Walking my little fat dog

I have a 3 years Sheltie that was supposed to be 15 lbs. fully grown but is now 30 lbs. I am certain that this has nothing do with the treats, cheese and table food he receives. I don’t mean table scraps as in what is left over. I am talking about cooking a little extra so he can eat with us. If they made a dog seat for the table I might be tempted to buy one.

Anyhoo, his fat little neck is the same diameter as his head so when he doesn’t want to walk on the leash, he just backs up and pops the leash off. When he is on the leash he thinks he is the alfa male in control of our walk. I have to tell him, not so fast chubs. I am the leader of our little walk and I will decide how fast we walk.

I try to train him on what the word heel means. I say it 50 times when we are out. When I say heel, I think he thinks I am saying meal. What is really funny is that he is the fat dog version of Secretariat the winning race horse. When he running, he has to be the lead dog. (It’s a metaphor, he is the only dog.) So when we come around the last bend in the road before we get to our house we start to run. The faster I run, the faster he moves those short little fat legs. Ha. The other night I was running flat out and was still a nose ahead of me. When we got through running my little fat buddy was tuckered out and he scrapped his tongue on the curb. Ha.

So I guess the point is that if you want a beautifully well trained obedient show dog, don’t get one like mine. If you want a fat dog that lays on the couch and wants to rub his wet nose all over you, get one like mine. KT

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