Teaching a Small Dog to Come When Called (Even When Georgie Pretends Not to Hear)

Last Tuesday Georgie ate my sock and acted like I’d wronged him when I took it back. He gave me that dramatic, head-cocked look, like “How DARE you interrupt my sock-shredding therapy session? I needed that.” It’s moments like these, when he’s completely absorbed in whatever mischievous endeavor he’s concocted, that getting him to come when called feels like trying to hail a taxi on a deserted highway at 3 AM. He just… doesn’t hear you. Or, more accurately, he pretends not to hear you. My little wolf wannabe has opinions about everything, and sometimes those opinions include ignoring his human.

The Great Escape Artist and the Futile First Attempts

You know how it is. You let them out in the yard, confident in your fence, and suddenly they’re a blur heading towards the neighbor’s prize-winning petunias, or worse, the street. Georgie’s not a runner in the sense that he bolts for miles, but he is a curious little snoop. The second he spots a squirrel or a particularly interesting patch of grass that might smell of another dog’s pee, his recall goes straight out the window. My first attempts at “come” were, frankly, pathetic. I’d just say “Georgie, come!” in a sweet voice, expecting him to magically appear at my feet. LOL. As if. That worked precisely never.

I tried the “happy voice” thing, where you sound like you just won the lottery. He’d perk his ears, maybe glance over, and then go back to whatever fascinating dirt clod he was sniffing. My next move was getting slightly louder, then more urgent, then finally sounding like a banshee. All that did was teach him that “come” was a word associated with increasing levels of human exasperation, which he apparently found entertaining. The only time he’d actually “come” was if I opened a bag of treats, and even then, he’d take his sweet time, prancing over like he was doing me a favor. His brother, Teddy, on the other hand, would have materialized out of thin air if he even thought he heard a treat bag crinkle. Georgie’s just built different.

What Actually Worked (After a Lot of Trial and Error)

Okay, so here’s the real deal. What finally started to click with Georgie, the dog who believes he’s too sophisticated for basic commands. It’s all about making “come” the best damn thing that could possibly happen to him, every single time.

First, ditch the “come” for a bit. We started with a new, distinct word. For us, it’s “here!” You can pick anything – “party,” “cookies,” “zebra” – as long as it’s not a word you use constantly in other contexts. This gives you a fresh start without the baggage of all the times your dog ignored “come.”

Then, we played the “surprise treat party” game. This is key. Leash Georgie up, go to a quiet room. Say “here!” in a super upbeat voice, and immediately give him a high-value treat. Not just a boring biscuit. We used bits of boiled chicken breast or those Stella & Chewy’s freeze-dried raw treats (the salmon ones are his absolute favorite, they’re like crack for him, around $10 for a small bag on Chewy). Do this 10-15 times in a row, then stop. Repeat a few times a day. The goal is for him to hear “here!” and immediately associate it with “OMG, where’s the deliciousness?!”

Once he was consistently looking at me and wagging his tail the second I said “here!” in the quiet room, we moved to slightly more distracting environments. Still on leash. The living room, then the hallway, then the backyard. The second he turned towards me, treat. Don’t wait for him to be at your feet. The act of turning to you is the behavior you’re rewarding. I used a long line for the backyard (the TUG 30ft Dog Training Leash, about $15 on Amazon, is good because it’s not too heavy for a little guy). This way, if he got distracted, I could gently reel him in while saying “here!” and then immediately reward. He wasn’t getting a choice to ignore me.

The biggest breakthrough came with the “run away” game. This sounds counterintuitive, but it’s brilliant. When he’s in the yard and looking a little distracted, but not totally zoned out, I’d say “here!” and then immediately turn and run in the opposite direction, making excited noises. Small dogs, especially ones who think they’re wolves like Georgie, have a strong instinct not to be left behind. He’d usually chase after me, convinced he was missing out on something epic. The second he caught up, HUGE party – treats, praise, belly rubs. This made “here!” synonymous with “fun game and treats!” instead of “boring human wants me to stop sniffing.”

Another thing that surprisingly helped was a whistle. I got one of those silent dog whistles (the ACME Silent Dog Whistle, about $10 on Amazon). For Georgie, the high-pitched sound cuts through his selective hearing much better than my voice, especially if he’s a bit further away or distracted. I paired the whistle with “here!” and the treat party, so now the whistle is just another cue for “come get your chicken, dummy!”

Maintaining the Magic (and Dealing with Relapses)

Recall is not a “one and done” thing, especially with a morkie who has an ego the size of a Great Dane. You have to keep practicing, even when you don’t think you need to. I still randomly call Georgie when he’s just chilling next to me on the couch, say “here!”, and give him a treat. It keeps the association strong. His brother Teddy sometimes tries to steal Georgie’s treats during these practice sessions, which Georgie finds deeply offensive. He’ll glare at Teddy and then meticulously sniff out every last crumb of his own treat. Georgie has very strong feelings about his property.

And yes, there will be relapses. There will be times he’s so fixated on a rogue leaf or an imaginary friend that he’ll revert to his old ways. When that happens, don’t scream, don’t chase him (that just turns it into a fun game for him). Just calmly go get him, put him on the long line, and go back to basics. Sometimes I have to literally lure him with a piece of chicken held to his nose. It’s annoying, but it’s better than getting frustrated and souring the command. Remember, for a small dog, the world is huge and full of fascinating smells. His little brain is overwhelmed sometimes.

Honestly, if you’re struggling, just focus on making “come” (or “here!” or whatever you choose) the best damn thing that could ever happen to your dog. It’s all about the payoff.