Adult-FanFiction.org : Inuyasha / Yashahime

Fit For Dogs	By : Arianawray Category: InuYasha > Yaoi - Male/Male > InuYasha/Sessh?maru > InuYasha/Sessh?maru Views: 25003 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha or any of its characters, and I do not make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Sit, Boy!
"Sit, boy!" the dog-trainer commanded his latest charge, a feisty but highly trainable Rottweiler pup.
A blinding flash of white five feet away in the park distracted both man and dog at that very moment, as they had a front-row view of the peculiar sight of a young fellow with long silver hair hitting the ground at top speed.
"Erm… are you all right?" the dog-trainer asked in concern, as the young bloke dragged himself upright with a groan and dusted his jeans off.
"I'm fine," the guy croaked in reply, giving him a shaky wave.
Another man, who had been sitting on a park bench nearby and who looked like the brother of the first one – for they both had hair and eyes of the same colour – strode quickly up to his sibling and muttered under his breath: "Why do you keep making a fool of yourself?"
"Sorry – force of habit," the dog-trainer heard the first man reply sheepishly.
The taller brother with the shorter, very well-trimmed hair picked up the popsicle wrappers that his clumsy sibling had dropped when he fell, which he had obviously been about to discard in one of the park waste bins. He threw them into the bin, then took his younger brother's elbow and walked him back to the bench.
As they turned away, the trainer's ears only just caught the older, taller one saying something like: "Five hundred years and you're still hitting the ground every time any Tom, Dick or Harry says 'sit' – what's wrong with you? You're not even wearing those damned beads any more."
"Uh… reflex action…" were the few words the trainer could make out from the younger, longer-haired lad.
What a strange pair.
The trainer went back to his task of getting his new student in shape for his too-busy-to-train-him-ourselves owners, and made certain to reward the pup with praise and tiny treats for doing well. As puppies had short attention spans, he kept the session to fifteen minutes before stopping the training and taking the young fellow on a trot around the park.
He walked the pup for half-an-hour, brought him back to the same spot, and quickly ran him through some of the basic commands again to be sure he remembered them. When he proved to recall them all perfectly, the trainer gave him more praise and treats.
"How long have you been training dogs?" came a voice from beside him, making him jump, for he had not realised that anyone was standing that close to him. Even the dog looked surprised.
It was the older and taller of the two brothers he had seen earlier who had spoken; the younger one was hanging back slightly, looking sulky.
"Oh – I've been doing this for years!" the trainer replied. "Almost ten years now."
"So you would know how to handle a pup that refuses to cooperate with you?" the older brother asked.
"Cooperate how?" the trainer asked, slightly distracted by the fact that the Rottweiler pup seemed to be bowing to the tall man.
"Well, we have a dog at home…"
At these words from his older brother, the younger one who stood about a foot behind his sibling gave an open-mouthed stare that had: We do?? written all over it. But the trainer ignored this as the younger man was obviously defective in some way, and the elder brother surely had no reason to make up the existence of a dog.
"…and he doesn't seem to believe that I'm the boss. He sometimes refuses to let me touch him, doesn't come when he's called, and insists on having his own bedroom."
"Your dog… has his own bedroom…?" the trainer repeated just to clarify what he was hearing. Now that was a new one.
"Yes. It was a guest bedroom, but he seems to have claimed it for his own, and he won't let me into it. Any advice?"
"Wow. You've got a serious case there of a pet who thinks he's the alpha. He has probably decided that the bedroom is his den, and no one else is allowed in without his permission..."
The trainer could not help but notice that the younger brother was starting to look apoplectic with rage, turning red in the face and clenching his fists. Indeed, the second he paused in his speech, the lad blurted out: "Has it occurred to you that maybe the dog needs his own space, to get away from the intrusive person who seems to think that just because he has alpha characteristics, he can do whatever the fuck he likes – to the dog and everyone else?!?"
"Ah, I see what the problem might be here," the trainer suggested gently. "The dog senses that his masters are at odds with each other, and is behaving the way he does because one of his humans is on his side, indulging him, while the other is trying to discipline him. He is using the one who is on his side, while challenging the other for top-dog position."
"So, as a highly experienced dog trainer, what would you recommend?" the older brother asked with a strange smile on his face. "By the way, I would be happy to pay you for the time you're taking to talk to us about it."
"Oh, don't worry about it – I'm not a lawyer, you know – I won't bill you for a bit of chat, ha ha!" the trainer laughed. "It would be best, though, if I could see your dog and deal with him directly."
"He's really not friendly to strangers, which is why we don't usually have people over – not even dog trainers," the taller man said, drawing a scowl from his sibling.
"Well, if I were to offer some advice, I would start with asking the dog's human family to always present the dog with a united front," the trainer began. "That way the dog senses no discord and doesn't try to further upset the pecking order. Next, I would advise that the one being challenged by the dog – which would seem to be you, sir – should always be the one to provide the dog with its food at meal times, and its treats too."
"Hey! The dog can feed himself!" the younger brother yelled angrily – but he was yelling at his sibling, and not at the trainer.
"You let your dog feed himself?" the trainer asked, puzzled. "What do you mean? Do you leave the kibble out so he can eat as and when he likes? Or do you have one of those nifty devices that lets the dog push a lever and drop some kibble into his bowl?"
"Let's just say he's a pretty smart dog," the older brother said calmly, with an indulgent gleam in his eye. "He knows how to get at his own food."
"That's a bad idea," the trainer murmured, shaking his head. "You should lock up the food where he can't access it, and give suitable portions to him only at fixed meal times. And you should do it yourself, sir. He should know that the food comes from you, and not from some machine. He needs to learn that you are the one who controls the resources."
"I do control the resources," the silver-haired man said, smiling. "But what if he knows that and still refuses to acknowledge me as his alpha?"
"Hey, how about you behave so as to earn the right to be his alpha?!" the younger brother snapped.
"You two are brothers, right?" the trainer asked, rapidly feeling as if he was being sucked into a human counselling session. "Well, what makes you say that your brother behaves in ways that might communicate to the dog that he isn't the alpha?"
"The problem is that he keeps communicating stridently and insistently that he's the alpha!" the young man complained. "The dog doesn't like it! The dog would appreciate a little more humility."
"While that is rare…" the trainer said patiently, "…I have encountered cases where very sensitive dogs who were at the same time quite dominant in personality responded far more positively to kindness and patience than to dominant posturing on the part of the owner…"
"Hear that? Do you hear that?!?" the younger man jumped in, growling at his brother.
"I don't do 'posturing'," the older brother said somewhat snootily. "I am dominant."
"Well, in extreme cases where a dog who is as dominant as its owner refuses to acknowledge the human as the alpha, I sometimes recommend neutering."
"N-NEUTERING?!!?" the younger brother spluttered. "What kind of a shitty recommendation is that?!?"
The trainer was now certain that something was seriously wrong with the younger brother. With the utmost gentleness and patience, he replied: "It is occasionally recommended by veterinarians whose clients are at the end of their tether dealing with an extremely headstrong male dog. Not often recommended, but sometimes, in bad cases…"
"Hmm," the older brother murmured, glancing at the younger. "Although we do have a problem case at home, neutering does seem most extreme. I very much prefer him, well, intact."
"Yeah, I would THINK you do!" the younger one snapped.
"In that case, you will have to be patient and go with gentler behavioural modification," the trainer said, rather grateful that this peculiar pair and their unbelievably difficult dog were not among his clients. Yet. "What kind of dog is he, anyway?"
"Part Spitz-type dog, part idiot," the older brother replied, with a smirk.
"That's part Spitz-type dog, part genius, you moron," the younger countered.
"Ah… Spitz breeds," the trainer said, with a knowing smile. "Arctic dogs – smart, but very stubborn – often think that they know better than you. Would you know what type of Spitz, by the way? It's a fairly wide-ranging family, including notoriously independent and dominant breeds like the Siberian Husky, the Akita Inu, even the Chow Chow."
"Some Asian-type Spitz, that's for sure," the younger brother grumbled.
"Oh, those can be aloof," the trainer remarked. "Not that good with outsiders, but fiercely loyal to their family. Once you win him over, he's yours for life. How old is he, by the way?"
"We don't have his exact age," the older brother said. "He's physically mature, but he still behaves like a puppy, and he acts as if he believes he's all grown up."
"Maybe he is all grown up," the younger brother added with a growl.
"You must have adopted him, huh?" the trainer said. "A check with the vet would give you a better idea of his age – they can tell from the teeth. Judging by his behaviour and your description, I'd venture a guess that he's maybe about one year old. Dogs that age are physically mature, but still play like puppies sometimes. Just be patient with him, and give him lots of love, but don't let him have his way all the time. Be the one to give him his food and take him on walks – don't leave it to a hired dog-walker or to your brother – you have to show him you're the one in charge. Look, it's been really interesting talking to you, but I have to get this little fella back to his owners round about now. Good luck with your dog. Here's my card – give me a ring if you want to book a training session."
"Thank you," the older brother said politely as he took his card, while the younger scowled once more.
To the trainer's surprise, the Rottweiler pup made a bowing motion again to the older brother before responding to the gentle tug of the leash and trotting off beside him.
As he turned away, he could hear the younger one snapping at his sibling: "'Part idiot'?"
And the older brother responding: "'Genius' is surely pushing it. Which part of 'genius' flings itself to the ground at every 'sit, boy'?"
"It's just a fucking old habit, okay?!? By the way, if you even think the word 'neutering', I'll cut your balls off first."
"Just you try that, puppy. Just you try that."
Those were the last words to reach his ears, before he walked too far away from them to hear any more. It occurred to him then that what they might need more than his name card was his therapist's contact number. Ah well, they would sort themselves out eventually, along with the dog.
What a weird pair.
No wonder the dog was screwed up too.
- 4
- 5
- 6
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Fit For Dogs