The picturesque day at the park: your dog and you, walking side by side at a perfectly synced pace. Your pup gazes up at you with an affection that few people will ever come to know. Birds fly, bees buzz, and you thank every star you’ve ever seen that you bought a head collar for your dog or you know you’d be nothing more than a kite.
We dare not say that. The internet judges too strongly and people in real life will just hand us a business card from “the guy that set my dog straight”. You gaze down into those sad brown eyes and you can’t imagine hiring someone to tell your dog off for just… being a dog.
The world faults our pets for being what they are—animals. Then they act as if their dog has never piddled on the carpet or torn up a thrown pillow. Heads up: they have. No dog is perfect.
Judgment and Denial
It’s been a long day at work. You come home, take the dog out on her customary walk. She’s frisky, but overall she’s a good girl. Maybe she sniffs another dog you find along the way just a little too long or you have to use more than one poop bag to pry her leaving off the “no dogs allowed” grass.
The tragically dogless people stare at you.
You smile. You wave. The lady with the stroller shrieks at your dog when she tries to investigate the curious thing the lady is pushing. They all glare at you like you’ve committed the worst sin known to mankind.
So you decide to sign up for an obedience class.
Training Trials
“Sit!” you tell your dog. She sits, paws placed together politely, her ears up. She knows this very well.
She is a good girl.
In fact, she’s one of the best girls in the class. She sits, lays down, rolls over, and speaks on command. Her heel is impeccable, but she’s a beagle. She just can’t keep her nose out of everything. The world is a map of smells for her, interesting in every way. Unfortunately, people keep scowling at her when she wants to sniff their knees.
When your very good girl graduates at the top of her class, you enroll in another… and another, and another. At last, you speak directly with the trainer. How can you make this pup understand that she’s not allowed to sniff everything?
Acceptance
The trainer looks at you like you’ve grown three heads. You have a hound, the trainer explains. Of course, she’s going to stick her nose everywhere. That’s what they were bred to do.
And that’s when you understand. Our dogs are what we’ve made them. It isn’t the terrier’s fault that he wants to chase the cat next door, but you can outthink him by checking to see if the cat is there before letting him out.
It isn’t the hound’s fault she wants to inhale every little thing, but you can outthink her with attention-grabbing commands and scent-finding games at home.
It isn’t the Newfoundland’s fault that he drools, but you can have a bright happy bib that says “Pet Me!” to encourage people to approach him anyway.
Our pets aren’t perfect, even if we love them very much, but we can adapt to their particular needs and the situations they get in to by thinking ahead. There will still be instances when they catch you off guard, but that’s when we laugh it off and hug them all the tighter.
Good human. Click treat.
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