Obedience School

At 4:30 this morning I was up, showered, shaved, and dressed (even wearing a tie). That’s right faithful readers; I’m off to our nation’s capitol on the first flight of the day (more on that later).

So well before the butt-crack of dawn, I’m all dressed and ready, outside walking the dog, trying to remember what we decided our code word would be to encourage the dog to, well, do her business.

Having a ‘bathroom’ code word was one of the pieces of advice we received last night at our first obedience class.

There are five other dogs in our class. The cast of characters are:

• A male French bulldog named Duke who has "sharing and dominance issues." He was quite disruptive, growling and snarling at the other dogs all evening. He was an equal opportunity offender, pretty much snarling at every dog in the room. Interestingly, Duke’s human unit was the chattiest of the non-canines. I don’t know that there is any cause and effect, just an interesting correlation.
• A very small Shitzu whose name I cannot recall. She was well behaved when not being directly snarled at. She, like her human unit was pretty quiet.
• A young, energetic, and very friendly Vizsla, who was almost constantly pulling against her leash to go and meet/greet/play with the other dogs. In all honesty, her human unit didn’t seem to be trying all that hard. Imagine Paris Hilton with an untrained hound.
• A mutt whose human said upon entering the room, “I apologize in advance. My dog is crazy.” This was after our trainer had come in and asked us to all move to one end of the room because a dog who is very nervous around other dogs was on her way in. By the end of the night the dog was quite literally climbing the walls trying to get out of the training room.
• A pit bull mix named Olive (said her human, “because it’s my favorite food.” I don’t think this implies that she is considering eating her dog, but I’m not certain.) Olive was the only other dog accompanied by more than one human unit.

And, of course, Bailey. I may be a tad biased, but I think I call ‘em how I see ‘em. Honestly, Bailey and the Shitzu were by far the two best behaved canine units. The evidence for this is two fold: both dogs were at various times not only lying down quietly, but even laying on their backs for belly rubs. Second, they received the fewest treats. The dogs that were snarling and barking or responding to the snarling and barking got treats from the trainer to quiet them.

Our trainer is a young woman named Kirsten. She claims to have a small dog named Ella, but Ella wasn’t there. I’m not sure why I doubt that she even owns a dog, but I do.

As it turns out, the first night is all lecture, and it’s interesting to hear all of the conflicting dog advice. Someone mentioned that they heard a (somewhat) well-known dog trainer advise that you make your dog wait to eat until after you eat as a way to establish your dominance. I had heard the opposite: feed the dog first so he or she doesn’t beg for food while you eat. Kirsten the trainer said it doesn’t matter. I think we’ll keep feeding Bailey first.

Kirsten the trainer said that once your dog has peed and poo’ed you should go back inside. I heard that the dog will figure out that the fun of the walk ends when, well you know, and hold out as long as possible. Now I just don’t know.

At any rate, living in Chicago, Kirsten the trainer emphasized that in the dead of winter we will want to be able to get out and back in with the dog ASAP, and that having some key word or phrase that the dog associates with tinkling and doodling will be a welcome means of expediting the process. This I do not doubt. To make it work, whenever the canine [insert euphemism for uses the toilet], you say the word or phrase. Eventually the dog catches on (see Ivan Pavlov).

So last night PoMonkey and I discussed what word or phrase we might use. Kirsten the trainer had suggested “go potty,” the phrase she allegedly uses with Ella. (Again with the doubt. I just don’t know why.) Neither of us were huge fans of standing out in front of our condo building saying, “go potty.”

My take on this kind of thing is that it could literally be anything (dogs don't actually understand language), so I suggested the name of my new favorite TV show, Top Gear (which coincidentally has added a dog, known as Top Gear Dog, this season). We wisecracked through a few other options, but in the end, I told PoMonkey just to choose something and let me know.

4:30 am and I’m wracking my sleep-deprived brain trying to remember what she said. All I could come up with was eliminate, and for some reason I thought that I had to say it with my worst Governor of California impersonation – “You’re da eliminator and you must eliminate . . . ELIMINATE! ELIMINATOR!!”

On the way to the airport I related this story to PoMonkey, who reminds me that she chose the considerably less intense, let it go.

Ah, yes, let it go.

And so begins the adventure that is Obedience School. Seven more weeks to obedience bliss . . . Stay tuned.