In a tale familiar to many British pet owners, journalist Tim Dowling has revealed his family dog is officially bottom of the class at obedience school. Despite earnest efforts from his wife, the canine pupil's report card is dismal, with one notable exception: an uncanny talent for prolonged eye contact.
The Struggle for Canine Compliance
The scene is set after a late autumn class. Dowling's wife returns home with their dog in the dark, delivering the sobering news. Graduation is looming, but hopes of passing are slim. "We're bottom in everything," she confesses, though she beams with pride about their singular achievement. During one exercise, she and the dog locked eyes for a full, uninterrupted minute, earning a rare round of applause from fellow trainees.
The dog's fixation persisted, staring at its owner intently even an hour after returning home. "I think she's the instructor's favourite," Dowling's wife mused, clinging to this small victory amidst the training carnage.
A Whistle That Inspires Fear, Not Recall
The school's proposed solution to the dog's poor recall—a common issue where its friendly, outgoing nature overrides protocol—was a high-pitched dog whistle. The theory was sound; the execution was not. The whistle has simply been added to the long list of noises the dog finds terrifying.
When demonstrated at home, a quick toot from the whistle caused the dog to duck its head and retreat across the room—the opposite of the intended effect. Dowling expressed deep reservations about using such a device in public. "Because of how it will make me seem," he protested, arguing his own innate whistling ability should suffice.
Bedtime Battles and Beachside Blunders
The domestic obedience was equally fraught. The dog would dutifully retreat to its own bed on command, only to reappear asleep across Dowling's chest, restricting his breathing, multiple times a night. From the dog's perspective, it was following orders perfectly. From Dowling's, it was a permanent bedfellow.
The true test came on a serene, low-tide beach walk. Initially, the dog's recall seemed improved, responding well to calls. However, the sight of two border collies playing fetch with their owner proved an irresistible distraction. Despite Dowling's frantic whistling, the dog sprinted off to join the strangers' game.
In a final insult, the dog then displayed impeccable obedience—for the other woman. It sat, lay down, and maintained perfect eye contact with the stranger on command, leaving its own owners and the confused collies in its wake. This pattern repeated along the beach, with the dog seeking commands from random passers-by.
"She's very good at taking orders!" the bemused woman remarked as Dowling's wife finally clipped on the lead. The walk ended with a grim realisation. "Christ," Dowling's wife said. "We really are gonna get held back." The family's hopes for a well-mannered graduate seem to have gone to the dogs.
