Brought to you by the Letter C

I'm usually a fairly organized person. I thrive on lists and plans. I love the comfort of knowing where I'm heading and that I'm not wasting time. I don't like skipping steps or being redundant. It works well with being self employed. Or cleaning, or meals. or training dogs. Normal dogs. Not bull terrier dogs.

I spent a reasonable amount of time mapping out Toad's work schedule. What I would teach first, what I could use as foundation teaching and what would be built from there. It was a thing of beauty, complete with a timeline and a certain degree of accountability. It was going well, the "sit" was right on target, I'd even added a "shake" to it because it was going so smoothly. I was feeling in control.

The thing with bullies is this; control is a mirage. You have a better chance of nailing jello to a tree then you do of predicting a bully's mind. They are a thinking kind of dog. They are always looking for something fun to do. Fun for them, catch up for you.

Until today, Toad had been challenged. He'd spent a lot of time in his room. He found the intro to the clicker and the "sit" stimulating enough that he didn't feel the need to strike out on his own. He's been trying to settle Cocoa down (a poodle x chihuahua mix that is here for training and adoption). He's been looked after mentally and physically.

Bully's have conversations with you. Full conversations. They are hands down the most expressive breed I've ever met. Toad in his puppy way, decided he'd like to investigate my coffee.

Toad; What doing? What got?
Me;  I have coffee. You can't have coffee
Toad: I like coffee
Me; You've never had coffee (I hope)
Toad: You have coffee, I want coffee
Me ... removing Toad's face from my coffee mug
Toad; I drink coffee, see? You were wrong, I did have coffee.

Today, like any other day, I made my coffee and set it down beside the sofa. I went to make sure the water dish was full and turned my back. Upon my return, Toads face was full into my mug. That first coffee of the day, it's kind of sacred. It's ritualistic. It was ruined. And in that exact moment I realized that all the skill and exquisite timing I'd woven through the training plan was a farce. Any semblance of control was a mythical creature, and had just vanished.

Our training would need to be much less regimented  and much more loosey goosey. It would clearly more likely resemble Sesame Street. Brought to you and I by what ever whim this bully desires in that particular moment. Today, today it is the letter "C". For coffee and for coffee table.

We spent the next 15 minutes, waging a battle of the wits with each other. Toad doesn't know "back up" or "off" or "no" or "leave it". So there I am, smack dab inside a training moment, 6:30 am, no coffee and determined to leave the victor. Praising any looking away from the mug, or eye contact, or backing up.... a quick "uh-uh" for forward movement or too much interest.... we made it through.

Toad gave up on having the coffee. A short lived thrill of victory ran through my veins.... as he exited via the coffee table, taking my laptop to the floor with him as he went.

That's the thing with bullies.... you're never really sure you've won any round. You're almost always left wondering "did he just friggin do that on purpose?" Yes, the answer is yes he most absolutely did. Because they "C"an