Along with chanting “She sells seashells on the seashore,” my mother, who had studied speech therapy in college, used to sing “Rubber baby-buggy bumpers,” and finally it makes some sense to me. Without them, Gus would already have beaten his baby carriage into twisted rubble. He’s toppled and dumped it more than once, but so far it looks no worse for wear.
Always looking to shove objects with the top of his nose until they fall over, Gus naturally relishes scratching that itch with the baby buggy. One good bop, and it tips up onto its front with a gratifying thud. My job is to click and treat him for touching the handle and sending the carriage forward, but not for getting his nose under the handle and lifting. Problem is, he’s so eager to play and so quick with his snout that I’m often a half-second too late. One useful approach is for me to roll the carriage ahead of him so he’s always following it, which helps to keep his nose more behind it than under it. If he overtakes the carriage and bops it broadside, I stop, reorient him by having him back up a few paces, and then guide the pram ahead of him again. I hope he’ll catch on eventually that this trick is about forward movement and not about knocking things over.
If I mistakenly click him for lifting the carriage, he does seem to lift it more and more in each subsequent try; conversely, if I withhold the click for lifting, he seems to push it more properly in subsequent tries. He’s a damn quick study. His only learning disability is his teacher.
No comments:
Post a Comment