The amateur nature of the royal corgis’ well-meaning efforts, however, became crystal clear on that memorable afternoon. We followed Her Majesty as she emerged from an unmarked police car to be greeted by the tweed-clad organising committee of the English National Sheepdog Trials. The Queen made a point of taking our leashes personally, as she was shown to a dais under a white marquee overlooking large, open fields. There was a murmur of amusement as we three followed, walking obediently to heel, to the centre of the small platform where Her Majesty sat, with several other guests of honour, among a group of about forty people. To her right was a man of aristocratic bearing, introduced to her as the Chairman of the English National Sheepdog Trials. To her left was a dark-haired woman with a broad smile, who needed no introduction at all.
The Queen watches very little television. Quite apart from a busy calendar of official duties, her evenings are mostly taken up with her family life and circle of close friends. But there are one or two television shows she thoroughly enjoys and which her staff make sure are recorded for the rare occasions when she has time to relax. One of those shows, dealing with problematic canine behaviour, was hosted by none other than the woman beside her, whose hand she shook most warmly. It so happened, that the show was also one known to dogs throughout the world and we corgis, having watched so many of the programs, already felt on the friendliest of terms with the woman. Royal protocol forbids me from disclosing her identity, but let’s just say that she shared her first name with a very long-serving monarch, only a few generations back in the Queen’s family tree. And she is widely recognised for her positive training.
The sheepdog trials were already well underway by the time we arrived. Although Winston had attended one of these events in his puppyhood, it was a revelation for both Margaret. We watched intently as border collies raced across the fields herding large flocks of sheep this way and that, guiding an ever-changing shape of furry bodies in whichever direction they were asked. On command, they would effortlessly divide small groups of sheep and guide them into separate enclosures, all the while following the instructions relayed to them by shepherds with nothing more than a slight bend of the body or gesture of the arm.
Within a few minutes, I came to realise that my rescue of poor, blind Cara had been a very modest affair compared to the spectacular manoeuvres I was now observing. And Margaret no doubt also realised that rounding up the occasional, errant trade unionist was small beer compared to the dazzling mastery now on display.
We watched spellbound. Occasionally a human member of the audience was unable to suppress a cry of encouragement or delight, as his or her sheepdog performed some complex routine. One of the border collies, Flash, was especially mesmerising to watch, being both as swift as his name suggested and smoothly adept at separating groups of sheep. He also seemed to have a developed sense of humour, sometimes springing over the moving bodies of his charges, giving the impression he was on both sides of them at once. Flash also prompted a round of chuckles when he rolled on the ground several times, all the while keeping intense watch on both the sheep and his master. Her Majesty seemed delighted by him and . . . from the warmth of the applause that followed his performance . . . it seemed that he was one of the favourites on the trial circuit.
As we sat overlooking that field in Berkshire, there seemed something quite inspiring about watching humans and canines working together, an invisible but powerful bond between them, continuing a tradition of working the land together that had been with us since time immemorial.
During a break in proceedings, Her Majesty stood to ease her legs. The positive dog lady proposed that the royal corgis would benefit from a short stroll—a suggestion to which the Queen readily agreed. ‘I do hope you’ll join us,’ she said. So a short while later, all five of us, flanked by security, were making o
ur way along the perimeter of the paddock.
‘I like your TV show very much,’ the Queen told the dog trainer. All three of us were walking to heel, Her Majesty holding our leashes in her right hand. We were deeply curious to tune into this conversation.
‘Thank you! Thank you, Your Majesty,’ the other replied, smiling appreciatively.
‘You offer sensible advice.’
‘I can tell you do not need it,’ she answered, gesturing towards us. ‘When you walked from the car earlier, I could see immediately that you have a good relationship with the corgis.’
‘Oh, yes!’
I glanced up at the Queen. And was it my imagination, or had she coloured slightly in the cheeks?
‘What would you say is the most important element of dog training?’
‘Without a doubt, positive reinforcement. If we want to build lasting bonds based on mutual trust and love, we need to embrace what we learn from behavioural science.’
The Queen listened thoughtfully. ‘That hasn’t always been the approach has it?’
‘Unfortunately not!’ The positive trainer was shaking her head. ‘There have been so many myths repeated unquestioningly in the media about how all dogs are like wolves, following pack behaviour. The premise is that they are constantly trying to assert dominance over us. Many people don’t understand that training based on that model is actually hugely damaging. I spend a lot of time rescuing people’s relationships with pets, who have been subjected to dominance and punishment-based trainers. Their methods go completely against positive human-animal bonding.’
The Queen was nodding. ‘Yes, we know much more about animal behaviour today than we did even ten or twenty years ago.’
‘Exactly. We have a better understanding of how dogs experience the world through their senses and how they communicate using body language. By better knowing how their minds work and what emotions they experience, a whole new dimension of possibilities opens up in the way we relate, one species to another.’
‘On the subject of body language,’ Her Majesty nodded in the direction of the open fields, ‘very impressive performance by the border collies. It is intriguing how they know what to do, with only the smallest signals from the shepherds.’
‘A privilege to watch,’ her companion agreed. ‘Lots of training and positive reinforcement.’
‘And consistency?’ proffered the Queen.
‘Absolutely! Dogs get very confused by inconsistent messages. Like if one family member lets them jump on the sofa and another one doesn’t. Sometimes it’s even the same person changing their mind, depending on their mood. That leaves a dog bewildered about what is or isn’t acceptable.’
Her Majesty was following this closely. ‘And consistency also between what we say and what we do.’
‘Exactly. Dogs are far more observant than humans when it comes to non-verbal communication. If you say one thing to a dog, while physically indicating something different, chances are the dog will follow the non-verbal direction.’
‘The more authentic of the two.’
They walked a short distance further before the dog lady said, ‘You could probably say that being consistent and authentic are the keys to successful training.’
‘Not only that,’ agreed the Queen, pausing for a moment. ‘I believe they are the keys to happiness and purpose in every aspect of our lives.’
As we were returning to the marquee, I noticed there had been changes in the audience, as owners came and went with their dogs. I was especially pleased to see, at the end of the front row sitting next to a tall, tanned man, none other than Flash. I wouldn’t dream of trying to drag the Queen over towards him, of course. But as soon as she and the dog trainer had settled and the three of us were back under their seats, I made my way surreptitiously under the front row of seats until I reached the end.