Knot your Average Girl: Origins

I pull into the driveway and head inside, hearing some scuffling behind the door as I unlock it. Why is the door locked, anyway? Obviously Jasper is home. I’m really hoping today isn’t the day I walk in on him with some other chick. I push the door open slowly and step into the cool house from the sweltering summer heat. Jasper steps into the entrance, my sexy, perfect, weirdo boyfriend, and he has a grin like the cat who ate the canary.

Or the boyfriend who bought a dog, apparently. He leads me to our spare room, and there is scuffling behind this door as well. He opens it after warning me that “He’s kind of big!” I take a step back from the door as a huge German Shepard puppy slams into me, his paws on my chest. He’s full-grown, but still quite young.

Jasper explains that he’s a puppy, but he’s fully grown and could use someone who wouldn’t get upset trying to train him. German Shepards are incredibly smart he says. They will find things to learn if you don’t teach them, and the things they want to learn are escape tricks, and ways to make messes.

This is sounding more and more like what it is: A 10+ year commitment. But Jasper reassures me that he’s a good boy. Sure, in the way that all dogs are good boys, but I’m not convinced.

“What do we name him?” I ask, rubbing the dog’s neck, giving him scratches under his collar.

“Why don’t you choose? Maybe it will help you warm up to him.”

“He’s gone all this time without a name?”

“Well, no. He was called Jackson.”

“Well, that won’t do, but we need something you’ll recognize, don’t we buddy?” Jackson pokes his head under my hand and rubs against my body with his, leaning hard on me.

“Jack?”

“How about Jax?” His head shoots up as I say his name, and he stares me deep in the eyes. “Yeah, Jax? You like that name? You certainly know it…” I turn to Jasper with a ‘Why not’ expression and a shrug.

“That’s a perfect name. Jax.” The dog shows that he hears Jasper, but he doesn’t leave my side. “Wow, he’s already more your dog than mine. What a good boy!”

I smile and realize that I actually kind of like this dog, which goes against every bit of my usual ‘Cat person’ sensibilities. He looks up at me adoringly as I pet his head. Yeah, he’s a good boy.

A few days later, and Jax has slept in our bed every night. Jasper loves it, and invites him to join us every night even though Jasper himself often ends up on the couch because Jax stretches out. This works for me, as Jasper and I have had a few fights even since the addition of our new pet. I’m sure he thought a mutual commitment would keep us busy, but it just gave us new things to argue over.

Things like ‘Who cleans up after the dog?’ and ‘What training looks like.’

Jasper thinks training comes naturally. I disagree. A big dog needs rigorous training. This fight I win each time, but we still keep having it. I get a clicker to reinforce positive behavior. Jax is quick to learn that the clicker means treats. He often steals the clicker just to click it, thinking this means treats also. I laugh the first time, he looks so ridiculous with his ears perked up, clicker in mouth, standing by the cupboard with the treats.

I know better than to reward this behavior, but I give him a few easy commands (sit, lay down, stay) so I can reward him for behavior I like. I hope this way he’ll learn that the clicker-and-treats routine is for tricks and commands (for now, soon it will just be tricks). I give him a treat and a click and he sits by my feet to consume it. He growls at Jasper if he approaches during this ritual.

“If he listens so well, why don’t you teach him that growling is a no-no?” This from Jasper, the ‘man of the house.’

“Well, it’s his treat. He probably thinks you’re going to take it from him. He is a dog, there are some things I’m not equipped to train out of him. Undoing things is hard, but we can try teaching him something else…” I stand, unwilling to let this become an argument.

“Jax, come.” I walk over to Jasper, Jax is still holding his treat as he comes over. I tell him to sit right by Jasper’s feet. He begrudgingly does so, and though he whimpers when I return to the couch on the other side of the living room, he stays.

“There,” I say “does that work?”

Jasper nods, but a return of the growling when he goes to pet that fierce dog makes him scoff and roll his eyes.