Last Wednesday our puppy had an appointment with the head trainer at a swanky doggy day care facility in the 80s. This is the same spot, in fact, where we proudly watched her pee on a rubber floor and wrestle with 2 month old $3000 purebreads, every Sunday AM, before graduating from puppy kindergarten 18 months ago. So we saddled up the whole team and headed back to our old stomping grounds.
hope Carmen, the Italian greyhound who dropped out of class, didn’t end up addicted to crystal meth
The puppy’s been having some behavioral issues and we figured, with both of us unemployed, now seemed as good a time as any to drop $150 on a dog therapy session. Not exactly sure this is what President Obama had in mind when extending the government’s unemployment benefits.
Our other dog is also no stranger to our very own canine Dr Melfi sessions as we needed to bring in an expert early on, to help us navigate the H-Will-Dog love triangle. Try casually telling your buddies on a Sunday afternoon – “no thanks, you guys can finish off the beer. I’ll catch what happened in the second half of the Giants game on the news later. I need to run off to a dog training lesson with my new girlfriend now”.
So, after an hour of detailing Puppy’s behavior and watching our trainer take copious notes, we were presented with the full analysis. “She’s a big bully. and she likes it.”
Basically – our sweet puppy is the Gooch (from Diff’rent Strokes fame). She sees weaker dogs and precedes to give them the equivalent of a doggie wedgie. She harasses puny poodles for their doggie lunch money and stuffs wimpy Pomeranians in their lockers.
How about that? We thought we had a heartwarming story of a Caribbean rescue. Turns out we have a giant dog that many of our friends are scared of, our parents don’t want to babysit and that stars in her very own doggie version of Mean Girls. Oh yeah – and she’s a crotch sniffer…
Update from H: I summarize it as spending $150 to be told although my dog won’t kill another dog, she will stuff one in a locker and take its lunch money.
W also didn’t mention that we originally called in the trainer because our lovable Dog wouldn’t allow W to so much hold my hand, forget any funny business.
Live from the Home Office 