Keeps Gets a Hobby  Today Keeper and I hit a real low in our relationship; then, we hit a new high.     Part of the story starts yesterday, because my beastie dog got so entangled with his roommate that when I went out to rescue him, their cracked and frayed cables were wrapped and twisted about his body several times, enclosing more than one appendage in its kinks, one of these being his penis.  On top of that, his fur had got caught in some of these twists, so that every flinch from Misha resulted in a yelp of pain.  My heart nearly broke in two right there.  I had had enough of this; I will not tolerate the torture of my dog, even if he himself had a hand in it.     I carefully clipped the caught hairs and loosened the cables as much as I could to ease his body out of their grip.  The poor baby dropped a reservoir of urine he hadn't been able to rid himself of right there.  I hugged him and promised him a better day on the morrow, then threw away the hateful equipment.     The dogs are used to being tied out in the morning in order to do any personal business more involved than a quick pee break, so without tie-outs to attach them to their trolley system, they didn't get a chance to perform that duty before we went to church today.  I took them out to pee and then loaded them into the van, there to wait out the services.  After that we all went down to the Patuxent Research Refuge so that the dogs could get a little exercise and hopefully relieve themselves.     There is a handle in the van by the sliding door to assist you in getting in and out.  I leashed both dogs to it while unloading my kids, and then exercised them one at a time, staring with more mild-mannered Misha, who sniffed about and waded in puddles and then finally felt comfortable enough to do what I had hoped.  Then it was Keeps' turn.     He is getting much better at sit and stay, but when he is released from "stay" he can be a bit too enthusiastic, especially in "wild" places.  I almost ate gravel, almost lost a lotta skin.  Surely they could hear me all the way back to the check-in station, yelling "Keeper, no! Keeper, no!! KEEPER, NO!!!"  I was being yanked off my feet just about faster than I could regain each step.  Once he finally stopped, at a treeline, I grasped the fur at either side of his face and made him look at me.  Anger was making me shake, and I told him exactly how I felt about what he just did.  He looked pretty contrite, so after a good stare-down to remind him who is who, I walked him about much more calmly, so he could wade in and snorkel the puddles (it's like he stirs the mud at the bottom with his nose while exhaling) and finish up his own waste processes.     It's not his own fault he is terrible on a leash.  I had him making considerable progress once he graduated puppy classes.  But I was not the only adult around, not the only owner.  My husband continually broke training, used commands the dog had never even heard before, misused a choke chain so that Keeps had to pull, you name it, everything the puppy instructors said don't do.  He had his own philosophy of dog training and wasn't about to follow anything I had to say on the matter.  I finally gave up the hopeless struggle, and my dog became the "bad" dog, seldom ever allowed to leave the house.     I have no intention of his ever laying hands on my dog again.  See, there is more to this than the above; there is an authority thing.  The hubby has never been trustworthy, from the dog's point of view.  It's hard to know the right thing to do when the human is prone to fits of rage, and you are put in a defensive situation.  If the dog disobeys the hubby, the hubby assumes the dog is being insubordinate, when usually there is a failure of communication, or a failure to get the dog's attention.  Anyway the next step is anger, which makes the dog want to escape, which inspires rage, which makes the dog really wanna escape, which inspires physical punishment, which leads to a bite or scratch, which leads to a beating...all because my intact male human thinks my neutered male canine is bucking authority, when in reality the little beasite is just scared shsitless.     Keeps has to come with me when I move.  He can't stay here.     Anyway, back to today.  I was nearly in tears.  How can I turn this mutt into a city dog if I can't keep him from dragging me bodily while on a leash.  (Which he has actually done before, just like a horse pulling a cowboy in a wild west movie.  Thank God it was across grass.)  Much as I hated the idea, it looked like time to try the pronged collar.  I needed new tie-outs anyway, was still very angry that we had had to use those mean cracked and frayed ones <dirty look toward Germany> so long after they should have been replaced.  So, the next stop was the pet supply store.     The kids admired the fish and reptiles and small mammals, then we went to the dog paraphenalia section, with Keeps' collar in hand for measurement purposes.  I got a pronged collar a bit larger than his usual one, and two tie-outs, a 900-lb test for Misha and a 1400-lb test for Keeps, emblazoned with the words "For Large Aggressive Dogs."  Then I saw the Labrador stuff.     Keeps is part Siberian Husky, and part something else, which I conjecture to be German Shepherd.  But he, in his untrained state, retrieves a lot better than some Labs I've seen, and this has had me thinking about training lately.  He swims readily and well, uses his nose well, and brings back the whatever it is flawlessly.  Hmmmm.     There is a sport of this kind of retrieving, grabbing ducks, either fake or real, that have been tossed into a lake or marsh, and bringing them back in a rigidly proscribed manner.  I know this cuz my ex used to have a very promising competitor in this arena, Samantha.  I loved her and she was really good.     So, what the hell, it might be fun to see how far we can take this kind of training.  If Keeps felt like he had a purpose, and got some regular exercise, and got the rush of doing a thing well and getting copious praise on account of it, it looked like a lot of his attention and, um, exuberance problems might get solved.     I bought one of those canvas dummies retrievers train with, and determined to get started today.     At home, I took the poor mutilated toy penguin that he brought me to toss, and added a new dimension to the game.  I told him to sit and stay, then slipped one finger through the ring in his collar to help him stay the first few times as I threw the penguin.  I released his collar while saying "Back!" and watched him gleefully take off after the penguin.  Ooooh he loved this!  This added suspense to the fetching game.  Would the penguin still be where it landed?  If it landed out of sight, would it be findable?  We must have gone through this exercise fifty times, at his insistence.  Once he was into the groove, I didn't have to hold his collar anymore, he stayed and watched carefully as the penguin fell.  Halfway through the session, I introduced the canvas dummy, which is a cylinder of canvas, firmly stuffed, the right size for a doggie mouth.  It's hard to chew, which is good, cuz you don't want the dog to chew the duck, fake or real, nor injure/damage it in any way.     He took to this just as easily as with the penguin, waiting anxiously yet resolutely for the "back" command.  I was so proud and enthused, it wasn't hard at all to express praise at every success.  I cannot wait to throw this thing into a pond and see how that goes.     As far as the pronged collar goes, he pulled exactly once while on leash, and that was it.  I never had such an easy time taking him out.  I hate to admit it, but the damned thing works.  And don't worry, he only wears it while on leash, and never while tied out.