really dumb, don’t you, dog?” I said. I heaved back and hurled the stick with all my might. Marley roared into the water with his stick still locked in his teeth. The only thing was, I hadn’t let go of mine. Do you think Marley figured that out? He swam halfway across the water before catching on that the stick was still in my hand.
“You’re cruel!” Jenny yelled down from her bench, laughing.
When Marley finally got back onshore, he plopped down in the sand. Although he was exhausted, he was not about to give up his stick. I showed him mine and reminded him how much better it was than his.
“Drop it!” I ordered. I cocked my arm back as if to throw. The dumb dog bolted back to his feet and began heading for the water again. “Drop it!” I repeated when he returned. It took several tries, but finally he did just that. And the instant his stick hit the sand, I launched mine into the air for him. We did it over and over, and each time he seemed to understand a little more clearly. Slowly the lesson was sinking into that thick skull of his. If he returned his stick to me, I would throw a new one for him.
“You’ve got to give to get,” I told him. He leaped up and gave me a sloppy, sandy kiss. I guess that meant he’d learned his lesson.
As Jenny and I walked home, the tuckered Marley for once did not strain against his leash. “You know,” I said to Jenny, “I really think he’s starting to get it.”
Jenny looked down at him plodding along beside us. He was soaking wet and coated in sand, spittle foaming on his lips. He clenched his prize stick in his jaws.
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” she said.
Our veterinarian told us about a local dog-training club that offered basic obedience classes. When we went to register Marley, we met the woman who would be teaching our class. She was a stern, no-nonsense dog trainer who believed that there are no bad dogs, only weak-willed and hapless owners.
As Jenny, Marley and I arrived for the first lesson, Marley spotted the other dogs gathering with their owners across the tarmac.
“A party!” he barked. He leaped over us and out of the car. He was off in a tear, his leash dragging behind him. He darted from one dog to the next, sniffing private parts, dribbling pee, and flinging huge wads of spit through the air. Sniff sniff. Dribble dribble. Fling fling. For Marley it was a festival of smells. He stayed just ahead of me as I raced after him. Each time I was nearly upon him, he would scoot a few metres farther away.
I finally got close. Taking a giant leap, I landed hard with both feet on the leash. He stopped with a sudden jerk. For a second, I was convinced I’d broken his neck. He jerked backward, landed on his back, flipped around, and gazed up at me with the serene expression of a kid who has just eaten every last piece of candy in the candy store.
Meanwhile, the instructor was staring at us as if I had thrown off my clothes and danced naked right there on the blacktop. She was not amused.
“Take your place, please,” she said curtly. Jenny and I tugged Marley into position. “You are going to have to decide which of you is going to be the trainer,” she added.
The instructor didn’t understand that we both wanted to participate so each of us could work with him at home. I decided to explain.
“But we—” I began.
“A dog can only answer to one master,” she said, cutting me off.
“But—” I said. This time her glare silenced me. I slunk to the sidelines with my tail between my legs, leaving Master Jenny in command.
This was probably a mistake. Marley was already way stronger than Jenny and knew it. The instructor began her introduction on the importance of establishing dominance over our pets. That’s when Marley spotted the standard poodle on the opposite side of the class. He lunged off, with Jenny in tow.
All the other dogs sat three metres apart, beside their masters. They waited for instructions. Jenny was fighting to plant her feet and bring Marley to a halt.
“Forward ho!” Marley seemed to be telling her. He lumbered on and tugged her across the parking lot in pursuit of hot poodle butt-sniffing action. Jenny looked like a water-skier being towed behind a powerboat. Everyone stared. Some snickered. I covered my eyes.
Marley crashed into the poodle. Everyone waited as he sniffed every inch of her. I imagined it was his way of saying, “Nice to meet you!” Jenny tugged with all of her might, but Marley ignored her. “I’m not done yet,” he seemed to be saying. Finally he finished saying his hellos, and Jenny was able to drag him back into place.
“That, class, is an example of a dog that has been allowed to think he is the alpha male of his pack,” the instructor announced calmly. “Right now, he’s in charge.” Marley agreed by attacking his tail, spinning wildly as his jaws snapped at thin air. In the process he wrapped the leash around Jenny’s ankles until she was fully immobilised. I winced and was thankful that it wasn’t me out there.
The instructor showed the class how to command dogs to sit.
“Sit!” Jenny ordered. Marley jumped on her and put his paws on her shoulders. She pressed his butt to the ground. He rolled over for a belly rub. She tried to tug him into place. He grabbed the leash in his teeth, shaking his head from side to side as if he were wrestling a python.
It was too painful to watch. At one point, I opened my eyes to see Jenny lying on the pavement facedown. Marley stood over her, panting happily. She later told me she was trying to show him the down command.
Class ended, and Jenny and Marley rejoined me. So did the teacher.
“You really need to get control over that animal,” she said with a sneer.
“Well, thank you for that valuable advice. Actually, we signed up just to make the rest of the class laugh.” At least, that’s what I wanted to say. Actually, neither of us breathed a word. We just retreated to the car in humiliation and drove home in silence. The only sound was Marley’s loud, excited panting.
Finally I broke the silence. “He sure loves school!” I said.
The next week Marley and I were back, but this time without Jenny. When I suggested to her that I was probably the closest thing to an alpha dog we were going to find in our home, she gladly relinquished her brief title as master and commander. Before leaving the house, I flipped Marley over on his back, towered over him, and growled in my most intimidating voice, “I’m the boss! You’re not the boss! I’m the boss! Got it, Alpha Dog?” He thumped his tail on the floor and tried to
