Training For Winter

“We both need to go,” Tracey informed me late last week when I questioned Winter’s doggy training on Monday nights.

If I’d known it was going to come to that I never would have mentioned it.

“Really?” I whined. “You do the introductory one last week, so shouldn’t it just be you? I won’t know what they’re talking about.”

“Well, I can’t control Winter with my stomach like this,” said Tracey, lifting her shirt and indicating with a flourish her bags, hernias and general inability to do anything she doesn’t really want to. Rather pleasingly, she’d pulled her shirt high enough a cupped booby was showing. She knows my weak spots.

Now usually I’d leave all the details to her, but we’ve been busy lately with little annoying things, some people call them ‘children’, and I didn’t want us to miss the training, even if it wasn’t my idea.

Tracey has decided Winter really needs it. She’s a beautiful dog, and so smart, but we’re not the best at making a good dog of her. The only trick I’ve managed to teach her so far is to drop my shoe if I chase her around the yard long enough, and I suspect she’s got more to offer.

“Have you organised a baby sitter for Monday night?” I asked Tracey on Saturday.

“What for?” she wanted to know.

“Dog training,” I reminded her. “If we’re both there, someone is going to have to watch the kids.”

“Oh, yeah. I will,” she assured me.

“Do you want me to do it?”

Given my poor history of time management with our large litter of human pups I don’t usually get involved in organising our social calendar, but considering Master24 and his girlfriend, Charlotte, were going to be doing it and they live in the same house, I figured I could muster the wherewithal to get this one locked into place.

“No, I’ll do it,” insisted Tracey.

Then, when late Monday afternoon rocked around, I had a sneaking suspicion Tracey was planning on me doing the training by myself.

“So you ready?” I asked her while she pottered in the kitchen. Her face was an empty canvas. I gave her a hint. “For going to dog training? Do you still want me to go with you, or not?”

“Well, I can’t do it without you,” Tracey scoffed.

I let that hang in the air for a bit, but unfortunately she wasn’t going to explain further this time.

“Okay, that’s fine,” I said. “I’m going. I’m not saying I’m not. I’m just wondering who’s looking after the kids?”

Master24 wouldn’t be home from work for a while, so there really was only one person left – but finding out who was babysitting wasn’t why I asked.

“Charlotte,” said Tracey.

“Good,” I said, seemingly watching her over a cuppa tea, but in actual fact I was using it to obscure my grin. I dove in. “Does she happen to know?”

“I’ll ask her in a second,” said Tracey.

I knew it!

I decided to let my wife off easy and take a hit for the team. I won’t lie: I was hoping she might show me her bra again as a reward.

“I tell you what – do you want me to take Winter by myself?”

“Ohhh?” said Tracey. She couldn’t have acted more surprised if her name was Meryl Streep. “Oh, alright. That might be a good idea.”

I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“You’re not fooling anyone. Like this wasn’t your plan the whole time,” I scoffed. “You never intended on going.”

“I did!” she countered earnestly. “I’ll come with you now, if you like.”

Which might have been a little more believable except we were due there in twenty minutes and Tracey had already showered and dressed for bed.

Ten minutes later, after picking out our name badge on the table, I was sending a photo and messaging my defiant wife from the training ground  – I think the word you’re thinking of is SPRUNG!

Check out the photo below of name tags organised at the previous week’s meeting and see if you can’t spot why –

“Raising a family on little more than laughs”

Sharing is caring. Plus it really does make a difference. Thanks heaps.