Somersaults and Backflips …………….Day 53 of 100

A fellow blogger mentioned that she would like to read more posts about my dogs.

Well, I have written quite a lot about them in the past … many of you long-suffering readers will know.  If you are interested you can find these posts in my Archive Page on  ….this is where I am publishing all my old posts from other blog sites ….an ongoing task. 

However, as a sort of  ‘taster’, I thought I would reblog this old blog-post ……. I hope you enjoy it ……..



Terrible Tarquin

Terrible Tarquin

I am often asked for advice on lead-training puppies and, indeed,  there are a variety of methods.

Dogs are so diverse in character that what works for one will not necessarily work with another.

Over the years we have had puppies that took to being on a lead straight away;  but usually it becomes a battle of wills and sometimes every trick in the book has to be tried before the battle is won;  hopefully by you, not the puppy !

However, our third Afghan Hound,  Tarquin,  defied every trick.

Right from the moment we brought him home at 3 months old,  it was obvious that he was going to be nothing like our two other Afghans,  Cleo and Cassie.  He was more stubborn,  defiant, awkward, funny, loving and adorable than any Afghan I have ever known.  He didn’t have a bad bone in his body;  but naughty ?  Oh my,  he was naughty !

He attached himself to me from the first day and became my shadow and very much  ‘my ” dog . And I,  in turn,  loved him to bits.  He was such a beautiful boy, with a thick golden coat and jet black  ‘mask’.  He was royally bred and carefully reared; my future show-dog



Now,  show-dogs need to be trained early so that when they go into the show ring everything is second nature to them. They need to be at ease in their surroundings and know what is expected. Puppies are not meant to be too regimented but they do need to be able to move freely and naturally round the ring on a loose lead.

Show-dogs should not be stressed and neither should their handlers !

So, with all this in mind,  I began to train him straight away.  His first show would be just after he was 6 months old, so I had three whole months to turn a raw puppy into a confident show-dog !  Easy !

Well, right from the start Tarquin hated the lead.  I mean  really  hated it.  He screamed and flung himself into the air, landing on his back with a thump. He foamed at the mouth and made himself sick and sat rigidly in one place and was pulled along on his bottom like a stuffed toy.  He was very strong, even at 3 months old and he resisted my efforts vigorously, even pulling me over at times.

This went on for weeks.  I bribed;  I coaxed; I struggled to lift him and carried him away from the house, thinking he would walk back towards home.

I took Cleo or Cassie out with him, thinking he might walk if he had company.  But nothing worked.

Every day I tried and every day I was in tears. Tears of frustration and tears of despair,  as the date of his first show crept ever nearer.

Hubby tried too and had the same results. The same screams, somersaults and back-flips,  the same gagging and the same failure.

Thank goodness we had no neighbours nearby !  We would surely have been reported for cruelty as Tarquin’s shrieks were so blood curdling and yet we never ever laid a hand on him.  I would never condone anything like that.  Although my patience was being severely tested !

One day Ian came in to find me in floods of tears.  This time I hadn’t even tried the training.  I just couldn’t face it anymore.  My  beautiful boy had broken my spirit;  I was throwing in the towel.  I’d had enough !

Ian tried to cheer me up and said he would have another try;  he could see I was very upset. So out of the door he went, with Tarquin already trying the choking/screaming tactics.  I went and washed my face and pulled myself together.  I knew they would be back in a few minutes,  with Tarquin looking triumphant and hubby looking dejected. That’s how it always ended.

Minutes ticked by and they did not return.

Then  they had been gone for half an hour !

I went outside and there was no sign of them,  either on the drive or in the road that ran along the side of the river.

Another half an hour passed and I was panic-stricken.  Perhaps they had been hit by a car; there were no pavements on these narrow country roads.

Or perhaps hubby had killed Tarquin, accidentally, in frustration and didn’t dare come back and tell me !  Of course, I knew that this was totally unlikely….but, in my distress, I was prepared to believe anything.

Maybe Tarquin had snapped the lead and run off, never to be seen again.

My imagination ran riot and I felt sick.

I couldn’t hear the sounds of a screaming,  gagging puppy;  just the soft sound of birdsong and the distant splash of the river.  I had no way to contact Ian as this was the early  1980s  and mobile phones were not so popular as nowadays,  so I worried myself sick and wondered where the hell they were.

I had no idea in which direction they had gone,  but I couldn’t wait any longer and decided to walk up the road towards Alford and see if I could find them.

I had just set out when round the bend,  in the distance,  I saw my husband strolling along in the sunshine and alongside him was my lovely golden boy,  trotting along happily as though he had been doing it for years.  I couldn’t believe my eyes and ran to meet them.

Tarquin looked up at me as though to say,

” Look at me Mum ”  and continued on; striding out;  head held high and tail wagging.  I slowly took the lead from my husband’s hand and we all walked home.

Ian told me that when they first set off Tarquin had been doing the usual frothing at the mouth and flinging himself about in protest, but he had been loath to return as he knew I was so upset.  So he had kept walking and a few seconds later he felt the lead go slack and looked down to see Tarquin walking along quite normally.

Poor hubby was so surprised that he had just kept going , not daring to stop or turn round,  in case the spell was broken. They had walked a mile and a half before he dared attempt to turn towards home !

He swears that Tarquin must have just decided that he had enough of all the resistance and was now ready to go for a proper walk !

It was a week before his first show ……………………………………………. !

image (1)


This was first published in on 19th September 2011 and later, reblogged on


About rosiewrites2

Growing old, disgracefully and enjoying every minute.
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4 Responses to Somersaults and Backflips …………….Day 53 of 100

  1. msalliance says:

    Loved this post! Thank you for reblogging it. Dogs, eh?


  2. denis1950 says:

    What a fantastic story Rosie. What individuality and strength in the young Tarquin. It must have been so traumatic for the pup if he went to such lengths to defy the lead!!! I wonder how training would have turned out if you had tried no lead, hand, voice control, something like how our Kelpies are trained to round up sheep in Australia. We never see a Kelpie on a lead even in the streets. A breeder once gave us a beautiful 3 year old Golden Afghan girl, (Flossie) who had been a champion show puppy but one day decided no more shows. We never heard what she did to give up the showing but it must have been very convincing. All she wanted to do was eat, sleep, guard and go for drives. It took her 5 minutes to find a couch upon arriving home with us and she was ours for the next 10 years. After 5 Afghans sharing their lives with us I must admit I agree with Flossie about Afghans and showing.


    • rosiewrites2 says:

      We have had many Afghans over the years…..some liked showing and some didn’t.
      Those that didn’t were left st home to lounge on the sofa..
      But we have to lead train here ….. Dogs are not allowed to be without a lead in most places. Also we lived in an area that had a lot of sheep and, as you know, an Afghan hound would chase and kill sheep if given half a chance.
      Tarwuin wasn’t shown very often …he loved the shows and the social aspect of it…he was just far unruly …..just like an Afghan …Lol


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