I once thought that caring for a dog was not unlike caring for a child, and similar training methods could be used to tame them. “I’ve taught kids before,” I thought, “surely I can handle a 7-pound rescue mutt.”
And you know what? I was RIGHT.
I AM FUCKING RAD AT TRAINING ALL THINGS SMALLER THAN ME.
At Least No One Can Steal You
Dog Crates are the windowless vans of the canine world, and should yield equal, if not greater, distrust. That’s why I make sure my dog will resist going into her kennel at all costs. In fact, just to keep things fresh, we really enjoy running new scenarios about kennel resistance every day, including:
- Just stand your gangly-ass legs straight out and howl like you have pancreatic cancer
- If that doesn’t work, you can spread your back legs wider than your front ones, so then I at least can’t close the door
- Hide your tiny ass under the futon, because my hands can’t fit under there
- Run like a goddamn asshole around the entire apartment, making sure to wag your tail the entire time. It’s important that I know you’re having fun
- Go eat some Chapstick, and in my fit of chapped and dry disappointment, I’ll forget to box your tiny ass up
The World Is Your Toy Box
Just like an impetuous toddler, dogs are amazing at showing the world how creative and fun they are, and I want to encourage that at every turn. In fact, feel free to allow the use of any of my things as a personal playground if your ludicrously plentiful box of toys proves too tedious.
I especially love it when my dog uses my:
- Chapstick (that shit is PRICEY. Please, help me rid myself of it)
- Ornaments (The mirrorball ornament you disassembled feels spectacular in the rug, by the way)
- Menorah candles (super fun if you toss them up in the air! L’CHAIM, FUCKAS.)
Continue to pull things to play with out of anywhere you see fit, at any time whatsoever. I never really wanted my TV cords anyway. You’re just doing me a fucking favor.
Trespassers Better CHECK THEMSELVES
In this day and age, any motherfucker could just walk in off the street and walk down the hallway to his own home and possibly put his key in the lock and go inside, and I must be warned of anytime this is about to occur. It is of the utmost importance that you bark at even the most inane of noises so that I have time to be overly exasperated.
Please warn me, loudly and incessantly, under these circumstances:
- When the heater is thinking about turning on, but hasn’t quite gone about it yet
- When I sneeze
- When I breathe a little more loudly than normal
- When the sheets rustle after Adrian farts
- When I am wearing a bra
- When you would prefer to play with your mouse, even though you brought me your rope
- When I’m too slow to throw your ball, you coked-out fetch-fiend
- When a man enters the building on the 1st floor, because living on the 33rd floor does not provide enough warning
- When there is oxygen present in the room
All of these instances are terrifying, and you never know quite when they’ll occur, dog, so keep up the good work and bark like you’re a motherfucking hyena every chance you get. I really appreciate it.
Dangerballs is the fucking best at this. I want to slap Cesar Millan in the face with my mighty dick of animal husbandry knowledge.
Is dog training pretty much the same as kid training? Ever used some questionable kid training tactics? Have any helpful hints about dog training? (I just started using the coke can/pennies thing for barking, and it’s curbing it somewhat).
—Favorite Comment From The Last Post: From Jillian @ Brilliant Title: “I do not believe anyone has said anything about drinking. When my roommates and I would study for finals, we kept a list of “Shit We Said While Studying for Finals,” including “Kids in Africa have glue?” and “You should Neti-pot with tequila!” Then we would drink a lot of wine and eat Puffy Cheetos, the greatest synthetic food ever created.” Also, I finally have my DisneyWorld pictures posted–you can check them out here and make fun of how shitty my hair looks in all of them.