Chirps I Get From My Dogs When I'm Training

I know next to nothing about hockey (I’m considering writing a book called “Everything I Know About Hockey I Learned From Letterkenny”, but…ok, the title is essentially the entire book, and I believe that is frowned upon by the literati), but I do know what chirping is. Chirps are the insults that hockey players sling at each other, to try and undermine the emotional state—and therefore physical performance—of their opponents.

Today, for absolutely no good reason at all, I was thinking about chirping. More specifically, I was thinking about what my dogs might chirp at me, during a training session. This is not to imply that we are on a different team, because when we’re training, I have food and my dogs want it, so we’re pretty much in perfect harmony on all things big picture. But…let’s face it, everyone. I’ll bet good money that there is at least the occasional chirp coming at me from the dogs in my care. I’m not perfect. So when I’m training hard, and trying to keep my rate of reinforcement up, keep my training mechanics smooth, and following a training plan whilst working in sets of five…yeah. A thing may go wrong, here and there.

So I hereby present to you chirps, from my dogs, as I train them. (We’ll avoid the dirty misogyny of many hockey chirps, because ^%@# the patriarchy, right?)

I’ve seen drunk chipmunks with better timing than you.

I guess that’s one way to increase your lousy rate [upon eating the food I inadvertently dropped on the floor].

What good are opposable thumbs if you can’t hit the clicker on time, primate?

Even parrots can count to five [when I murmur “4” for the third time in a row].

Ant brains are a hundred-thousandth of most humans’ and they manage to bring enough food to a session.

I’d like to say that I’ve met sparrows who chirp better than my dogs…but the truth is, it burns.

Cover photo credit: Andronov | © Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images