the obedience school hierarchy

A few weeks ago I introduced y’all to the latest addition to the family, Pete, and mentioned we’d be starting training classes this January. Well, it’s January and Pete likes to eat my favorite pair of earrings, so as of last night, classes have commenced. Thank God.

Now, I don’t mean to be a snob, but as soon as we walked in the door it was glaringly apparent that we were the best ones. Our classmates include a girl (woman?) about my age and her adorably huge and furry puppy named Charlie; an older woman and her elderly mother with their fuzzy Pomeranian, Coco; a lady recently moved to Dallas from Boston and aqua colored parka-wearing Chihuahua, Duke; and a woman with her two young daughters and two annoying miniature Huskies, Rocky and Mia.

Mia is a bitch.

NO.

Mitch and I want to start the We Hate Mia Club and pass out membership cards to everyone in our class because, seriously, fuck that dog.

Sidebar: did you know that a miniature Husky is actually an Alaskan Klee Kai? This woman was real impressed with herself for raising (the world’s most annoying) Alaskan Klee Kais but, lady, no one gives a shit.

End sidebar.

The point is that this dog, Mia, did not stop yapping/SCREAMING for nearly sixty minutes straight. At one point, my ears started ringing and it was hard to understand our Matthew-Broderick-lookalike-trainer.

I work the nightshift at Petsmart.

I would have felt sorry for Mia’s owner had she not been so aloof about the whole thing, but my god, she just sat there and DID ABSOLUTELY NOTHING ABOUT IT. Didn’t even try. Just said, Mia’s a fussy one, hehehe, like that was supposed to make us all go, OHHHHHH, she’s just FUSSY! I don’t mind the incessant yipping now!

Whatever.

There’s just a clear hierarchy in our group, even after the first class. I mean, let’s be serious, Pete is number one, a fact Mitch and I found shocking since he frequently pees on my comforter, knocks over my glass of orange juice, and swipes pie off my plate all before 11am on a Sunday. I guess this means he’s smart but a dick. Cool. Anyway, being the super-nerds that we are, Mitch and I (seriously, just HAPPENED) to sit in the front of the classroom, so Pete was used in most of the demonstrations (well, whenever Matthew Broderick wasn’t trying to choke out Mia, that is). I’m almost embarrassed by how nervous and excited Mitch and I would get every time Pete was acting as the example. Our faces would turn red, we would grasp hands and, okay, possibly even SQUEAL.

Judge us.

I had to keep reminding us both that Pete is a DOG. A DOG.

Needless to say, when Pete repeatedly aced every drill, we clapped and cheered annoyingly loud while all the other dogs and their owners watched us with varying degrees of envy and hatred, except for the old ladies and Coco. We might actually be making friends with them because Pete and Coco seem to want to date. Or get it on. It’s hard to tell.

So, the obedience school hierarchy, when broken down, looks a little something like this (and, YES, I immediately typed this into a note on my iPhone last night as soon as class was over):


Pete (SUCK IT, BITCHES)
Charlie
Coco
Duke (Sorry your mom seems like a total airhead AND dresses you like a girl)
Rocky (I’m not as annoying as Mia, but close!)




MIA (.............)

We’re obviously really excited for the next five weeks. Oh, and I won’t even go into how superior I felt to all the other owners since I’m awesome and brought my own clicker AND knew all about Pavlov’s dogs & classical conditioning (pysch minor shoutout!).

My mom was all, it’s not a competition, it’s just obedience class. And she’s right: it’s not a competition because have you SEEN what we’re up against? Team Townsend-Baker for the win!