Behaviour Chains & Their Anchors

In no particular order, I'm posting some more of my favourite pictures of my RedDog. All are from the first five years of her owning me. I love this picture, me and young nephew and velcro red dog, stuck to my heels, firing up to run down that trail.



Big old GSD Samson, 100 pounds to my Red Dog's 30, the only domestic canine he ever allowed into his space. He's jawing on his favourite thing, a tennis ball,here, doing his "aw shucks, I didn't mean nothing" act. Red Dog is preparing for more stick twirling.



Stick twirling. Owned throws the stick into the snow, Red Dog Loved snow, the deeper the more challenge, bridge of Nose Pushes the stick forward, and throw it UP, aaaand Catch. Repeat, with a twirl of the stick, which became more and more incredible, through the years. One, two, three twirls, and catch. WhatAdog.



This move always worried me. When she'd hold it between her paws, point it straight downwards, towards her throat, I'd call it. Usually, she'd just spin it parallel to her body. She's considering whether or not to worry me, here.





Very early days, the first couple of months of being owned by Red Dog. I had no idea how she'd react to my Simon cat. Simon had grown up with Mr's Small's poodle Mon Ami, so he was pretty blase about dogs, and really about everything. Very cool cat. My Roomie's cat, not so much. The first day I brought Red Dog home, Roomie's cat Exploded out from under a favourite chair towards her. Red Dog totally ignored her, nonplussed. Good dog.
Anyway, Red Dog showed Simon the joys of rolling on your back. She's begging Simon to play, while Simon says "I have a CATnip box! Piss OFF!" I'm sorry for the horrible busy background of the two of them on their backs. I haz no decorating skills, and it was a rental house. Good excuse, yes?


I think of life as a very long chain, you see. I think of our behaviours, who we are, as simply sets of behaviours. I've been called analytical and cold, and it's an accurate assessment, in some ways. I've been watching myself with interest for years. Me, myself annnnnd Eye.

It's how I've learned just about everything I ever wanted to learn. I built it, like a chain, until I could travel the whole length without faltering. Physical, or memory, or both. I was settling into my patterns, as a kid. These patterns including lying all over horses necks over fences. Most annoying.

Starting back riding with ol' hammer headed grey horse from a few posts back, I'd been astounded by what parts of me had changed over the years. I'd never stopped reading or watching, when I stopped the horses. I'd stayed fit enough with my red fox dog.

So, climbing back on again, after 6? years was "interesting". Oh, painful, no kidding, but my GoLightly stamped my chain well. As long as I reminded myself of my own symmetry and purpose, old grey horse offered himself gladly to me. We built strength together.

That's what all training is, really. Learning too. It's a chain. It can be broken. It can be rebuilt. But as with any chain, it's better not to break it.


If it's built properly, incredible things can result. A Red Dog that practiced to be a Drum Majorette, or a horse happily piaffing.
(Dr. Reiner Klimke & Fabian, date unknown, thanks again to BunnyAin'tNoKindofRider's Blog, where I originally shamelessly stole this picture from. Hey, I asked!! She never answered. Great to see her posting again. Credit, always, where it's due.)