Traditional methods of dog training involve using rewards and punishments to bribe or coerce the dog into doing what we want her to do, rather than what she wants to do. In time, the dog learns to anticipate the reward or the punishment, and behaves in ways she thinks will generate the former and prevent the latter.
Does it work? Sure—if you want to turn yourself into some kind of tyrant in order to teach your dog to be a robot.
We take a different approach. We don’t train the dog that way because we don’t believe in training.
Instead, we believe in learning to work with the dog to solve problems.
We teach the owner to use love and verbal communication, augmented by a variety of facial expressions, to establish a relationship with the dog in which:
• The owner teaches the dog what he or she wants of the dog.
• The dog teaches the owner what he (the dog) can or can’t do or provide.
• The two work together to solve a given problem.
It may sound difficult and complicated, but it’s really quite simple. Study the five-stage cycle that follows and note that everything you do with the dog, every interaction, from the most playful to the most exasperating, will come under one or another of its headings. We explain each stage in greater detail after the diagram.
“Unconditional Love” (stage 1 of training cycle): Dog is pampered and adored.
1. Unconditional Love: First, establish a preliminary bond with the dog with lavish, effusive love by doting on her, squealing over her, and the like. Deny her nothing, or pretend to deny her something and then “give in” and give it to her anyway. Be tickled and delighted by everything she does. This is the easiest and most intuitive step in the process, since it’s the reason we have a dog in the first place. Be sure, when expressing this love, to announce it, not only to the dog, but to family, friends, relatives, neighbors, fellow dog walkers, and complete strangers, so long as the dog is present to witness it.
Using a digital camera, take numerous photos of the dog. Document everything she does: sleeping, eating, playing, walking around the home, staring off into space. Send these photos, via cable modem or other high-speed broadband Internet connection, copiously annotated with your adoring comments, to all of your friends and relatives. If possible, set up a Web site or a blog, making the photos and commentary available to everyone on Earth.
2. The Great Betrayal: Now “training” begins. Teach the dog some command, either affirmative (“Sit when I say sit”) or negative (“Do not jump onto the good sofa”). But be sure, when doing so, to act as though the dog already knows everything she is supposed to be learning. How? Through the use of attitude, vocal inflection, and certain effective words and phrases, which we will discuss. The idea is to convey to the dog that she already knows what you know because the two of you are essentially the same creature. In fact, at the Seminary we have a saying: “We never ‘teach.’ We remind.”
If the dog obeys, good for you. But she won’t. When she doesn’t, act stunned and incredulous as though you have been betrayed. Because you have.
“The Great Betrayal” (stage 2): Owner is stunned that the dog disobeys the please- get- off- the- chair command.
“Conditional Unconditional Love” (stage 3): Owner is devastated that the dog acts this way “after I’ve done nothing but love and adore you.”
3. Conditional Unconditional Love: Tell the dog, and anyone within earshot, that you can’t believe she’s acting like this after everything you’ve done for her. Use such phrases as “this is the thanks I get” and “I don’t know why I bother” and “why don’t you just tear out my heart and eat it.”
Ask the dog, “Why am I doing this? Why am I giving, giving, giving, if I’m getting nothing back?” The dog may look confusedly at you, as though to ask, “What happened to ‘unconditional love’?” If so, administer the Preemptive Admonition and say, “Don’t get smart with me.”
Tell her, and any bystanders, that you are not punishing her for behaving badly “because that would be like punishing yourself.” Instead, you are expressing deep disappointment in the fact that she is even capable of “treating you this way.”
Explain, with exaggerated patience and “calm,” that her not-sitting harms you because it makes you look like a bad master (or mistress) to the whole world. Her jumping on the good sofa harms you because, as she well knows, you’ve explicitly told her not to do it. Remember that, in this example, the object of the bad behavior—the entity that has suffered because of her badness—is not the sofa. It is you, the owner, who loves her so much.
Having done that, make sure that the dog and most, if not all, the dogs and owners in the vicinity are watching you, and then collapse, sobbing, in a heap.
We call this “guilting the dog.” It alerts the dog to the fact that she has misbehaved and establishes the condition for stage 4.
Note: For milder forms of rebuke, see “Correction and Punishment,” p. 56.
4. Comfort and Reconciliation: Remaining in a heap, stop sobbing and repeat the command or the lesson once more, but be sure to use the Tone of Exhausted Defeat. Instead of saying “Sit!” say, “So you really don’t want to sit?” Rather than saying “Off the sofa! No!” say, with a sigh, “If it’s so important for you to be on the sofa . . .”
Then, placing yourself up close to the dog, allow her to comfort you. This is an important part of the owner-dog relationship we mentioned earlier, in which now the dog has a turn at being the alpha.
And now you comfort the dog. Release her from guilt by saying to her directly:
a. “I know better than to react the way I just did.”
b. “It’s just that, as soon as something goes wrong, I go a little crazy! I start making demands and feeling betrayed and victimized. But at least I know that. I guess I’m still working on it.”
“Comfort and Reconciliation” (stage 4): Dog, successfully “guilted,” consoles owner.
c. “Anyway, I’m sorry for being insensitive to your feelings.”
d. “I want you, and the world, to know that I’m more enlightened, more self-aware, and more evolved than that.”
Then apologize to the dog and to everyone else in the vicinity.
5. Enlightened Acceptance: Give up and immediately undo or withdraw the command. If, for example, you’ve told her to sit so you can put on her leash, and she fails to do so, say, “Look, it’s not that important,” and put the leash on her while she’s jumping around. If you’ve told her (a hundred times) not to eat the Kleenex in the bathroom wastebasket, but she insists on doing so, place the wastebasket up on the counter where she can’t reach it. Bear in mind that the primary goal, in this stage of the training, is to solve the problem. The secondary goal is to not give yourself a migraine teaching the animal something it obviously is never going to learn.
“Enlightened Acceptance” (stage 5): Owner and dog reach agreement to share chair regardless of how uncomfortable it is for both of them. Problem solved!
Initiating this procedure will trigger a sequence of important effects.
• At first the dog will not know what she has done wrong.
• But she will assume she’s done something wrong because “obviously” you love her, and you wouldn’t act this way if she hadn’t done anything wrong.
• The dog will not only blame herself for doing the wrong thing, but also for not even knowing what it is, or for not “remembering” that it is wrong.
• The dog will therefore feel not only in the wrong, but guilty. (Hence the term “guilting the dog.”) She will fret that she’s “not enough.”
• This state of guilt can last anywhere from a few seconds to fifteen seconds. During this time, it is possible that the dog will learn the lesson.
• If the dog doesn’t learn the lesson, you will have collaborated with her in fixing the problem in any case. And isn’t that what’s important? Because let’s face it: life is too short to spend all day trying to teach a dog not to eat Kleenex, or whatever.
Note: Don’t expect every lesson to conform to the Five-Stage Cycle. There will be times, for example, when you’ll be too tired and/or irritated to progress beyond the self-pity at the end of stage 3. There will also be times when you just don’t have the time or patience to do much more than follow stages 1 and 2 and, when the dog fails to obey, stage 5. This is perfectly acceptable. God forbid every interaction with the dog shouldn’t be a fully realized teaching and learning experience. Don’t worry about it.
“Communicating” is a broad term and includes everything from hugging and tickling, to using baby talk, to speaking actual words and sentences to the dog, which is what we focus on.
In raising a Jewish dog, it is essential to remember that everything you say must have a subtext. This term, taken from literature and drama, refers to the hidden or implicit meaning of anything that’s said. Subtext is always conveyed nonverbally. For example, take two characters in a movie, eating lunch. One has just become angry with the other. The angry character, instead of saying “I’m mad at you” need only say “Pass the salt” in a specific way to convey his anger. “Pass the salt” is the text; I’m angry is the subtext, conveyed via facial expression, body language, and, most important, tone of voice.
Rabbi Alan making small talk with dog to deliver subtext. Note how Alan’s silly expression and idiotic manner mask explosive emotions, enormous pain, and other messages.
Using subtext is important in raising a Jewish dog because that’s how we convey the Four Essential Messages (“You’re great”/“You’re terrible”/“You need me”/“I’ll die if you die”) and, in this way, bind the dog to us and get him to do what we require (for his own good). In our training we emphasize conveying subtext using tone of voice. The table on the right shows some basic examples and includes the purpose (why we are speaking to the dog in the first place), the literal, verbal text (what we say out loud), the tone to use (how to say the text), and the subtext (what secondary message we are conveying nonverbally).
Basic Examples of Subtext and How to Deliver Them to the Dog
| Purpose | Text | Tone | Subtext |
|---|---|---|---|
| Praise | “Good boy/girl! ”“Who’s a good girl/boy!? ” | Qualified, tentative. Unresolved, with an implied “but” | |
| Mild rebuke | “No no . . .” | Gently chiding. Either slightly indulgent, or with a tone of reminding rather than berating | “Look, I don’t really care that you did this. Life is short and I’m crazy about you. So ignore me. Just don’t do it again.” |
| Stern rebuke | “Bad! ”“No! ”“Bad girl/boy! ” | Devastated, near despair | “How can you do this to me? What did I do to deserve this? Is it me? Is this my fault? Go on, you can tell me.” |
| Neutral small talk | “So, tell me, how are you?“”Is everything all right?” | Stiffly “friendly.” Obviously trying to conceal explosive emotions | “You have been bad, but I am giving you one last chance to acknowledge it and save me the heartache I can see is probably inevitable.” |
| Brave reassurance | “I’ fine. “”No, don’t worry, it’s nothing.” | Neutral, fl at, devoid of feeling | “What you have done is so unspeakable and such a violation of me (who only loves you and wants what’s best for you) that I can’t even talk about it.” |
Dog (left), confused by emptiness of small talk, wonders whether Rabbi Alan is having a stroke.
The purpose of the constant use of subtext is vital: The dog walks around in a confused state (which he blames on himself), wondering, What am I missing? What is the owner implying that I’m not getting? This makes him more susceptible to guilting.
Also, because he senses that your state is dependent on him, the more you express a subtext of despair or hysteria, the more he will begin to think, My owner is about to have a nervous breakdown. I had better stay close in case I have to alert the authorities.
Two other general tones of voice are especially useful. One involves making declarative statements in the form of sarcastic rhetorical questions. For example, the suggestion “Don’t chew on the lamp cord. You’ll get electrocuted” has about it a certain off-putting formality, not to mention a kind of bossy know-it-all attitude the dog can’t help but resent. In contrast, the same recommendation can be conveyed by saying “So, you’re looking for a way to give yourself a fatal shock?” But in this case the tone conveys not only a feeling of respect, but a certain jocular ease among equals.
In a similar way, a tone of world-weary concession can convert a message tinged with unpleasant anger into one the dog is more likely to want to hear—and thus, to heed. Rather than cry, in a fit of exasperation, “Fine! Tear up the bag of kibble and eat it all until you explode!” we recommend employing the word-to-the-wise tactfulness of “If you think you can fit that twenty-pound bag of kibble into your twenty-eight-pound body, don’t let me stop you.” This, too, is gently sarcastic, but also imparts a sense that you respect the dog’s intelligence—and that you expect her to use it.
The actual words you employ when talking to the dog are extremely important. Certain words can imply a great deal, especially when used at the beginning of statements. Here are four exceptionally useful words rich in content: So: Begin any command or question with “So.” For example, “So sit!” “So who’s a good girl?!” Use of “so” at the beginning of any sentence suggests that any comment, command, or question is merely the continuation of a single ongoing dialogue that never ends. This, in turn, means that you are invoking the entire past dialogue (not that it matters or that anyone can remember it), which enables you to put the dog on the spot with a vague sense of expectation. The dog will feel it’s his turn to account for himself, which gives you added power over him.
(Note: Do not overuse this word, or the dog will start to assume that “So” is his name. If So is his name, pick another name.)
Nu: When you come home and the dog looks guilty, and you see she’s been chewing and clawing her way through some nice throw pillows you just bought, the Yiddish term “nu” is a stronger, more demanding call for attention and accountability than “so.” For example, “Nu, what the hell is this?” “Nu, what did you do?!” “Nu” conveys a more objective-seeming concern or distress than “so,” and foists on the dog the obligation to “get with it” in ways that the rest of the world acknowledges. “Nu” is also useful to encourage the dog to “do his business” when you’re outside and he seems to be taking an inordinate amount of time. For example, “Nu? Any time today.”
What: An all-purpose introductory word and attention-getter, but mainly used to introduce a note of disagreement, skepticism, or incredulity. For example, “What, you not only have to eat that filthy-dirty Popsicle off the sidewalk, you have to eat the stick, too?” or “What, our neighbor Mr. Foster can’t walk his nice standard poodle, Tucker, down the street without you making a big to-do with the barking?” “What” is an informal, semijocular term and should be used accordingly, to introduce rhetorical questions you don’t really expect the dog to answer.
Okay?: Term of courtesy and respect, put at the end of almost every request, statement, or command so as not to damage the dog’s self-esteem by appearing to be too bossy. Always include the interrogatory tone, as in, “Listen, Deuce, we’re going out to dinner. We’ll be back in, like, two hours, okay?” Saying “Okay?” even when you’re not really expecting the dog either to consent (“Sure! Okay!”) or refuse (“No! Not okay!”), shows the dog you don’t take his obedience for granted and that you respect him as a “person,” albeit of the dog kind.
Dogs are adept at reading nonverbal cues from humans—a phenomenon that is really not as mysterious as it sounds. Everyone is familiar with how dogs will respond to hand claps and whistles, for instance. Many dogs know that when an owner wordlessly holds out a leash, that means “it’s time for a walk.” A dog being raised Jewish is perfectly capable of understanding these cues, of course, but it is helpful for the owner to develop a broader nonverbal vocabulary.
Not that the dog will understand it, because he won’t. That’s the point. By addressing the dog in nonverbal gestures and signifiers, and having the dog either look blankly back in reply or ignore them altogether, the owner creates opportunities for Situational Martyrdom (see “Correction and Punishment,” p. 56).
“Good dog! You are the best dog. I love you so much I can’t stand it. ” (Note: To be delivered to dog only. Do not direct this gesture at a stranger.)
“Stop that now. We’ve talked about this. You know you’re only doing it to provoke me. ”
“Time to go. ” Signals to dog several things: (a) that someone’s shown up whom owner doesn’t want to talk to, (b) one of those “troublemaking dogs” has arrived and the owner doesn’t want to spend the day at the vet’s, or (c) the owner has to pee.
“Bad dog! ” Useful when you need to scold dog and don’t want to make a scene.
“ I give up. Do what you want. ” This tells dog that you don’t know why you bother. Dog can also infer from this that he is the most selfish creature on earth, and that you only hope one day the dog has a dog of his own who treats him with the kind of disrespect and disobedience that he is showing you.
Practice this series of gestures and expressions in a mirror until you can convey them to the dog smoothly and without hesitation. Note that, in the case of nonverbal communication, there is no effort at communicating subtext.
In each of these examples, the technique is the same: deliver the nonverbal message, confirm that it has not been understood by the dog, then sigh heavily, invoke stage 2 of the Basic “Training” Procedure (“The Great Betrayal”), and feel sorry for yourself.
With commands, we tell the dog what to do and what not to do and when to do or not do it.
Yes, it sounds harsh. And in conventional dog training programs, it often is harsh. In our program, however, this harshness is replaced by a sense of intimacy and comfort. To us, a command is a friendly reminder and proceeds from the basic premise that there are no boundaries between you and the dog. The two of you are essentially one organism, talking to itself, reminding itself of what it knows perfectly well it should do (or not do) and simply waiting to “get with it.”
It would be impossible to illustrate every command to the dog, since the specific circumstances of life are infinite. So we’ve focused on three absolutely essential commands that, if nothing else, will keep the dog under your control. They are “Sit,” “Down,” and “Come.”
Of course, speaking to the dog is like speaking to a person: it’s often possible and sometimes even necessary to say the same thing in different ways. That is why we have developed the Basic Commands in what we call the Five Modes.
The first three modes are “Casual,” “Emphatic,” and “Urgent.” The Casual Mode conveys a command that, while to be taken seriously, is nonetheless meant in a spirit of easygoing calm. The Emphatic Mode asserts the master’s authority and makes it clear that the command is an order, not a request. The Urgent Mode calls for immediate obedience.
Basic Commands: The Five Modes
| Casual | Emphatic | Urgent | Petulant | Hysterical | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Sit! | “So you’re going somewhere? ” | “Nu, you’re going to stand there all day?” | “What, would it kill you to sit down for one lousy second?” | “All right, fine. Don’t sit. Stand.”(The owner then leaves the room.)“All right, fine. Don’t sit. I’ll sit.”(Owner sits.) | IF YOU DON’T SIT RIGHT THIS SECOND, I SWEAR TO GOD I’M NEVER GOING TO SPEAK TO YOU AGAIN, OKAY? |
| Down! | “What’s with the jumping? ” | “Were you told it was all right to jump up all over everybody?” | “Are you going to get down or am I talking to the wall?” | “Go ahead. Jump all you want. You always do.”(Owner leaves the room.) | IF YOU DON’T GET DOWN RIGHT THIS SECOND, I SWEAR TO GOD I’lM NEVER GOING TO SPEAK TO YOU AGAIN, OKAY? |
| “So, excuse me, if it’s not too much trouble, could you come over here, please? ” | “Nu, I’m waving for you to come over here for my health?” | “What, I’m here, you’re all the way over there—and that’s okay with you?” | “Look, you want to be over there, fine. I’m leaving.”(Owner leaves room.) | IF YOU DON’T COME HERE RIGHT THIS SECOND, I SWEAR TO GOD I’M NEVER GOING TO SPEAK TO YOU AGAIN, OKAY? |
“Casual” mode of commanding “Come! ”: Note how lightly ironic tone and elaborate courtesy respect dog’s intelligence.
“Emphatic” mode: Tone is slightly sharper, not because dog would disobey, but on the off chance he didn’t hear the first time.
“Urgent” mode: Use this type of command when dog hears you (because, believe us, he does) but you need to sell the gravity of the situation.
There is also a fourth mode, “Petulant,” and a fifth called “Hysterical.” The Petulant Mode is to be employed only after the first three have failed to elicit a satisfactory result. Hysterical is the mode of ultimatum and is to be followed by Situational Martyrdom and/or Complete, if Temporary, Despair.
“Petulant” mode: Essential for dealing with dogs who respond only to extreme sarcasm or who have abandonment issues. (Not shown: Owner turning and leaving)
“Hysterical” mode: Some dogs are easily bored and respond well when you throw in some theatrics with your commands.
All dogs, like all people, need and deserve praise. Bestowing praise is not only how we show the dog we love him, but is a positive reinforcement to encourage him to repeat the praiseworthy behavior next time, assuming he can be bothered to listen.
Our method of praising our dogs differs slightly from other methods you may have seen or just naturally employ yourself. As we mentioned earlier, one way we praise a dog is by delivering the praise, not to the dog himself, but to other people in the vicinity. This, as we said, encourages the dog to believe that the whole world cares when he is good—and, conversely, when he is bad.
Another important way of praising the dog consists in delivering the praise to the dog himself but making sure he remembers that we still remember that we are a martyr to his badness. We accomplish this by attaching a criticism of some bad thing the dog did either recently or, if need be, as far back as the beginning of time.
“Isn’t he wonderful?” Owner praises dog to total stranger. Note how stranger is thrilled and dog, believing entire world loves him, exudes self-confidence.
This technique reinforces the lessons that (a) the dog is not perfect and will always do something wrong, which means (b) the will always need us to show him the error of his ways, to forgive him for it, and then to act as though we don’t care about it in the first place.
The accompanying table gives you some idea of how to deliver sincere praise to the dog while, at the same time, attaching an instructively deflating criticism.
How to Praise a Jewish Dog: Attaching Criticism
| Praise | |
|---|---|
| Who’s a good girl and fetched the stick! | And I only had to ask her three times! |
| Good boy! You came right away! | And jumped all over me with your muddy paws! |
| Find the ball! Oh, very good! You found the ball! | Now if we can just “find” someone to fix that vase you broke last year . . . |
| Molly is such a good girl! | I can’t believe you’re the same Molly who jumped up and ate the steak off the kitchen counter last Wednesday. |
Normally, rewards such as dog biscuits (“cookies”) and other snacks are given when the dog successfully obeys a command. We agree with this practice, as long as the reward is accompanied by either of the following: The Not-So-Fast Qualifier: A remark, look, inflection, or other indicator that shatters the mood with worry and menace, suggesting that, no matter how good the dog is, it is capable at any moment of being bad. Recommended mood-shattering comments for giving the dog a cookie include “Here, don’t get crumbs on the carpet,” “Here, although you need the extra weight like I need a hole in the head,” and “Here, now just don’t eat it too fast and make me have to take you to the emergency room.” The It’s-All-About-Me Spotlight Grab: An effusive display of admiration and praise grotesquely out of scale with the good act being rewarded. The goal is to shift everyone’s attention to you even as you (ostensibly) direct yours to the dog. Your over-the-top praise (e.g., shouting, “Isn’t this the BESTEST SMARTEST CUTEST DOG THAT EVER LIVED!?” after the dog has simply given you its paw) teaches the dog that, even when she does something right, it’s your feelings that are important.
Of course, not all training concerns getting the dog to perform certain actions. Half of what we want to teach the dog are behaviors we want to prevent, raising the somewhat controversial and uncomfortable subject of correction and punishment.
With conventional dog training, correction consists of relatively mild expressions of disapproval, including sharp verbal rebukes or “pops” with a leash. Punishments are more emphatic and can include a “cuff” under the chin or a “shakedown,” administered by lifting the dog by the sides of the neck and shaking her back and forth while lowering her to the ground and delivering a firm verbal rebuke. (These last two punishments are recommended by our fellow clergymen, the monks of New Skete.)
We frankly don’t care for all this popping and cuffing and shaking.
We have found physical punishments or correctives to be unnecessary when raising a Jewish dog, save for those occasions when some physical intervention is clearly necessary, such as removing the dog when it assumes an attack crouch vis-à-vis a nearby cat. Instead, we recommend what we call Situational Martyrdom, the case-by-case depiction of yourself as a well-meaning, unjustly abused victim of the dog’s bad behavior.
Here are two kinds of infractions by the dog and their respective Situational Martyrdom responses.
Situational Martyrdom: “How can you do this to me?” This photograph captures the way posing rhetorical questions to dog forces him to think hard about what he’s done.
Situational Martyrdom
For Milder Sorts of Misbehavior and Disobedience
The Unjustly Victimized Rhetorical Question: Say, in a voice choked with barely suppressed emotion, “How can you do this to me?” and just sit there and suffer.
The Ingrate Inventory: After prefacing with “This is the thanks I get,” recite a list of the treats and luxuries you give the dog. Be sure to maintain a vocal tone that is oddly calm and devoid of emotion. For example, “This is the thanks I get for letting you chew up my good Thorlo socks and giving you an entire slice of pizza and letting you sleep in my bed even when [boyfriend/girlfriend] is over. Great. Just terrific.”
The Existential Abandonment March: Say, in a clear, understandable tone, “Fine. Do what you want. I hope you have a nice life,” and walk away, simulating complete abandonment. Do not look back until the dog comes after you.
For More Serious Infractions
The I-Blame-Myself Cry of Complete, if Temporary, Despair: Say, in a voice quavering with agony, “I can’t do anything right. I’m a terrible owner and this is all my fault.” Then run off, sobbing. The dog will follow. Allow yourself, with difficulty, to be soothed and assuaged.
The Inability-to-Face-the-World Coma: Retreat to your bed, get under the covers (fully clothed), and say, “I’m such a loser. I shouldn’t be allowed to love something so much that I feel this much pain.”
Prolonged Being-Very-Disappointed-in-the-Dog: Don’t say anything. Don’t even look at the dog. Deny that anything is wrong—to people who ask and, especially, to the dog. Just drag yourself through your daily routine until the dog shows he has the decency to feel bad.
Once the dog has learned the three Basic Commands in the Five Modes, she is ready to be taught the Advanced Commands. Because they reflect a degree of complexity and sophistication not appropriate to the Basic Commands, we do not issue the Advanced Commands in the Five Modes. Believe us, one mode is enough with the Advanced.
We are continually revising and expanding the lexicon of Advanced Commands. For now, they include the following. They are to be issued in a clear, firm voice, while making eye contact with the dog so she knows you’re speaking to her. You may, if you wish, preface each command with the dog’s name.
Examples of Advanced Commands
• “Don’t stare at Cousin Edith’s hair when she comes over.”
• “What do I want to eat?”
• “Don’t mention the breakup.”
• “I’m cold. Put on a sweater.”
• “You don’t have to call him ‘doctor.’ It’s just a Ph.D. . . . In ‘Media Studies.’ ”
• “I don’t know how she lives with him. Tell me. How does she live with him?”
• “Israel? Please. Don’t start.”
Delivering the Advanced Command “I’m cold. Put on a sweater. “ Use this command only after the owner and dog have completely merged. Neither knows where one ends and the other begins. Neither possesses a distinct self. They are one unit.
• “If you want this painting after I’m gone, speak up. Because I’m not giving it to you-know-who.”
• “We’re going over to Mary Ellen’s for dinner. Don’t forget to eat first.”
• “Milan is overrated. Don’t bother.”
• “If she starts talking about her son I’m going to have to kill myself and you’re going to have to find your own way home.”
Although it is often difficult to tell whether or not the dog is actually obeying such commands, don’t be too concerned with that. The point of the Advanced Commands is to reinforce your bond with the dog by both sharing your personal opinions with her and by making her feel vaguely responsible for everything.