Our puppy is old enough, thank God, for training class. I took the demon dog down this week to the training center. Puppies are cute, thus why we named ours Merry – she’s always happy. In retrospect, Pissy Missy or Bitey McNeedles would have worked too. It was all cinder block and mats, louder than a prison yard during a riot, with dog owners that looked more confused than the canines.
Right at the start, a dog peed on the mat. The trainer, a very loud (she had to be, some of the mutts wouldn’t shut up) woman, proclaimed they would be happy to hold the leash while the owner cleaned it up. I laughed out loud, then quickly looked at Merry and whispered, “Don’t embarrass me in front of these people!”
My pooch did very well – she actually sat, walked well on a leash and didn’t drop a surprise on the mat in front of everyone. I was feeling good about it, until the trainer announced we had to research our breeds online, introduce the dog to several different people off a checklist (Stranger with an instrument? Man with a hat? What in the blue hell is this?) and work around the house on a new trick. How about we learn the “not pee on the floor” trick or the “don’t eat my shoes” one? Oh well, I’ll just finish my homework in homeroom like high school.