He's a Dog, Not a Musketeer!

So Hubby and I decide that the big dogs need obedience school. We don't intend to have them in those dance competitions like the YouTube video of the woman reenacting some scene from Grease (cool video, but seriously, lady, how much time do you have on your hands? You should get laid more often... by a man). All we want is God-Knows-What-Dog, Humphrey, to stop running when he gets outside and the Great Dane, Remy, to stop being, well, himself.

First we go to the regular class with all the other beasts. And, get this, WE GET KICKED OUT. Honestly, I have never even had a detention and now I have been expelled. Oh the horror. Then we are informed that we need tutoring and private lessons. Now I am truly pissed that this incident might go on my permanent record. I made an "A" in Calculus IV and yet I am needing a dog tutor? And, no, I am not making up my Calculus grade, I really am that big a nerd. Alas.

So, first Crazy Dog Lady (CDL) talks to us about our "hopes, dreams and aspirations" for the "children." I respond "you know they are dogs, right? We don't talk at night about where they will go to college and how they will support us in our old age. We just want them to get off Ozzy's Crazy Train."

CDL is clearly miffed that I have not dreamed bigger things for the beast. Seriously, they lick themselves, what more can I expect from them? String theory? Even algebra would be pushing it.

So, then she decides to bring in another dog to "socialize" them. Immediately, I know this is a horrid idea and will end in one big ass, furry tragedy. I demand that we sign a waiver in case this other dog gets injured. So, to do a "meet and greet" with my 300 pounds of hound, she brings in some 25 pound blond thing. Ohdeargawd. Remy goes crazy (and a shock runs through the crowd) and Hubby has to grab Victim Dog and vault over the 5 foot wall with it. Have I mentioned I married a very quick-thinking stud? He was cat-like.

CDL is not deterred and said "Well, I thought that would go better." I respond "Of course you did, don't all seven foot tall black males love petite blonds?" She yells at me saying I am projecting and that is why Remy has issues. Uhhh, no Sweet Pea, he has issues because his last family abused him. And I am not projecting, I am being funny. Try it sometime, bitch.

So then CDL decides that the issue with Remy is us and our attitudes so she decides that, instead of working with the dog, she will work with us. Honestly, I am now getting tutored by a CDL. This is the conversation (and, no, I am not making this up):

CDL: You should leave the radio on for him so he will get used to voices.
Hubby: As long as it is not NPR --- we don't want him to become a liberal.
CDL: Ken, he can't vote. You do understand that, right?

At this, I want to leave. Yes, CDL, we know he can't vote (he is not even AKC registered much less voter registered). However, if we had left when I wanted to, I would have missed one of the best conversations OF MY LIFE.

CDL: What kind of clothing does he have? We can marinate them in pheromones.
me: Uhhh, clothes? Marinade?
CDL: (said in a most condescending tone) Yes, clothes. You know, things to wear. What does he wear?
me: Well, he wears his dog suit. And a collar.
CDL: Oh dear. He does not have a wardrobe? Perhaps that is his issue.
me: Define wardrobe. Honestly, you know he is a dog, right? A schizo Great Dane that weighs a buck and half. And you want me to do costume changes?
CDL: What does he wear to formal occasions?
me: Well, to his bar mitzvah, he wore his dog suit and to his prom he wore, well, his dog suit and to his...
CDL: What about bandannas?
me: No.
CDL: What about sweatshirts?
me: No
CDL: T-shirts?
me: No
CDL: What about pantaloons?
me: Pantaloons? He is a dog not a musketeer!

At this point, Hubby and I are laughing so hard that we are sobbing. She, in all sincerity, explains that she always dresses her two dogs. Her favorite scenario, get this, is when she dresses the girl dog up as a Damsel in Distress (complete with tall, pointy hat and the trailing tulle) and her boy dog plays the role of Prince Charming (complete with pantaloons and a faux sword).

This is when you know that the inmates are running the asylum and the most you can hope for is to get out of the place without injury.