Murph is a mix of Blue Heeler, a super smart brand of Australian Cattle Dog, and Beagle, the shit-eating, car-chasing moron of the canine world. She is characteristically both breeds in combination, smart and stupid, impressive and annoying. When motivated, she can perform great feats. For instance, she once managed to wriggle free and then consume a ten pound bag of sushi rice over the course of two days, silently and with great secrecy from a small hole barely large enough for her snout. Only the sizeable rice gut clued me in.

However, she also eats poop and pisses when the mailman comes to the door. But she's a sweet and loving dog, always eager to please, so I try to work with her.

When we got to LA, we enrolled in Adolescent Basic Training with the best dog trainer in town. The first session was on a Tuesday night. Murph wore her Spring kerchief, pink gingham. We dressed nicely because it was all we had going for us socially, the guise of respectability. Before the session began, we mingled in the foyer of the humane society with the rest of the owners and their pups, Murph charging at anything that moved, in her gingham with her Special Olympics face, tongue hanging out the side of her snout. The rest of the dog owners got to drink coffee. I had long since given up on to-go beverages, because with Murph, you wear them.

The trainer was a proper English woman. She instructed the dog owners and dogs stand in a big circle around her, and one by one, we were invited forward to introduce ourselves and the behavioral problem we need to work on. During this time, Murph got bored and chewed my toes. When it came time for us to go forward, I was nervous. I hoped, prayed for the best, and walked my pup out. Murph took a few excited steps, her tail slamming into my shin in a familiar way. Oh no. We got closer to the nice English woman, and I thought, 'She's squatting. No, Murph. Oh God, please no.' A few steps from the trainer, Murph dropped into a full-blown squat and froze. A puddle of yellow began to form under her back legs. The trainer leaned down and petted Murph on under her chin, which prompted my dog to roll over onto her back, slap her tail into the puddle and flick piss onto a whole side of the circle. Everybody who wasn't hit with piss was laughing at us.

The trainer said, "Well. I guess it's not necessary for you to tell us what this little one needs to work on."

We have been recommended for a second term of adolescent basic training. Yes, we failed. Murph was a strong student during treat training, following the trainer around with intensity, drooling so much that other dogs slipped and fell in her saliva, but she was remedial in all other courses. I could be one of those mommies that says, "There wasn't proper motivation" and blames the school, but the fact of the matter is this: Murph is remedial.

I have noticed a few positive changes in Murph's behavior due to her training. She is more patient with her older sister, and does not jump on people as much. She sits upon the second or third command, and does not piss when the mailman comes to the door. We are waiting for the summer session of Adolescent Basic Training to begin, and I feel that after a few more semesters, Murph may become a well-behaved pup. Being naturally sweet and pleasing, she has the potential. Up until last night, that's what I thought.

After they are neutered, female Cattle Dogs shed in an odd way, called blowing the coat. It's a two week, hardcore shedding process during which the dog loses up to a third of her fur. In anticipation for this event, I bought a powerful vacuum cleaner, an exfoliating mitt, and several bottles of banana oatmeal grooming shampoo. When the fur began to fall a few days ago, it collected in great tumbleweeds and blew around our house. I couldn't vacuum enough. The clear collector tube of our new cleaner was packed full and subsequently emptied two and three times a day, no matter how much exfoliating I did with the mitt. Hairs were flying everywhere. Murph looked like Pig-Pen from Peanuts, shedding fur instead of filth. I had to bathe her each day, though Maxie was not forced to bathe at all. Murph did not like this.

Last night, was doggy spa night. Every two weeks, we have this night, during which the nails get clipped and the fur gets cleansed. Both practices are loathsome to my dogs. Maxie went first, and shivered pitifully, but was happy afterward when she was rewarded with a BBQ rawhide chewy for good behavior. Murph was next. I lathered her coat up with the banana oatmeal, which she mistook for food and began to eat. I dried her off and gave her a chewy too. Then I went to the office to do some work.

While I was at the office, Murph, my sweet and pleasing puppy, my potentially well-behaved future dog decided to express her dissatisfaction with the amount of baths she's been forced to take lately. She did this by taking a dump in the bathtub and rolling in it.

I don't have anything further to say about Murph.