I realized one day that I had crossed a line when I reached into my pockets
to get some change and all I could find were dog treats. This wasn’t something that happened all of a sudden. I had been noticing dog treats in my pockets in the strangest of places: grocery stores, restaurants, the movie theatre. I had even put dog treats into one of those plastic bins at the airport in order to get through the security line. At first it seemed, well, rather weird. But as time went on it became more and more normal. You see, there were training opportunities popping up all the time for my dog and me. I would be taking my dog for a walk and she would sit when we stopped at the street curb. Time for a treat. I would walk into the house and my dog stopped jumping and licking and actually composed herself. Jackpot. She picked the newspaper up in the morning and brought it into the house. Payola time. We would start an impromptu obedience training session. I didn’t want to get caught short. On and on and on. You get the picture. I simply got into the habit of continuously reloading my supply of treats.This wasn’t without its complications. When I took my pants off at night I sometimes spilled treats onto the floor. My dog enjoyed this but my spouse did not. New house rules were imposed concerning the proper method for emptying the crumbs in my pockets before committing my pants to the washing machine. Like my dog, it took me a while before I was sufficiently trained. My training did not necessarily involve positive reinforcement! In any event, I have reached the point where I always have dog treats in my pockets. With those dog treats come crumbs. So it goes. There are now literally three times when my pockets are empty. When I go through airport security. When I go into the ring. And when my pants go into the wash. Actually, now that I think about it, when I go through airport security and into the ring there are still crumbs in my pockets. Please don’t tell Homeland Security or the trial judges. And every once in a while there may still be crumbs in my pocket when they go into the wash. Please, please, please don’t tell my spouse!
