A while ago, Julia got it into her head that I needed to improve my manners. We went to a dog-training class.
I wasn’t really into the whole Sit and Stay and Do the Tango stuff.
The worst command of all? The truly inexcusable, only-a-human-could-come-up-with-it order?
LEAVE IT.
“Leave it” means Walk on by, Bob. Sure, there’s a piece of bacon just inches from your drooling piehole, but do me a favor and just pretend it’s not there, okay?
Uh, not okay. Where I come from, you never pass up a free meal. UFO drops to the carpet, it’s mine. And I’ll be chowing it down before you can say, Where the heck is my meatball?
Within minutes, I was accused of being an undermotivated student, which is totally unfair.
I am highly motivated.
Just show me some cheese, please.
Anyways. I may or may not have been a little unruly. Class-clown stuff. Tailspinning, a little random peeing, some zoomies, just for show.
“Class, you see that crazy dashing around he’s doing?” said the teacher, pointing at me with an accusing finger. “We call that a FRAP. Frantic Random Activity Period.”
She pulled Julia aside. “He’s a smart dog,” she said. “But he’s messing with you.”
Which was true. But I hated getting caught in the act. I’d thought I was more subtle.
“Bob needs to know who’s boss,” said the teacher. “He needs to see you as pack leader. Give him some time. I see this a lot with former strays. Takes them a while to trust people.”
Like forever, in my case.
As we left the class early, I yelled, “So long, suckers!” to my classmates.
Couldn’t help rubbing it in just a little.