Biscuits in my Pocket

--By Fred
I'm still recovering from surgery, careful not to get into a situation where I have Bingo on a leash and he pulls one way and I, to my peril, pull the other. So instead of our regular walks in the neighborhood and our visits to the grocery store and Home Depot, we are spending time in the back yard and working on some basics: Sit, Stay and Come.

We have a big back yard with lots of distractions, lots of plants, lots of space for the dogs to run and do fun things--much more fun than working with me on commands. I'm careful not to show my hand, that I'm an overly serious and slow human being with no leash and nothing to offer except for my magnetic personality and the dog biscuits in my pocket.

It strikes me that middle-aged men often come to this realization. After they get old and fat and lose their hair, they compensate with a new sports car and a fat wallet, maybe even some dog biscuits, anything to attract some attention.

The biscuits works today. We had a good session, and he seemed to really enjoy working with me. At least he seemed to enjoy it.