My melon-collie adventures in puppy-sitting

My friend, Katriel, is an exceptional dog trainer. She is highly skilled...consistent, patient, communicating her expectations succinctly and clearly. Typing this, it has just dawned on me that she is also an exceptional human trainer because she uses those same skills with me...EVERY DAY.  But I digress...

So when little Kokoro, our baby Border Collie, entered our lives several weeks ago, I watched, with fascination, as Katriel immediately began working to train her puppy. Now...I don't want to brag but... ALL of my dogs have self-trained (brilliantly, might I add, ever-so-modestly). This method results in a hybrid human/canine relationship of, more or less, equal footing. In fact, I think my dachshund may be listed as a joint owner on my bank account. That is the only way to explain the unprecedented number of packages that arrive from Chewy each week. 

But, if Katriel's ego is SO-OO big that she insists on playing the alpha role in this relationship, who am I to cast aspersions (or, shall we say, interfere) with her carefully laid plans of puppy domination? 

Hello. You have met me, right? (Cue diabolical laughter here)

My dear, sweet friend, Katriel is a control freak. She plans and prepares for EVERY contingency. But there are a few things out there, of course, that are difficult, if not downright impossible, to control. And poor Katriel had to deal with two of them. One:  The heart of a puppy. And two:  Amy Mosiman. 

Katriel set herself up immediately as Koko's pack leader...the loving but firm mother figure...the rule setter and enforcer...the boss. So, yes. Katriel was the boss. But I was the Border Collie's best friend. The crazy, chaotic aunt who blows through bedtimes and considers a box of Cracker Jacks to be a square meal. 

Everyone in Katriel's immediate world fell mind-numbingly in line with her unreasonable training techniques. Poor Koko was expected to sit, stay, and, gasp, express her desire to go outside to relieve herself like some sort of...sniffle-sniffle...animal. Don't bother to call Animal Control. I already tried. I am currently filing a court order to transfer ownership of poor, sweet, little put-upon Koko to a more suitable family (mine). 

All of Katriel's brainwashed soldiers immediately say "Down" to sad little Koko if it even LOOKS like she's going to step one perfect paw out of line. Not me. Each time my bow-wow bestie and I see each other, she climbs up me like a spider monkey. We had a field-of-flowers encounter yesterday when Katriel finally released the leash...yeah...that's right...a LEASH (Oh, the humanity)...so that Koko and I could race across the field (in cinematic slow motion with theme music) to be happily reunited after going almost a FULL DAY without seeing one another. 

The opportunity of a lifetime arose a few week-ends back when Katriel was going to be busy for an entire Saturday and expressed a bit of worry about leaving little Koko for such an extended period of time. "How about she hang out with me in my classroom Saturday morning while I work?" I asked, super-cas. Katriel hesitated  for an insultingly long period of time before relenting. 

Koko and I counted down the days to our playdate. I arrived at Katriel's and released my sweet little girl from her pen (short for "penitentiary"). We explored my classroom and played with her ball a bit before I began setting up to work. Kind and inquisitive, Koko wanted to help, of course. First, she feng shui-ed the area. "Wouldn't the trash can look better tipped attractively over?" she grinned, waving that beautiful flag of a tail. Admittedly, it did have some artistic appeal but we agreed, after knocking it over twenty more times, that perhaps, up-out-of-reach, was the best location. Next on the list was the systematic removal of the pom-poms from my school slippers. I knew that, fashion-wise, pop-poms are considered SO last decade so I appreciated Koko's intervention. I wouldn't want my 4th graders making fun of my lack of style. She apparently didn't like the zippers on my boots either. Maybe Koko would like to go shoe shopping with me. I'd have to ask Katriel.

Each time I began typing on my keyboard, Koko would insist on climbing up on my lap to edit my work. She addressed the matter of my split-ends and split-infinitives at the same time as she chewed my hair reflectively while correcting my grammar. We took a break from all the work we were accomplishing to play outside for a bit and then we had fun running around the school and sliding on all the 3rd grade boot trays in the hallway. When we returned to the classroom, determined to buckle down, Koko made the delightful discovery that, if she reared up and balanced just right, she could stick her snout into the student desks. We uncovered contraband toys, hoarded candy, and a TON of fun play sticks (also known as "pencils"). 

LATER: "How many?" Katriel sighed. "Thirty," I told her. She frowned at me. (She does that a lot.) "EXACTLY thirty?" she asked, doubtfully. "No," I admitted, "Koko rounded them up."

Before we knew it, it was time to go. You know what they say, "Time sure flies when you're having fun." We finished up our time together by chasing a water bottle that fell out of my truck and tumble-weeded its way across the deserted parking lot. The exhausted puppy nestled in my lap on the drive back to Katriel's and the exhausted human collapsed on the couch the minute she returned from her puppy-sitting adventure. 

"Were you able to get your work done?" Katriel wondered when she called to check on me later that day. "We had a lot of fun," I told her, refusing to admit that I'd forgotten the ceaseless energy required to keep up with a puppy. "But were you able to work at all?" she persisted. "Katriel," I snapped, "Just like your little Border Collie there, I HERD you the first time!"