There's no hope! I am not speaking about our political system, I am talking about training my seven pound - seven year-old Toy Poodle, James Wilkerson Yoder, aka., 'Yodie.'
No matter how late I take him out before retiring for the night, Yodie gets me up for his morning walk and constitution at 6AM. Since he does not have opposable thumbs, I'll not complain about bagging his poop. However, when we take a walk and he finally runs out of 'pee-bullets,' he then becomes contentious regarding the direction we are walking. Invariably, the pup insist on having it his way with regards to 'which-way.'
The bedtime routine is all about Yodie. He first insists on sitting at the end of the master bed with his front paws grasping a small white stuff Bear and his mouth clamped to the Bear's nose. During the night, Yodie releases the bear and wanders up between my wife and I. He will wake one of us because he now desires to lay on his back with paws tucked under his chin, I.e., rabbit style. His rear legs are spread apart for an expected belly rub.
At 5:55AM, I feel the dog's nose rubbing against the back of my neck. This should not be taken as some sign of affection; poodle-boy, Yodie is cleaning the 'sleepers' from his weeping eyes. His jump from the bed is more than a subtle comment...'Get up old man if you don't want this place to become an outhouse.'
I'm reminded of something grandpa, E.V. Bennett once said, "If your fixin to train a dog, itta' help if your smarter than the dog."
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