If you're following this blog, you know we adopted a new dog, Halle, last week. Well, she's beautiful, gigantic and out of control. Yesterday, I was about to take her back to the shelter, but first I called a local dog trainer for emergency help.
Within minutes, she had the dog sitting peacefully at our feet.
I could almost hear the British tones of TV's Supernanny Jo Frost as she told me that I have to be the Mama Dog. Who's in charge here, she asked. The dog. You can't let her run your life. You have to let her know you're the parent.
She showed my husband and me how to put Halle in the crate and then walk away, ignoring her no matter how much she barked or whined. Is this not the same as the Supernanny putting the kids on Timeout? Of course it is.
I don't know if it's going to work out in the long run with Halle. We hadn't planned on adopting a dog that needed so much training. Those parents on Supernanny have to reorganize their whole lives to work out their problems with their children. They can't give the kids back, so they have to do something. That part is different with dogs; we can take her back.
The Supernanny seems to work miracles. However, I strongly believe that at least half of all those families we see on TV waving happily as Jo drives away in her PT Cruiser revert to chaos within a week. Just as the dog and I were battling till midnight last night, despite everything the Super Dog Trainer had taught us. This morning we're not speaking to each other.
I don't think there's that much difference between being a dog mom and the mother of a human child--except that the human child eventually grows up and moves away. Also, the human child rarely eats your remote control.
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