So sue me that the highlight of my week revolves around my dog's puppy school graduation. Ava would have turned one this Friday, and finding joy in much of anything is difficult. My dog makes me happy and gives me something to cling to as I try and mentally prepare to celebrate a birth and grieve a death tomorrow.

Although “heel” and “sit for petting” (see task list below) wasn’t actually included in the test, I’m still super proud of my pooch, even if I totally cheated and walked the hell out of him to rob him of his boundless puppy energy and deprived him of food to ensure an empty tummy for a hyper–motivated performance. I even introduced extra smelly weiner snitzle treats wrapped in cheesy goodness to make sure I had his attention.

It doesn’t matter that every dog had until infinity to perform their tasks (a.k.a you really couldn’t fail). The fact is, my little fuzz ball of psychotic energy managed to channel wisdom from some unknown entity and soar through all of his tests, getting them right the first time.

As usually, he finished the evening with a triumphantly massive whiz. Apparently, holding a diploma in puppy basics does not warrant refinement and dignity.


Samson in his snazzy grad cap.

Shaking a paw to receive his diploma and treat bag.



Graduating class of '06

Labels: Samson