The Dog Whisperer came very highly recommended and he assured us that in just six short sessions, our incorrigible puppy would be accepted into the very best drawing rooms of Europe. “Dogs live to please you,” we were told, “they just need to know what your expectations are.”
Our expectations were not lofty. We wanted Ali to come when called. We wanted her to stop chasing the kitten. We wanted her to stop jumping on guests, especially since her growth spurt was truly alarming. “No problem,” said the Dog Whisperer briskly, writing notes on his clipboard. He looked around. “Where is your little girl?” he asked
I was taken aback by the term “little girl” until I remembered that he had not yet met Ali. We went into the backyard where Ali was on her back rolling in a patch of dirt that earlier in the day had been a patch of grass. “She’s only 4 months old?” said the Dog Whisperer, stunned, as Ali ran towards him at a full gallop, leaping into his arms. A minute later Ali was straddling him, licking his face. “Down,” he said weakly. “Down, Ma’am.”
The Dog Whisperer got to his feet, gasping, as Ali began running figure-8’s around his legs. “She’s exuberant,” he said, picking mulch out of his hair. “That’s good.”
He made another note on his clipboard and looked at my partner and me. “Dogs are pack animals,” he told us. “They need to know who is in charge. Which of you is the Alpha Dog of this pack?”
“That would be me,” I said at the same time that my partner said, “I am.” There was a brief, awkward silence as we looked at each other. “You?” we said simultaneously.
The Dog Whisperer interrupted us hastily. “No wonder Ali is confused,” he told us and he proposed a test: We were to stand at opposite ends of the screened porch with Ali in the middle, and we would both call her. “Whoever she obeys is the Alpha Dog.”
Sighing, we went to opposite sides of the porch and called Ali, and then called her some more. Clearly pleased at the attention, she sat down to think it over, but then the kitten, curious, came onto the porch and Ali was after her like a shot. “No! I shouted. “Ali, stop!” said my partner. The Dog Whisperer kept scribbling furiously on his clipboard. A minute later I returned with Ali wriggling frantically in my arms. “There seems to be a power vacuum here,” said the Dog Whisperer.
Now the session began in earnest. Today’s lesson was ”Come!” This consisted of us saying the word “Come” over and over while Ali ignored us, then walking over to her and giving her a treat. “This is great!” said the Dog Whisperer without conviction. “Look at the progress we’re making.”
I was skeptical. “It looks like Ali is teaching us to come,” I pointed out, but the Dog Whisperer ignored me.
Just then Ginger, our old cat walked onto the porch to check things out. At the age of 17, Ginger does not suffer fools, or puppies, gladly. Ali charged directly at her, but Ginger stood her ground, bared her teeth and gave a hiss worthy of a mountain lion. Ali did not hesitate; she made an instant U-turn and headed straight for the guest bathroom, her refuge in times of stress.
My partner and I looked at each other then at the Dog Whisperer who was still making notes on his clipboard. “It’s settled,” he said. “The Alpha Dog is the cat.”