As I was heading to class last night, Maxwell managed to charge out the door ahead of me. Since I don't take him to Sadie's novice classes, he was naked; no collar, no harness, no nothing. He paused on the walkway briefly, a puppy grin beaming at the world. Then he bolted.
I called his name while holding back a struggling Sadie. Getting no response, I shoved her back inside (much to her chagrin) and ran after him. Luckily he ran down the steps to the parking lot, rather than up to the street. By the time I got down there he was two buildings away. I called him again. He just looked over his shoulder at me and tensed to spring away.
Then I realized what I sounded like. Here I was, yelling his name in a panic. I must have sounded pissed! So I changed the tone of my voice, and called his name again in the sing-song, high pitched voice I use when we play inside. He came at a dead run! Better yet, the puppy grin was still intact.
I couldn't risk his taking off again if I played with him as a reward. Instead, I picked him up, scratching him in his favorite spots, and carried him inside. As soon as we got past the near-panicked Sadie (OMGwe'regonnamissclasswehavetoleaveNOW!) I ran and gave him a huge treat.
This was something I've been taught, that I've told other people, and that I'd always believed. But I'd never had to put it into practice like this. Here I was with a hyper black puppy outside in the dark, with no physical means of control, and a fairly unreliable recall. The difference simply changing my voice made was enormously positive. And boy, am I glad!
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