Dog Training The American Male Part 13

"Based on my vast years of experience, I wouldn't set the bar too high. A lot of pound refugees were beaten by their previous owners. What's the expression? Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know when you're going to bite into a nut. Let him in, but keep him restrained, these are new pants."

"That's the problem, I can't restrain him; he's too big."

Anita winked. "Girlfriend, trust me-it's not about the size, it's about knowing where to grab hold." Rummaging through her bag, she removed a large chain. "This is a choke collar. When I slip it around the dog's neck and pull thusly," she demonstrated on her hand, "the noose tightens, restraining the b.i.t.c.h or butch as I like to call them. Okay, what's the animal's name?"

"Jacob . . . I mean Sam."

"Let Sam in."

Nancy slid open the door. Sam entered like an excited locomotive, licking and jumping, spinning around in circles.

"Sit, Sam! Sit. Sit!" Anita managed to grab the dog by its neck and slip the choker collar over its head. "We pull thusly-" she yanked the chain hard "-and the animal is restrained."

Sam sat.

"Oh, I like that."

Fishing again through her back pack, Anita removed a small bag of dog treats. She took one out, the scent exciting the dog.

"I'm a firm believer in the reward system-rewarding your animal when it does something good. Who's a good boy? Sam's a good boy. Give me your paw, Sam. PAAAAWW." She held out her hand.

The dog raised its front right paw.

Anita shook it, then gave Sam the treat.

"There's a good boy. Always reward the desired behavior immediately, then repeat it right away . . . the animal learns through repet.i.tion. Let's try it again. Sam . . . paw."

Sam placed his paw in Anita's hand.

"Wow, he did it by himself."

"German Shepherds catch on fast, they're a smart breed, but virtually any animal can be trained-it's all about conditioning."

DOG TRAINING THE AMERICAN MALE.

LESSON ONE: CONDITIONING.

At precisely 5:57 p.m. Jacob Cope entered his home. "Nance, I'm home."

He placed the newspaper on the shelf by the hall mirror and kicked off his sandals as per Nancy's wishes, leaving them by the front door (a logical dispersal point, steeped in ancient j.a.panese tradition).

His bladder full, he headed straight for the hall bathroom. He unzipped, lifted the closed lid and seat and urinated. He flushed the toilet, rinsed his hands, and removed the neatly-folded hand towel from the rack to dry off, leaving the towel on the sink (as a common courtesy to the next user).

He entered the kitchen to the dog leaping and barking at the gla.s.s sliding door. "Hey, boy! I missed you." Jacob opened the door, unleashing the spinning, nipping, licking one-hundred and ten pound fur-shedding motion of muscle. In between dog hugs, Jacob gazed outside. The backyard had been transformed into a sixty by forty foot gra.s.s-covered rectangle, bordered on all sides by a six-foot-tall wooden privacy fence. In the right-rear corner of the yard was a dog house with a five foot tall A-framed roof adorned in olive-green tar paper.

"They did a nice job on the yard, eh, boy?"

Ignoring the muddy paw prints on the linoleum floor, Jacob opened the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of beer. He searched through three kitchen drawers before he located the bottle opener. Prying off the cap, he left the drawers open and the opener on the kitchen counter (as a common courtesy to the next user), and searched the pantry shelves. Locating the box of doggy treats, he tossed a bone to his tail-wagging companion and headed for the den.

Exhausted from work, Jacob flopped down on the leather sofa with the beer. Feeling between the cushions, he located the remote control and flicked through the TV stations-Sam seated beside him on the couch, the dog's churning jowls turning the biscuit into a trail of crumbs.

Suddenly alert, Sam bolted for the front door, the dog's howling chorus of barks greeting Nancy, who keyed in with one hand, her other holding a steaming-hot takeout bag.

Suddenly alert, Jacob bolted for the front door, his olfactory senses stimulated. "Hey, babe." He kissed Nancy quickly on the lips, "is that a Philly cheese-steak I smell?"

"From D' best Sub Shop; took me a half an hour to fight through traffic."

"Honey, you are d'best." Jacob reached for the treat- -only to have Nancy s.n.a.t.c.h it away. "Uh-uh." She pointed to his sandals. "Shoes in the bedroom closet."

"Shoes? Oh, sure." He grabbed the sandals, then hurried into the master bedroom, blindly tossing them into the open closet-returning in time to find Nancy in the hall bathroom. "Wipe the rim."

"The what?"

"The toilet rim has pee on it. Wipe it clean. Now put the seat down . . . good, boy (it's always important to offer verbal encouragement-animals can sense if their owners are pleased), and what do we have here . . . a wet hand towel, which I just washed and folded."

Jacob attempted to fold and re-rack the towel, but succeeded only in managing to mangle it through the loop (some skills are gender-biased) and it was off to the kitchen.

"Jacob, look at this kitchen . . . Look at the floor!"

"I'll wash it, no problem."

"Do you think you could close a drawer after you open it?"

"Sorry." He slammed the three drawers shut.

"The can opener?"

Opening a drawer, he tossed the can opener inside.

"It goes in the middle drawer with the steak knives."

He opened the drawer on the left, removed the can opener, and deposited it in the middle drawer.

"Jacob?"

He slammed the two open drawers shut.

"Well done." Nancy pointed to one of the kitchen chairs. "Sit."

Jacob sat, his mouth watering.

Smiling to herself, Nancy tossed him the cheese-steak.

OLD HABITS.

At precisely 5:57 p.m. the next day, Jacob Cope entered his home. "Nance, I'm home."

He placed the newspaper on the book shelf by the hall mirror and kicked off his sandals, leaving them by the front door, the urge to pee overwhelming his five senses. Rushing into the hall bathroom, he lifted the lid and seat and urinated, his eyes fluttering in relief. Geez, that was close, the back teeth were floating.

Shaking it twice, he tucked his p.e.n.i.s inside his boxers, zippered his fly, flushed, and rinsed the urine sprinkles from his hands. Removing the neatly-folded hand towel from the rack, he dried off, leaving the towel on the sink.

He entered the kitchen to find the dog leaping and barking at the gla.s.s sliding door. "There's my killer watch dog." Jacob let the dog in. Knelt to allow the German Shepherd to lick his face, then grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge. Opening the middle drawer (conditioning through repet.i.tion) he located the bottle opener and opened the beer. Tossing the opener back in the drawer, he left the drawer open (in case he wanted a second beer), removed a dog biscuit from the pantry and headed for the den, Sam jumping on the sofa ahead of him.

Flopping down next to the dog, he gave Sam the bone, then located the remote control-as the dog bolted for the front door, wailing its greeting at Nancy, who keyed in with one hand, holding a steaming-hot takeout bag in the other.

Right behind the dog was Jacob. "Mmm . . . I smell Chinese food."

"From Uncle Tai's. Took me forty minutes to fight through traffic . . . and what the f.u.c.k are your sandals doing on the floor?"

"Oops." Jacob grabbed the odor-laced leather shoes, hurried into the master bedroom, and blindly tossed them into the open closet- -returning in time to find Nancy inspecting the hall bathroom. "Seat up, pee on the rim and the floor can't you aim that thing?"

"Sorry."

"And what a surprise my neatly-folded towel tossed in a pile . . . unbelievable."

"Sorry. Hey, want me to set the table?" He reached for the bag of Chinese food- -only to be whacked on the head with the rolled-up newspaper. "Sorry, Jacob, you don't get rewarded for negative behavior. Guess I'll have to share this delicious dinner of jumbo shrimp, egg rolls, and General Tso's chicken with Helen-at least she'll appreciate it."

Satisfied that her negative reinforcement will make an impact on her salivating mongrel, Nancy left the house, slamming the door behind her.

Confused, Jacob looked down at the dog-bright-eyed, its tail-wagging. "Hey boy, wanna go for a ride to McDonalds?"

VINCENT COPE HAD just entered his gated community when his cell phone rang. "What do you need now, Jacob? A loan for a new s.e.x toy?"

"Advice, Vin. I just got into a fight with Nancy, only I have no idea what just happened."

"I'm not a marriage counselor, Jacob."

"I'm not married."

"You're living with your girlfriend same thing."

"Did Helen ever swat you on the head with a newspaper?"

"Helen's a yeller, not a hitter. Wait . . .did you just say a newspaper?"

"Right on the head."

"What'd you do? s.h.i.t on the carpet?"

"No. I got a little pee on the rim of the toilet . . .no big deal. Certainly no reason to swat me or take away my dinner. She's on the way to your house with my Uncle Tai's."

"Good, I love Uncle Tai's." Vincent turned into his driveway, pressing the garage door opener. "Gotta run, Jake. I've got twenty-eight minutes to eat, change my clothes, drop off Dylan at the hockey rink, and get Wade to baseball practice."

"Vin, what should I do about Nancy?"

"Apologize."

"Apologize for what? And don't tell me because G.o.d gave me a p.e.n.i.s. G.o.d gave me a set of b.a.l.l.s too, you know."

"Enjoy playing with them by yourself, d.i.c.k weed. Nancy went out of the way to bring home your favorite dinner, and all you give a s.h.i.t about is yourself."

"Listen, Vin-"

"No, you listen. Between your neuroses and that dog, living with you is probably akin to being stuck on the It's a Small World ride at Disneyworld. As your brother and a skilled surgeon, my advice is to apologize to Nancy or else hide the kitchen utensils before she gives you a second circ.u.mcision."

Vin disconnected the call and climbed out of the car, registering the soreness in his lower back and knees. He had been on his feet working since eight o'clock this morning, and there is no rest for the weary.

G.o.d had blessed Vincent Cope with three sons-Wade (fourteen), Dylan (twelve) and Austin (ten), and all three were heavily involved in sports. Thirty years ago when Vin was entering his teens, kids athletics consisted of pick-up games in the backyard-sandlot football and softball, street hockey on skates and half-court basketball in the driveway. If you were good enough you tried out for the high school team; if you had talent, you extended your playing career in college-otherwise it was intramural and adult leagues. Whatever the level, you played because you loved to compete and you loved the comradery.

Today, kid's sports had evolved into community-generated little leagues organized by adults who dreamt of their offspring receiving college scholarships and a shot at the pros. Compet.i.tion began at age five and six-two mandatory practices a week, plus games. And if your kid was good enough to make the travel team -- like ice hockey defenseman, Dylan Cope -- then it was additional practices, plus weekend jaunts to Orlando and Jacksonville-and G.o.d help the "lucky" parent if your kid's team advanced in the tournament. In the last year, Dylan had played in more hockey games than the average professional in the NHL; Vin escorting him to weekend tournaments in Minneapolis, Tampa, Las Vegas, and Toronto.

The exhausted gynecologist entered his home through the garage. Helen was in the kitchen, stirring some kind of red sauce-based concoction onto a plate.

"How was work?"

"Horrible. My last patient was as feisty as an alligator and had more wrinkles on her t.w.a.t than a bag of prunes. I need to eat fast. What is that slop?"

"What's the difference? You either eat it or go hungry."

"Pour a little rat poison in mine, just for flavor. Where's Wade? Baseball practice starts in twenty minutes."

"He's in his room, playing on the Wii. What happened with your brother? Nancy called; she's on her way over. Did Jacob ever get rid of that dog?"

"It's complicated. He named the dog Sam."

Helen shook her head. "He's psychotic."

"Who's psychotic?" Nancy followed Dylan in from the hall.

Vin spotted the takeout bag, his stomach rumbling. "The Uncle Tai's for a free Gynnie Gusher."

"Make it two, just like the one Jeanne had." She tossed him the bag. "So who's psychotic?"

"Your live-in boyfriend," said Helen, s.n.a.t.c.hing the bag from Vin. "He named the dog after his father."

"I thought his father's name was Friedrich?"

"That's what our psychotic mother told him when he was a kid." Vin circled his wife, who was scooping the Chinese food out of its cartons onto three plates. "Technically, that's mine."

"We're married. I get half."

"Vin, were you and Jacob close to your father?"

"Jake was five when Dad left for Desert Storm. The father I grew up playing ball with was different from the soldier who returned from Iraq after losing both legs. When Jacob saw Dad in the VA hospital, he freaked out."

Amputees . . . "Vin, Jacob said your father committed suicide."