Good morning again,
Life in Colorado has been so much fun, until now. I have been able to sniff and smell along routes which usually results in a yank or two from Dad to hop up, but that's his job! But now, the gentle leader has been brought out and who came up with that name anyway?
Yes, Dad has had a few problems working me through restaurants. Well, I'm a growing teenager and I love to EAT! So, when I smaell or see scraps on the floor, I'm diving for them!
Our first major incident was a couple weeks ago when Mom, Grandma, Dad and I went to Outback Steakhouse. As we walked in from a snowy scene outside, all the people standing in the waiting line for wanting to pet me, love me, saying nice things about me, you know, the normal stuff that we guide dogs get! Dont' get me wrong, I don't mind it at all. In fact, I love it. But it does tend to distract me from my job.
Once we got our name called, Dad told me to follow the waitress to our table. I did for at least two seconds then promptly ran Dad's right leg into a wooden pillar of a booth whene some people were eating. I saw some scraps on the floor and knew it was my turn to snatch some food. Oooops, Dad was not too happy with me.
When we got to the table, I found a few scraps under the table. Well, I'm a Lab and I was hungry! Even though Dad had just fed me about 30 minutes earlier, I was still hunger. I'm still a teenager, so I'm not really worrying about my girlish figure, at least not yet!
Dad attended on Friday a breakfast meeting with clients and a lunch meeting with a nice guy named Charlie. But I was anything but well mannered as I sought out food and other people to sniff and get to knw to see if they wanted to share some of their food!
Dad was really exasperated with me. I could hear it in his voice. PARKA, lay down, REST!
Dad called Becki, my puppy raiser, to find out what she knew about my paper-eating habits and how unruly I was when going into restaurants. She confirmed that I LOVE to eat and when given the chance, would pick up and try and eat just about anything, especially paper.
Dad called Kae Ann in Boston, a real Rowdy Girl, to see what her experiences had been with Miss Melody. She mentioned that she had to use the gentle leader and high collar at times to keep her under control. Uh Oh.
Dad got the idea and pulled out the gentle leader and, of course, put it on wrong and had the leash attached to a ring in front of my eyes. I did not want to tell him that this was not correct, but then I did not like that strap across my snout anyway. I kept rubbing my nose on Dad's leg to try to rub it off. Kae told Dad how to properly loop it from the heck collar and finally it was on snug. Dog gone it!
Now Dad has control of my head and I am at his mercy. Well, maybe that's stretching it a little bit too far, at least, he has better control of my head. I guess that's what was needed, but I feel more like a slave. Where is that Abraham Lincoln guy when I need him? Wait a minute, I heard President Obama is trying to do a lot of things like Lincoln did, maybe he will "free the slave dogs?"
Oh, even better, the Obamas are looking for a dog for the White House! Maybe I could be the FIRST DOG? then maybe I would not have to wear this gentle leader? Hmmmmmm, gentle leader, why don't I just try to be a gentle leader of the pack?
Oh well, I love Dad and he takes such good care of me. I guess I will just have to straighten up my act. I promise to be GOOD, will that work? Please, no gentle leader!
Help my fellow caninces. Do you have to put up with this type of in-canine treatment?
Love, licks and hugs. A despondent Parka!