The Hubs and I have become obsessed with that show "The Dog Whisperer". Before we got Georgia, we never would have given that show a second thought - but now we watch it with eye-popping intensity. Seriously, over the weekend, we watched hours and hours of that show. It's almost like we think that if we watch a show on how to train dogs...that ours will magically become trained. Ceasar Millan - aka...the dog whisperer...has this thing that he does to let the dogs know he means business....he points his finger sternly, and makes this loud "SSSHHHH!" sound.
Except that when I do that to Georgia, she licks my finger...and wags her tail.
She think that hubs and I are just big giant toys that throw things for her and feed her once in a while. The boss in the house? That would be Tweak. My oldest and biggest alpha male cat. The other day I was in the bathroom scrubbing the sink, and Georgia was sitting the middle of the floor watching me trying to figure out what the heck I was doing and could we go OUTSIDE already? because there are sticks to bite out there!
Anyway, Tweak came cruising into the bathroom...walked right up next to Georgia, and glared at her. Georgia went scurrying over into the corner where she promptly laid down with her head on her paws. Tweak looked at me like "you two pushovers know NOTHING....see that? that's how it's done!"
and then proceeded to lay down all king-like in the exact spot where Georgia had been sitting. I swear, we should have named him Moustafa.
Yesterday, we finally got Georgia a harness so we can attempt to leash-break her. We tried the leash and collar thing and she just lays down and bites the crap out of it...she has no concept of walking with the leash yet. Aron (my puppy buddy and giver of good suggestions since she's got TWO wild ones at home) suggested the harness, so yesterday I marched outside with all my equipment in hand and treats in my pocket...determined to teach Georgia what the leash thing is all about.
As I was putting it on her, she flipped over and thought it would be a good time to get a belly scratching....it was kinda like putting a diaper on a kid who keeps rolling away...I needed about 5 arms to get the job done.
FINALLY, the harness was on...I attached the leash and we walked from one end of the yard to the other - her following me and prancing along...and I was SO HAPPY...I gave her a treat and praised her...and then we started back the other way. Which is when she looked at me like "what? you mean I have to do that again? I don't think so lady..."
I tried to sound all excited "Come on Georgia! Come on sweetie, let's WALK! You wanna WALK don't you??? We're gonna go on a WALK" -(which I should have known wouldn't work, because I got this image of the manager of my gym going "come on K! We're gonna hop on this treadmill! And go for a lovely walk! you wanna walk don't you???" - which is when in my dreamlike state, I slap her and drive to Taco Bell) I pulled out my treats and Georgia got a little more excited and followed me...now I must stop and explain here that Ceasar says that while walking your dog, you must walk with your shoulders back and your head high...so they know who's in charge. You must be the pack leader! So I'm walking along with my head held high and my boobs thrust forward...and then I feel a heavier weight at the end of the leash. I turn around while I'm walking, and Georgia has completely laid down and is letting me DRAG her across the grass. Her back feet are straight out...it's like she's gone boneless. Okay, Ceasar, what do I do now??
We tried a few more times, and it seemed like I was dragging her more than walking with her...I tried treats, I tried praise...but apparantly we got a lazy dog - because she just kept laying down and wanting to take a nap. She takes after her adopted father, that's for sure.
We're headed to the vet this afternoon to get her girly stitches taken out - and to get her next set of shots...here's hoping that maybe she'll get the hang of the whole leash thing once we start taking her to parks and public places. Otherwise, we might have to get hubs one of those baby bjorn things so she can go out with us in public. After all, she is HIS dog, right?
(date is wrong by the way - good job pointing out the obvious K!)
(this is a terrible picture, but those back feet kill me!)
and of course...
