Sunday, June 10, 2007

Enough Already!

I'm nervous.

I've got family coming to stay this weekend, and by then I've got to train my dog Llewellyn not to bark for no reason during the night. I can hardly take it myself. How can I expect them to?

His bark is prodigious. It's a loud, resonant, astounding, baying Beagle bark. As it shatters the silence, it gives warning of an entire squadron of invading Martians, of a large pride of lions prowling the streets, of a shipload of pirates out for booty and blood-- nothing less.

But it never is anything. It's bad enough for me to be exploded out of a sound sleep three or four times a night. But what effect will it have on my parents, who are in their late 70s, early 80s? If I can't convince my mutt to keep it quiet, I may have to foot the bill for a hotel.

I've tried the technique where you distract the dog from barking by calling his name and petting him when he comes to you quietly. But I'm afraid Llewellyn thinks he's being complimented for scaring off whatever-it-is so well.

So I'm trying another tack, from another training expert. This one recommends that you rebuke the dog firmly with a one-word command (Llewellyn understands "Enough!"), then studiously and silently ignore him. My boy's a little independent, so I'm substituting glaring at him silently and pointedly.

It seems to work pretty well once I've gotten over the initial shock and remembered the magic word "Enough!" That gets his attention, and it's surprising how soon he quiets down.

"BUH-HARK!! BUH-HARK!! BARK-BARK-BARK-BARK!!!"

"Qu- huh- Enough!"

"BARK! bark!"

(Glaring look.)

"Bark. Bark?"

(Further glaring look.)

"Ruff. Ruff. Uh . . . ?"

(Glaring look maintained, while trying not to laugh out loud.)

This is working well enough, when the lights are on and we can see each other. But at night in the dark . . .

The training manual says to have a squirt gun handy for just such occasions. And wasn't I at Big Lots this afternoon? Didn't I forget to see if they had any water pistols?

Five more nights we have to solve this problem. I don't want to be calling the EMTs because my dog has given my parents heart attacks.

Thursday, June 7, 2007

A Big Help

Rhadwen likes to help me work on my computer. Here she is, helping me write a sermon.

She'd help me even more if she wouldn't lie on my left forearm as I'm trying to type. But she points out that my fingers can still move.

Besides, she says, she isn't that heavy-- aren't I the one who always says she's Mostly All Hair?

Urgh.