Sahara: Her Trainer's Tribute

I've been teaching people to train their dogs since 1985. During that time, hundreds of people and their dogs have touched my life. Some have gone on to become dear friends...others have had a more temporary presence, but a permanent affect.

At a recent orientation for new students, one new student asked a question about her dog. Frankly, I don't remember the question but I do remember the look on her face. Fear. I began to answer her question and then stopped. "Are you crying?", I asked her. "Not yet, but I'm getting ready to." I replied, "Oh, please don't cry! There isn't anything that you and I can't work on with your dog."

Vanette (yes, that's her real name), was enrolled in a class taught by someone else. I asked her if she would switch days in order to attend my class. She did. I gave her my cell and told her to call me when she reached the parking lot. I would come out to her car and help her in with her dog. I promised to take good care of her. All of this...and I didn't think to look at her enrollment form. I had no idea if this was a puppy, older dog or what primary breed of dog this was. I just knew that if things were to the point that a woman would cry in front of 50+ complete strangers...this nice lady needed help. That much, I did know.

At this point, I have no idea what to expect. I mean...no one has ever cried during orientation (that I've seen anyway)! What kind of horrible dog must this be? And, just as importantly, what have I done to myself?

The next week, Vanette phones me as promised and I walk to the parking lot to meet here. There, standing before me is this lovely, year-old female Anatolian Shepherd. A big breed, the Anatolian originates in Turkey and Asia Minor. They live with the shepherds and protect the flocks. The Anatolian Shepherd Dog is a fiercely loyal dog that demonstrates a possessive attitude towards family, property and livestock all the while being suspicious of strangers, reserved when in public. The Anatolian requires an owner who can be a strong, positive leader who consistently requires civilized socially-appropriate behavior.

This is not a pet. This is a true working dog. I was thrilled!! Vanette, the poor dear, was still a bit pale. I met Sahara, spoke to her for a few minutes, and then took her leash. We three, two women and a striking Anatolian, strode into the training arena.

The next 4 weeks witnessed an incredible transformation. Sahara and I trained Vanette. We taught her that Sahara wasn't scary. We taught Vanette about hard-wired breed characteristics of the Anatolian and how to respond. Sahara acknowledges me with a gentle, continuous wag of her tail. Sahara looks at me when I'm teaching her. And, the highest compliment bestowed by an Anatolian Shepherd: Sahara lets me give her hugs. Not just the casual "aw, you're a good dog" hug. I'm talking about the soulful connection that the few lucky trainers like me have with remarkable doggy students. I love that she stands oh-so-still with my arms wrapped around her enormously strong neck while I bury my face in her soft white fur. Then, I kiss her head where the little black patch of fur is on the top of her skull....sort of like an "until I see you again, be a good girl" kiss. You can tell...Sahara and Vanette quickly become not just my project...but a team that I look forward to seeing every Thursday.

The June 26 class was a really fun, unique class. I was ten minutes late and caught Vanette trying to cut out. "Aha!" I called out to her. "Where are you going?" Vanette, smiling, turned back. Sahara had already seen me, and likely noted that I'm carrying the training treats I always supply. All of the rings were occupied, so an impromptu agility lesson was held. Vanette and I taught Sahara the dog walk, the A-frame, teeter-totter, the tunnel, the ladder, buja board and to sit and perch on the table. She did it all! I stood back and watched Vanette and Sahara play on the agility equipment, carefully executing the obstacles. Vanette was cheering. Students were standing ringside to cheer. Sahara was smiling. I swear. That dog was smiling.

July 2, I arrive at dog school to train my dogs. One of our instructors stops me to say that Sahara died. It was if someone punched me in the stomach. I stood there stunned, crying, as Jenn delivered the news. "Vanette says that she'll still come to class this Thursday" Jenn informs me. "She'll still be here, but she wanted you to know."

Vanette has learned, as we all have, that this is the cycle of life. I am reminded of Irving Townsend, who so aptly penned:

"We who choose to surround ourselves with lives even more temporary than our own, live within a fragile circle, easily and often breached.Unable to accept its awful gaps, we still would live no other way.We cherish memory as the only certain immortality, never fully understanding the necessary plan."

Sahara was not my dog. Sahara loved her family, but I was not family. I was a trusted friend, allowed into her circle of trusted humans. My friend, Sahara the Anatolian Shepherd, is gone. Vanette remains. My job, my role as trainer-turned-friend is to support Vanette, to understand her loss, to listen. To let her cry. To cry with her.

Tonight, I'll meet Vanette at her vehicle, just as I have every other time. Probably, we'll stay out there for a while and soothe our souls, as we remember the dog who was responsible for our friendship.

I will miss Sahara.
My first Anatolian Shepherd.
What a thrill.
What an honor.
Thanks, Vanette, for sharing her with me.

~ Andrea