I tell my Sheltie (Shetland Sheepdog) Bart that he rivals Marley for the title, "world's worst dog."
He jumps up on people. He poops in the house. He runs around the dining table so I can't catch him. He rummages through the trash. He barks continuously to call everyone's attention to his delight in going to his crate for a treat. He pulls on his leash and slips his collar so that he can greet oncoming dogs. And, for his latest trick, he eats through the sheetrock wall that I have shoved his doorless crate up against.
The astute dog person will note that Bart's and my many failures in training are really my problem, not his. And, in his defense, he is eating through the wall because he is nervous about the new dog.
Like parenting, training a dog requires selfless devotion and martial law (so to speak). A happy dog knows who the leader of the pack is: me. A happy toddler knows the answer to the question, Mama, can I get a candy bar? A happy teenager (if there can be said to be such a one) knows the answer to the question, Mom, can I stay out all night at Jared's party?
The question of training comes up with one dog, of course, but add another and you see the beauty of tough love. Practice sessions. Drills. KP (Kitchen Patrol). Physical training. Perfect, beautiful discipline.
When you are using an abbreviation, follow it immediately with the full name, in parentheses if your sentence structure is similar to mine. Sheltie (Shetland Sheepdog). KP (Kitchen Patrol). Otherwise you run the risk of confusing and irritating your reader.
1 comment:
I remember Dennis sending your big shepherd-mix dog to "boot camp." No question who the alpha was then. You're too tender-hearted, and your boots are too small. Do you need a stick?
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