Mark & Freddy (Freddy's the furry one)Mark is no stranger to dogs. But, he is. He always had German Shepherds and it has been a couple of decades since those were in his life. Mark now has a five-pound poodle and the techniques he once swore by don’t seem to work real well. We no longer punish dogs for their transgressions, I explained, but praise and reward them for good behavior. No, I explained, Freddy has no idea what you’re talking about when you point to where he peed in the house and yell, “No! No! No!” Now, we keep our new friend with us constantly and when they start to lift their leg, we sweep them up and run out the door with a “Good dog! Good dog!”
And, Mark was reminded, he was no longer in the world of big dogs; he had migrated to the strange new land of yappers. Obedience school was a great idea for socializing and bonding, but did he really care if something that weighs less than a gallon of milk tugs on the leash? A little dog has one main purpose (imho), and that is to be spoiled within an inch of its life.
Then there was Mom. Mark said that no matter how often he told her not to feed Fred from the table, she would forget and give him a little bit of buttered toast here, a teaspoon of pudding there. I asked Mark which was easier: trying to change someone with Alzheimer’s or just accepting that Freddy was probably going to put on some weight? He could always put Freddy on the Atkins diet later.
