Thursday, September 25, 2008

Dog training...


So, tomorrow, at the grand old age of twentysomething (where something is a number larger than twenty) the Grumbler goes back to school. This has come as a surprise to a number of people, including the Grumbler himself.

You see, what’s really happening is that I’m taking Rowley (our four month old Golden Retriever) on a course of puppy training classes. This proves necessary as he has singularly failed to take on board the information in the book I bought him. I know that he’s digested the contents because I had to clean the results up from the kitchen floor the other day.

In my relatively simple world, taking the pup on a course equates to taking him to be trained. However, in reading up a little beforehand, all of the indications are that it’s the owners that are the target of the educators… This is just weird, for at least three reasons, namely:

1) It’s been a very long time since I last ran away with the single minded intention of impregnating every female I could get my paws on. (note, Im not saying I never tried this, just that I don’t any more)
2) I don’t make a habit of crapping in the kitchen. (I’d say I have never done this, but its conceivable that ‘mother Grumbler’, who has an outstandingly long memory for childhood misdemeanours, might disagree.)
3) Last time I was taken on a course, it was me that was trained, not the taxi driver who took me.

Still, I intend to keep my mind as open as Rowley keeps his bowels and so I shall embark on this course in an optimistic and resolute frame of mind. By the time Rowley and I are finished; one of us will walk to heel, sit, lie down and come on command. Mrs Grumbler thinks this is very funny.

Apart from refusing to walk under ladders; steering clear of black cats; obsessively counting magpies; throwing spilt salt over my left shoulder and touching something wooden just about every time I use the phrase “it should all be ok” in conversation, I am not a superstitious man. Ask anyone and, fingers crossed, they’ll confirm this. However, I can’t help wondering if the fact that I have just discovered, that the course location is one “Prat Hall”, is portentous.

I’ll let you know how it goes…

4 comments:

A said...

Ever heard of the phrase "You can't teach an old dog new tricks"??????

The Grumbler said...

Of course Ive heard that on, but it's rubbish! Ive personally taught several old dogs a new trick or two!?!

A said...

Woof!

Anonymous said...

There's an Old English Sheepdog, Irish Wolfhound and Scottish Terrier running around a field together when they find an childrens slide buried in the undergrowth. They dare each other to slide down it and climb gingerly to the top.
Just as they are about to slide, a voice booms out from above
"Welcome to my magic slide. You will land in whatever you bark out on the way down"
'Fantastic' the Old English Sheepdog thinks to himself and sets off barking "Juicy Bones" as he shoots down the slide and lands in a pile of lovely meat laden bones which will keep him busy for days.
"Chocolate Drops" the Scottish Terrier barks as he quickly follows.
The Irish Wolfhound pauses and then pushes himself off "WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"