again—I woke up this morning and called Sarah before heading off to the shelter, leaving a message for her to call me back.
Upon arriving solo at the animal shelter—I left Russell at the apartment today—I quickly began setting up for the workshop with my two eager, almost puppy-like, volunteers. It’s a beginner’s workshop teaching people how to correctly walk with their dog, get their dog to heel, etc.
The entire time, I couldn’t shake the image of Nina cuddling a puppy, and what that would look like . Adorable.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
The four hours passed by fairly quickly as I moved around the room, assessing each dog and their individual level of understanding. Like people, some dogs are thicker than others. I’m no Cesar Milan from The Dog Whisper , but I can usually spot where the owner is going wrong fairly quickly.
That’s what most people don’t understand. The way an animal behaves most likely has nothing to do with them, and everything to do with their owner. Unless the animal is just an asshole. I’ve met several dogs who were born that way. Just like I don’t get along with every person, I don’t get along with every dog. Personality conflicts are bound to happen.
Dogs really need three things: exercise, discipline, and affection. They descend from wild animals, and need to be able to let off their excess energy. To run around and play— to be a dog . Not just be cooped up all day in a cage or a studio apartment with no outside access.
They’re also pack animals, and they need to know who their leader is, their master. If you don't step up and assume that role, they will. And the next thing you know, they’ll be the one who’s completely in charge. What most owners struggle with is the balance between being affectionate and letting the animal walk all over them. You do a dog no favors by letting them misbehave. A well-trained dog is a happy dog.
After the last volunteer left and everything had been put away, I made my way back to my apartment. Upon opening the door, Russell bolted off of his bed and came running to greet me, begging for my attention. Wanting the unconditional love of his master. He doesn’t hold my past against me. He only cares that I feed him, take him for walks, and scratch him behind his ears.
“Hey, buddy. Have you been a good boy today?” I asked, crouching down to give him a rubdown. He pressed his body into mine, nearly knocking me over as he rubbed himself against me. No doubt he was trying to erase the scent of the other dogs, which still lingered on me. “Don’t be jealous. You know you’re my main man. Would you like a treat?” At this, he backed away and started jumping around in excitement.
If only making people happy was this easy.
I walked over to the fridge and grabbed the box of dog biscuits that are kept on top.
“Sit,” I commanded, turning to see him sitting and shaking with excitement.
“Good boy,” I said, giving him the treat.
“Gentle.” I reprimanded, when he nearly took off my finger in his exuberance. He practically swallowed the thing whole and then began swinging his head back and forth, looking between me and the box of treats that now sat on the counter.
Grabbing another, I moved and placed it on his bed. He quickly pounced and devoured it. You’d think I fucking starve him or something, the way he acted. If anything, he could probably stand to lose a few pounds.
Making my way towards the closet, I searched for my suitcase. By now, Russell had made himself comfortable on the bed. As I began pulling my clothes out of the dresser and shoving them into the suitcase, his head came up and he looked at me intently. No doubt he was wondering what was going on.
“Don’t worry, you’re coming with me,” I said, rubbing his head.
Once I’d crammed as much as possible into the suitcase, I left it by the door. Russell followed, laying himself down next to it as close as he possibly could, using it as a pillow.
Upon arriving solo at the animal shelter—I left Russell at the apartment today—I quickly began setting up for the workshop with my two eager, almost puppy-like, volunteers. It’s a beginner’s workshop teaching people how to correctly walk with their dog, get their dog to heel, etc.
The entire time, I couldn’t shake the image of Nina cuddling a puppy, and what that would look like . Adorable.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
The four hours passed by fairly quickly as I moved around the room, assessing each dog and their individual level of understanding. Like people, some dogs are thicker than others. I’m no Cesar Milan from The Dog Whisper , but I can usually spot where the owner is going wrong fairly quickly.
That’s what most people don’t understand. The way an animal behaves most likely has nothing to do with them, and everything to do with their owner. Unless the animal is just an asshole. I’ve met several dogs who were born that way. Just like I don’t get along with every person, I don’t get along with every dog. Personality conflicts are bound to happen.
Dogs really need three things: exercise, discipline, and affection. They descend from wild animals, and need to be able to let off their excess energy. To run around and play— to be a dog . Not just be cooped up all day in a cage or a studio apartment with no outside access.
They’re also pack animals, and they need to know who their leader is, their master. If you don't step up and assume that role, they will. And the next thing you know, they’ll be the one who’s completely in charge. What most owners struggle with is the balance between being affectionate and letting the animal walk all over them. You do a dog no favors by letting them misbehave. A well-trained dog is a happy dog.
After the last volunteer left and everything had been put away, I made my way back to my apartment. Upon opening the door, Russell bolted off of his bed and came running to greet me, begging for my attention. Wanting the unconditional love of his master. He doesn’t hold my past against me. He only cares that I feed him, take him for walks, and scratch him behind his ears.
“Hey, buddy. Have you been a good boy today?” I asked, crouching down to give him a rubdown. He pressed his body into mine, nearly knocking me over as he rubbed himself against me. No doubt he was trying to erase the scent of the other dogs, which still lingered on me. “Don’t be jealous. You know you’re my main man. Would you like a treat?” At this, he backed away and started jumping around in excitement.
If only making people happy was this easy.
I walked over to the fridge and grabbed the box of dog biscuits that are kept on top.
“Sit,” I commanded, turning to see him sitting and shaking with excitement.
“Good boy,” I said, giving him the treat.
“Gentle.” I reprimanded, when he nearly took off my finger in his exuberance. He practically swallowed the thing whole and then began swinging his head back and forth, looking between me and the box of treats that now sat on the counter.
Grabbing another, I moved and placed it on his bed. He quickly pounced and devoured it. You’d think I fucking starve him or something, the way he acted. If anything, he could probably stand to lose a few pounds.
Making my way towards the closet, I searched for my suitcase. By now, Russell had made himself comfortable on the bed. As I began pulling my clothes out of the dresser and shoving them into the suitcase, his head came up and he looked at me intently. No doubt he was wondering what was going on.
“Don’t worry, you’re coming with me,” I said, rubbing his head.
Once I’d crammed as much as possible into the suitcase, I left it by the door. Russell followed, laying himself down next to it as close as he possibly could, using it as a pillow.
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