Side Roads: Dog’s in a class all his own

Obedience training is going well. I think that before long, somebody's going to be getting a little diploma ...

We could have gone to a proper, professional facility, I suppose, but the dog and I decided to home school.

We developed our own little commands and signals, and they seem to be working out well.

If Brak wants to go outside, for instance, he will dance toward me, then back, tail wagging, head crooked to one side, three times. Fast dancing and tossing of the head up in the air means he wants to go outside right away.

Going outside can mean just going outside, back in 10 minutes, or it can mean a prolonged stay, if there is something that bears investigating.

If he approaches me and actually gets in reach, then stays there, it means he wants the place between his eyes rubbed.

The sound of rattling pans coming from the kitchen does not mean that he is doing the dishes. It means fill 'em up, water or food or both. If I take too long to tend to his needs, he will come to the doorway and just stand there, looking at me, like, "Didn't you hear the bell?"

Yes, he just about has me trained. He does his little bit of drama, and I just automatically get up and do his bidding.

I think I'm ready to graduate. I may get a diploma, but not with honors. I've made too many slipups for that.

Chief among them was the candy incident. Now, I know you're not supposed to give dogs candy. But it was the holidays, and I was feeling mellow, and his ears pricked up when he heard the crinkle of a cellophane wrapper.

Brak nonchalantly strolled across the living room to the couch where I was sitting. After looking the proffered tidbit over, he took it daintily into his fangs and walked over to his "blankie" (an old coat he likes to sleep on).

He put the piece of candy down, and I expected him to lie down and enjoy the morsel of sweetness. Instead, he began pawing at the material, pulling it over the piece of candy.

"He's burying it," said my son, leaning forward.

Indeed Brak was, but then he stopped, pushed the cloth aside and picked up the candy again. He then sauntered over to me and put the candy right in front of my feet. Just spat it out. Ptooie! Right there in front of me.

By now my son was laughing uproariously.

"He gave it back!" he said. "I can't believe he gave it back!"

OK, so now you know. Not only does the dog have me trained, but he's also obviously smarter than I am. I wasn't supposed to give him candy.

Actually, I may not get that diploma after all, or at least not yet.

I have a feeling he's going to make me go to summer school to catch up.

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Persinger is community editor for The Tribune. She may be reached at (812) 523-7063 or jpersinger@ tribtown.com.