The other day I was walking home from the track when a man and his little dog approached. The dog wasn't on a leash but was sticking to the man like glue. The dog was on the man's left and so would have passed next to me, except the man said "switch" a few feet before we passed. The dog looped over to the man's right and continued to trot along, face upturned, awaiting further transmissions. After they passed me, he said "switch" again, and the dog resumed his spot at the man's left side, wagging all the while.
I actually said, "damn," out loud because it was that cool, and also because I was amused. The day previous I had nearly burst with pride--I'm talking high kicks, effusive praise, exuberant Instagram post--because I had dragged Üter through a park full of dogs and he never once had his usual full-bore hellhound freakout at the sight of one, just a little whimpering and a few easily quelled woofs. We've been working on that for a long time, and it seems like maybe he is finally, finally getting the idea.
I'll never have a dog as obedient as Mr. Switchy's, which is very sad, but I'll take my training success where I can find it.