WHO’S TRAINED HERE?
My daughter’s dachshund rings a bell. That’s right. Every time she needs to go outside and take care of business, she rings a bell.
Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m wondering who’s training whom here.
Lulu--the dog--has the life. Okay, she sleeps in her cage at night, but once the family wakes up, she rings her bell, goes outside, comes back in and eats breakfast, romps with the kids, goes back and eats some more, rings her bell, plays, eats, rings her bell. Well, you get the idea.
Let me just say you haven’t lived until you’ve seen this dog ring her bell, and my daughter come running.
But who am I to talk?
Our Shih Tzu, Nocchi (short for Pinocchio--hey, the kids named her!) dances around me to let me know she needs to go outside. I clip a chain to her collar so she can go out unchaperoned (don’t you wish you could do that with your teenagers?). I no sooner step inside the house when she barks. Barks, as in, “I’m finished. May I please come in?”
Now, I don’t know if it’s a middle-age thing or what, but sometimes it just makes me mad that she barks and I jump. So, I linger in the kitchen a moment or two, making her wait. She barks again. This time saying, “Excuse me, did you not here me? Let me in.”
My feet stand firm.
Bark three carries a growl: “Let me in, and I mean now.”
Bark four says, “I’m reporting you to the Humane Society if you don’t get out here this instant.”
Okay, by now the neighbors are looking, so I have to concede. But I’m not happy about it.
I let her back inside, she jumps up on MY sofa, mind you, circles three times and settles into a nice nap.
She’s in control and we both know it, and that just burns me up. I mean, why do I let a thirteen-year-old dog with three teeth boss me around like that? Do you see her tongue in the picture? With so few teeth, she can’t keep her tongue tucked politely away. In other words, she has no control over her tongue, yet she controls me!
But just so you know, I refuse--repeat--REFUSE to give her a doggie treat until I’m doggone good and ready.
Okay, now I’m ready . . .