I need a rest.

The picture describes how I felt after my Mum recently took me to a dog training class.

Now, I reckon that I’m pretty well trained – I know how to eat, sleep, walk, run, shed hair, lick, leave bones everywhere, and look out for cats*. So why do I need any training? (Believe me, you do – Dad). Mum and Dad say that I’m not obedient enough (moi?), and that I can get a bit upset around other dogs that I’m not sure I like. They would like me to be a bit more responsive to their wishes, and to turn the other cheek when another dog disses me – which is quite often.

Anyroadup, my Mum took me to this hall in a nearby village, where a regular dog-training class is held. We had to do some of the usual stuff like Stay and Come, and then doing an intertwining walk around the circle of other dogs with their Mums and Dads.

Although I say it myself, I think I did pretty well. I did more-or-less what I was asked to do, and did it more-or-less when I was asked to do it. The treats as rewards helped, of course. (I’m currently trying to come up with a ruse to get more treats per reward, but don’t tell my Dad about that).

The trouble is that the man who does the training frightens me a bit. I’ve seen him several times before, I’m sure he’s a very nice man, and I don’t feel any urge to bite him. But he does put the wind up me somewhat, and I tend to end up a quivering wreck whenever I meet him. Hence the picture at the top of this post – I really did feel the need for a lie down. It’s hard that the feeling is so intense.

Why do I feel the way I do? Maybe I don’t like being told what to do. Maybe I’m stubborn. Perhaps I just want to do those things that I want to do, rather than what others want me to do. I’m sure I’m not the only dog like that.

And it’s not just dogs. My observation is that humans can also be pretty reluctant to do what others want them to do. Kids seem to have a particular problem with it, but so do adults.

So the next time your dog doesn’t do what you want him or her to do, ask yourself the question: “Am I more or less stubborn than my dog?”

*Other things I’m well-trained in: snuggling up to my Mum, putting my chews on my Dad’s feet, jumping on the bed, sneaking under the duvet, head-butting unwary humans who get too close, complaining if I’m left alone, and flatulence. I’m sure there are others.

Common Toad

In common with – I suspect – most dogs, I go out into the back garden (or yard, for my American friends) last thing at night in order to do what a dog has to do before going to bed. Now, I realise that it’s not always the quickest of processes because it takes time to find exactly the right spot before the decorous lifting of one hind leg.

I must also admit to taking a little bit longer about it because I like to check all the boundaries, sniff under the fence and gate, and generally make sure that there are no cats hiding in the bushes. For about the last week, though, I’ve taken even longer due to the presence of toads.

Funny things, toads. They’re a funny colour and are therefore hard to see among the foliage – especially in the dark. Also, they tend to hop about, which makes them hard to keep track of. Now, a dog is blessed with an enhanced ability to sniff things out, and Border Terriers are pretty determined when it comes to catching things.

So it was with considerable satisfaction that I held the toad in my mouth and took it into the house to show Mum and Dad. To my equally considerable surprise and disappointment, when I dropped it onto the kitchen floor, they did not receive my gift with the unalloyed joy which I had been expecting.

Common Toad

I must admit that it was bigger than they might have wanted, very dark green in colour, and it wasn’t moving. Mum and Dad were bending over, staring at it. “It’s a frog,” said Dad, perceptive as usual, but getting it wrong because it was a toad. “It looks dead to me.”

Mum, being the less squeamish of the two, crouched down and prodded the creature dubiously with one finger. “I think it’s alive” was her conclusion. It still wasn’t moving much, though, which was a shame, as I had been hoping to chase it around the house. Mum gingerly picked up the toad, and put it outside on the grass, Dad declaring “If it’s still alive it’ll be gone in the morning.”

It turns out that at Mum and Dad’s previous house (before my time, when they had a black Border Terrier cross named Sooty), a family of frogs had moved into the greenhouse, and Sooty had never quite known what to do about them. He would just sit and stare at them, looking surprised when they jumped. My view is different – I like the thrill of the chase. Not so much of this sitting and staring. It it’s still, sniff at it. If it moves, chase it – as the local cats know. Apparently, Sooty used to bring hedgehogs into the house occasionally. Now that’s an idea, if I can find one.

Next morning, the toad was gone, so I assume it had hopped it. I keep looking for him, though.

Pictures from Wikipedia. Attributions:

“Bufo bufo”. Licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons – http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Bufo_bufo.jpg#mediaviewer/File:Bufo_bufo.jpg

“Bufo bufo 2 (2005 07 11)” by Taka – Own work. Licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons – http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Bufo_bufo_2_(2005_07_11).jpg#mediaviewer/File:Bufo_bufo_2_(2005_07_11).jpg