Dogs, Cats and Other People: Goodbye, "Cap"
By Matthew "Uncle Matty" Margolis
How do I say a final "Goodbye" to the person who gave me the knowledge and, in reality, the opportunity to turn my love for animals, especially dogs, into a successful and rewarding career? It isn't easy, but I have to do it. You see, Arthur J. Haggerty, known as "Captain Haggerty" to thousands and thousands of dogs, died of cancer in West Palm Beach, Florida earlier this month. He was only 74.
He is, and probably always will be, the most famous dog trainer in the United States. In fact, he may be the first in the United States to have established an honest-to-goodness school for dog trainers, and that was in the early 1960s. What a curriculum! Basic dog training was part of it, but he also trained show and sled dogs, stage and screen dogs, herding and tracking dogs, patrol and messenger dogs, and bird and rabbit dogs. If that weren't enough, he taught canines how to drug-sniff, bomb-sniff and mine-sniff. He also trained guide and rescue dogs, and sentry, military and protection dogs.
It was my lucky day back in the 60s, when I was searching for my life's vocation and I called the Captain. I'll never forget the first time I saw him. When I entered his outer office, I heard a formidable voice talking on the phone in the next room, so I peeked around the corner and there was this 6-foot-3-inch giant of a man sitting on a little chair. I'd say he weighed at least 300 pounds. Against the wall, all in a row, were the five most imposing German Shepherd dogs I had ever seen, and they all barked the minute they saw me. The Captain paused his conversation, turned toward the dogs, and in a guttural, not-to-be-ignored voice, he yelled, "No." The dogs stopped barking immediately.
This man of few words asked me what I wanted, and I asked if he thought I could be a dog trainer. He said, "I'll give you two weeks!" So, after the first two weeks, and the fourth week and the fifth and so on, I would always ask, "Am I going to be good enough?" And he always answered with a hefty Bronx accent, "You're still here, aren't you?"
It was really something to watch this great big fellow handle the largest and most difficult dogs with masterful strength, and then turn around and pick up a tiny little dog with a manner as delicate as silk. He was kind but firm. I heard him say over and over again, "Results matter, period!" It was the Captain who taught me that there is no such thing as a partially trained dog. It is all or nothing.
If you are old enough, you saw him on "The Late Show" and David Letterman. And that wasn't his only contact with show business. He trained dogs for hundreds of TV commercials and for Broadway, including "Annie." More than 150 films included dogs trained by the Captain, like the "Eyes of Laura Mars," "The Pawn Broker" and "Shamus."
I called him "Cap." His death makes me sad, but when I really stop and think of this imposing man, I can't help but smile. Yes, the world of dogs has lost its grand master. Goodbye, Cap.
Woof!
By Matthew "Uncle Matty" Margolis
How do I say a final "Goodbye" to the person who gave me the knowledge and, in reality, the opportunity to turn my love for animals, especially dogs, into a successful and rewarding career? It isn't easy, but I have to do it. You see, Arthur J. Haggerty, known as "Captain Haggerty" to thousands and thousands of dogs, died of cancer in West Palm Beach, Florida earlier this month. He was only 74.
He is, and probably always will be, the most famous dog trainer in the United States. In fact, he may be the first in the United States to have established an honest-to-goodness school for dog trainers, and that was in the early 1960s. What a curriculum! Basic dog training was part of it, but he also trained show and sled dogs, stage and screen dogs, herding and tracking dogs, patrol and messenger dogs, and bird and rabbit dogs. If that weren't enough, he taught canines how to drug-sniff, bomb-sniff and mine-sniff. He also trained guide and rescue dogs, and sentry, military and protection dogs.
It was my lucky day back in the 60s, when I was searching for my life's vocation and I called the Captain. I'll never forget the first time I saw him. When I entered his outer office, I heard a formidable voice talking on the phone in the next room, so I peeked around the corner and there was this 6-foot-3-inch giant of a man sitting on a little chair. I'd say he weighed at least 300 pounds. Against the wall, all in a row, were the five most imposing German Shepherd dogs I had ever seen, and they all barked the minute they saw me. The Captain paused his conversation, turned toward the dogs, and in a guttural, not-to-be-ignored voice, he yelled, "No." The dogs stopped barking immediately.
This man of few words asked me what I wanted, and I asked if he thought I could be a dog trainer. He said, "I'll give you two weeks!" So, after the first two weeks, and the fourth week and the fifth and so on, I would always ask, "Am I going to be good enough?" And he always answered with a hefty Bronx accent, "You're still here, aren't you?"
It was really something to watch this great big fellow handle the largest and most difficult dogs with masterful strength, and then turn around and pick up a tiny little dog with a manner as delicate as silk. He was kind but firm. I heard him say over and over again, "Results matter, period!" It was the Captain who taught me that there is no such thing as a partially trained dog. It is all or nothing.
If you are old enough, you saw him on "The Late Show" and David Letterman. And that wasn't his only contact with show business. He trained dogs for hundreds of TV commercials and for Broadway, including "Annie." More than 150 films included dogs trained by the Captain, like the "Eyes of Laura Mars," "The Pawn Broker" and "Shamus."
I called him "Cap." His death makes me sad, but when I really stop and think of this imposing man, I can't help but smile. Yes, the world of dogs has lost its grand master. Goodbye, Cap.
Woof!