Naughty Dog Deserves “I Told You So”

The Perils of Disobedience

I do not ordinarily take pleasure in the misfortunes of others, nor do I gloat when I am proved right. With one exception. When a naughty dog of mine suffer the consequences of disobedience, I get to say, “I told you so.”

Recently I supervised my dogs in an off-leash romp in the backyard. They normally respect the boundary between our lawn and the hayfield beyond, and I’m quick to recall them if they venture too far. But a sunny day in midwinter subverts even the most well trained dog. Flame, our not quite 2-year old collie, not only went bounding into the field, but simultaneously developed a selective deafness that prevented him from hearing my command to return. By the time I corralled him, he was covered in burdock and dragging an assortment of flora behind him.

I spent the next hour removing 168 burdock from Flame’s ears, ruff, belly, feathery forelegs and his big bushy tail. As I teased his hair away from each burr, I lectured my naughty dog about the perils of disobedience. Liberally sprinkling my ranting with “I told you so’s,” I also threatened to shave off his coat and make him wear an ugly Christmas sweater for the rest of the winter. I had to interrupt my diatribe periodically to shoo our other dog, Chief, out of the room. In that sensitive way of collies, he was VERY concerned over my prolonged discourse of Flame’s shortcomings. I definitely did not want him coming near to comfort Flame; the last thing I needed was for the two of them to be Velcro’d together with burdock.

Commanding Obedience

I related the incident to my husband later that night as I tweezed burdock splinters out of my fingers. What annoyed me most was Flame’s complete disregard for my command. “If you had called him he would have come running,” I grumbled. “He only listens to me when it suits him.”

My husband suggested I use fewer words when giving the dogs a command. I realized then that I typically append my commands with explanations. For example, if a dog sneaks onto the sofa I’ll say, “Get down off the couch before you get dirty paw prints and dog hair all over the cushions.” My husband simply points a finger in a canine face, makes a quick slash to the floor and says, “Off!” And off the miscreant goes. Clearly, hubby is the de facto pack leader of our household.

And just as clearly, dogs do not require lengthy dissertations on the merits of obedience. So I have resolved to instruct our pets with succinct commands rather than inundating them with reasons to obey. From now on, I’ll let my “Sit!” be it and my “Stay!” hold sway.

But I reserve the right to throw in an “I told you so” if they deserve it.