I was taken to a beach on Sunday. Beaches are the best thing in the world, even better than a five week old bone. Full stop.

I’m 13 weeks old now (plus two days - those make a difference of course). I’ve had my jabs, I’m allowed to walk, and go on nice long walks. And then there’s the training.

Early on Saturday mornings, when the rest of the world has the sense to sleep in, my Pack-Family bundle me into the car, and drive for 40 minutes to then spend another 40 or so in a concrete hall, where somebody with red hair talks a lot to them, and I get to run around and do a bit of practice of what I can do already. Last week, I was the star of the class, as I could “stay” the longest. Actually, I was tired by then, but won’t admit it. I also badly needed a wee.

Class is fun, fun, fun! There are lots of hyper dogs there, most of them much smaller than me. I’ve stood on a miniature poodle before, without knowing it. He’s a little timid, though. We have a mat to sit on, and some A-grade treats - most of which I don’t comply with, of course.

Training also takes place every night (and on my walks during the day with PackMum) in the living room. Or so they think. I’m just after the treats, really. They click, I eat. Simple. Here’s some of the things we do -

Lap Dancing

Yeah, not sure why - but my PackFamily are meant to pick me up, and hug me. They then inspect my paws, eyes and teeth, and hug me a little too tight when I wiggle. Both PackDad and PackMum say I’m getting too big now for all of this lap dancing, so I’m not sure how long my hugs are going to go on.  

No smart comments about how I look like an old man sitting there like that, right?! That’s my PackDad, anyway…ruff! 

Sit, Down, Up Again, Do a Little Dance, Get Down Tonight

They don’t click me much anymore on this, so because I’m not getting my food, I’m starting to rebel and make sure they know their places here. You want sit - then you darn well click!

Stay - On Your Mat

We have this mat, you see. Somehow, it’s colour co-ordinated with my doggy bed, and bigger mat, but my PackMum says this is pure coincidence. I’m not so sure. It’s getting too small for me, but I’m meant to sit and stay on it. And Mostly, I’m meant to settle on it, but there are much more interesting things to sniff out in the living room than staying on a too small mat, anyway. So, I stay there for a little while, long enough to get a click out of it, anyway - unless someone walks out of the room - which is my chance to scratch and sniff.

Grooming

Yep, not so keen on this one, but I do get clicked on this. I’m darned if I’ll have my chin  combed, though.

Recall

How can it be re-call, by the way? Re is doing it again, isn’t it? That would signafy I’ve done it in the first place, which is debatable, and dependent on what’s in it for me. If I’m about to be locked up, then forget it. If I’ve got a more interesting thing I’m chewing (I can reach quite a few higher-up shelves now, I’ve found…) then forget it. If I’m out in that doggy field and running with a real doggy pack, then forget that too. 

Walking

I’m not meant to pull, which seems a bit frustrating. Sometimes it takes me a while to work out that I’m not going anywhere, and sometimes I’m quite good at getting my PackFamily to walk with me to where I’m heading.  We do go to very cool places. Last week I ended up walking through a big field which had white wooly things in it. They didn’t seem much interested in me, and admittedly, I found more interest in the lovely smell of other doggy pooh to roll in at the time. And of course, there’s the lake - I know my own way there now. And the doggy field, where I get to meet all the locals.

An Ode to a Doggy Lick

When I Lick
I’m saying I love you
Or maybe that you are a bit smelly
Or that your face is tastey
It could be all of the above
But don’t complain about my love
Lots of Hoomans out there love my puppy kisses
When I Lick
I’m saying I love you.

When I Lick
I’m saying I love you
Even if it’s with lots of drool
And a bit of doggy bad breath
And maybe it’s a bit raspy too
Which doesn’t worry me in the least
Lots of Hoomans out there love my puppy kisses
When I Lick
I’m saying I love you.

When I Lick
I’m saying I love you
Too bad what the dog trainer says
Too bad about the cranky ol’ neighbour
Too bad about that bill you can’t pay
With me around, everything’s okay
Lots of Hoomans out there love my puppy kisses
When I Lick
I’m saying I love you.

Cats are very interesting things. They excite me. And I’m starting to work out that one of them gets me in trouble.

We have three cats in my house, but I never see one of them. Another is so old that when I go up to greet him - in my garden, mind you - he simply hisses. This is remarkable work, as he doesn’t have any teeth he’s so old - so how he makes that noise is beyond me. I bark and jump around him a little, but it soon gets boring.

On the other hand, there’s my buddy, Bert.  Bert is so much fun, I can’t believe my luck when he comes around the house to play with me. He does this about four or five times a day, just arriving in my garden. He comes up and sweeps around me, and then we’re off. If he can’t find me (admittedly, I’m often sleeping) he will meow for me until I wake up and pay attention. When we play, he jumps on me, I jump on him, do a lot of barking (which apparently annoys the Pack-Family, but what’s a dog to do, yeah?) Until I nip him too hard, and then he gets a wild look in his eye.

What I can’t work out is why, despite his look of pure craziness, does he come back, and back and back to play some more with me? Not that I’m complaining or anything. There’s apparently a name for that in human-world, something to do with a cockeral and teasing, but in my world, it’s just a little ruff and tumble.

Apart from Bert, cats generally seem a bit of a waste of space. They have very good eats, though. Anytime I do have the chance to nip in and grab some of those gocats they just leave around in their “special” bowls all day long - well, there’s a thousand starving dogs in Africa (literally, I believe) so no use that good grub going to waste also. It’s much more tastey than my boring ol’ kibble, for a start. Okay, so it does bad things to my pooh, and my PackMum is getting annoyed with having to clean that up - but at least I get her to do that. The cats don’t. Huh!  

I get all the attention too. So there, Bert!  

With due respect, I do not follow the rules.

I am not a Dog by the Book .

In fact, anything a book might suggest towards me will be guaranteed not to “work” with me, for me, or for you - for that matter.

You can try that clicker training, crate training, kong stuffing and toilet training. You can try that mat training, constant surveyance and nice quaint introductions to other pets. But it won’t work like the book tells you it should.

I say this, even when I don’t actually read.

I will not be ruled by the book, I will write my own.

Even at 10 weeks.

This is the doggy right.