"Sit!", and Bette slapped her ass down faster than my twenty on the Sidelines bar.
"Come!", Bette stepped smartly to the nice trainer lady, and sat in front of her.
"Okay now, that's how it's done Alan." she said as she handed me the leash, "You try it."
So I looked my little Bette in the eye, and gave her the command. "Heel!"
"Fuck you. I see a hot little Papillion over there. He is cute and I'm going to check him out."
I tried another command. "Bette, sit!"
"Are you talking to me? You must be talking to me, I don't see anybody else standing here. Give me a treat asshole."
Thus went the first obedience class for Bette. Okay, maybe it wasn't that bad. After all, she can't really speak English. But how is it that when I turn my dog over to the trainer she suddenly becomes a Stepford dog, slavishly obeying every command? Chandler did the same thing. The trainer would come over and inform me that I was an idiot, and show me in less than five seconds that Chandler could be made to do what she wanted. Before Chandler, it was Molly. I even paid a guy to come over to the house and give us lessons on good doggy behavior. As long as the guy was in my house Molly behaved as if she were Lassie's stand in. She was perfect. As soon as I wrote out that check and the guy left, she pretty much told me to pound sand up my ass. Bette is a pretty smart dog and I may be exaggerating a little bit about her obstinance. I think she will learn all the commands, and learn how to manipulate me just a little bit more than she does now.