It's been nine weeks since we sent Tasha to basic obedience class. In one week's time, we face her final exam. We're stressed out 'cos it looks like she's on the verge of flunking out. She's been such a rebellious teenager: bored, distracted, looks everywhere except where her instructions are coming from, and I swear she rolls her eyes every time we make her sit-stay.
Clearly, the cert means more to us than to her. So for this week, we're increasing her training from one to TWO hours a day to get her ready for her test. We're going to be very stern and correct every little mistake until she gets the routine down pat. What was it they said? "Don't practice until you get it right; practice until you can't get it wrong."
But don't get us wrong. We have the best intentions for her. Apart from being more assured of her safety in public, we want to let her have fun and still trust her off-leash, and we have plans to enroll her in agility classes. Since she likes to jump so much, it would be such a waste of her talent if she didn't hone this skill and do herself and us proud.
Suddenly, although we have been consciously avoiding it like the plague, we've become S'porean parents ourselves.