Bells and Angels

In the words of Zuzu Bailey, "Every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings."
                            If that is true, my house is teeming with angels.

In late summer, we adopted Sunny T., a lab mix puppy who has brought us so much joy. I decided that I would watch some Youtube videos to learn some training techniques. Really, I needed Youtube to train ME. I've owned many small dogs, but either they are tougher to train, or I was a dog jabberer instead of a dog whisperer. I couldn't train them for anything. So this time would be different.

We had to tackle housebreaking first. As per Youtubian trainers, (No, I have no idea what their qualifications are. If they posted the videos, they must be legit, right?) I bought a bell for Sunny T. to ring when he had to use our "outdoor facilities," otherwise known as "the yard." The trainers said that he should first learn to give me his paw, and then I should hold up the bell for him to ring. When he could ring it independently, he should be given a treat and let out. Within two days, he was bell trained. When he rang the bell, I used the word "bano," Spanish for bathroom, as a code to go to the bathroom. 
I remember that on the very first day of school, I mentioned to one of my classes that I had trained my dog to ring a bell when he had to "go bano." At that, I heard a little boy in the back turn to his friend and whisper, "Wow, if she can teach that to her dog, imagine what she can teach us!"

Several months have gone by, and the bell has been both a blessing and a curse. You see, the bell has come to mean many things.
      It means        I need to go to the bathroom.
                           I need water.
                           I need you to help me find my deer antler, which is probably under the couch, beyond your reach, requiring you to get a broom-handle.
                           I need a snausage. Beef flavored.
                           I need my mommy's attention. Now. I mean NOW.

It's this last one that's getting to me. Sunny T. is quite the attention hog-dog. Dozens of times a day, there goes that familiar ringing. If I ignore it, he will ring it forcefully, banging it against the wall. (Does that mean he's creating an ornery angel?)

All I can say is this: I hope those angel wings don't molt feathers all over my house.

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