Dog days of autumn

So yesterday was the 6th week of Tucker's "puppy kindergarten," although he missed weeks 3 and 4 because of his kennel cough, and I missed week 5 because I was finishing revisions to a journal article (that has subsequently been accepted for publication, so yay), so the Smelmooo took him last week instead. All of this to say that Tucker and I are a little behind, especially because we couldn't really do our homework while he was sick, and limited time for homework this last week because we were away.

So last night, in the driving rain, the three of us took off for class; there were only two other dogs there, which meant the pressure was really on for Tuck and me (the Smelmooo basically gets to sit there and watch us -- which must be awfully boring, but I'd trade spots with him in a heartbeat for reasons that will shortly be very clear -- because the parent who has more difficulty with the dog -- which would be me, because I'm a big pushover -- is supposed to participate in the actual training activities during class, while the spouse or whoever watches so s/he can practice with the dog at home).

Okay, one more piece of background before I get to the main idea, sort of: I was a very sickly kid, as I've mentioned before, and I was constantly absent from school and gymnastics class and swimming lessons. And I remember very clearly returning to swimming lessons after a week or two of being sick, and while we were waiting for the class to get started, one of the other kids told me that, the week before, they'd learned backdives. And I freaked out -- remember, I'm the kid whose mom needed to give her a copy of the Serenity Prayer in third grade because I was so anxious about schoolwork -- and started crying hysterically and ran back into the locker room where, between gasps and sobs, I told my mom I couldn't go back because I was too far behind because I didn't know how to do a backdive, and I'd never catch up. And then Mom dragged me back out there, and we talked to the instructor, who told us that that was sort of a one-shot deal and I didn't need to worry about it -- we would be all about the swimming and not the diving, so I should hop in the pool and do my thing, and it was fine.

It was less fine with Tucker having missed two classes and lots of homework; I also think we're at a huge disadvantage because of his squat little legs. How the heck am I supposed to do "heel" (which is him walking right close next to me) if the way to do it is both to constantly feed him treats out of my left hand AND to keep my head up and shoulders back? That simply doesn't work when I'm 5'7" and he's six inches off the ground; I either have to lean way over, which undermines my authority or whatever, or I stand up straight and he jumps up to get the treat, which is definitely a no-no. So I feel like I'm set up for failure, while the other owners prance merrily around in their circles like they're in Best in Show with their big tall dogs.

I acknowledge I'm a bit wimpy, and that Tucker totally knows I'm wimpy, and that that's a problem. But, really, do I need to get called out on it every five seconds? Brought into the center of the room and told that my dog doesn't respect me? That he walks all over me because I'm a big huge wuss? That he should know how to stay while lying down when we missed that part, and have only practiced "stay" from a sitting position? That if he's happily chewing away on a bone I should take it away simply because I can, because I'm dominant?

I don't know; that just seems backward as hell, although the instructor keeps insisting that Tucker doesn't have the human feelings we ascribe to him and that I simply have to let him know who's boss. But can't I be boss without taking away his toys just for the fun of it? We didn't get a showdog; I don't even need a show-off dog; we got a dog to have fun with, and where's the fun in taking away his stuff when he's having a good time, or having it take an hour to get from here to the corner because if he pulls we need to stop, and correct him, and not move until he's heeling. I just don't have that kind of time, lady.

And THEN she tells us, wait until we have kids, aren't we going to be in for a rude awakening. And part of me is like, Duh, you don't treat kids the same as you treat a dog; aren't YOU the one who's always telling us that? But now that I think about it, I'm sure I'm totally going through a similar thing to what my friends who juggle career and kids are experiencing -- I feel so guilty that Tucker's behind in school because I don't have any daylight hours at home to practice walking to the corner properly, and we have so little time together that I don't want to spend the time we do have being a big fat meanie.

Wow, I sure have some issues. Thank goodness there are only two weeks left of training, and that Tucker is so darn cute that it makes up for his disaster of a human-mom, who just lets him run around like a maniac and can't discipline for squat.