He ran ahead of me on the trail, his ears flopping back and forth and his nose pressed down to the ground. Puppy, our 3 ½ month old Golden Retriever, was beginning to fulfill my dream as a hiking companion – among all my other hopes and wishes for him to fulfill as our first dog. (No, his name is not really Puppy but in the spirit of what I call the rest of my family on this blog, he’ll be Puppy, for now.)

 

We’ve spent the last three weeks since he came home with us getting to know each other. Me, establishing my role as Pack Mom. He, displaying his puppy personality: Pretty mellow, loves to chew, adores a belly rub, and will cop a sit on the sofa faster than I can say, “Don’t even think about it!”

 

According to Mother Knows Best, the highly recommended dog training book, I must firmly establish myself as his pack leader and demand his deference to my authority. Only with this hierarchy established, will he and we be happy.

 

So now the mini amounts of peace I’ve discovered since Son and Daughter grew past the tough infant and toddler years are crowded with constant words of discipline spoken firmly in my Pack Mom voice. I hate speaking firmly all the time. It just makes me feel so…. stern. It feels like I’m doing it all day, too, since I’m also training Son and Daughter how to behave around Puppy: “Don’t pull his tail! Don’t tease him when he’s in his crate! Shhhhh, he’s sleeping! Well, okay, that is a little much.

 

A week after Puppy came home, I even told Son to “Come, boy!” He laughed. Fortunately, Son doesn’t mind being called the dog’s name, either. He just laughs.

 

But I mind telling everybody what to do all day. It gets old. And it feels so unattractive. I think that’s why it’s the lousiest part of the Mommy/Pack Mom job. You feel like you’ve got such a grouch pus on all the time. Poor Husband. By the time he gets home, my face is staunchly set in a fierce Pack Mom growl and I tell him what to do, too.

 

Fortunately, Pack Mom knows how to have fun. We’re enjoying more simple pleasures like playing fetch, and taking Puppy for a stroll after dinner, and stomping skunk cabbage on river banks.

 

Is my pack leadership working? Puppy comes when I call him. He jumps off the sofa after the third “No !” (we’re working on that one) and he generally respects and adores me.

 

He doesn’t quite understand he needs to pee and poop outside, yet, preferably in the woods. One of my dog books said I should use the same term every time he goes. I should repeat it until he goes and then at some point, he’ll just go when I say it. So I started saying, “Get to it!” (I thought that’s what the book said but it was actually “Do it!”)

 

For the past three weeks, I’ve said, “Get to it!” when we hit the woods. Then, “Good get to it!” after he’s done either business. It seems to be working. He now goes pretty quickly when I say it. Except, he may have to go anyway and he also goes whenever he feels like it in the middle of the front yard or sometimes, the kitchen floor.

 

Daughter’s a big help. She likes the rise she gets out of me when she orders him to “Get to it!” in the house. She looks at me with a smile as my Pack Mom voice rises to hysterical levels.

 

“Don’t tell him to do that! He’ll go in the house! That’s for outside!”

 

But Puppy doesn’t listen to her. He doesn’t go. Her voice is too high. Too nice. She’s not a Pack Mom. Yet.