Obedience Training (or some semblance thereof)

It would seem to be that our pit bull Hope has a previously unrevealed trick up her sleeve.  Believe me.  I’m just as shocked, baffled, perplexed, and befuddled over the matter as you are.  Even still, it’s true.

Every Sunday for the past six weeks or so, the CFO and I have been packing the dog up in the backseat of the TharpSter Truck and taking a ride to the local retail outlet which specializes in all things dogs, cats, birds, fish, gerbils, lizards, and dust mites.  I won’t actually come out and tell you the name of this national chain; however I can tell you that their point of view is that taking your pet there is very smart.  At that particular store, they offer obedience training classes.  These particular classes have a lifetime warranty, and the price was just about right, so we made a decision to give it a shot.  That last thing we want is an aggressive breed dog catalyzing the stereotype, so we’ve opted to get Hope some bona fide manners.

Over the course of the training sessions, we were of the impression that Hope was doing pretty good.  She’s been quick to pick up on the commands we’ve given her.  When I take her out for a walk, she generally keeps a loose leash once she gets into the stride of things.

The issue we did not pick up on was the fact that the trainer who had been assigned to teach our class was falling down on the job.  There were several other aspects of the training which were supposed to be covered, taught, and practiced in these courses which just plain weren’t.    We learned this yesterday when upon arriving to class; we were advised by the new trainer that the previous one was no longer with the national retail outlet which advertises that it’s a smart idea to take your pets there.  The new trainer went on to make the employment status of the former trainer and the supporting reasons behind said status a matter of public information. 

Yup.  That unprofessional behavior put the new trainer and the company in a poor light in my book.  At this point, I didn’t care whether they were a good trainer, or if they were going to skip some items in the lesson plan like the last one did.  If I’m buying a product or a service from you, you’d better not be ready to represent your employer or co-employees in any light other than a positive one when you’re dealing with me.  Period.  End of sentence. 

But wait.  There’s more.

After shining a low lux beam of light on the boss and a former co-employee, the new trainer then advised us that they were leaving soon to take a job elsewhere.  Great.  We got another trainer who was also on their way out.

The trainer then began evaluating the skills of the dogs in the class, just to determine whether they had learned what they should have at this point.  It turns out they hadn’t.  They were nowhere close.  As the trainer proceeded to advise us in a condescending manner of the skills our dogs should know by now, the TharpSter CFO point blank asked the question that needed to be asked.  “Are we going to have to take this class over?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

Well, crud.  A project at the auxiliary office has me busy through at the very least, the next six weeks, and I have an all star baseball team to coach during the same time period.  Just when the marquee player of the Pit Bull Diaries was just about to get herself a certificate, a monkey wrench gets thrown which puts that off for at least another two months, depending on when a new class can be scheduled. 

At this point, I was done biting my tongue and about to let loose on this Cesar Milan Wanna-Be with the full force of my creative vocabulary and unfiltered opinion of what damage they had just done to their employer. 

Before I could do so, Hope revealed her hidden talent.  She obviously didn’t like the prospect of going back through training either.  Her eyes took on a neon blue color as a low yet menacing growl emanated from deep within her stomach.  As the trainer turned and looked at her, laser beams shot out of Hope’s eyes, and disintegrated all of the flesh and bone of her target.  A residual pile of ashes topped by a doggie clicker and a name tag were all that remained.

Randy Tharp

TharpSter is a husband to one woman, a father to two kids, a master to two dogs, an occasional cubical occupant, and unable to make up his mind on an adequate theme for this website.

14 thoughts on “Obedience Training (or some semblance thereof)

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