Chapter 73: The Gap Between Professionalism and Amateurism

“Ah? N-no, it’s nothing.” Zhang Congwen snapped out of his daze and quickly replied. Then he repeated the thoughts he’d had earlier.

Zhang Congwen had never received any systematic training in dog handling; all his methods were based on instinct and personal intuition. He had always thought there was nothing wrong with his approach—perhaps not perfect, but certainly sufficient for most situations.

Yet now, in the presence of a professional like Wang, the cat trainer, Zhang Congwen gradually realized the shortcomings in his own dog-training procedures. Comparing his own methods to Wang’s, it was like a doctor diagnosing a patient but missing one of the four essential steps—looking, listening, asking, and feeling the pulse.

Take Jiao Jiao, the cat, as an example: Zhang had never thought of reviewing videos of Jiao Jiao’s previous behavior. As a result, he was unable to fully understand the cat’s usual state. He couldn’t possibly move into Teacher Piaopiao’s home to observe every detail of the cat’s life. Inevitably, there would be gaps in his training plan.

The same principle applied to dog training. A dog might behave entirely differently in the presence of strangers, or might hide certain issues. Some problems the owner might not even recognize as important could also be overlooked, potentially affecting the outcome of the training.

It was only after observing Wang’s process with the cat that Zhang Congwen finally understood the true difference between professionalism and amateurism.

Wang paid little mind to Zhang’s distraction; his full attention was on Jiao Jiao. After hearing Zhang’s thoughts, Wang was slightly surprised. He hadn’t expected a dog trainer, not versed in cats, to grasp so much.

With a chuckle, Wang teased, “Brother Zhang, have you ever thought of learning cat training from me? I think you have a real gift.”

Zhang gave a wry smile. “Better not. I haven’t even mastered dog training yet. If I add cats to the mix, I’m afraid I’ll bite off more than I can chew.”

Wang smiled, assuming Zhang was just being modest. But in truth, Zhang was speaking from the heart. If not for today’s encounter, he might never have clearly seen his own deficiencies.

“That’s a pity,” Wang said. “Your ideas are sound—if you follow through, the cat’s issues will improve.”

He first gave Zhang a positive assessment, but then shifted, offering an apologetic smile. “However, just doing that might take a long time to show results, and there’s a risk of relapse.”

Zhang did not feel slighted by Wang’s direct feedback. After all, his specialty was dogs, not cats. It was only natural that his training plan might be flawed. Even if his approach was not perfect, he had done his best, and since he wasn’t charging for the cat training, his conscience was clear.

Wang continued, “You don’t need to change anything in your plan, just stick with it. But you’ll also need to add some other training methods. Overall, this cat’s issues aren’t serious—just a few quirks in its temperament. Cats are sensitive by nature, and this one is even more so. That’s innate; it’s hard to change completely.”

“So what should we do?” Teacher Piaopiao immediately asked.

She hadn’t been entirely convinced by Zhang earlier, but now that he’d earned the professional’s approval, she was surprised. Remembering the rumors about Zhang’s dog-training skills she’d heard at school, she had initially dismissed them as student exaggeration. But now, perhaps Zhang really was quite accomplished. After all, if he could earn praise in an unfamiliar field, he couldn’t be bad at what he knew best.

“During the day, if Jiao Jiao stays in her bed, you can try to tempt her out with treats. If she doesn’t eat, just leave the treat there. Gradually use the treats to lure her out during the day, helping her get used to being active when it’s light,” Wang explained.

He glanced around the living room. “Ideally, you’d install wall-mounted cat climbing shelves around the room. These should form a circuit so Jiao Jiao can circle the room without touching the floor. Also, have some lower shelves so she can leap from the floor to the wall. That way, if strangers come, she’ll have multiple escape routes and won’t panic.”

“That sounds like a big project,” Teacher Piaopiao said helplessly.

Wang merely smiled. “Of course, it doesn’t have to be those exact shelves—anything that serves the same purpose is fine. I just suggest them because they save floor space. Besides that, you can use anti-stress sprays that soothe pets; they’ll help calm Jiao Jiao and prevent stress reactions.”

Zhang nodded to himself. He hadn’t thought to use such aids before. For pet owners, stress responses are a serious concern. Mild reactions might just frighten the animal, but severe ones can cause illness or even death.

Elderly folks often say sparrows are difficult to keep alive because they’re hot-tempered; captured adults almost always die quickly. In reality, it’s not temperament, but acute stress that kills them. Jiao Jiao, with her sensitive nature, is at the same risk—without human intervention, she could develop all sorts of problems.

“I happen to have a bottle of anti-stress spray here—you can use it for now,” Wang said, pulling a bottle from his bag and handing it to Teacher Piaopiao.

The cat training session concluded. After exchanging contact information with Wang, Zhang Congwen left, saying he had other matters to attend to.

Aunt Liu, feeling guilty about her earlier attitude, pulled Zhang aside and furtively gave him an address and phone number.

Zhang glanced at it, puzzled. “Aunt Liu, what’s this?”

“It’s an address. I was really too hasty before—sorry about that. I’ve been trying to change my temper, but it’s not easy. Anyway, I know a family looking for someone to train their dog. Since you’re a dog trainer, consider this my apology.”

“It’s really no problem,” Zhang replied with a smile. He truly hadn’t taken her words to heart and hadn’t expected her to feel such remorse.

Aunt Liu glared at him. “Don’t say that. I’ve given you the address and contact info. You have to go, or I’ll feel terrible.”

Zhang was both amused and exasperated. Aunt Liu’s temper was fiery, but she meant well. And this was just the beginning.

Unexpectedly, she added, “Don’t judge me by my temper—I know a lot of people. If you do a good job training this family’s dog, and I hear of anyone else needing a trainer, I’ll definitely recommend you. So be sure to do your best!”

Her tone was exactly that of an elder lecturing a child, but Zhang felt no annoyance—just amusement. Given her personality, he figured Aunt Liu must be well connected. If she started referring business his way, he’d have a promising source of clients in the future.