My dog is a bit of a rascal.

Oh sure, he's adorable. That's how he gets away with eating shoes and shredding important paperwork, like credit card bills. "My dog ate my homework" didn't work with Mrs. Shirley in the third grade, and it sure doesn't carry much water with Visa or MasterCard, either.

You never see a dog's villainous ways when it's a newborn puppy waiting to be adopted. Before you get it to your home, all you can see is an adorable pile of fur with big eyes and puppy breath. But once it's roaming around your house and you let your guard down, all you can see is a not so adorable pile of … well, it ain't fur, that's for sure.

There're a reason why young creatures are generally cute and squishy looking. Cuteness is part of Darwin's theory. Babies are cute, therefore they get pampered and cared for. Imagine if every puppy looked like Ernest Borgnine or Lyle Lovett — dogs would die off pretty quickly.

Yet I can't help but worry that my dog Caesar's bad behavior is at least partly my fault. After all, dogs and owners can become alike over time. And that would explain why Caesar has been drinking beer, getting upset with the plot of ABC's LOST, and using the bathroom exclusively outside.

My soon-to-be wife, Jen, is also quick to point out that both Caesar and I usually ignore her commands.

"Sit!" she says.

"Stay!"

"Don't bite!"

But do I listen? No. (Though in my defense, I've never been good at sitting still for long periods of time, and I only bite when I'm nervous.)

I've enrolled Caesar in a doggie obedience school, but sending him to school hasn't been anything like what I was expecting.

Here's what I had envisioned: I pack Caesar a lunch, put him on a bus, and at the end of the day we talk about what he learned and I teach him how to beat up the pit bully that's been teasing him.

But as it turns out, most of the class is about training ME how to teach the dog. Outsourcing strikes again.

So far, I've learned how to make Caesar respond to "clicks" from a clicker used for training (think "Snapple Lid", but more annoying), and each time he does something good I give him a click and follow it with a tasty dog treat. Which led to Caesar's first trick: stealing the clicker from me so that he could click it whenever he wanted.

According to our trainer, getting rewarded by treats is a great skill to teach a dog. I pointed out that Caesar already knows how to eat, but the trainer was unphased. Apparently, her theory is that when dogs are busy eating dog treats, they're too full to eat your shoes. (Though, I've learned, they're never too full to throw up in them.)

Jen has been attending the classes with me, and I suspect that she has learned more than I have. Unfortunately, I fear she hasn't been applying them to the dog. She's been using the training skills on me.

All last weekend, Jen carried around a portable cassette player. Each time I said something nice to her ("Look at that old homeless lady, you're much better looking than her!"), Jen would click the cassette player, it would start playing the SportsCenter theme, and she'd toss me a beer.

Imagine explaining that one to the State Trooper who pulled you over for driving 70 in a 45. Trust me, as long as he's a SportsCenter fan you're in good shape.

Maybe there's something to this training method. Because last night, just as I was about to fall asleep, Jen said, "Andy, I'm kind of thirsty." Next thing I know, I'm out of bed and running downstairs to get her a glass of water. Jen gave me a scratch behind the ear, told me I was a good boy, and let me sleep at the foot of the bed.

This obedience training this isn't so bad, I guess, but I'm not sure what to work on for next week's class.

Turns out the dog ate his own homework.

Copyright © 2007 Andy Murphy
Please do not remove the copyright from this work.

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