Jeb's DogBlog - Impulse Control

Chapter 17

Denver -  

March 28, 2013

My Dear Readers, I'm in big trouble. I may not be allowed back to the gym for awhile, which would be a shame because I love going there!  Tennis balls, basketballs, lots of people who tell me I'm cute, and kids.  I just LOVE kids. They make me happier than anything, even my kibble. Which is saying a lot because I'm not likely to miss a meal anytime soon.

So anyhow, my adoration of kids is what got me into trouble this week.

It started innocently enough. Marianne and I went to the gym, where she'd walked on the treadmill for awhile and I napped.  When she was done we went to the dressing room where she showered and got dressed. I was napping (yes, again - I'm growing after all) when I heard a little girl squeal. Now, I'm sure you know the noise I'm talking about, that high-pitched giggle-shriek? Impossible to resist, in my opinion. So naturally I leaped up and ran around the bank of lockers to say hello.  Her mom was drying her off after a shower.

According to Marianne, this is when the trouble started. It seems that many people, including small girls, are not expecting to see a dog in the dressing room at the gym. Seems perfectly ordinary to me, but I guess I caught the little girl by surprise and she screamed and took off running, dropping the towel. Of course I thought she was playing a game with me and I ran after her. She shrieked louder and ran faster, which I thought was even MORE fun!  We made three laps around the dressing room (small naked girls can run really fast!) before Marianne grabbed my leash and yanked me to a halt. I heard her snap "JEB, NO!"

Uh-oh. I sat down and looked around. I saw one frightened, sniffling child, one unhappy mother, one VERY ANNOYED puppy raiser, and several women watching the proceedings with interest. Most were snickering.  I flattened my ears to show my most apologetic face and wagged my tail.  Marianne apologized to the little girl and the mom, gathered her things and dog-marched me out to the car.

Once in the privacy of the car she gave me a Very Stern Lecture about proper puppy deportment in public and something she called "impulse control." Apparently STAY is an actual command. Who knew? I thought it was more of a suggestion; you know, "Hang out until something interesting happens." 

I pointed out that I'm not quite 8-months old and not yet proficient at all of my commands.  Marianne pointed out that I can certainly stay home in my crate when she goes to the gym.  Oops -- I really don't want to do that, so I guess I'd better work on STAY.

And until I have proved myself "completely trustworthy and proficient on STAY" I will be tethered when I'm in the locker room or by the treadmill. Rats.

Chow for now!

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