ROANOKE TIMES

                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: THURSDAY, April 8, 1993                   TAG: 9304080076
SECTION: EXTRA                    PAGE: 1   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: BETH MACY
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Medium


HERE'S A TAIL OF HUMAN NATURE

I think you can tell what kind of parent you're going to be based on the way you relate to your dog.

Let him sleep on the bed, you're a spoiler.

Train him using just rigid discipline and negative reinforcement, he'll turn out mean, and so will you.

Praise him for what he does right, his self-esteem will soar.

Tammy Carrell Cedergren knows all this and more.

A dog-obedience teacher and kennel operator, Cedergren has reached some pretty karmic conclusions in the field of human-dog relations.

There was the time when a strong thirst awakened her at 3 a.m. - only to discover that she wasn't really thirsty. Sure enough, when she got up to check on her kennel dogs, one had knocked over his water dish.

There have been other instances of laid-back dogs suddenly turning restless, hyperactive. Always within minutes, the telephone rings, and it's the owner - wanting to know if she can pick her dog up early.

"Dogs reflect their owners," Cedergren says. "If a person is calm and rooted, their dog is the same way. If a person is flighty and out-of-sync, so is their dog."

Cedergren can tell what a person's real nature is just by spending time with their dog. Her rule of paw: cool dog, cool owner.

Even looks carry over; call it natural selection. Sometimes dog and owner match perfectly - as in the wrinkled-face, pug-nosed owner of the bulldog. Sometimes they're exact opposites - as in the chubby owner of the slender greyhound.

"I know of two different women; they don't look like their dog, but their husband is a perfect match," Cedergren says. "It cracks me up. It's like, `Oh, you like that look.' "

And speaking of husbands, Cedegren met hers two years ago when he signed up for dog obedience. She recalls that his retriever, Travis, "was one of my better students."

Cedergren's theories certainly rang true in her most recent dog-obedience class, offered through Roanoke County's continuing education program.

A precocious, spoiled poodle named Honey-Bunny matched his permed, adoring owner perfectly. A laid-back, but astute, lab mix named Megan was our star pupil - and I'll just bet his owner, a high-schooler spotted parading him down Grandin Road regularly, practicing - has never gotten a C in her life.

A beautiful, blue-eyed husky named Casey sat so prettily with his front paws crossed, he was a precise echo of his blue-eyed, statuesque owner, who sat with her legs crossed just-so.

A wiry, energetic Dalmatian named Domino was a dead ringer for his scrappy, bearded owner, who looked every bit as industrious, right down to his worn leather work boots.

I have always maintained that my dog, Scooter, who graduated from the class this week, has the exact same nose as my mom (she even agrees, kind of). Which means that right now my husband's eighth-graders have already begun superimposing in ink a dog nose and whiskers over my column picture today - as opposed to the usual beard and horns.

As for my parenting theory, I'm pretty sure we'll be the overbearing, doting types. My husband and I both blurted out the other night - at exactly the same time - the idea to nail Scooter's obedience diploma low on the kitchen wall, just above his dog-food bowl, for his visual enjoyment.

Cedergren, for the record, keeps six of her own dogs at her Mount Pleasant kennel, called Country Air Vacation Kennels (logo: "A Vacation for Your Dog"). She has a Kuvasz, a border collie and four Pomeranians, including one named Levi.

You might recall Levi from the "No Cats Allowed" dog shows Cedergren used to perform at Festival in the Park a few years back. Though now retired at age 13, Levi used to solo dance to Michael Jackson's song "Bad" - in which he stole the show with his trademark Moonwalk.

Cedergren says she trained him to Moonwalk by working on a series of heel commands, in reverse. Though Scooter has pretty much mastered the concept of heel, I can't picture him ever Moonwalking.

For one thing, I absolutely refuse to dance around my living room wearing a single glove and grabbing my crotch.

Beth Macy, a features department staff writer, believes positive reinforcement (read: Alpo Variety Snaps) works best for dog training; she prefers the charcoal column runs Thursday.



by Bhavesh Jinadra by CNB