Training Mom

lily1

I used to think my dog was as dumb as a head of cabbage. Seriously, I’m not so sure any more. We had an understanding. I put down disposable pads for her. And only if, after unsuccessfully attempting to alert me that she needed to do some business, I happily reluctantly accepted that she’d use the pad. I assumed this would last only as long as it took for me to bribe her into making sure she does her business outside. But we’ve been doing this so long, that the pads, which have now been named Lily pads, are purchased by the case. I’m telling you, hope is slipping.

I have to cut her some slack. Lily is a rescue. If you were passed around like a bong backstage at a Stones concert, you’d be a little fucked up too. After almost a year, she’s finally settled in, and seems plenty comfortable with us. But I’m still waiting for her to unpack her brain, and stop being such a dick.

Calling Lily timid would be like calling the Pope just a little religious. I found out right away that yelling at the kids with her in the same room makes her piss herself in fear. And when I say herself, I mean, not so much herself as much as the rug. Charming, right? The one time I yelled at her, she pissed herself and hid under the bed for an hour. I thought she did this out of fear and stupidity. But now I’m convinced she’s eight pounds of master manipulation. I swear to you, she’s in cahoots with the kids. I think they’ve paid her off in salmon biscuits. I can no longer scream at the kids with reckless abandon without the dog fouling the rug. Clearly I need to step up my game here. Because I’m not winning.

And, high maintenance—jeeeeeeeez. When she first came to us, she wouldn’t eat from her bowl at all. The clank of her dog tag on the side of it would stick her to the ceiling like a cat on acid. I thought if she got hungry enough, she’d get over it. I was going with the tough-love training. But as it turns out, a terrier’s fear is more powerful than her hunger. I’m telling you, there’s not much more pathetic/entertaining than a starving dog sitting in front of a full bowl of food, barking at it. Yes, not kidding—barking at it. I gave up and started feeding her off of a saucer. Some things aren’t worth the effort. That, and the entertainment value wore off pretty quickly. She won. Again.

I brought the bowl out once in a while—partly as a test, partly for giggles. And partly as revenge for being a general pain in the ass. Not really. I’m not that cruel. Well… maybe? But recently she’s decided she can eat from it—very timidly, if the food is all pushed to the front of the bowl. At first she looked like she was walking to the edge of a ten-story building. Lowering her head to grab some food, her tag would clank, and she would tense. Then a momentary hesitation, with statue-like rigidity, as if she was waiting for a motion-sensitive bomb to blow. When nothing exploded, she’d grab a mouthful of kibble and run to the rug and drop it all. Then eat them, one by one. This was the ritual with every mouthful. Approach. Clank. Bomb anxiety. No bomb. And grab and run. I felt guilty laughing at her. But it was comical to watch. It’s been a while, and she and her food bowl have mostly made peace. But she still barks at the last few pieces of food that get pushed to the back of the bowl. Someone has to come and push it all to the front, or she won’t eat it. I just shake my head and follow her orders. I’m fully trained now.

I let my daughter put clothes on her. This seems like a good start on the payback. Right?

I’ve given up on those Lily pads too. They’re here to stay. Asking her if she needs to go out usually results in her dropping down and throwing her head on the floor, in child-like defiance. Of course, five minutes later she’s pissing in the hall on her pad. And if that’s not enough, yesterday she came in and, while looking at me, squeezed out a deuce on the pad. What the hell? Really? Who the fuck takes a dump while looking someone in the eye? I’ll tell you who. An asshole. That’s who. My dog is an asshole.

Don’t get me wrong. I love this stupid dog/asshole. She’s very sweet, and it melts my heart to watch how much she adores my kids. I firmly believe it’s a conspiracy to drive me nuts. And to mold me to their whims. Maybe we’re all just here to teach one another how to be better beings. I think she’s here to work on my patience. I’d like to think so anyway. But what I do know, is my kids and the dog are in it together. And I’m plotting my revenge.

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Ok. I had to add this follow up.
This is Lily. Notice her food pushed to the back of the bowl, and the pleading look. And then the resignation when no one will help her get her food from the back of the bowl.

Note: As soon as I stopped recording, my husband (also a trained human) helped her out.
No dogs were harmed in the making of the video.

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