"Take a Picture--It'll Last Longer"

Every time I am invited to a social function, and someone asks me about what I do, I always say I'm an accountant.

That way, I get to enjoy my bourbon (Basil Hayden, if you please) in peace and I don't have to listen to people complain about their dogs.

Actually, the above is a lie. It doesn't happen.

I don't get invited to social events. But if I did...

Actually, that last part is the lie. I do sometimes get invited to social events, and often, I do attend, because I am an extroverted introvert (yes, that's a thing) and my wife enjoys those types of events very much and I love my wife, so we go.

And when I am asked what I do for a living, I don't lie about it because 1.) I really like what I do, 2.) I enjoy hearing about people's dogs, and 3.) I'm a terrible liar.

So, when I find myself at a social event and I am standing in front of people who have just learned that I am a human trainer of dog owners, I almost always get the following reaction:

One of the couple will elbow their spouse in the ribs and lean closer to me, eyes wide, while saying, "Oh, you really must meet our Snookums! She is TERRIBLE. She poops on the rug, she digs holes in the yard, she chases the cat, she pulls on the leash, she jumps on everyone and covers them with slobbery kisses, she grabs food off the counters, and she bolts out the door every time it is open."

(I have greatly shortened the above laundry list of Doggy Sins, mind you. But you get the idea.)

My face during this speech is largely unreadable. I will maintain a half smile and my eyebrows will rise a millimeter or two as the list grows; it's subtle, let me tell you. I sip from my sweating highball glass, never breaking eye contact. Ice cubes clink.

After they finish the whole long list of ways in which their dog is Terribly, Horribly Naughty, they pause briefly.

Then, they will break into a smile, a smile that shows teeth and crinkles around the eyes, a smile that effuses warmth, and say, "But, she's a Good Dog, and we love her!"

Here's the thing: I have zero doubt that this family has an immense amount of affection for their diggy, slobbery, jumpy, pully, poopy dog. I know that they do.

I know it because no one would put up with all of those behaviors if they did not have an immense amount of affection for their dog.

But do they really and truly love their dog?

In my storied career, I have met many, many people who consider themselves dog lovers. A plethora. A surfeit. An overabundance, a profusion, a megaton.

It's not difficult to love dogs, so it's not surprising that millions of people admit to doing so.

But they typically fall into two main categories, though sometimes there is overlap, and sometimes members of the first group become members of the second, thankfully.

Group 1 is the folks who excuse their dog's annoying, destructive, costly, and even dangerous behaviors, behaviors that may be natural to the dog but are largely incompatible with our homes and yards and lifestyles and having actual friends. Dog tears up the couch? Take a cute picture first, then buy a new couch. Dog ruins the floors because he wasn't housebroken? Get new floors. Dog pulls you down the street on the leash? Buy a harness so he doesn't choke himself, and hang on. Dog steals food? He must be hungry--feed him as much as he likes. Dog chases the cat? Eh, what are you gonna do? He's a dog--he has no impulse control. Dog jumps on people who visit? Eh, those people need to get a grip--the dog lives here, and they don't, right?

Here's a secret for you: these people don't really love their dogs. In the words of the great dog expert Sarah Wilson, they love loving their dogs. But that isn't enough.

Group 2 is the people who understand that dogs' behavior isn't always compatible to our lifestyles, but instead of shrugging and enduring it, they educate themselves on how to make the situation better. They seek out competent help and they follow the trainer's instructions. They build good training habits and practice them daily. They observe their dogs and learn their basic drives and needs, then find ways to fulfill those drives and needs every day. They learn how to train their dogs humanely, with clarity and consistency, so that the dogs know what to expect and know how to act in the home, on the leash, anywhere.

They understand that dogs are not humans in fur coats, but that, like young children, they need assistance making better choices, and that knowing what we want from them makes the dogs truly content. And just as it is their responsibility to provide the correct assistance to their children to help them succeed in life, it is their responsibility to teach their dogs how to be civilized for the human world.

This group really does love their dogs. And they are my heroes.

Dogs definitely have natural behaviors that are inconsistent with our desires to spend our days and nights with them. But if we love someone, we want what is best for them and when it is our responsibility to provide what is best for them, we do so without hesitation.

Dogs are happiest when they know what is expected. When they know what is expected, they suffer less stress and confusion. When they suffer less stress and confusion, they are relaxed, confident, well-behaved, less impulsive, and can handle what life throws at them.

When they are relaxed, confident, well-behaved, less impulsive, and can handle what life throws at them, they are the greatest companions we could ever ask for and we cherish them every day, and even after they have aged right before our eyes, muzzles and tails growing white, eyes and ears growing dim, slowing down day by day as we watch, grateful and dreading, until they melt in our arms as we sob uncontrollably with their last breaths, leaving us too soon--we keep on loving them for years, never forgetting, until our own end arrives.

Don't just take photos. Take action. Train your dog.