How to Raise a Jewish Dog (8 page)

“Isn’t he wonderful?” Owner praises dog to total stranger. Note how stranger is thrilled and dog, believing entire world loves
him, exudes self-confidence.

This technique reinforces the lessons that (a) the dog is not perfect and will always do something wrong, which means (b)
the will always need us to show him the error of his ways, to forgive him for it, and then to act as though we don’t care
about it in the first place.

The accompanying table gives you some idea of how to deliver sincere praise to the dog while, at the same time, attaching
an instructively deflating criticism.

How to Praise a Jewish Dog: Attaching Criticism

Normally, rewards such as dog biscuits (“cookies”) and other snacks are given when the dog successfully obeys a command. We
agree with this practice, as long as the reward is accompanied by either of the following:
The Not-So-Fast Qualifier:
A remark, look, inflection, or other indicator that shatters the mood with worry and menace, suggesting that, no matter how
good the dog is, it is capable at any moment of being bad. Recommended mood-shattering comments for giving the dog a cookie
include “Here, don’t get crumbs on the carpet,” “Here, although you need the extra weight like I need a hole in the head,”
and “Here, now just don’t eat it too fast and make me have to take you to the emergency room.”
The It’s-All-About-Me Spotlight Grab:
An effusive display of admiration and praise grotesquely out of scale with the good act being rewarded. The goal is to shift
everyone’s attention to you even as you (ostensibly) direct yours to the dog. Your over-the-top praise (e.g., shouting, “Isn’t
this the BESTEST SMARTEST CUTEST DOG THAT EVER LIVED!?” after the dog has simply given you its paw) teaches the dog that,
even when she does something right, it’s your feelings that are important.

Of course, not all training concerns getting the dog to perform certain actions. Half of what we want to teach the dog are
behaviors we want to
prevent,
raising the somewhat controversial and uncomfortable subject of correction and punishment.

With conventional dog training, correction consists of relatively mild expressions of disapproval, including sharp verbal
rebukes or “pops” with a leash. Punishments are more emphatic and can include a “cuff” under the chin or a “shakedown,” administered
by lifting the dog by the sides of the neck and shaking her back and forth while lowering her to the ground and delivering
a firm verbal rebuke. (These last two punishments are recommended by our fellow clergymen, the monks of New Skete.)

We frankly don’t care for all this popping and cuffing and shaking.

We have found physical punishments or correctives to be unnecessary when raising a Jewish dog, save for those occasions when
some physical intervention is clearly necessary, such as removing the dog when it assumes an attack crouch vis-à-vis a nearby
cat. Instead, we recommend what we call Situational Martyrdom, the case-by-case depiction of yourself as a well-meaning, unjustly
abused victim of the dog’s bad behavior.

Here are two kinds of infractions by the dog and their respective Situational Martyrdom responses.

Situational Martyrdom: “How can you do this to me?” This photograph captures the way posing rhetorical questions to dog forces
him to think hard about what he’s done.

Situational Martyrdom

For Milder Sorts of Misbehavior and Disobedience

The Unjustly Victimized Rhetorical Question:
Say, in a voice choked with barely suppressed emotion, “How can you do this to me?” and just sit there and suffer.

The Ingrate Inventory:
After prefacing with “This is the thanks I get,” recite a list of the treats and luxuries you give the dog. Be sure to maintain
a vocal tone that is oddly calm and devoid of emotion. For example, “This is the thanks I get for letting you chew up my good
Thorlo socks
and
giving you an entire slice of pizza
and
letting you sleep in my bed even when [boyfriend/girlfriend] is over. Great. Just terrific.”

The Existential Abandonment March:
Say, in a clear, understandable tone, “Fine. Do what you want. I hope you have a nice life,” and walk away, simulating complete
abandonment. Do not look back until the dog comes after you.

For More Serious Infractions

The I-Blame-Myself Cry of Complete, if Temporary, Despair:
Say, in a voice quavering with agony, “I can’t do anything right. I’m a terrible owner and this is all my fault.” Then run
off, sobbing. The dog will follow. Allow yourself, with difficulty, to be soothed and assuaged.

The Inability-to-Face-the-World Coma:
Retreat to your bed, get under the covers (fully clothed), and say, “I’m such a loser. I shouldn’t be allowed to love something
so much that I feel this much pain.”

Prolonged Being-Very-Disappointed-in-the-Dog:
Don’t say anything. Don’t even look at the dog. Deny that anything is wrong—to people who ask and, especially, to the dog.
Just drag yourself through your daily routine until the dog shows he has the decency to feel bad.

Once the dog has learned the three Basic Commands in the Five Modes, she is ready to be taught the Advanced Commands. Because
they reflect a degree of complexity and sophistication not appropriate to the Basic Commands, we do not issue the Advanced
Commands in the Five Modes. Believe us, one mode is enough with the Advanced.

We are continually revising and expanding the lexicon of Advanced Commands. For now, they include the following. They are
to be issued in a clear, firm voice, while making eye contact with the dog so she knows you’re speaking to her. You may, if
you wish, preface each command with the dog’s name.

Examples of Advanced Commands

•
“Don’t stare at Cousin Edith’s hair when she comes over.”

•
“What do I want to eat?”

•
“Don’t mention the breakup.”

•
“I’m cold. Put on a sweater.”

•
“You don’t have to call him ‘doctor.’ It’s just a Ph.D. . . . In ‘Media Studies.’ ”

•
“I don’t know how she lives with him. Tell me. How does she live with him?”

•
“Israel? Please. Don’t start.”

Delivering the Advanced Command “I’m cold. Put on a sweater. “ Use this command only after the owner and dog have completely
merged. Neither knows where one ends and the other begins. Neither possesses a distinct self. They are one unit.

•
“If you want this painting after I’m gone, speak up. Because I’m not giving it to you-know-who.”

•
“We’re going over to Mary Ellen’s for dinner. Don’t forget to eat first.”

•
“Milan is overrated. Don’t bother.”

•
“If she starts talking about her son I’m going to have to kill myself and you’re going to have to find your own way home.”

Although it is often difficult to tell whether or not the dog is actually obeying such commands, don’t be too concerned with
that. The point of the Advanced Commands is to reinforce your bond with the dog by both sharing your personal opinions with
her and by making her feel vaguely responsible for everything.

S
o far we’ve talked about the relationship between you and your dog. But, as everyone knows, the world is full of other dogs
and other owners. It’s also full of people who, for whatever mysterious reason, do not even own a dog!

Given this fact, can anything be more important than preparing your dog for what he will find when he goes out into the world?
Yes: preparing him for how he should behave because people will judge
you
based on the impression they get of him.

These two concerns bring us to:

1.
The dog should be carefully controlled and monitored at all times, so that he does not create a bad impression on other people,
which they will transfer over to you.

2.
While you’re controlling everything the dog does, the dog should be encouraged to be himself and explore because it’s a big
world with many wonders and discoveries and who cares what other people think?

3.
Wonders and discoveries are terrific, but the dog should bear in mind that the world is full of dangers and diseases and
lunatics that can strike at any second because life is not “fair.”

4.
While thinking about the dangers and lunatics, the dog should remember that he only lives once, so he shouldn’t be shy. The
dog should be instructed to be a doer, not a viewer.

These concepts, when applied appropriately, will result in a fully socialized Jewish dog.

Whether we like to admit it or not, our dogs are like our cars.

Just as there are people who judge us by what we drive, so are there other people who judge us by our dog—his appearance,
his behavior, and so on. There are also people who don’t care what kind of car we drive and who don’t judge us based on that.
These people judge us by the behavior of our children—which means they’ll judge us, via our dog, in a similar way, if, as
is often the case, we do not have children (and then they will judge us for not having children).

Our dog, then, is a combination car and child. People ask us, in our capacities both as dog experts and as rabbis, “What right
do other people have to judge me, or my car, or my dog? They don’t know what it’s like to be me, just as I don’t know what
it’s like to be
them,
and to drive around in
their
car with
their
dog and
their
children. So why should I care what they think?”

Our answer at such times is “You shouldn’t, and you must.” Society can be defined as the midpoint between everybody doing
whatever he wants, and nobody doing anything. That is why we have ethical systems. Our task, as human beings, is to judge
others as much or as little as we see fit, and then to go about our business.