Topic 150: Table Manners

Carol:

Table Manners for Dogs            

Today’s topic seems familiar. I know I wrote about etiquette at the table for Topic 57 “Etiquette for Ancestors.” And, I’m sure along the way I have mentioned some of my mother’s methods for instilling proper social behavior:  But, I guess there are always new ways of looking at banal, familiar topics such as Table Manners.” Let’s talk pets.
 

As I mentioned in T145 “Humorous Dyspepsia,” we have had a series of dogs from various shelters. I was also raised with dogs. After my father kept a puppy from the litter of his beautiful Brittany Spaniel Diana, I was recruited to attend dog obedience school with the pup while Dad  took Diana. Momma dog passed with flying colors. Baby dog Solo was sweet but a bit of a clown, and when I took him to class he would act like he didn’t have a solid bone in his body and would become totally limp. I guess in doggie psychology the term would be passive-aggressive. Solo was not badly-behaved, just a little odd. One time I looked out my parents’ window up to the top of the steep hill behind their house where the dogs  liked to sit. Solo was at the top all right, but he was sitting in our neighbors’ backyard, not ours.
 

Our first dog after marriage came from the pound when he was very tiny. I can’t actually go to a shelter myself (it makes me upset), so Marc was sent to pick out a healthy- looking female “toddler” rather than a puppy. He came home with Freebie, an 8-week old male, chosen because the puppy looked sickly and my hubby felt sorry for the little guy. Most of the training was left to me, so I enrolled Freebie in dog obedience school at a local park. He was sort of doing okay until the third class when he peed all over the trainer. I was too humiliated to ever go back. Freebie turned out great although he did have a peculiar relationship with a white fluffy rug.

When Freebie died on the 4th of July (okay, he got run over—our fault, deep shame), Annie arrived as a quick replacement because I had a broken ankle, full leg cast and crutches for 3 months. She was another black and white dog, a cocker mix. She was almost a year old, so we didn’t have to go through any of the puppy phase stuff that requires intensive dog and people training.  She spent a lot of time on my lap, or cuddled up next to me for the next few years until child #1 came along. Then, Annie spent a lot of time hiding under tables. Well….not always. 

By the time Milo came along about 5 years ago, I felt like I knew enough not to need obedience school even though he was at the perfect age for training. Luckily, a neighbor loaned us Cesar Millan’s book How to Raise the Perfect Dog, which led to rules about who was boss. I understand there is some controversy about his approach to training animals, but Milo learned good manners from the approach, including not going into the kitchen and sitting with really terrific posture. The kitchen thing—Milo has added his own caveat to that rule. No going into the kitchen unless people leave the room for 30 seconds while there is a raw pizza sitting on the counter.
 

His table manners? A picture is worth a thousand words.

Megan:

Table Manners for Dogs  2.0

(I already know that my mother stole my idea for this topic.  I didn’t tell her about it ahead of time, but still she managed to pluck it from my brain. )

We’ve never been particularly concerned with table manners in our family. You will find elbows on the table. Depending on who sets the table, the cutlery is not always in the correct order and wine is drunk from a tumbler because most of the glasses have broken. Butter is applied to the entire roll, not to individual bite-sized pieces. Napkins are bunched up beside the plate, or tucked into the collar. Sometimes there is burping and Milo often spends the meal with his head in someone’s lap (where the napkins should be).

Milo is a good boy around food as long as someone is there to watch him. Turn your back and he can eat 4 fillets of Tilapia or half a pizza in less time than it takes to wash your hands. But he never snatches from you, or steals food from a plate, even if it is within reach. Bella, on the other hand, has no self-control. 

The other night I had some friends over to watch the Tron movies, which none of us had ever seen. We had been planning the Tron-O-Thon for weeks, including a gourmet meal during the intermission. During the first movie/appetizers course, Bella was everywhere. She jumped on the coffee table, only to be knocked off. She spilled drinks. She climbed on the couch and tried to intercept the food as it made its way from the table to the mouths. And when she was thwarted, she became frustrated and cried and then howled.  I spent the first 20 minutes of the film trying to get her settled and only after we gave up and put the food away did she settle down. I had no idea what was going on for the rest of the movie.

For the actual meal, we put the dogs outside, but the smell of The Most Amazing Potato Soup Ever, served in fresh sourdough bread bowls, was too much for her.  She gnawed through the screen door, but was defeated by the sliding glass door. Then she tried every window – leaping and hanging from the screens. My friends offered advice, having successfully trained their American Bulldog to “get his ass on his bed.” I can’t stomach some of their suggestions (because I am weak and passive), but I am sure I will be able to train her to be at least as good as Milo.

After all, our standards are not that high. We just want to be able to sit in peace, our elbows on the table, eating soup with a teaspoon, belching contentedly, with a dog under the chair of the messiest eater (Mom).