The joys of dog collars

While watching our new puppy terrorize the kids I came to a decision - too strong of a word you think, terrorize I mean, then you haven’t witnessed Gimli pull Lily down the hall by her leggings in an attempt to tear them off and eat them. Phone bill be damned, we were going to buy a training collar. About two hundred dollars lighter and flushed with the heady sensation of revenge...er, um, I mean relief, we returned home and placed the collar. Now, I’m not going to lie, I really enjoyed the first few zaps. Watching the little bast...er, um, a, bugger jump and stop raiding the recycling in the blink of and eye was way too rewarding.

A few days have passed and while far from perfect there has been a notable change in Gimli’s behaviour and I know this to be true because my throat is finally healing after three months straight of screaming 'no' and I can’t remember the last time Jen put him out on the deck - where he would immediately take a large dump - try to forget that bit before I serve you a hamburger cooked on said deck this coming summer. Given this wee and welcomed respite from puppy terror - complete with irrational fear of the future and general and pervasive and continual dread - a new and potentially disturbing idea has begun to ferment (disturbing only for folks without toddlers and puppies or memories of same). Developmentally Gimli and Lily are pretty darn close, and often on the wrong side of the family law. The collar worked on Gimli, so... The following pictorial will serve to provide you with an understanding of the perfect bliss the parental units inside 1 Cornerstone Drive are now experiencing. Illegal shmalegal I say. Who knew the almost perfect big boys could be improved upon? 2010 is going to be the best year ever!