One breed of dog that teaches a person humility in obedience classes is a Bull Terrier.  If you brag about their progress, they will immediately take the starch out of your sails.

     When the canvas bag came out, the water bottle was filled, and the leash rattled, Malcolm knew it was time to go to school.  He did helicopters, bully runs, and generally made a fool out of himself.  His idea of school was a place where there were many dogs and people to play with and to pay attention to him.  It’s also, where he held the uncontested title of class clown. 

     The first ten minutes of class, he was a lunatic, but then he settled down to work.  The settling began during our heeling session that our instructor put us through for fifteen minutes.  Therefore, after ten minutes of him leaping and cavorting about we had five minutes where he was working well. 

     Malcolm loved doing recalls.  He got to sit in line with all his pals and see if he could get any of them into trouble.  Then came the part where he would run full tilt into Mom, I braced for impact.  Enthusiasm is great but I wished he would learn to stop before he hit my legs.  My instructor said it would come in time and it was better not to put a damper on his enthusiasm.  She was right.  He used my legs less often later. 

     Figure eights were jolly fun.  Sits and downs existed for humor.  He loved to see how many of his pals he could entice into breaking position.  A little eye contact here, a madly wagging tail there, he did manage to get his fun in.  

     The down was the best time to see how patient Mom could be.  Early on in obedience classes, Malcolm discovered he could make all the people laugh.  When I would walk away from him while he was on a down, his tail would start to wag like mad, and he’d crawl on his belly behind me.  Crawling was fun.  It drove Mom crazy.  Everyone laughed.  His face had that grin that said, ‘see, I stayed down.’  It took a while, but he finally learned (after having to use two leashes and an assistant) that down/stay meant lie down and stay put, NO crawling. 

     Once he learned the down, the next most difficult thing for him to learn was the stand for examination.  That person who approached him in such a friendly manner, offering a hand for him to sniff, it must mean-yes, time to play or have belly-tickles.  How exciting to have someone approach him.  His tail would wag, his body would wiggle, and he’d move, try to climb on them, or flop onto his back.  Hello, what part about the word stay have you forgotten? 

     The most important thing was that he had the time of his life and so did I.  Oh, he finally learned to stand for examination and sure looked good in the show ring.

Visit our home and you’ll see numerous beware of dog signs about.  They are surplus from when we owned a German shepherd, though I feel that they still apply in Malcolm’s case.  He’s not the type of dog to be aggressive with people.  That is, not to those that we welcome and who enter by the front door.  They are the ones he’d probably lick to death or lead to the icebox.

However, in the last few months we’ve noticed that he has become a hazard for anyone who drops in on us.  The dog has developed a fascination for shoelaces.

After our guest or guests enter our home and sit down, Malcolm crouches at his chosen victim’s feet.  When he figures that no one is paying attention, he noses over closer.  Then, ever so proficiently, he takes a hold of his target’s shoelace, and little by little, tugs until it is untied.  They never feel it unless he wants them to.  Once he’s untied the shoelaces on both shoes, he waits (rather pleased with himself) for them to notice his scheme.  I’m waiting for the day that he learns to tie them together and really trips someone up.  Believe me; I think if he had thumbs, he would’ve succeeded at that endeavor a long time ago.

If a dog could laugh, Malcolm does.  He has a weird sense of humor.  Most of his jokes are on me.  There’s a certain sense of relief to see that he’s found another outlet for his wit.  And, a lack of sympathy for the new targets of his hilarity.

For my safety, I’ve taken to wearing sneakers that close with Velcro.  Unfortunately, he’s discovering how much fun Velcro is, and what a neat sound it makes when you tug on it.  But, at least, unlike shoelaces that dangle and delight his hilarity, Velcro isn’t something he can open without you knowing it.