He doesn’t know how to Sit or Stay or Roll Over on command. When we go for walks, he pulls at the leash and criss-crosses from left to right and right to left—making me do a crazy leash limbo dance with anyone who tries to walk with us.
Maybe it’s my desire for freedom projected onto Dog. I reluctantly live within the confines of society dictating how clean my house should be, how skinny my behind should be, what determines success—why should Dog be subjected to the same scrutiny?
Or maybe it’s because we got too busy when he was a puppy, at the prime time for obedience training, and I had two kids playing spring ball and I was at the Sports Park every afternoon/evening of the week and twice on Saturday—way too busy for any kind of a regular doggie training schedule.
Or maybe, and, OK, this sounds suspiciously like bragging and rationalization, but maybe it’s because Dog is so smart and (mostly) cooperative that when I need to teach him something really crucially important like potty training or not running away when we open the front door or going back to his bed when he wakes in the middle of the night that he learns it so quickly and effortlessly that it doesn’t seem necessary to spend the time and money and inconvenience of going through the official “obedience training.”
But, really, the number one reason I have not taught Dog tricks is that I am conflicted about it.
It feels a little manipulative. Do what I say on command and you get a treat.
And a little showy. Like parading your children out to play violin solos for unsuspecting dinner guests.
And ego-driven. Watch as I get the Dog to follow my orders. Isn’t he smart and aren’t I smart for teaching him these fabulous things?!
Or maybe I’m just jealous.
Because, of course, whenever we visit anyone with a “well-trained dog” and we watch the dog do tricks I feel a little guilty and bad for Dog, like "I’m sorry, I should have helped you more with your homework, so you could be at the top of your doggie class, performing to accolades, too."
This weekend, we visited our wonderful, old, (as in we've known them a long time) friends who live in Sonoma County. They have the most beautiful, sweet, adorable dog that they rescued from the Humane Society—some crazy mix of a Labrador and probably white German Shepherd. Kita, who is honest to Dog, the friendliest, calmest, nicest dog in the world (present company of Dog excepted). She smiles all the time.
Our friends have kids the same genders and ages as ours and we thought the dogs would get along, so we brought the whole family for the weekend.
We were all having a grand time. Then, somewhere between dinner and dessert, our friends wanted to show off the tricks they had trained Kita to do.
Like a circus animal, Kita Sat, Rolled Over and even Jumped Through Hoops on command.
Dog, having no ego, only the basic desire for food, was nonplussed with the accomplishments, but quite interested in the treats involved.
The spontaneous combustion of Dog’s desire for treats and our desire to prove our dog’s intelligence and equal fabulousness resulted in a ridiculous scene.
Kita, long, lean, athletic, brave, beautiful, jumping through hula-hoops like a Lipizzaner Stallion. Then Dog, like a fluffy little old lady, sniffing his way cautiously through the hoop, “What do we have here? Is this safe? Hmm, Let's see...is this really worth the effort? Maybe if you lower it, just a tad. OK, a little more..."
We all laughed at the antics of the dogs and hand-fed them treats whether they "deserved" them or not; we ate too much dark chocolate dessert and drank too much red wine and had too much fun.
Old friends, new tricks and spontaneous joys are the best...Hoops or no hoops.
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