So last week was the first puppy training class and I was shitting a brick.
Good old depression and anxiety makes me dread any form of social situation these days and it took a lot to get myself out the door.
In preparation I chopped up some treats into tiny pieces as according to my good friend Google you needed to take some.
“You won’t need them babe” said the hubs “they will have some there for you to use.
Fair dos, and in my nervous state I just agreed and ran out the door.
The classes are held about ten minutes away in a tiny prefabricated village hall in my old stomping ground.
The last time I was there I was wearing a bang-on-trend pink taffeta and black velvet get up, dancing to Mr Blobby and buzzing off my tits on Panda Pops Kola.
Turns out the hall hadn’t changed at all and I reverted to a nervous childlike state as soon as I walked in.
I arrived half an hour early – bloody anxiety again, and had just started to calm myself down when the door swung open.
The hounds had arrived.
The usually quiet and demure pup attached to me went absolutely MENTAL.
She was howling and barking and going bat shit cray-cray.
I could feel myself getting hotter and hotter and I wanted to cry and run.
It was like the time William had a massive tantrum in front of a very clique-y toddler group.
Oh the shame.
My route to the door was blocked by puppies and owners and I knew I couldn’t run for it.
Come on, Lisa. Get your shit together. It’s only half an hour, man the fuck up.
Class started at 7.30pm and we started we recalls.
Cue my first epic fail.
“Have your treats ready” said the instructor.
Remember in school when you rock up to maths and you were mortified to find you have forgotten your protractor? That feeling of your whole word being over and crying into your Miss Selfridge pencil-case.
This felt the same.
“I…. errrr…. didn’t bring any”.
“(Tuts)… well…. I don’t have any…. first rule of puppy class is you MUST bring treats”.
Soz. Rookie error. Will go home and punch hubs.
You massive knobhead.
Luckily a fellow ‘student’ of the puppy realm had seen my error and shoved me a bag of ham.
The recalling went okay; she came to me and was super pleased with herself.
Next we did sit, stay, lay down – she surprised me but still won’t lay for ham.
We had to weave around the others… she again did it for ham.
After thirty minutes she looked shattered and so was I – I was pleased to see the others looked as done in.
So how was it?
Imagine your least favourite school class – mine was double maths on a Wednesday – and then the first baby group you attended – it was a manic mix of the two.
Things we learnt:
- Take treats
- She needs a collar(harnesses are a no-no apparently and she can slip her collar)
- Do our homework
- Don’t feed her before we go – her farts have the potential to hospitalize the class.
Until next week!
You can find my other puppy posts here.