Terrible Twos

Although Marti isn’t yet two, she is in the full throes of asserting her independence. It seems that for each trick she learns she takes one step backwards by losing another talent. So far she’s shown her puppy brilliance with several commands: sit, stay, down, come, leave it, drop it, shake and “come snuggly,” which any seasoned dog trainer knows means “jump onto the bed and play.” She even knows how to “get your Santa,” who has had several more surgeries and numerous stitches since I last mentioned him. She even gives lots of kisses.


So while Marti has gained all of these talents, she’s never quite mastered walking politely. I never had trouble getting her to walk though; she was always so excited to be outdoors that she would pull and pull and drag me along wherever she wanted to go. I laughed at a woman on TV who wasn’t able to get her basset hound to walk with her. She would end up dragging him, on his side, down the street. Then she’d finally pick him up and carry him. Silly dog owners, I thought. Don’t let your dog tell you what to do! Like a fool, I scoffed at her.

As Marti’s gotten older, she’s been improving on The Walk, until recently. One day she flat out decided she was done with The Walk. Stubbornness set in and she refused to go whichever direction I was going. So I’d pull her. And keep walking, with confidence and gusto, à la Cesar Milan, the Dog Whisperer. I’d change directions, going whichever way she seemed to want to go. None of this worked. You think, “She’s only 20 pounds! Come on, muscles!” But you underestimate Marti’s tenacity. Not only does she stop walking, but resolutely braces herself for the pull on the leash. Her front paws in front of her as wide as they can go, she sticks her butt up into the air while I tug, and vows to go undefeated.


Nothing I’ve done has helped, and a quick Google search tells me I’ve gone about it all wrong, and I’ve actually been encouraging the unwanted behavior.

I reasoned that it was probably the weather—the rain, the direction of the wind, the barometric pressure, maybe—that was making her stubborn. But it’s rarely the dog or the weather that is the problem; it’s the owner. And the truth is, I think she now knows that she’s the one in control and that she doesn’t actually have to do anything for herself. Yesterday I tried to take her out amid a rainstorm when I got home from work. She hadn’t gone all day, aside from #1 in the morning (she refused to walk so didn’t get the luxury of a #2 morning stop). I knew she had to go. I could see it in her eyes. But she wanted nothing to do with the rain. I had to pick her up to get her down the stairs. And once her princess paws touched the wet ground, I had to pick her up again to lug her into the grass.

This morning though, it was ridiculous. Wouldn’t walk. Wouldn’t go. I somehow made it to the other side of the building, where she stopped walking altogether. Finally having had enough of her antics, I unclipped her leash and walked off. By the time I was 50 feet away, I could see her concern. “Wait! What are you doing? Why are you leaving me?” So she followed, just like I knew she would. She even did her business, and then sprinted back to the apartment. But I’ve had enough. Today I start working on the walk. I can’t handle the embarrassment any more. I can’t have the maintenance guys watch me as I try to coax Marti down the stairs. I can’t have our neighbors watch me pick her up and drag her into the grass. This will be fixed. Hopefully I can teach an 18-month-old Marti new tricks.