie sits still even though he does not like it. I can tell he does not like it, but he lets my people help him. Then he gets a treat. Charlie is also a good student.

I am starting to notice things about him. He walks slowly sometimes, and he looks the wrong way when someone calls him. Sometimes he gets very close to a chair or a wall before he knows it is there. Charlie cannot see very well. I did not understand that before. I thought he was only slow because he is Charlie.

Sometimes my body tells me to run toward him. My legs move, my nose goes down, and I hurry beside him. Sometimes I bump him before he reaches a chair. Sometimes I bump him when there is nothing there at all. I do not always know why.

My people say I am herding Charlie. I do not know what herding is. I only know that sometimes my body says, Go there, Charlie. Turn this way, Charlie. Do not wander away, Charlie.

Charlie says my body is rude. Maybe it is. But now I wonder if my bumping could help him someday. Maybe I could keep him from walking into things. Maybe I could show him where to go.

I tried to explain. “I can help you.”

“You can help me by not launching yourself into my side,” Charlie said.

“But you cannot see everything. You almost walked into the chair.”

“I was inspecting it.”

Charlie inspects many things with his face.

I think I need more school before I can help him. I need to learn when to move, when to stop, and how to be gentle. I need to listen to my people even when the world is full of smells, sounds, and interesting things.

Charlie cannot see everything. I see many things. Sometimes too many things.

Maybe that is why I need to learn Focus, so I can help Charlie one day.

I must be a good puppy student.