EXCITEMENT LIKE NO OTHER

Yep, that's what I've got right now at 12:30 pm--no, I guess it's am really. I can't even talk about it till later, but suffice it to say that this is big...really, really big.

A quick follow up from my last post. When Anne came home from school on Thursday, just three days after my "Mr. Crabs isn't doing so hot" post, I wasn't home yet. I called her to tell her I would not be long and to go ahead and do her normal after school routine...check on pet(s), check backpack, wash hands, get snack, start on homework, etc. No problem. So when I arrive I have her take a quick break to "visit with mom" a bit. She comes up to me and ..., well it went something like this:
Me: Hey you! Give me a hug! How was your day?
AMB: Good.
Me: Much homework?
AMB: Just math and I've already done it.
Me: Good for you! Have you had a snack?
AMB: Yes.
Me: Did you let Opal out?
AMB: Yes.
Me: Check her water?
AMB: Yes.
Me: Mr. Crabs?
AMB: (without a hint of hesitation) Dead.
Me: Excuse me?
AMB: Dead.

Yes, that's all she said, and emphatically so. About the time I replied with the "excuse me?", I could tell it was going to be impossible to refrain from the hysterical laugh that was building up within me. By her second reply of simply and matter-of-factly, "dead", my premonition came true and I burst out with the most insane laughter all the while thinking, "this could be a real life altering blow to everything she believes about her mother, but I CANNOT HELP IT"!! Thank God, she immediately began laughing right along with me too. I felt a little guilty for not exhibiting a better example of bereavement, but was glad that she had enough sense to not be terribly torn up about our now deceased crustacean friend, Mr. Crabs, may he rest in peace.

Oh, by the way, apparently it really doesn't bother her at all since he is in fact, still dead as a doornail in the borrowed box in her room. Just haven't quite had time to get around to that, but please note that, unlike other creatures, fiddler crabs lose their earthy smell once they die. So a positive was realized regarding the crustacean world after all--yay!

Had my first dog training session with AMB and Opal today. Steve had taken her last week because I wasn't feeling great, and far less great enough to deal with dog(s). The Dog Whisperer (Steve) returned last week with glowing reports of Opal's high intellect and obedient and eager-to-please nature, so my expectations were high today. Today was the "real dog" class though. Steve had gone to a make-up class with only 3 or 4 other dogs in it, half of which were young puppies. Today was our regular class with dogs 10 months and older.

Dogs and People are a funny mix.

Suffice it to say that I've never thought of myself much as a dog person, people person yes, dog person so-so, and cats are out of the question. But over the years and the dogs who have tried desperately to make their way in our family, I think I have come to appreciate a good dog. Hence my irritation today.

Today's lesson was "off" and "down". Didn't spend much time on "off", because basically you whack them on the nose with a soft rolled up towel when they jump up on you and who wants a room full of people trying to instigate their dog to jump on them only to have all those people whacking their dogs. So most of the lesson was spent with "down". First thing is you don't get to say the word "down", which even after asking why not and getting a perfectly sensible answer, I still thought it odd. Nevertheless watching the teacher of the class work with the dogs, she clearly knew something about all this and she's funny. So, although I was still a bit perplexed I did as told...or so I thought.

After being taught the lesson and what to do and having her use a couple of the dogs in class ("teacher's pet" Opal as reported last week, being one of them) as examples, it was then our turn to practice the commands with our dogs ourselves. There are all kinds of dogs in this class, big dogs, little dogs, black and white dogs, blue dogs, green dogs...I digress. Like the dogs, there are also all kinds of people there, old people, young people, smart people, dumb people. When one signs up for "training" for one's dog, doesn't one expect to actually do that "training"? Well, we had the pleasure of sitting next to Mr. & Mrs. We Love Our Little Worthless Furball who, because they couldn't get Little Worthless Furball to mind them decided it would be more fun to see if they could walk him (or her, who knows) back and forth trying to "socialize" Little Worthless Furball and maybe, just maybe Little Worthless Furball would quit snarling at every dog that came up to it.

So here you are with your dog and it's like having a child who hasn't had their Ritalin meds for days--the dog is flipping all around, looking around, up, down, left, right at every unfamiliar noise it hears and up comes Little Worthless Furball with his/her "daddy". So what does your normal I'm-trying-to-be-attentive-and-learn-what-you-want-me-to-for-this-teeny-tiny-treat-you-are-taunting-me-with dog do but get distracted by LWF, begins sniffing LWF only to be snarled and snapped at by LWF.

Well, you'd better not do that a. to Opal, and b. to any dog that has been around the Biddick house for long. We may let you snarl or snap once, but that's it. Do it the second time and our tail stops wagging, we get in "pounce and kill" position, and you will likely pay for your error if you don't back away pretty darned quick. So, when Opal began the "I don't THINK so Little Worthless Furball" stance, I calmly said to "daddy" in front of "mommy", "I don't think she's liking your dog too much right now".

OH MY GAWD! At that moment, I realized I had become one of "them"! One of those people who are as protective and bleeding hearted about their dogs as they are their kids. Although it WAS the truth, and "mommy" told "daddy" that maybe he ought to back LWF out of our training space, I still, at that moment, had gone to the dark side.

Worse part was, about that time the training teacher came by, "let's see what you can do with her"! Oh yay. Minutes earlier I felt like Opal had lost about as much interest in the stupid treats as I had in working this hard to get her to lay on the ground. I think that was fairly evident when the teacher said to me at one point, "don't KICK her to get her to move". Had I kicked her? I hadn't even realized I KICKED her! Did anyone actually hear the teacher say that to me? Did Anne think I'd kicked Opal? Nope, Anne was sitting slunked in the chair asking if she could go look out in the store (knowing full well it was a ploy to go look at Webkinz merchandise). Ok, I'll TRY not to kick the dog. This was after the trainer told me I was doing everything wrong--too much name calling (not what you are thinking, just me saying "Opal" too much), not holding the stupid treat right, not moving with the dog. I was a failure--a dog training failure. But we were still better than Little Worthless Hairball and his/her people. Training lady took over again with Opal, realized our distraction and cut me some slack. I was then instructed to try the manuever again and did so under the ever-critiquing eyes of Ms. Training Teacher, finding her less humorous than I had earlier. Opal cooperated helping to keep me from looking like a total moron. I quickly told Anne she had better practice with Opal too and was glad to see she was even worse than me.

While sitting down waiting to be dismissed, I begin to watch "Dixie", the other "teacher's pet" smart dog in the class. Dixie was two dogs to our left and is a Golden Poodle that looks like a giant sandy brown curly haired stuffed teddy bear you'd win on tv. Dixie and Opal had met out in the hallway before class. Dixie is perfect, nice, well-behaved, good-mannered, polite, friendly and cute. Opal ended up snapping at Dixie for those traits I am sure. Jealously runs rampant in the Biddick house. Dixie's parents are perfect too and they smile a lot at Dixie's quick mastering of the hand signal signifying Dixie to her perfect "down" position. I could not believe it. Dixie was already just laying "down" without even nashing her parent's nails trying to get the treat, without her parents breaking their backs bending ever-so-slowly over to the floor to get her to lay down...Dixie already knew when her parents moved their arm from up to down by their leg, Dixie knew to lay down.

Opal and I will be spending a lot of time together this week. Dixie will NOT have one up on Opal. Opal has come from nothing. Dixie has come from a long line of fine pedigree. Opal came begging to us. Dixie was "chosen". But Opal's got stamina, she's hearty, she's seen bad stuff and lived to tell about it. So we're gonna show up NEXT week with something to show Miss Dixie...and we're not sitting by that Little Worthless Hairball distraction either.