Five years. That’s how long I’ve been “training” my dog. We’re talking simple things here, like: “Come.” “Heal,” when constrained by a leash; and “Sit” he’s finally got down. But if there is any potential distraction – another dog or person in the visual vicinity – he’s gone. “Come” is about as effective as “tell me this Saturday’s winning lotto numbers.” Makes me wonder why I have a dog, anyway?

Then we go to Lake Chabot Regional Park. It costs two bucks to bring the dog in; but, they give you a doggie treat. Cedric – the dog in question – goes nuts over the treat. On the way out, I ask the Ranger where to get them. “These are from Costco. They come in a big bo

Of course they come in a big box: we’re talking Costco! So, I go to said retailer – scratch that, wholesaler, as they corrected me when I tried to use a coupon that assured a cost recovery to the “retailer” – and buy the box. Weighs about fifteen pounds, packed solid with doggie treats. It’s a wonder of modern manufacturing, how they stack row after row of jam-packed doggie treats. Twelve bucks and I’m set for the next three years – fire, theft and spoilage excepted.

The dog, aka Cedric, aka DD (Dang Dog), locks to me like glue. He can’t be subservient enough. I feel like a drug dealer. This dog is HOOKED! “Sit!” He’s butt down. “Come!” He’s running home to me, left side, in position. Where were these treats when I was training the beast?!

This is so effective I begin to speculate: what if I just give him the whole box? Then he’ll be all trained up, in all respects! I’ll be done! He. Will. Behave.

It might take him a while to eat them all. Now, I’m giving him small portions of each bar at a sitting. At this pace, it would take him years to finish the box. It isn’t reasonable to expect him to eat them all, at once. Yet I dream. Voice Control: an enigmatic yet alluring concept.

Then it hits me: maybe this would work on my grandson?! Instead of bouncing off the walls, he would be eagerly attentive! Might be a bit disconcerting to see his tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth, but well worth it if he would respond to commands like, “Brush your teeth and get ready for school.” This could be great! Mornings could once again be peaceful skirmishes with nothing more than the dawning sun!

Then it occurs to me there could be a problem: competition. Already the boy and the dog – almost equal in prominence if not size – compete, adding to the morning chaos. If they are also competing for the doggie treats, we could be going to the ER instead of the neighborhood school.

Dang!  And it seemed almost perfect.