Wednesday, December 17, 2008

My poor dog.

If my dog becomes neurotic, I will take full responsibility. As if it's not enough that she's been stitched back together twice in the past six months, now I'm screaming out senseless commands and shocking her.

Yes, shocking her. Like, electric shock, not surprise shock.

This morning we were running late for school. I'd gotten the girls out the door and Libbie was begging to go, too. She had her invisible fence collar around her neck already from her morning romp in the snow. I put on her regular leash collar with the leash attached and sent her out the door with the girls, telling myself to remember to take her invisible fence collar off before leaving. I closed the door and ran down to the car to grab my sunglasses. I came out of the garage, closed the garage door, grabbed Libbie's leash and started walking. As we got close to the edge of the invisible fence area, she turned sideways. I didn't think much of it until a split second later when she started yowling. Screaming. Crying. The same noise she made when her ear was ripped through by the buck.

"Oh s@%#," I cursed, while running backward with her to get her away from the fence.

She looked at me with a face that said, "How could you do that to me? I don't trust you or this crazy yard! I'm not supposed to get shocked when you're standing next to me! Ouch." Her eyes were sad, her eyebrows scrunched. Even her whiskers seemed to wilt.

Poor pooch. So I took her invisible fence collar off, set it down, and started walking down the driveway. She, being the smart dog that she is, wouldn't budge. So I cradled her in my arms and carried her down the driveway. Once I put her down, she seemed fine.

Her tail was wagging as she trotted along happily while we walked up the street to the corner. The girls were in front of me and Callie was carrying on mindlessly, about to walk out into the street without looking to see if a car might be coming.

Before she could get into the street, I screamed, "SIT!" Libbie sat immediately while Callie continued walking. And I kept walking, too, yanking Libbie out of her sit as I tried to grab Callie and bring her back to the sidewalk. You gotta be kidding me, I thought. Poor dog. Again, she looked at me confused and hurt.

On the way home from school, Callie realized halfway across the same intersection that she had dropped a glove a few feet behind her on the corner. She started walking back to the sidewalk to collect her glove. I followed her. She picked up the glove and turned to walk back into the intersection as a car was making its way up the street.

"STAY!" I yelled at Callie. Libbie stopped in her tracks and, again, I kept walking.

Do you think she'll ever listen to me again? It's a sad day when a dog is not only more obedient than its human siblings, but also seems to be smarter and more trustworthy than its person!

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