The Tory Party

Dog Discipline

As people tend to do, I visited my folks for the Fourth of July. My dad’s dog, Jackie, a doberman/boxer/something with short pointy ears mix, is going through a bad behavior cycle, which happens sometimes, and I’d be happy to write you a short essay on why, but that’s not the point.

Jackie has long exhibited food possessiveness. Growling when Jake comes near your bone, OK, fine, no likey, but whatevs. Growling when I come near her bone gets a NO and a bone-steppy — howya gonna chew with my foot on your bone, hah? Who’s alpha now?

But her behavior takes a turn she dogfights with Jake.

If you know dogs you’ve seen play-fighting — the tail-wagging kind of fighting than can get snarly, but if somebody plays too rough the other will say so and then it’s time for a breather and a play-bow.

This is not that kind of fighting. This is Amores Perros fighting.

When it happens (they’re never left alone together), I grab Jackie by the scruff of the neck and hold her down until she settles.

Okay. But the strange part is when I do this I have no idea what I’m doing.

I’m not mad. I’m not scared. I’m just… NO.

And on autopilot.

I can’t tell if this bodes well or ill for my prospective childrearing abilities.