Toby attracted attention everywhere he went. 
 As he trotted into his first obedience class with his little curly tail in the air, we were greeted with,"Awww! He's so cute!"
 "How old is he?"
"What's his name?"
"What kind of dog is he?"
I quickly took a seat with Toby wiggling and squirming at my feet, trying to get close to the neighboring big dogs. The chairs were arranged in a wide circle around the perimeter of the spacious waiting area. His little black nose quivered as he absorbed all the odors of the vet office, new dogs, and different humans. As the youngest puppy in the class, Toby had a roomful of admirers.


       I was doing some admiring of my own. Several of the twelve other dogs in the room were great dogs in their own right. A friendly middle-aged couple had brought their gorgeous Golden Retriever, Glory. She was an energetic blonde with wavy fur and that irresistible Golden smile. It was easy to imagine Glory leaping to grab a Frisbee or racing across the beach to take a swim.


         Next to Glory was a beautifully groomed Collie with the long snout and thick tricolor fur typical of the breed. Her owner, a bookish-looking thirty-something gentleman, stroked her reassuringly. Lily was no Lassie in temperament. She trembled with fear of all the strange new surroundings, dogs, and people. Her biggest challenge during these eight weeks would be to conquer her fears. Luckily, Lily had a gentle owner with lots of patience.


        Two tiny dogs were part of our group.  Bonnie was a poofy white Maltese. She was yipping and playing tug-o-war with her owner over who ruled the leash. Bonnie's "mommy" was what is euphemistically called "a woman of a certain age", with blonde shoulder-length hair and fresh-looking makeup. She favored low-cut girlish tops with shorts and wedge sandals . On her petite figure the feminine outfits looked attractive. She and her fluffy dog seemed like a perfect match.


      The other little dog was a nervous brown miniature Pinscher. (I later offended the owner by calling it a Chihauhau. Hey, he looked like one to me!) Mikey suffered from acute anxiety. He lay curled on his blanket with his bugged-out eyes patrolling for the dangers he seemed to imagine were looming. Mikey's owner, a very nice retired military officer, were in the class to practice for an obedience sport called "rally", whatever that was.


      Next to me was a wiry black-and-brown dog who looked like a cross between Doberman and a Greyhound, but about half the size of either breed. Believe me, Jax put the Energizer Bunny to shame. With his metabolism, I'll bet he ate more than a Tibetan mastiff. If ever a dog had ADHD, it was Jax. His owner, not surprisingly, looked hot and exasperated as she hauled on the leash to keep him within a two foot radius of her chair. Jax would have been obnoxious if he hadn't been so eager to please her. He would look adoringly into her face trying so hard to be good...but then he just had to bust some moves!


      Last of the memorable canine personalities was a large long-haired mutt called Ralph. Ralph had big brown eyes, a massive skull, and attitude. A DNA test might have shown him to be part Rottweiler together with who-knows-what other big furry breeds. Ralph had some aggression issues and clearly thought he had brought the nice people who lived with him to class instead of the other way around.


     Now, I'd say Mr. Dean had his hands full. Wouldn't you?


Note: I am using Mr. Dean's true name and business name (The Dean's List) by permission. See "Resources" if you'd like to visit his website. The names of Toby's classmates have been changed.

Toby attracted attention everywhere he went. 
 As he trotted into his first obedience class with his little curly tail in the air, we were greeted with,"Awww! He's so cute!"
 "How old is he?"
"What's his name?"
"What kind of dog is he?"
I quickly took a seat with Toby wiggling and squirming at my feet, trying to get close to the neighboring big dogs. The chairs were arranged in a wide circle around the perimeter of the spacious waiting area. His little black nose quivered as he absorbed all the odors of the vet office, new dogs, and different humans. As the youngest puppy in the class, Toby had a roomful of admirers.


       I was doing some admiring of my own. Several of the twelve other dogs in the room were great dogs in their own right. A friendly middle-aged couple had brought their gorgeous Golden Retriever, Glory. She was an energetic blonde with wavy fur and that irresistible Golden smile. It was easy to imagine Glory leaping to grab a Frisbee or racing across the beach to take a swim.


         Next to Glory was a beautifully groomed Collie with the long snout and thick tricolor fur typical of the breed. Her owner, a bookish-looking thirty-something gentleman, stroked her reassuringly. Lily was no Lassie in temperament. She trembled with fear of all the strange new surroundings, dogs, and people. Her biggest challenge during these eight weeks would be to conquer her fears. Luckily, Lily had a gentle owner with lots of patience.


        Two tiny dogs were part of our group.  Bonnie was a poofy white Maltese. She was yipping and playing tug-o-war with her owner over who ruled the leash. Bonnie's "mommy" was what is euphemistically called "a woman of a certain age", with blonde shoulder-length hair and fresh-looking makeup. She favored low-cut girlish tops with shorts and wedge sandals . On her petite figure the feminine outfits looked attractive. She and her fluffy dog seemed like a perfect match.


      The other little dog was a nervous brown miniature Pinscher. (I later offended the owner by calling it a Chihauhau. Hey, he looked like one to me!) Mikey suffered from acute anxiety. He lay curled on his blanket with his bugged-out eyes patrolling for the dangers he seemed to imagine were looming. Mikey's owner, a very nice retired military officer, were in the class to practice for an obedience sport called "rally", whatever that was.


      Next to me was a wiry black-and-brown dog who looked like a cross between Doberman and a Greyhound, but about half the size of either breed. Believe me, Jax put the Energizer Bunny to shame. With his metabolism, I'll bet he ate more than a Tibetan mastiff. If ever a dog had ADHD, it was Jax. His owner, not surprisingly, looked hot and exasperated as she hauled on the leash to keep him within a two foot radius of her chair. Jax would have been obnoxious if he hadn't been so eager to please her. He would look adoringly into her face trying so hard to be good...but then he just had to bust some moves!


      Last of the memorable canine personalities was a large long-haired mutt called Ralph. Ralph had big brown eyes, a massive skull, and attitude. A DNA test might have shown him to be part Rottweiler together with who-knows-what other big furry breeds. Ralph had some aggression issues and clearly thought he had brought the nice people who lived with him to class instead of the other way around.


     Now, I'd say Mr. Dean had his hands full. Wouldn't you?


Note: I am using Mr. Dean's true name and business name (The Dean's List) by permission. See "Resources" if you'd like to visit his website. The names of Toby's classmates have been changed.

If you're visiting this blog, chances are you like reading stories about dogs. Just for fun I'd like to share some of my favorites and some titles I've enjoyed on my kindle. Some of them are even for free for kindles.

If you're visiting this blog, chances are you like reading stories about dogs. Just for fun I'd like to share some of my favorites and some titles I've enjoyed on my kindle. Some of them are even for free for kindles.

When Toby was about 12 weeks old, and we'd gotten through the first month with a few intact shoes left, the time seemed right to look around for obedience classes. I started searching the Internet and making phone calls. Most trainers were prompt in returning my call but didn't have any new classes starting for several weeks. Finally I called the trainer that SEVA GRREAT's vet recommended. I was a bit surprised when Mr. D. answered the phone - I was expecting to get his voice mail. He asked a few questions about Toby - age, breed, were there any special behavior problems? I told him that it was just usual puppy stuff. "We want to avoid bad habits and get things off to a good start," I said. I didn't want him to think Toby was a bad dog, although he was a little young to be needing obedience training. We chatted about Toby for a few more minutes and I finally 'fessed up: the real issue was that Toby seemed to imagine that he might dominate me someday.

When Toby was about 12 weeks old, and we'd gotten through the first month with a few intact shoes left, the time seemed right to look around for obedience classes. I started searching the Internet and making phone calls. Most trainers were prompt in returning my call but didn't have any new classes starting for several weeks. Finally I called the trainer that SEVA GRREAT's vet recommended. I was a bit surprised when Mr. D. answered the phone - I was expecting to get his voice mail. He asked a few questions about Toby - age, breed, were there any special behavior problems? I told him that it was just usual puppy stuff. "We want to avoid bad habits and get things off to a good start," I said. I didn't want him to think Toby was a bad dog, although he was a little young to be needing obedience training. We chatted about Toby for a few more minutes and I finally 'fessed up: the real issue was that Toby seemed to imagine that he might dominate me someday.

 Inside Toby's beautiful puppy face, behind his bright black button eyes, they were always there, lurking about, ready to pounce. He didn't even have to nip. If one of those teeth  touched a blouse or slacks, there would be a hole in them after they were washed. Before long he was gnawing on any hard surface he could approach without being caught immediately.

The dining room chair.

The deck.   (Honest, I was just chewing the toy...)  Soon I had another problem. Mornings were so exciting for Toby! "After sleeping alone  in the kitchen, the lights come on! Ted opens the crate! And takes me outside! I get puppy food! And here Amy comes  stumbling down the steps, eyes half-open, obviously unaware of how exciting this is! I'll help her wake up. Here, a few nips on the ankle ought to do it! Thanks for the treat but you still look sleepy.  Here's a little nibble on the wrist to perk you up!" I tried to explain that this was not what I had in mind at 6:15 a.m. Frantic to make him stop, I could hear my voice getting high and squeaky. "Toby, stop that! OW! Stop doing that! All right, that is IT! I'm going to sit up here and drink my coffee and read the paper and IGNORE you! OW!"  My high, whiny, pleading voice was, unbeknownst to me, sending a message to Toby. I couldn't control him. Ted was the alpha, and maybe the #2 spot was up for grabs. The punctures covering my forearms and ankles told the tale - my puppy was the boss of me. I felt so frustrated, because I really did love Toby and didn't like the way I was starting to dread coming downstairs in the morning. There were other times, too, when he would seem like he wanted to push me around. A few times Toby even "snarled" at me, although that seems like a strong word for a tiny puppy acting tough.  Of course most of the time Toby was adorable, but we knew he wouldn't be little forever. I worried about where this puppy defiance would end. With good reason. Years ago in Maine we had adopted a puppy. We lived out in a rural home on a busy highway. I stayed at home with our little girls (1 and 3 yrs. old) while Ted went to the base every day. Clipper was sweet, but bossy too. He was a beautiful purebred Golden Retriever, and he was almost white. When he was about a year old he weighed eighty pounds. I was afraid of him when Ted wasn't there. If I tried to tell Clipper to do something he growled menacingly and bared his teeth. He loved the kids, but wouldn't tolerate orders from me. One day the inevitable happened - somehow he got out into the yard without a leash. Desperately I called for him to come, but he ignored me and took off across the road. He was hit and killed instantly.  Of course that didn't mean Toby's little rebellions meant he'd suffer a similar fate. Still, I felt uneasy about the way my relationship with Toby was developing. I started looking on the Internet for an obedience school that was not too far away or too expensive, and that would allow Toby to begin lessons soon. Cesar Millan was out of the question, but maybe someone closer to home could help me act more like a pack leader.  It would be nice to get my injuries healed in time to wear tank tops for summer! Next post: Our First Training Lessons