Agility training, they call it.
Apparently, they’d seen some stuff on their moving picture box; something called Kruffs or something like that; and they fancied having a go themselves.
Not actually doing it themselves, you understand; they wanted to get me to do it.
There’s no end to what some people have their poor dogs do, just so they can get into this Kruffs thing and have loads of other people gawp at them and say how clever they are to be able to train their poor pooches to do these tricks — none of which, I can tell you, have anything to do with what a dog’s supposed to do; or what we would be supposed to do if we were still wild as nature intended instead of being fed with stuff that comes out of packets and tins and spending most of our time sleeping on their sofas.
In fairness, though, a sofa beats the pants off the forest floor any day, for sheer comfort alone. They’re warmer, too. And drier. But that’s not the point. The point is this. What possible use is there in running up one side of a seesaw and down the other? Or jumping onto a table and lying still? Or weaving in and out of sticks pushed into the ground? If you can tell me how any of those things can help me chase a rabbit down his hole or extract a lizard from its hiding place… or even see off a neighbourhood cat, then I’ll gladly do the training. If not, then I won’t.
Yeah, okay. I’ll do it. But only because the big biped tells me to and he’s my pack leader. And I certainly won’t do it gladly. I’ll be moaning all the time. Under my breath, of course. Big biped pack leader doesn’t like it when I grump and snarl out loud and I daren’t upset him.
Why not? Because he is pack leader, and you don’t go against pack leader unless you want to challenge for the job. And really, do I look like I want the pack leader’s job?
Well, I don’t. Too much responsibility for a start. And; and… pack leader is responsible for securing supplies of food and everything else and that’s all geared up for bipeds. I don’t even know where these packets and tins come from. And what do they, the bipeds, eat? And where does that come from? No. I can’t be pack leader. And it stands to reason that if I can’t be pack leader then I have to do as the current pack leader says. And if he says that I have to run up and down a seesaw, then I have to run up and down a seesaw. And if he says I have to jump up onto a table and lie still, then that’s what I have to do. For treats? In part, yes, but mostly because he’s pack leader and I either obey him or replace him and I’m not about to do that!
Hold on; new order incoming. What? He’s taking the mickey, surely. Jump over the female biped, he says. Jump over her? Actually over her? Oh, she’s bending down. That should at least make it possible. Watch this, though. I’ll pretend to be confused. I’ll jump up and sit on her back. See how he likes that.
I’m not defying him, though; I’m not disobeying. Not as such. I’m just misunderstanding what he wants me to do. Here goes.
Dammit! He thinks it’s brilliant and wants it as part of the routine.
Not sure herself agrees, though…
This was written in response to Kreative Kue 370 published on this site earlier this week.