So . . . I’m sittin in the truck, watching the dog “obedience" class on its first day. I don’t attend, because I’ve been taught so much I could teach the bozodogs myself . . . and to be truthful, the Master thinks I’ll embarass her and bite some poodle in half. (Poodles. . .are they really dogs?)

I’m sniffing the breeze coming through the window, enjoying the spring day, and I hear the teacher say, “From now on, we don’t say NO to our dogs.” I strain to see the Master’s face - she’s holdin it together like a stone. “Because,” the teacher says, “we get into a bad habit of saying ‘NO!’ too often and after a while, the dog tunes it out.” Now the Master nods in agreement, slowly. Interesting idea, she says, could be true. Hmmm. I wonder if she’s lyin'.

The Master does say NO to me sometimes. And the other dog my brother. And the cats. I find that it is not overused, and it’s a good one-syllable signal to get my nose out of whatever I’m doing. She uses the BIG voice. Gets my attention. Not difficult to get the meaning. I like it.

Then I get to decide whether I will do as she commands. The other dog, my brother, he always does it. She says the word and he nearly pees himself. (Border Collie. . . wussies every one.) Sometimes I am feeling good, and shrug my dog withers and say, “OK”. Other times, I’m kind of spoiling for a show-down.

You see, I am that sort of a dog. I don’t suffer fools. I am born to be Alpha ( My kind are the boss of cows for Heaven's sake. . . ) Unless my human insists upon being Alpha. Then it is my duty to challenge the throne every day at least once. Even if I know she’ll win, it keeps her on her toes. So some days, NO just ain’t gonna do it. To be a worthy leader, she must be. . . well. . . forceful.

Sitting in the truck watching the class, I am wondering what sort of word the Master will substitute. I will need to consider carefully the best way to put this to the test. After all, when I’m . . .say, for instance. . . growling at the kitties, she won’t want to use a loooong phrase. Must be short, stop ME short. (Kitties. . . what ARE they?)

I hear the teacher suggest the humans just IGNORE “bad” behaviors, and praise good ones. Hmmm. So when I’m cranky and snap at the Master's leg as she passes, she’s gonna ignore me? She tried that once. I got up and followed her, snapping until she heeded my issue for the day. She put me in my place pretty good. No problem. I liked it. She was still in control of herself and her throne - I don’t call her the Master for nothing; the household heirarchy was intact. I felt good about things again. No worries. I could climb back onto the couch and snooze without a care. And when she put me in my place . . I’m pretty sure she used the word NO. Worked just fine - loud and clear. I liked it..

The class winds up, every doggie gets a treat (man I’m hungry!) and they all say goodbye. The other dog my brother is bouncing around like a maniac - that’s what he does. He jumps into the front seat of the pickup and begins to bark at me through the backseat window. The Master walks around and opens the topper door on the back of the truck. She pats my head and gives me a treat too. “You’re a good girl,” she says, “Ready to go home?”

She goes back and opens the front door to climb into the driver’s seat - “Aengus, NO!” she says to the other dog my brother, who is still barking at me, and he cowers and lies down. “Good boy,” she says, “NO bark.” She caresses his ears as we pull into traffic.

A happy dog, I run around the back all the way home - from side to side, front to back, herding the other vehicles that pass. When we stop at lights I bark the cars beside us. I like when they have dogs too. Sometimes they bark me back. People walk on the sidewalks. I bark them and scare them. They like it.

SheilaDog