Monday night, out of the blue, Daddy grabbed a scoop of kibble. He knelt in the middle of the living room floor. He called my name. He sat there awhile. I don't come when my name is called. Foley taught me that. We just sit about ten feet away, cock our heads, and look at him oddly.
But he kept calling me and tempting me with kibble. Foley repeatedly told me not to go but ohh, kibble. I went over to him, he told me I was a good girl, and gave me a kibble. Well, how much easier could this be? Then he told me to sit. What? He said sit again.
He held a kibble. What was wrong with him? I grew tired looking at him. So I sat. He got all excited, gave me a kibble, and told me I was a good girl. Obviously he'd cracked. He then told me to stand. Oh my gosh he had developed a second personality. So I stood.
He told me I was a good girl and gave me another kibble. I looked over at Foley and she just shook her head and called me "circus monkey." I was told to sit again, and I sat again, and then damn fool gave me another one. I was training this guy good.
Then, while I was sitting, he put a kibble on the floor, about eight paws away, and told me to stay. Well what kind of damn fool trickery was this? Does a waitress bring a slope nose food and tell them they can't eat it? I was so confused I just sat there looking at him wondering if his head was about to explode.
Then he told me to come to him. What? Come? Stay? Make up your mind. Then he got all excited telling to me come. So, I didn't want him to pss out or something, I went over to him and ate the kibble, he began to scratch me and tell me what a good girl I was.
Then he told me to sit. Can we do something fun like play with the ball? I was just so discouraged by the whole thing I sat down. And he got all excited again and gave me another kibble. "She's learning really quickly," he told Mommy with a big smile.
Mommy just shook her head. Mommy doesn't believe I can be trained. I'd like to prove her right, but I was hungry, sat and stayed a little more for him. "Try it when you're not kneeling in front of her with kibble in your hand," she said. "A little while later he had that opportunity.
I heard something at the door and ran over to it starting to bark: Daddy stood over me: "Pocket: sit, sit, sit, sit, stay, Pocket sit and stay. Sussh. Sussh." Sussh? We had never done sussh before. What is this fool talking about? Anyway, I just kept barking louder, and Daddy kept growing redder.
He finally gave up, but a couple of days later he was back at it again. He seems to think that by training me to sit and stay it will make me a better dog, and will finally get me house broken. He has set a goal for me. 21 straight days without an accident.
So far, in our quest for 21 straight days, I am at, let's see, carry the three, rounds off, um, I'm at zero. But I did go for a stretch of zero straight days so that is encouraging. Plus I am getting kibble for sitting, which seems to be the most exercise Daddy gets. The way I see it, the more time we play the sit, stay and kibble game, the more kibble I get. But as long as I don't do it any other time, he'll have to keep playing the game with me.
I think I deserve credit. I am training him very well.