True Confessions of A Dog Trainer

As a professional dog trainer, I have seen and worked with all kinds of dogs over the years. In order to do this as an occupation, one would think a dog trainer would have to love dogs. However, after giving this long consideration, I have a confession that refutes the above statement. I think I hate my dog! That’s right. I think I’m completely envious and jealous of my own family dog and I need to relieve myself of this shameful burden I’ve been carrying around inside of me all these years

My wife and I have an 11-year-old English bulldog named Rosalita, Rosie for short.   At this point of her life, she is a fat, arthritic, grunts and snores and if there were an Olympic event for canine flatulence, she would come away with the gold no questions asked. You may ask why I would hold such rancor for this dog. Below are some of the reasons.

She is never concerned about what she has to wear. No matter what the weather outside is or the event she is attending, Rosie always shows up in her white and tan suit she has been wearing every day of her life.And she always looks great.   No dry cleaning bills, no replacement of tears, no nothing. And she always steals the show.

She never stresses.   Rosie is the ultimate comedian. She treats life like a game and at the ripe old age of 11, still loves to roll over on her back and wriggle around with all 4 legs flailing away. It’s a guaranteed showstopper. There isn’t a person alive who wouldn’t start laughing uproariously at her antics.   She doesn’t worry about bills, politics, news events, etc. She’s always happy!!   How is that possible? And be careful, if you for one second are not giving her your full attention she will do everything in her power to draw your attention to her. Bark, roll, flounce, steal a toy, grab your shoe, you name it. Anything for you to stop what you are doing to strictly focus on her at all times. And you know what? We do!

She LOVES her meals.   Rosie eats better than 99% of the world’s population. For the majority of her life Rosie has been the recipient of home cooked meals. In other words while most dogs eat something from a can, pouch or bag my bulldog has a diet that consists of turkey, chicken, sweet potatoes, squash, pumpkin, fresh organic vegetables just to name a few. Don’t let me forget to mention that on Saturday and Sunday mornings she always gets eggs, preferably with cheese. As I eat my yogurt or square of shredded wheat I often wonder, “Wow what is wrong with this picture?”

She sleeps and boy does she sleep. Rosie never has “sleepless nights” where the day’s events keep her up. The best I can figure, she gets a good 17-18 hours a day of sleep. She sleeps in any one of the four dog beds that are scattered around my small house. She sleeps our chair and half courtesy of a very prestigious furniture designer. Draped over that chair is a quilt from that same aforementioned furniture dealer. Best of all she sleeps on our bed. She waits at the foot of the stairs after her evening walk waiting, rather impatiently I must say, until I carry her up and place her up on the bed that has been already covered in yet another special blanket. She doesn’t not just stay at he foot of the bed, she has made the whole thing her own pushing aside any pillows, covers or people that seem to get in her way.

And finally the ultimate reason I feel such malevolence to my dog, she is in love with my wife and I have every reason to believe that my wife is madly in love with Rosie. By now you must realize that Rosie might be the most spoiled dog in America. Believe me, there is nothing that will extinguish the spark of romance quicker than having a 55 lb. English bulldog staring at you from 4 inches away when you and your significant other decide to get “friendly.” If I attempt to correct this, my wife looks at me and simply says “But I love her, you can’t move her.” Then there was the time I was carrying Rosie downstairs because naturally she prefers to be carried. I missed a step, lost my footing and fell. Not a bad fall but there was a lot of noise and stumbling. My wife screamed from upstairs “OMG what happened is Rosie alright?” We were both alright and I was actually thankful for Rosie’s extra padding that helped buffer the fall. Yes, sometimes I feel like the proverbial third wheel.

However, after weighing the pro’s and con’s of my little (?) Rosalita, I came to the conclusion that instead of resenting her, I should realize how special she is and be grateful for the joy she has brought into our lives and continues to do so every day. Okay, forget the “hate “ word.   I love her.

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