On Being A Bad Parent

I'm at a desk in a motel outside Madison, Wisconsin contemplating my horrible actions of late on being a horrible parent.

Last week we had two couples over for a dinner party. Normally our pooch announces the arrival of guests with constant barking until we open the door and let them in. It's then he gets friendly knowing we're not going to be victims of an attack. We've always felt this was good in the event a robber came into the yard and Charlie gave us a warning. After people come into the house Chaz calms down and licks their hands or sniffs wherever he darned pleases. Not this time. The boy wonder kept yapping and barking. As is typical with parents I was embarrassed and dressed him down. Out of character I yelled at him and pointed my finger. "Charlie," I said, "stop it right now!" He coward. For the rest of the night he kept away from me. Normally he'll jump in my lap. Not this night. He wanted nothing to do with me. Oh yes, he ended up sitting in the laps of our guests. When I went to pick him up he ran like the devil was after him.

The next day it was the same. I'd walk toward him and he'd run away. I'd call his name and he held up the middle index finger of his paw; sometimes both of them. That really hurt. I knew I was in trouble.

I'd give him his 5pm treats. He took them then ran for the Queen. He usually runs to our bed at night and cuddles next to me. That night he huddled at the end of the bed. It was only when Her Majesty came to bed did he come up and cuddle next to her. It's always my job to put him in his cage at night. He wouldn't go with me. I was in tears. How could I have been so cruel. I apologized to him and told him I was sorry. It seemed to help. But still I detected a slight snarl.

The next morning I awakened at 6:30 to let him out. His tail was wagging. That's a good sign. Anyway, after he came in I got my coffee and sat on the couch. He usually jumps on my lap. Not today.

We also noticed after our guests left he was more than jumpy. We thought he was loaded with anxiety so we went to the pet store and bought him a calming collar. I don't know what drugs are in it but after having wearing it for a half hour he was lying in his downstairs nap bed. I called his name. He looked at me with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. In a low groveling voice I heard him say, "This is groovy, man". This was a slight bit of success.

Two hours later I left for the Minnesota lake home. Charlie didn't even get up to say good-bye after I told him I loved him. I was heart broken. He passed gas as I went out the door. That was the ultimate insult.

The moral of the story is treat your children and dogs the way you want to be treated.