Back to Skool

It appears that my boy Grendel and I are going to school in a few weeks. I've been to school before, but this will be a first for the wee canine. After all, he's only 15 weeks old. He's already mastered a few essentials, like crapping in the right place and coming when he's called. I'm generally pleased, though he's got a nasty habit of thinking my fingers and ears are doggy chew toys. He also doesn't know quite what to make of Spot. Despite her protests, Grendel keeps figuring that everyone wants to play with him. To hear Spot's side of the story, she'd prefer that he played in traffic.

In the interest of fostering world peace (think globally, act locally) I have got to get some sense massaged into Grendel's tiny cerebellum before Spot resorts to drastic measures. She might contract mercenaries, or buy small arms from some unsavoury Americans or something. I'd hate like hell to see Grendel perish in a hail of bullets. You never know what the aged feline will do with the infant canine if conditions persist as they are.

So I enrolled myself and Grendel in Mother Knows Best obedience classes. A very nice woman named Dorothy runs the classes, and apparently she's been training dogs for 25 years. You can't beat experience like that. She's probably seen every kind of crazy dog around, and likely knows how to deal with most situations. Grendel will be a piece of cake. My fate is sealed. I got PJ a dog for his birthday, and now I'm the poor sucker who has to go to the obedience classes. I hope there are treats for me too.