Zinnia and I have started going out together (on leash) in the pasture so she and the animals can get to know one another.

In the interests of openness, I will admit that I did have a wicked thought imagining the social-media furies clucking when they see this photo and rush to their computers to fire outraged messages off to my breeder and urge her to save Zinnia from my depredations.

Zinnia is out of her bubble. Go to it, people. I believe in forgiveness, but I also like to have fun. And thank you for the experience.

For her part, Zinnia is rattled by nothing I’ve yet seen. She is fascinated by the sheep, and they by her.  The donkeys no longer pay her much attention. They are not impressed by a cute Lab puppy.

I put Zinnia into a “sit” about 30 feet from the sheep and donkeys.

She’s comfortable and so are they. They are getting used to one another.

The flashpoint  – danger sign – is if the sheep stop eating because she’s there, or start stomping their feet to drive her away. No signs of that. And we won’t get that close.

I am also correcting her when she puts her head down and tries to sniff the manure and sheep droppings. Let’s just not get into the habit Bud came with – eating poop.

Zinnia is a quick study, I think she’ll get it. It is very had to get Labs to not eat gross things, I’m going to try to do it.

People come up to me all the time to tell me proud stories of their out-of-control Labs chewing up the house, pulling them down the street,  chewing in their hands and fingers,  eating feces and garbage, jumping on people and knocking them over. I think I would be embarrassed to tell stories like that about my dogs.

They tell me these stories with a big and almost proud laugh as if they are competing for the title of most obnoxious dog, or maybe they are looking for affirmation that they must be great dog lovers to love and tolerate such a disruptive animal.

I will never enable a dog to behave in a disruptive or destructive way by turning it into a self-deprecating joke. I want people to look at Zinnia and say, “what a good dog you are.” That does make me swell up with pride, and it’s starting to happen. But I want to earn it, and not just because she is cute.

I have a different philosophy about dog behavior, especially in the home, and it has to do with dignity and self-respect. That is my idea of the contract between us and our dogs. I don’t care for the idea of unconditional love.

Love should be earned, on both sides, not granted at birth or given away so freely.

I always liked Jane Austen’s idea of dignity, outlined in Pride And Prejudice: “There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.”

Me too. My stubbornness rises when I feel my dignity is threatened, and that applies to dogs as well as people.

I have owned six Labrador Retrievers, and I have never had one chew up my house, destroy more than a few pairs of socks (or scrape some table legs), or bite my hands and face.

It’s not because I’m a genius, it’s about my self-respect.

And I mean that. Perhaps that’s why I”ve never had a dog with separation anxiety in my life. I don’t believe much in that either unless we’re talking about people. I won’t put my crap onto my dogs.

I have had issues with Labs jumping up on me and other people, which I resolved by throwing soda cans at them or kneeing them or kicking them as gently as possible, or shouting “no” with conviction. Pet Corrector is helping also.

When Lab puppies bite me, I stick my fingers down their throat, pinch their cheeks, or flick them along the side of their noses. They do not bite me for long. It is absolutely unacceptable.

I feel my dignity is very much at stake when I live with dogs.

I will not tolerate having my house wrecked, or being chewed on, or being yanked all over the road when we walk. I take good and conscientious care of my dogs, and I asked them in return to respect me, honor my dignity, and support my work and peace of mind.

Crates are, to me, an essential element of acclimating a new puppy to the house and saving dignity. For several months, they are either in the crate, out in the yard, or out walking on a leash. Few chances for mistakes or mishaps.

A puppy in a crate will not pee on the floor, chew on furniture, or jump up on people. Crates help form good, not bad, habits and give humans some control.

They also teach a dog to do the one thing nobody ever taught them how to do: nothing.

I want our home to be a safe and quiet place for us as well as for Zinnia. She can roll around and wrestle with Bud all she wants. I’m not a puppy tyrant, but no ball chasing or barking or running around inside with the “zooms.”

They can be as crazy as they want outside, not inside. That’s the deal.

When wildness t happens, they go into their crates with a bone until they settle down.

In return for love and care and shelter and food, I want Zinnia and all my dogs to respect me and my own sense of dignity.

Part of this is training, part of this is an attitude. Dogs read our emotions well, often better than we do. If we mean it, they will get it and try to do it. I always try to close my ideas and imagine the outcome I want. That is how dogs talk to one another, that is how I talk to them.

Dogs also learn to be calm in their crates, to chew on their own things, to center and learn how to do nothing. Zinnia gets hours each day to walk and play and run outside. She also needs hours to learn to be still and calm and center down. Crazy Labs are made, not born.

This morning, I began leash training with Zinnia, and as expected, she lunged all over the place, trying to run with Fate or Bud, sniffing the sheep and donkey droppings on the ground in the pasture.

I walked her on a short lead so I could keep her head up and praise her for not eating manure. She kept lunging towards Fate or Bud, who was in the back yard. When she did that, I would turn sharply towards her, stepping on her if necessary, even tapping her in the stomach with my foot if she crosses in front of me.

By the end of our walk through the pasture, her head was mostly up.

I don’t reach out to kick her, it’s more of a tap,  but she feels it and if she walks in front of my foot, I don’t avoid it either.

Slowly, Zinnia is beginning to pay attention to me rather than seeking to run after everything that moves. I don’t intend to trip over her or spend years trying to yank her back, especially knowing she will weight 60 or 70 pounds by the end of the year.

I don’t give advice to people or tell them what to do, but I will share this wisdom that I have learned: for dogs, love, and respect or closely entwined. I’m no hard-ass, I spoil my dogs rotten and I train my dogs gingerly, but the more they respect me, the more they love me.

And the more I love them. Red and I had enormous respect for one another.

When you think of all the great human-dog relationships you know of or have read about, you will find mutual respect as a common thread. I never brag to anyone about my dogs being out of control, destructive or disobedient. I just won’t have it.

So yes, sometimes she ends up getting kicked or stepped on for now, but I can also see her already beginning to figure out what she needs to do to stay close to me on the leash and pay attention to where I am walking, not where she wants to go (hey, to tell Lenore Jon Katz kicks puppies.)

My strong desire is to work hard now so that the next 10 to 15 years are about love and companionship, not chaos and shouting. It is no favor to a dog to not train them, nor is it a favor to enable destructive behaviors by turning them into jokes or pretending they’re cute.

The trainers say you walk the dog, you don’t let the dog walk you. That’s very much my idea.  You choose how to live with your dog, they don’t get to decide that.

I believe training is about teaching the dog how to live with us in a safe and loving way. Dogs are not safe when they are not trained, they don’t understand the rules they have to live by. They don’t want to be in charge. They want to be loved. As a steward, I see myself.

They don’t like to be yelled at all the time, all of their lives. That’s not what dogs and humans are about. But they do need to be corrected sometimes, and sometimes sharply. Few people are that positive, certainly not me.

Training is a spiritual experience for me, it’s not about obedience, it’s about communicating. It is how my dogs and I begin to learn how to love one another.

I’m very much a positive reinforcement kind of trainer, but I also know how important it is not to get tangled up in a leash or by a big and powerful dog. My dignity against her instincts.

Another fight I have to win. I intend to.