wideeyedfunk

Tag: dog training

  • Job wanted for newly graduated smallish black dog of limited skills.

    TibbitDiplomaLast Tuesday evening the WideEyedSpouse and I marched down the block with Miss Tibbit to her training final exam and graduation, belching the happy taste of Sahlen’s hot dogs and a reasonable lost-grape-of-Chile Carménère red wine. We were all nervous. Miss Tibbit had been nervous all day with an upset stomach which she emptied explosively on the side of the bed, the bed post, and the floor.

    Miss Tibbit passed the test with what might be considered a C. Maybe a C+ with a special commendation for savant treat catching. She walks beautifully, sits like a dream, and will not/can not resist throwing herself on people to demonstrate her love. She escaped her leash during Cooper the standard poodle’s walking exam. Mayhem. Demerits. She won a ribbon for showing the most improvement during the course. Which means, of course, everyone recognized her remedial start state.

    Miss Tibbit waking from a rejuvenating post-baccalaureate nap.
    Miss Tibbit waking from a rejuvenating post-baccalaureate nap.

    Yesterday the WideEyedSpouse stood gazing down at Miss Tibbit, who was lounging across three remotes, the Xbox controller and the WII wand on the living room sofa. He asked when she intended to take her newly inked diploma out on the streets to look for a job. Miss Tibbit stretched and blinked at him. She needs time to chill after the intense discipline she used to earn her degree, she told him. She has to get in touch with what will make her fulfilled, figure out what the next step is. She heard there’re advanced degrees in dock jumping, agility, and citizenship. She’s going to ask around, see what other dogs think of the different programs. Maybe travel a bit. WideEyedSpouse stared at her for a moment and then walked with purpose out of the room and down the hall.

    I heard ice cubes clackle into a glass in the kitchen and then the fizt of one of my Fever-Tree tonic waters opening. The WideEyedSpouse was mixing himself a nice, super-premium Gin and Tonic rather than pursuing the conversation with Miss Tibbit. He knew, as I know, soon enough the WideEyedHousehold will be writing more checks for Miss Tibbit’s graduate education. Her dog brother Hamish the Corgi knows it too, and I can see him planning something expensive to even the score on his own account.

  • Hamish Believes He’s Been Cheated.

    Hamish the Corgi is guest writing this week. I, WideEyedFunk, bear no responsibility for the opinions expressed below.

    I am disgusted by recent household events and I am done with sulking. Miss Tibbit was forced to attend dog training classes a couple of weeks ago because she is mildly disobedient, and in my opinion, really obnoxious. She is a toy-stealing, leash pulling punk. I believed Dog Training was a punishment. I have recently become aware of some facts that have made me rethink that notion. I now believe that I have been cheated.

    Here are the top 10 reasons I believe I have been cheated.

    1. Miss Tibbit gets fed treats one after another for an hour during training class.

    2. Miss Tibbit gets fed treats one after another for an hour during training class.

    3. Miss Tibbit gets fed treats one after another for an hour during training class.

    4. Miss Tibbit gets fed treats one after another for an hour during training class.

    Sit? Stay? Come when called? Ridiculous to treat for these. I sit WITHOUT treats. I don’t need to be called because I am attentive to my people. Who knew a dog could GET treats for simple assignments.

    Oh, she’s sitting. How charming. Let’s give her a treat.

    Which brings us to point 5.

    5. Miss Tibbit gets treats for normal, decent behavior.

    6. Miss Tibbit is bad, regularly, and gets treats during the short moments of being good.

    7. Miss Tibbit is upstairs barking right now. She is going to get a treat when she makes the decision to stop barking.

    I bark and then stop barking all the time. Do I get fed treats? You know I don’t.

    8. Miss Tibbit gets treats for walking nicely in the park. Guess who has been walking nicely in the park without a leash, for years? Treats? Don’t be absurd.

    9. Miss Tibbit gets a treat for sitting nicely when the WideEyedSpouse comes home. That is simply no way to display love and absolutely does not deserve a treat.

    10. Finally, the worst offense: Miss Tibbit gets fed treats one after another for an hour during training class.

    It’s on.

    I now realize I have been going about this all wrong. I have made poor lifestyle decisions. Sniff the winds of change WideEyedHousehold. Say hello to Bad Hamish. Say hello to well-treated Hamish. You have been warned.Good bye and good day.

  • Why does Miss Tibbit smell like meat?

    Something isn’t fair.

    I crouched down so I could see under the table. Hamish was worried and had squeezed himself under the low shelf of the stainless steel prep table in the kitchen. He looked across the floor at me and asked again, “Why does Miss Tibbit smell like meat today?”

    I sat back. “Well, you know Tibbit is a Bad Dog most of the time on walks, right?” Hamish just looked at me. In his opinion, being a Bad Dog was no reason to smell like meat, unless the Bad Activity had been stealing a packet of meat from the counter. No dog has ever perpetrated this act in the WideEyedHousehold. Hamish would have known.

    He kept staring at me, waiting patiently for an explanation.

    “Hamish, remember when we all left the house last night and left you upstairs in your room?” He blinked. “We went to dog training school.” He stared at me some more, still not clear on the meat connection.

    “Apparently Miss Tibbit is so bad, that the Dog Teacher said to give her a treat if she was good for even a second. The treats are bacon beef snacks and she was really bad and then really good a lot during training.” Hamish perked up. “I’m good all the time,” he suggested, “if I am bad first do I get meat?”.

    I sighed. Of course Hamish is good all the time and I didn’t want him to be bad. He also tends to portliness. But, peace in the household was important. “Want to have some dog school here in the kitchen?”

    Hamish popped out from under the table.

    Hamish walked like a man. He sat. He stayed. He went into a down. I tossed Hamish meatie snacks, cheerios, kibble.

    Walking like a man.
    Snack down the hatch.

    Miss Tibbit watched all this training with increasing concern. She couldn’t stand it anymore.

    Miss Tibbit tried to walk like a man, but instead she jumped 5 feet in the air and snatched a treat out of my hand. She sat. She stayed. She went into a down. “This is it,” I told her and tossed the last snack.

    Snack really down the hatch.

    Hamish smiled at me and snuffled the floor next to Miss Tibbit just in case someone missed a treat.

    Peace in the WideEyedHousehold. Until someone rings the doorbell.