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Saturday, May 4, 2013

Dispute



Want to know what I find funny? The Daily Show? The “Science” of Creationism? The surreal experience of observing baboon like posturing and bluster during televised congressional hearings? (Seriously, who could watch that and not believe in the evolution of elected officials from an ape ancestor?)



Yes, I find that all amusing but, at this time, I am thinking of my kid and the dog. Oscar has decided he does not like to go outside unless he happens to find a bit of contraband.  Trash or shoe or sock clenched in his jaw, he makes a break for it and then settles down for a leisurely chew.
 

Lately, while the other two dogs are sitting politely outside, waiting for a treat, Oscar is rolling around of the floor, four paws in the air, waiting for a belly scratch.  The 100 pound, thirteen year old kid’s strategy? Bodily move him out the door. 

 
There are a few issues with this approach. For example, he weighs a good 25 pounds more than she does and he instinctually knows how to brace himself for maximum resistance.
 

So collar in hand, she throws all of her weight one direction and he calmly resists, pulling the other way. When that doesn’t work she moves around and tries a pushing maneuver. She may as well try to push a Buick through the living room.


Oscar assumes this is a bid for attention and wiggles closer until his bum is planted firmly on her feet with the rest of his body leaning into her legs. This generally ends with, "Mom! Oscar won't go out!"

 

My strategy is a little different.  Find a tantalizingly chewy something (his favorite is empty cereal boxes.) Make an obvious display of placing it in route to the door and then do a little chase me move.  In theory, Oscar follows, spies the irresistible item, snaps it up and bolts for the door.   

 

It generally works with a few exceptions.  Oscar is a sweet boy but he isn’t going to win any intelligence contests.  Sometimes he gets confused and runs to the garage door thinking he is going for a walk.  He occasionally rushes right by the bait and we have to do a few laps around the living room before he notices it.  If the box isn’t the right size for transport, or if he makes an awkward grab at a corner, he tends to trip over his own feet and then settle in wherever he crashed, happily shredding the box to pieces.

 


During all of this, Oden sits patiently by the sliding glass door, head tilted to one side, watching the rodeo, while the tip of the tail twitches back and forth. He has got the whole perfect child, play up the behavioral differences, mom loves me best thing going.  


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