- Messages
- 294
- Reaction score
- 183
- Points
- 43
So bax has been to every dog class under the sun at this trainer but we haven't been in two years. I decided as something "fun" id pick up a basic manners course.
the day after the class he started pooping blood and one very expensive vet visit later i get the diagnosis. colitis. AGAIN. the cause? "Stress."
you'd think I'd learn but no I'm an idiot.
I took him to class AGAIN tonight. and i saw exactly how "happy" he was. how much "fun" he was having.
He was a miserable anxious high-stress WRECK that couldn't even focus on basic cues he knew like the back of his paw.
i started to cry.
no WONDER he's miserable. He's claustrophobic and scared of dogs. so what do i do as the loving attentive fur mom? i strap him in a death rocket for an hour, throw him into a room full of ten other dogs, give him his highest value treats to defend, and then strap him in a death rocket for an hour ride back.
Some fur mom "I" am. If i get bloody diahrea in my bed at 2 am its the least i deserve.
I told the trainer halfway through the class that we were leaving and we wouldn't be coming back. It's nothing on them, i wish them all the best, but Bax just isn't at the point in his life where he can relax and have fun in a class.
So yeah, I win the award for mom of the year.
now i turn my attention to enrichment and fun at home in a low-stress relaxed environment where he can savor his potato chips free from competition.
the day after the class he started pooping blood and one very expensive vet visit later i get the diagnosis. colitis. AGAIN. the cause? "Stress."
you'd think I'd learn but no I'm an idiot.
I took him to class AGAIN tonight. and i saw exactly how "happy" he was. how much "fun" he was having.
He was a miserable anxious high-stress WRECK that couldn't even focus on basic cues he knew like the back of his paw.
i started to cry.
no WONDER he's miserable. He's claustrophobic and scared of dogs. so what do i do as the loving attentive fur mom? i strap him in a death rocket for an hour, throw him into a room full of ten other dogs, give him his highest value treats to defend, and then strap him in a death rocket for an hour ride back.
Some fur mom "I" am. If i get bloody diahrea in my bed at 2 am its the least i deserve.
I told the trainer halfway through the class that we were leaving and we wouldn't be coming back. It's nothing on them, i wish them all the best, but Bax just isn't at the point in his life where he can relax and have fun in a class.
So yeah, I win the award for mom of the year.
now i turn my attention to enrichment and fun at home in a low-stress relaxed environment where he can savor his potato chips free from competition.
