Dog Class Humiliation

Evil Moby

Photo by Jonathan Daniels on Unsplash

I’m sending this bonus post to thank all of you who have subscribed. It’s a rewrite of one of my humor columns from 2005. Hopefully, this helps you begin your weekend with a chuckle.

Moby was a wicked, white Labrador Retriever. Those dogs are known to be gentle, family dogs that don’t bite. My dog chose to humiliate me instead.

 A while back, my husband, Todd, took Moby to obedience classes. Moby learned to sit, heel, stay and lie down.  The problem was, Moby would only obey Todd. Whenever that spawn of Satan was with me, he feigned deafness to my commands. 

So, I called the dog trainer, and she suggested I take Moby through the classes a second time so he would learn to obey me too. At the time, it sounded like a good idea. But that evil dog must have overheard the conversation.

I knew I was in the wrong place.

At the first session, the trainer had us sit in a circle, introduce our dogs and tell what we hoped to gain from the classes. I went first.

“I’m Patty and this is Moby, we’re taking this class because Moby flunked the first time.”  No one laughed.

 “Awwwwwww, poor doggie,” they all said in unison.

At that moment, I knew I was in the wrong place. I should have grabbed Moby and dashed for the exit.  Better yet, left Moby and ran for the exit. But being young and idealistic, I stayed thinking Moby might learn to obey.

That night I’d rushed to class after work and was overdressed and exhausted. We practiced walking our dogs and making right turns, everyone except for me. It resembled a marching band making a turn and one member marching in the wrong direction. Repeatedly, the instructor yelled, “Patty, your other right.” I lowered my head in shame.

Then we worked on making the dogs lie down and stay. We stood in a circle and every other dog was lying perfectly still… except Moby. Instead, he was doing a wild, rabid dog impersonation that would have made Cujo proud. Moby had been practicing.

Next, he jerked his head out of his collar and raced around the room with me teetering along in high heels after him as the rest of the class stared. Finally, the trainer cornered him and put the leash back on him. 

“Patty, we can work this out,” she said. I doubt even she believed it.

“This is miserable. I’m leaving and never coming back.” And I didn’t.

When I got home, I told Todd I wanted to get rid of Moby.

 “Fine, but you have to tell the kids.”

It’s been eight years now and I haven’t found the time yet. But I’m sure the right moment will come soon. 

Moby made other poor choices over the years. He had been housebroken for almost a decade and never had an accident. However, in his mind that was beside the point. 

One evening, members of my extended family came to visit. Moby happened to be standing among all my relatives who think dogs are unclean and don’t belong in the house. He barked to make sure he had everyone’s attention, then squatted and dumped a load on the carpet.

Evil Patty giggled and savored the moment.

After that, Halloween was coming. It gave me a small measure of hope. It was my favorite time of the year to be a dog owner. The previous year, I bought a black and white striped convict suit for Moby. It even came with a little hat that said, “Bad Dog.”

I couldn’t wait until Halloween to put Moby in the costume. When I made him go into the living room to show our guests, Moby looked genuinely embarrassed. Good Patty almost took the costume off him, but Evil Patty giggled and savored the moment. She prevailed and enjoyed making Moby parade around the neighborhood in his costume.

After Halloween, I decided Moby needed more costumes, one for every holiday. He already had reindeer antlers, but those didn’t seem to bother him. Therefore, he needed an entire reindeer costume.

If I couldn’t find one, I would make one. I didn’t know how to sew but would be willing to learn. Anything for my little doggie.