Cricket is certifiably insane. I have expert confirmation of this fact. Sometimes, when she attacks and bites people or works herself into an aggressive tizzy, it isn’t funny in the least. But when she is under control, as she more or less has been for the past few months, her eccentricities can be amusing, even instructive.
1. If you want something, show it. Lately we’ve been working in potty training, which is kind of weird for a four- or five-year-old dog, but there you go. One positive recent development is that she begs and dances when she needs to poo. (She still goes into stealth mode and finds an invisible corner when she wants to pee, but that’s another topic.) I have been so overjoyed by this recent act of communication that I’ve overlooked that it only arose because she got a severe case of diarrhea, which apparently even she finds too disgusting to do in the house. The cycle of positive reinforcement has made the begging/dancing habit more or less permanent, though, and it got me thinking: how many of us want something but never get it because we expect someone else to guess what we want? It can’t hurt to dance, or, on occasion, beg, when something you need is right in front of you.
2. Acting cute will protect you. While I try my best to keep an even but authoritative tone with my dog, just like the Whisperer says I should, I occasionally yell at the dog. If I’m imposing enough, her first instinct isn’t to cower or run away or even fight back. She rolls on her back and dangles her legs in the air with a dew-eyed look. It’s adorable, and it invariably calms me down and earns her a belly rub (or at least a gentle hauling off to the time-out room). I only realize later that I’ve been played. Sometimes, asserting your control over a situation requires a reversal of expectations. I actually learned this in middle school, when I used humor to wiggle my way out of fights. If an argument or a situation is becoming to tense, it can often be defused by cuteness or humor. The delicate trick is to deploy such cuteness in a way that wins you the floor, but doesn’t imply that you don’t take the situation seriously. You want someone to smirk and calm down, not dismiss you as an idiot. At least, not until later.
3. It’s scary! Bite it! While this is one of Cricket’s worst traits, obedience wise, I’m fascinated by my 12-pound dog’s instinct to shoot first and ask questions later. Whenever a particularly large man approaches — or someone who’s jogging, or a noisy truck — she instantly lunges in a full-out, teeth-bared attack. She never does this with anything she has a reasonable chance of actually harming and/or killing. Only those objects that are sure to destroy her if I actually let her have at it. (On the few occasions she’s done this and I haven’t had her on a leash, what happens is a charging attack followed immediately by a cute flip for a belly rub. As I stated earlier, she’s certifiably insane.) Taken out of context and put in human terms, this behavior is often considered bravery, or at least bravado. Minus the actual intent to harm, it’s also a good lesson for problems that arise in life. The more gnarly and dangerous the problem appears, the more you should instantly attack it. The worst that could happen if you lose is a violent but noble death. If you win: eternal fame. If it’s a draw: belly rub!
4. Above all else, guard your ass. If you don’t want someone to touch your ass, attack. If someone touches your ass without warning, attack. In an uncertain situation, make sure the first thing you protect is your ass. The touching of an ass should be reserved for trusted sentient beings only. This one is, I believe, self-explanatory.
5. Adapt without changing. The most incredible — and most frustrating — aspect of Cricket’s personality is how rooted it is in her brain stem. She’s not just a poor dog who learned bad habits. She is, deep down, an insane creature with an aggression problem. That said, through numerous owners, apartments, training regimens, cities, diets, and situations, she’s always managed to figure out what she needs to do. I have to learn a new trick? Give me five minutes. I need to be nice to this person? Okay, I can handle that. You want me to sleep in there? I’ll try it. She’ll steadfastly refuse to let go of her basic paranoia or need for attention and affection, but she will survive anything you throw at her. Is it better to be perfect, or alive? Cricket chose the latter, which is only as impressive as it is because so many dogs are fairly stupid, and will endanger themselves in the service of a routine. (Okay, okay, we consider that “loyalty” and “obedience” their best trait, but really it’s kind of stupid.) There’s a central paradox to most fable-style morals; “be true to yourself” conflicts with “reach for the stars.” When in doubt, survival is your best guide to both.
In conclusion (man, it’s been since high school that I’ve begun a paragraph that way), following this advice as a lifestyle would turn one into an asshole. There isn’t going to be any bestselling self-help book called “Be the Poodle” for a reason. Nobody but the co–dependent really loves a self-centered aggressive survivalist with an instinct for attacking. But when the chips are down, when life is throwing the worst of its shit your way, you can do a lot worse than acting a little bit like Cricket. Assertion is the key to crawling out of depression. Men of action win the bear markets. Doing is better than thinking when results are paramount. In this period of my life, I embrace my inner poodle.
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