Dog Training The American Male Part 11

"The dog or my boyfriend?"

"Both."

THE HUMAN BRAIN processes 400 billion bits of information a second, and yet we only allow an infinitesimal percentage of that data to breach our stream of consciousness. How do we select what to focus on? Which random thoughts should be flushed and which harvested? Where do the seeds of inspiration that yield the oak trees of success come from?

The answer: They often come when you least expect it.

"WELL, YOU HAVE to train them."

"The dog or my boyfriend?"

"Both."

Nancy's heart pounded in her chest as the epiphany seeded a thought in her mind's eye that quickly sprouted roots. "My esteemed caller from Wellington is right! It's not the dog's fault it c.r.a.pped all over my house -- Sam needs to be trained. Sam, by the way, is my German Shepherd, not my boyfriend. If you're a dog trainer, or you know of an experienced dog trainer, call me right away at 561-222-WOWF, or text me at star-WOWF on your mobile phone. The first caller recommending a qualified dog trainer will receive . . . Trish, do we have anything to give away?"

Trish shook her head, no.

"Nothing? Hold on, how about a free ma.s.sage at the Lifestyle Revolution Spa? No? What if I pay for it? Yes? How much does an hour ma.s.sage run?"

The producer wrote down a number on a flash card.

"A hundred and fifty dollars? Are you for real? Does that come with an a.n.a.l bleaching? It does! Okay, listeners, the first caller providing me with the name and phone number of a qualified dog trainer receives an hour ma.s.sage and the optional a.n.a.l . . . and it looks like we have a winner! Who's this?"

"Lynnie Ruffington, I got your dog trainer right here."

"Lynnie, the contest is for my listeners."

"I'm a listener. Heck, sometimes I'm all you got."

"You're an employee of Lifestyle Revolution. You can't partic.i.p.ate in any on-air contests."

"d.a.m.n it, doc, I want that a.n.a.l bleaching."

"Sorry, Lynnie, guess you'll have to sit bare-a.s.s in a bucket of Clorox. Line four, we have Judy from Coral Springs. Speak to me Judy."

"Dr. Beach, last month we had a dog trainer come out to the house and work with our c.o.c.ker spaniel, Damian."

"And did the trainer exorcize the devil from Damian?"

"Sorry, I don't know what you mean."

"Does your c.o.c.ker spaniel still c.r.a.p in the house? Is he housebroken?"

"Oh, absolutely. Plus he sits and gives you his paw."

"Sounds perfect. Give us the trainer's first name, Judy, Trish will get the rest of the contact information from you off the air."

"The trainer's name is Anita and she was fantastic."

LORD and m.a.s.t.u.r.b.a.t.eR Jacob parked the van in the driveway and exited the rusting steel beast before its engine choked itself off. In his hand was a pet store bag; inside-a simple tool that he hoped would allow him to domesticate his dog and hopefully appease Nancy.

Sam heard him approach. The dog clawed at the inside of the garage door, thrusting its sizeable bulk at the aluminum barrier.

"Easy, boy. I'm coming. Just need to set this up for you, big guy."

Jacob walked around the side of the house to the backyard. From the bag he removed a three-foot-long spiral metal spike attached to a twenty-foot-long dog chain.

Wiley Coyote . . . genius.

For ten minutes he labored to twist the spike into the hard, dry ground. When he finished, he tugged on the chain, testing the strength of the device. Satisfied, he walked back around to the front door of the house and keyed in.

The German Shepherd bellowed a ferocious bark that put a smile on Jacob's face. Foofie dog, my a.s.s. No burglar or rapist in his right mind would break into this house with my dog guarding it.

He headed for the interior garage door. Opened it- -bowled over by Sam! The dog jumped and spun and ran through the house into the master bedroom. He leaped on top of the bed, stripping the linen as he leaped off again and bolted past Jacob into the living room and onto the sofa-wagging its tail, wanting to play.

"No!"

The dog barked at him.

"Hey, don't bark back at me. I am your lord and master. G.o.d gave me opposable thumbs, not you."

The dog laid on the floor, contorting its head and neck between its hind legs to nibble on an itch along its groin.

"Okay, admittedly, a longer neck also has its advantages."

Sam jumped up, clawing at the back door.

"I get it, you need to pee. Got you all set up." Jacob unlocked the sliding gla.s.s door and closed it before Sam could escape. Retrieving the end of the chain, he opened the door and clipped it onto the dog's collar.

The dog dashed outside, its chain nearly wrapping around Jacob's ankles. Sam sniffed an unseen trail along the lawn before lifting its leg to pee. Its bladder relieved, the German Shepherd took a leisurely jaunt across the open yard-the chain cutting him off, preventing him from leaving.

"Technology . . . it's a beautiful thing." Jacob closed the gla.s.s door and headed back through the house to the garage, seeking to relocate Sam's water bowl out back.

"Ahh! Ahh!" The blood rushed from his face as he spotted the severed arm of a child lying on the garage floor!

In full panic, Jacob turned and ran-his forehead smacking into the side of the interior door. Spinning back around, he eyeballed the detached limb, his woozy brain determining either a small child or a midget must have seen the partially-open garage door and crawled inside to rob him, only to have his arm torn off by his dog.

"Where are you, midget?" Did they prefer to be called midget or vertically challenged? "Answer me, or my dog will amputate your other limbs!"

That you, Vice?

"Mr. President?" Jacob retrieved the rest of the Bush dummy from behind a spare tire. One arm was gone, its head spun around, its right ear partially chewed.

Was it Al Qaeda?

"No, sir. It was my dog."

d.a.m.n fleabag gave me a tea bag. As the Decider I've decided that Nancy was right and the mongrel must go. See to it, Jakester, then reattach my arm and swab my wood with alcohol.

"Sorry, sir, but the dog stays."

That so? You might be singing a different tune once you see what that four-legged monster did to your little Asian dish.

"Yoko?" Jacob stared at the cardboard box, its flaps chewed, the container lying open on its side. Having dragged the s.e.x doll out onto the floor, Sam had gnawed its pliable flesh as if it were a rawhide bone. Yoko's face was mangled, her left eye stretched and deformed.

"Oh . . . Yoko."

You love me long time, Jacob?

"Sorry Yo-Yo, but I'm not into freaky zombie s.e.x."

TEN MINUTES LATER the garage door opened, Jacob exiting -- wheeling a trash can to the curb. Yoko's head and upper torso protruded from the open receptacle, the s.e.x doll's remains wrapped in a plastic garbage bag so the neighbors wouldn't see.

Don't do this, Jacob.

Jacob hummed, blocking out the shrill woman's voice in his head.

Just so you know, I faked every o.r.g.a.s.m.

Leaving the trash can by the curb, he returned to the house, closing the garage door behind him.

He never saw the two ten-year-old boys ride past the house on their bicycles.

Sam did.

Tail wagging, the dog attempted to chase after them-easily ripping the stake from the ground. The German Shepherd sprinted around the side of the house to the front sidewalk-the trailing length of chain bouncing wildly . . . looping around Yoko's neck!

Chasing after the kids, Sam dragged the naked life-size s.e.x doll down the street, the plastic trash bag quickly shredding as it was hauled along the tarmac.

NANCY TURNED OFF Hillsboro Boulevard, texting her producer as she drove through the residential neighborhood. The excitement she felt back at the studio had waned as her idea had fallen under her own self-scrutiny. How do you know this will even work? How can I market it to my listeners? Is it fair to Jacob? Sure, it might help his phobias, but what if he catches on?

Her mind occupied, she never saw the dog running in the street, heading for her car.

JACOB HAD BEEN filling Sam's water bowl at the kitchen sink when he heard the dog barking like crazy. He glanced out the window just in time to see the German Shepherd race out of the back yard, trailing chain.

Jacob hurried out the front door as Sam sprinted down the middle of the street, dragging a familiar object-a car turning the corner . . . approaching fast!

"Sam!"

NANCY LOOKED UP and screamed, slamming on the breaks.

The naked pedestrian struck her winds.h.i.+eld a split-second later, the impact simultaneously shattering the gla.s.s and inflating her air bag, which bashed the startled psychologist in the face, knocking her woozy.

a.s.shole, you just killed someone. The cops'll know you were texting . . . your life is over.

Jacob ran down the street as fast as an out-of-shape man in sandals could run. His heart nearly pushed out of his chest as he saw the naked Yoko doll spreadeagled across the car's shattered winds.h.i.+eld.

Holy s.h.i.+t, your dog just killed someone. The cops'll know you were f.u.c.king the doll. Your life is over.

Jacob grabbed Sam by his trailing chain, dragging the dog around to the driver's side of the car to check on the driver, whose face was pinned behind the inflated air bag. "Hold on, buddy!" Using the spike still attached to the dog chain, he punctured the safety device, powder exploding all over what now appeared to be a female figure.

Then he recognized the woman.

"Oh my G.o.d Nancy! Oh geez, I didn't realize it was you." He attempted to brush her off.

"Jacob? Oh G.o.d, Jacob, I killed somebody!"

"No you didn't, baby. It was just my s.e.x . . . my s.e.xy new ventriloquist dummy, Yoko. Sam broke loose from the back yard and the chain must have wrapped around the dummy's neck."

"I didn't kill anyone?"

Jacob smiled nervously. "No, babe."

The smile evaporated as he saw the neighbors close ranks from all directions. "Nance, pop the trunk so I can hide the body . . . I mean the doll-the dummy!"

"Why?"

"Just do it!"

She spit out a mouthful of powder, her eyes focusing on the naked v.a.g.i.n.al anatomy of the object adorning her winds.h.i.+eld. "Oh my G.o.d."

"I'll get rid of the dog, just please pop the trunk."

Feeling along the bottom of the dashboard, she released the hatch as Jacob dragged the disfigured s.e.x doll off the car's hood and tossed it into the trunk-in front of a dozen startled neighbors.

"You see that? He just threw the dead woman into the trunk."

"She was naked. Probably his mistress."

"Somebody call the cops."

"I already did, they're on the way."

Jacob released the dog to the wild and climbed in the pa.s.senger seat, accepting the role of fugitive. "Nancy, drive!"

The neighbors quickly stepped in front of the car, preventing the driver from leaving the crime scene. Before he could react, his door opened and two black men dragged Jacob out of the vehicle, pinning him to the ground the stupid dog wagging its tail instead of coming to his aid.