The Graduate, Part I
Every Saturday since early June, Bailey and I have rolled out of bed for 9am obedience class. “Off-Leash Wonder Dogs.” If you knew Bailey, you’d realize she has a better chance of success in Conversational Japanese. But onward we marched. Her on leash, me six feet behind, towed like a broken down ‘86 Taurus. Ellen followed at a safe distance, pretending she belonged to a better behaved dog and more confident owner.
Around 10pm on the eve of graduation, I fried Bailey a PathMark Manager’s Special flank steak. Normally, her steaks are grilled to perfection. But I’m trying to conserve propane, and took a chance she wouldn’t complain.
Why the gourmet treatment? Pure bribery. After four or five disastrous weeks, Milk Bone and Old Mother Hubbard were no longer putting asses in the sits. My dry, familiar treats paled in comparison to six dogs, six owners and a Saturday brunch buffet of smells.
One week, during a particularly embarrassing off-leash episode, we were asked to watch from the sidelines. That’s when I relaxed my strict no-people-food commandment.
If I wanted to play dog trainer, I had to play personal chef.
With steak in pocket, she was a new dog. More accurately, I was a new owner. An owner with high-quality beef well worth the price of a few down-stays. After successfully completing a “heel” through a maze of orange cones – instead of, say, stealing one of the cones and running for the exit – it was obvious we were using performance-enhancing food.
The last few weeks were amazing. Down at a distance? Sure. Off-leash musical chairs? Flawless. But could we maintain this level of performance on graduation day? To be continued…
