Doggie class.

2004-02-21 at 5:26 p.m.

We're enrolled in obedience classes.

It's a family thing.

It's not that Tildie's poorly behaved. Well, much, anyway. And she already knows Sit and Shake and Lie Down, and she loves performing. (She's not so hot at Come, Stay, or Don't Pull on the Goddamn Leash! but we're working on that.) And she's a BFD (big fuckin' dog!) so we thought it'd be good for us, good for her, and maybe some kind of Friday night date thing.

Yeah, we're getting old. When they said they had obedience classes on Friday night, we were all, "Sounds perfect!" I cannot imagine myself saying that two years ago. Yes, we're going to obedience classes at 7:45 on Friday nights, and we're doing this voluntarily. Have I mentioned I feel old, recently?

At any rate, last night was our first obedience class, and it was humans-only. The teacher--super nice--but a certified nut. She'd hand-puppet her way through examples, and even when someone asked a question halfway through, she'd have to complete her little scenario--her little conversation with the dog that is actually her right hand--before she could answer.

"Ooooo, too bad for you," she'd tell her right hand, as she took the treat away with her left hand and the right hand would turn away in shame.

She has, however, taught her chihuahua Paco how to sneeze on command.

She has six dogs, and only Paco wasn't sixty pounds or more in size ("one of these things is not like the other ones..."), and they were all there, attentive and alert to her every move, anxious to show her what they could do. I hope we do as well with Matilda.

We might leave out the talking hand, though. We'll see.

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