Sketchism

It’s taken me about 7 years to finally figure out my dog. When we first adopted him from the Humane Society, I was excited to train him in the arts of obedience. I went out and bought a basic obedience book, but day after day he still wouldn’t obey. Then I realized something. He couldn’t read the book.

So I started reading and I learned how to train him to sit and all the other basics: stay, shake hands, play dead, attack, hide evidence. The last two didn’t really stick. As time went on I noticed he was acting a lot like my two cats. From time to time he would sit on the same dining room chairs as them. At random moments he would try to strike up some kind of game with them, just to feel like one of the cats, but they would have none of it. I would even find him walking across the back ledge of our sofas, only without the same charm as my cats do. Just imagine a heavyset man crawling across a wire in a circus. Exactly.

It is only recently that I’ve finally interpreted one of his oldest and favourite cat-isms. Scooby likes to rub against my leg. I’ve always read this as a cry for a good scratch and so scratch I did. I would grind my nails across his back and side, triggering his thumper leg. He would lick the air with the joy and once I finished scratching he would catch his breath and rub against my leg some more. At this point I would accuse him of being greedy and simply shoo him away, but now I know better.

Whenever Scooby comes to my room and rubs against my leg, it means one of two things.

a) “Nobody has fed me yet; Care to warm up the dog food and mix it with a bowl of kibble for me?”

b) “Hey David, I noticed its getting dark outside. How about you walk me to my cage and give me one of those tasty bedtime cookies you always slip me right before I doze off?”

I guess it boils down to this. I’m Scooby’s food guy. Apparently we all have our roles here at home. Mom talks to him and pets him more than we do. She is the social gal. Dad gives Scooby most of the walks, since Tony and I are barely home. He is the personal trainer guy. Tony plays and wrestles with him more than the rest of us. He is the fun guy.

I guess I’m the food guy. The good thing about this is that whoever controls the food, controls the dog. Scooby learned this at a very young age. Whenever he obeyed one of my signals, I would give him a treat. Ever since then I suppose he’s associated me with food. This explains why he tends to obey me more than anyone else at home, especially with all the cool tricks. We love showing off our dog to all our new guests, but it’s always me who has say the magic words in order for Scoob to entertain them.

I wonder if he’s too old to learn any new tricks. I would really like to see him attack on command one day. The code word would be something random, like popcorn. So whenever I gather in the living room with some friends for a movie, I’ll just wait for the guest to ask for some, and there he’ll be, ripping off their socks. Or jugular veins.

Good boy!