First published in the Tri Town Transcript Jun 2, 2017
By Esther C. Baird
We have reached the point in the year where I can’t stand talking about school. Why is there school in June? Who likes it? No one, that’s who.
So I’m not sure why I thought it was a smart idea to add yet another bit of schooling into the mix, but, there we were, at Puppy Kindergarten.
Ok, so Puppy Kindergarten was only once a week and I didn’t have to pack any lunches, but I did have to pack an hour’s worth of ‘high value treats’ for Moose, our now five month old Bernese Mountain Dog. That’s about my body weight in treats in case you wondered.
Not that it mattered, Moose found the owners with even-higher-value treats and stalked them. Real chicken? Frozen bits of pork? Aren’t you so clever with your attachable treat bag worn like the fanny packs of yesteryear on your hip. I came with my store bought treats and kept them in a zippy bag crumpled in my pocket. That way when I did the laundry, and forget about them, I’d ensure that all my clothes smelled like dog.
We’d already done a lot of work with the commands to sit and stay, so when our instructor asked for a demonstration, I volunteered Moose. Sure enough he sat for the teacher on cue and stayed. I had an exceptionally smart puppy and felt a moment of smugness. Then it was my turn.
“Moose, sit.” I commanded in all the socially acceptable, firm but gentle, loving but boss-like, encouraging but clear, dog owner tones.
He remained standing and staring at the instructor and her super great treats. The rule was I could not repeat the command more than once. So I gestured with grand sweeping movements the sit command and he stared at me like he felt sorry for me and my floppy, waving arms. Then he walked over to the instructor and sat. By her.
Ok, so fine. Still smart, but perhaps I’d just drop the smug bit.
During the puppy free play time, Moose hit his stride. Other puppies pig-piled around on the floor in dusty balls of fur and saliva, but Moose preferred to gallop in wide loops around the playroom, sometimes chasing puppies, other times being chased, but always on the move.
And then it was time to relax, while our instructor spoke, and the puppies, exhausted from their play time, lay quietly at their owner’s feet.
Except for one.
One gnawed loudly on the folding metal chair and yanked my hand down to be petted, barking if I didn’t get the message. Was he not firm but gentle in his bark? Not encouraging but clear enough in his mouthy grab of my sleeve?
I stared off into the far corner pretending to not notice. What? Was my puppy the loud one? I had no clue. I was busy. Staring.
We worked on leaving objects alone, walking on leashes and other basic dog skills. Our instructor spun magical dreams of dogs that lovingly sat while we brushed them, who never barked incessantly, and who enjoyed folding laundry when they weren’t picking up after themselves in the doggy yard.
I just wanted Moose to not chew me.
Some of the more advanced puppies were doing algebra and jujitsu by the final kindergarten class. Moose and I were pleased with his ability to not be scared by an umbrella and to come when I called him (on the third try, with better treats . . . whatever).
Still, even though he hadn’t learned how to spell his name (or respond to it if something more interesting, like air, was moving), he received a Puppy Kindergarten graduation ribbon.
I posted a picture of him on Facebook sitting still and holding the blue ribbon calmly between his teeth. What a good, extraordinarily photogenic, cute puppy.
Of course what the photo didn’t show was that he was eating the ribbon. I happened to capture the moment just before it got shredded like so many of my fleece jackets and I had to pull it out of his esophagus.
But we graduated, which this time of year is the goal. Right?
Just get us across that stage, get us through the final awards ceremony, throw a ribbon or diploma or report card at us, whether we’re faking the photos, or not.
Just make it be summer.