Return to Archives
Dictionary Game
October 15, 2009
When I left my first staff editor job, my colleagues chipped in and gave me a parting gift: a copy of Webster's Third International Dictionary. This is the monster from which Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary is abridged. The abridged version can be pulled from the shelf one-handed. It lies neatly on your lap. The Third International requires two hands. It pins you in your chair like centrifugal force.
I like having "Web 3" handy, but really it requires its own space. In that long-ago publications office, the Third International sat on one lectern and the Second -- beloved of my editorial mentor, who sneered repeatedly at the Third -- at another. When our desk dictionaries proved inadequate, we editors would venture out of our cubicles to consult The Big One. If my Web 3 had its own lectern, I'd consult it more often, but over the years I've lived mostly in places with barely enough counter and floor space. If "Web 11" -- Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary, 11th edition -- doesn't have the answer, I go online. Since I moved into this apartment more than two and a half years ago, the monster has mostly been slumbering on its all-but-inaccessible shelf.
At dog class last Saturday, we worked on pivots, including what our teacher calls "the dreaded left pivot." For the left pivot, handler and dog start with the dog sitting in heel position, at the handler's left side. The handler turns 90 degrees to the left without moving forward. The dog moves backward and winds up again in heel position. What makes this tricky is that backward is not a natural direction for a dog to move in and moving back and to the left requires what instructor Karen calls "hind end awareness," which most dogs have to be taught.
So Karen demonstrated one way to cultivate the dog's willingness to move his hind end independent of his front end. Travvy was her guinea pig. He stood on one side of a wooden box, at least a foot square and eight or ten inches high. She stood on the other. Travvy knows that Karen always has better treats than I do, so he moved in Karen's direction, putting one paw on the box. Jackpot! This was the immediate objective: Travvy figured out PDQ that he got treats when he was facing Karen with both paws on the box. Then Karen took one step to the right. In order to maintain jackpot position, Travvy's hind paws took a big step to the right while his forepaws pivoted on the box. Hind end awareness!
Back at home I scouted around for a suitable box-substitute. It had to be the right size and, most important, it had to be stable. If Travvy's forepaws slipped off or through the box, he'd be skeptical of subsequent requests to focus on his hind end. Out in the yard, everything my eye fell on was too high, too low, too slippery, or too unsteady. Coming through the front door, however, I spotted -- you guessed it: Webster's Third International Dictionary. Perfect!
And so it is. The dust jacket was a little slick, so I took it off. Now Travvy is moving step by step 180 degrees to the left and 180 degrees to the right. We're getting pretty good left pivots too. When he doesn't move a full 90 degrees to the left, usually I can swivel my torso leftward without moving my feet and he scoots into position.
Just in case you thought that an unused dictionary was only good for a doorstop . . .
|