Dog Obedience Classes Have a Lot To Teach Everyone

Now that Prince has reached six months, he can start obedience classes. So, I signed him up for the basics. Sit, stay, take out the garbage; nothing fancy.  

Actually, we already have a pretty good start on “sit.”  We even added our own wrinkle to it.  He does a high five.  I know, he’s gifted.  The instructor discovered this when she singled Prince out to demonstrate the proper "sit" technique.

Between you and me, I think she was really trying to co-opt him to her side.  Prince was a lot more interested in playing with the other dogs, and I was having these uncomfortable flashbacks from first-grade, which involved a lot of time sitting in the corner. 

The instructor took him to the center of the room to demonstrate.  She said that we were to scoop the treat over the dog’s head, making his haunches bend into a sitting position.  Or make him jump, I thought.  So I’m sitting there silently praying “don’t jump, please don’t jump.”  I needn't have worried, as soon as he saw the treat, his tail hit the floor.

The instructor gave him the treat, and turned triumphantly to the class, asking if they saw how easy that was.  That’s when Prince swatted her with his paw. The class laughed, and she told them that she was not really worried about that behavior at this point. He kept swatting her with his paw.

“He's giving you a high five, he does that for treats." I explained.

“How nice,” the instructor said tightly.

The instructor and I seemed to have had a rocky start.  I registered late, through no fault of mine I want to add.  The class I had originally signed up for, in the park I could walk to, was cancelled.  They called me 2 hours before the first class to tell me; no class. However, they suggested another class in this park, which was a 30 minute drive, and an hour later at night.  Not exactly what I was looking for, but I signed up anyway, took the last space in the class, so I was feeling pretty lucky. That didn't last long.   On the way over the night of the first class, it began to rain and once I got into the parking lot, the dog threw up in the back seat.  Obedience classes were off to a flying start.    

After another ten minutes of wandering around the park in the rain looking for the class, I found the little field house where the class had been moved for the inclement weather. So, in we went.  Actually I went in.  Prince splayed his legs out and hit the floor and sorted of got dragged/slid in; a twenty by twenty room filled with wet, barking dogs in need of obedience training.  You get the picture.  So far, the actual obedience classes were even more delightful than the trip to get here. 

I took a seat, and the instructor called my name from a sheet on her clipboard. Since I had registered late, I didn't get the introductory email, consequently, I didn't have a paper copy of his license, or rabies vaccine.  All I had were the tags on his collar.  I pointed the tags out helpfully, and was promptly told that these were not acceptable since someone a couple of hundred years ago tried to register 5 dogs for obedience classes under the same license using the tags.  This seemed to me pretty elaborate since the license is only 10 bucks and the class is almost 100, so five dogs would have come to $500 and the most he would have saved on the licenses was $50.  Admittedly, I'm not an economist, but the cost/benefit doesn't really make sense, even if you're registering 30 or 40 dogs.  But, rules are rules, and this is an obedience class after all.  “You may bring them next week,” she told me and began her introductory lecture.  

Since I didn't get the email, I also discovered, that I had brought a retractable leash, which I was surprised to learn is almost as lethal as Kung Fu nunchuks. I tried to hide the leash behind my leg, but it was too late, I felt the reproachful eyes of the class.  And to make matters worse, I'd worn sandals, the second way I'd unwittingly been taking my life in my own hands, as a big dog could step on your foot with his nails and sever an artery or something.  At least, I think that's what the instructor said. I can't be 100% sure.  The dogs were barking at different times throughout the introductory lecture, which made a delightful ringing echo on the tile and cinder block to go with the smell of wet dog.  

As near as I could tell, the instructor said that sneakers were the only acceptable foot-wear for the class, or other "rubber soled shoes."  I hadn't heard the term "rubber soled shoes" since the first grade either.  Gym teachers must have to take an entire semester on rubber soled shoes in college. 

So next week, we have to work on sit, get a strong training lead, and teach Prince how to watch me.  Something I've never had a problem with as long as I'm holding food.  He stares with laser focus when food is involved. 

Practice, practice practice, the instructor's final words to us as we left.  We'll all know next week if you did the homework or not.  

It will only be a matter of time before I'm back in the corner, I'm afraid.  At least I’ll have company this time.