ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1997, Roanoke Times
DATE: Thursday, March 6, 1997 TAG: 9703060030
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 4 EDITION: METRO
DATELINE: LOS ANGELES
SOURCE: CAROL MCGRAW KNIGHT-RIDDER/TRIBUNE
MEMO: ***CORRECTION***
Published correction ran on Mar. 7.
The following paragraphs were omitted from a Thursday Extra story on
how Zen can help owners understand their dogs:
Haggerty has a two-day class in which dogs are trained for their AKC
``Canine Good Citizen'' certificate. The test includes proficiency in
things such as obeying commands and not barking when the owner leaves
the dog's sight.
``The training can be done in two days if the dog doesn't have four
left paws,'' Haggerty says. He says some trainers don't believe it can
be done. But they don't use Zen, he says. He adds that it is usually the
owners that need the most training.
They should focus on understanding their dog's true nature and then concentrate on living in harmony with them. The result will be a more obedient companion.
Pit bulls. Mail carriers. Zen.
Any of the above seem out of place?
If you guessed Zen, you haven't met Captain Haggerty.
Haggerty is a dog trainer who believes that man and dog and, yes, even mail carriers can live harmoniously by using Zen.
A bear of a man with chiseled features and shaved head reminiscent of Mr. Clean, Haggerty has been training dogs for 40 years. In fact, he got his nickname Captain from the nine years he spent as a dog trainer in the Army K-9 corps. But it wasn't until the West Los Angeles resident took up martial arts that he realized Eastern philosophy could be used even on nonbeliever canines who don't think their own ultimate reality includes obedience training.
Haggerty explains that Zen is an ancient form of Buddhism that teaches that human beings can obtain spiritual enlightenment by understanding their true nature, their oneness with the world, through personal effort and meditation. Zen teaches that the world seems dualistic and we ourselves seem to be at odds with it because we are slaves to conventional ways of thinking.
He points out that a perfect example of someone who uses dualistic thinking is Dusty, a pit bull terrier owned by Ana Wilson of Venice, Calif.
Dusty has been in this world for four years this time around, and not once has he desired oneness with a mail carrier. Well, that's not exactly true. His growls indicate that he believes the only way he is going to reach enlightenment is by letting his teeth become one with the mail carrier's leg.
So what's Dusty's owner to do?
Many Zen teachers ask their students to meditate on koans, ancient paradoxes and riddles. They ponder these questions until they realize the answer is inexpressible in words and can be realized only through intuition.
But Captain Haggerty does not ask Dusty to contemplate the sound of one paw clapping.
Instead, he is teaching Wilson how to take advantage of her canine's nature. Dogs, he explains, live in the moment, enjoying the journey, not some destination or goal. Very zenlike. As in, ``I'm going to sniff this tree because it is.''
Owners, on the other hand, are fixated on the goal. Very Protestant work ethic-oriented. As in: ``Don't you dare stop to smell the roses. Heel! We have three more blocks to go.''
Haggerty tells owners that they should not be so focused on the goal of having an obedience-trained dog. Instead, they should focus on understanding their dog's true nature and then concentrate on living in harmony with them. The holistic result will be a better behaved companion.
Zen training is a ``softer'' approach than many training methods, Haggerty says. But being zenlike doesn't mean the owner must be permissive and his dog laid-back. If so, then everyone would have to own a temperamentally laid-back breed such as Afghan hounds. But high-energy dogs such as bird dogs, shepherds and terriers also have the zenlike ability to focus meditatively on the task at hand, whether it's retrieving a bird, rounding up the sheep or learning to sit, stay and come.
But what about the seeming nonbelievers of the dog world, the chows and pit bulls and others that often have inherited aggression problems?
``I tell my clients that while they won't be able to take their problem pit bulls leashless down to the playground to romp, they can get control of them,'' Haggerty says.
The trick is to get both dog and owner to have minds centered on each other. ``The owner especially has got to feel what the dog is doing even before he does it. And even if his back is turned.''
Haggerty looks imposing decked out in his white martial-arts robe. It's sort of his trademark, along with another outfit that includes a white shirt with epaulets.
Haggerty has four Belgian Malinois. He also has owned pit bulls, Dobermans, Irish setters, Kerry blue terrriers and bloodhounds. He started training dogs at 15 under his father's tutelage. He's been a dog breeder, a handler and an owner of a security guard dog business. His daughter has followed in his footsteps as a dog trainer.
``Why do I like dogs? They are the only true love money can buy,'' Haggerty says.
Haggerty explains yin energy, the passive feminine force that is contrasted with and complementary to yang, or the male force. ``Doooownnnn,'' Haggerty says, drawing out the word. ``That's a soft command, a ying command.'' On the other hand, ``Sit!'' is a yang command.
Haggerty knows that incorporating Zen into training might be considered ``pop Zen'' by true masters, but he believes Zen techniques can help even those not totally immersed.
However, he notes that teaching can only accomplish so much. ``A zenlike attitude must be absorbed. That's why Lao-Tzu (father of the Chinese Buddhist Tao philosophy) said, ``Those that know about Zen are silent, those that do not know anything about Zen speak.''
As for Dusty the pit bull, Dusty's owner, Ana Wilson, says her husband wanted a ``macho'' dog. The neighbors aren't thrilled. And she would have preferred a golden retriever.
She says, ``I hate Dusty, and I love him at the same time. You know? Like when he's hyper in my face and won't mind. Well, people told us he won't change, but we decided to try this before taking him to the pound. But you know, since we've been in training, our friends say they notice the difference in Dusty already.''
Haggerty, who has raised pit bulls, says: ``They aren't the dog for everyone. They are very smart. The dumb ones of the breed died in the fight pits.'' He likens them to samurai, an ancient line of highly trained warriors that used Zen as a method of focus.
Haggerty tells Wilson, ``Once you can lead Dusty's mind, you can lead his body.'' He explains she can do this by extending her "chi," her life force, so it becomes one with the dog's. On a practical level this means, for example, that if Dusty takes off and ignores Wilson, she can yell ``No!'' He freezes for a minute. She has extended her life force, has gotten his attention and can then lead his mind, make the correction.
Haggerty tells her that the commands eventually should become "mushin," that is ``no mind,'' or second nature, meditation in motion. When they are both focused thus, Dusty on Wilson and Wilson on Dusty, Dusty will stay out of trouble, what Haggerty calls the ``danger zone.''
The first step is for Wilson to calm herself.
Wilson says, ``I get nervous because I don't know what Dusty is going to do.''
Haggerty replies: ``Don't worry about him. If he pays attention to you, he can't get in trouble. But if you're tense, Dusty will be tense. You need to be centered. Find the center of your chi, your life force.''
Wilson plants her feet, takes a deep breath, relaxes. She is no stranger to Eastern philosophy. She regularly attends yoga programs at the Self Realization Fellowship in Pacific Palisades.
Dusty balks at the down command. Haggerty shows Wilson how she can make the command a pleasant experience for the dog. Once Dusty is down, he has her massage the dog's side. Then she tells him to turn over on his back and she tickles his stomach. Dusty rolls over on his back in doggie ecstasy, tongue lolling. This is OK for now, Haggerty says. Eventually, the scratches won't be needed.
Over and over, Haggerty throws his keys near the dog, distracting his attention from the work at hand. When the dog becomes unfocused, Wilson regains his attention with a sharp voice and leash correction.
Eventually, Dusty and Wilson get the idea. When he starts to stray from the task at hand and senses the slightest movement from Wilson, he refocuses and corrects himself before she has to correct him.
But suddenly the training comes to a halt. Dusty snarls and growls, using what seems to be intense zenlike focus on a figure walking up the street: the mail carrier.
``Get that dog away,'' the mail carrier calls out from several houses away.
But Wilson is already reacting to this ``danger zone.'' As she has been taught, she snaps Dusty's leash smartly, uttering a harsh ``Dusty, no!'' followed by a ``heel.'' The dog and owner turn quickly and walk away. Dusty's attention is on Wilson now.
After the lesson, Haggerty talks about problem dogs. Practice doesn't always make perfect.
``You can't turn every dog into a Lassie,'' Haggerty says. ``And yes, there are dogs whose temperament can be improved on but may still ultimately be dangerous.''
Haggerty, who has owned many dogs, says: ``I prefer the rogues. The ones I didn't live in harmony with.''
Haggerty has a two-day class in which dogs are trained for their AKC ``Canine Good Citizen'' certificate. The test includes proficiency in things such as obeying commands and not barking
LENGTH: Long : 173 lines ILLUSTRATION: PHOTO: KRT. Captain Haggerty, of West Los Angeles, Calif., usesby CNBphilosophy from his martial arts and Zen background as he trains
dogs. Here, he teaches D-fer, a German shepherd, to sit down and sit
up on command.