When we left off, I had just gotten Delilah free from her concrete entrapment.  If you missed that story you can read about it here.

I head into the woods where I unclipped Sampson so I can at least have one hand free and I wrap what’s left of Delilah’s leash around my hand.

We meet Kingston’s mom about half-way up, get into the field and walk to the area where we part ways.  I walk out to the car, load the dogs and head home.

I am defeated and resigned.  I am lost, treading water in a vast ocean of disappointment.  I am an utter failure in trying to train this dog.

After almost five years, I give up.  I’m done.

Hubby comes home and says, “How are you?”

“I’m ok.”

“What’s up?  You seem like you’re in a pissy mood.”

“Yup.”

Then I go on to tell him the story.

We talk about it.  Seriously talk about it. I am conceding, I am giving in and getting an electronic collar for her. I don’t know what else to do.

I thank him for not being an ‘a’ hole about the whole thing and saying “I told you so.”

Meanwhile, the dog that sprang from Satan’s loins will not sit while I’m in the kitchen.  After trying to teach her for 1,746 days, I’m frustrated.  I yell at her to “SIT DOWN.”

It’s time to feed the dogs.  They need to sit on the edge of the kitchen when I am preparing their meals.  She will not.  She gets up, she changes spots for a better vantage point.  She tries to advance into the kitchen.  My frustration with her from her earlier adventure hasn’t gone away.  I have no patience for this.

Then yesterday morning she comes into the bathroom while I am trying to get ready for work.  My frustration with her from the previous day has not gone away.  She comes in and shoves her head between my legs and gets brown goo (from Dog knows what) on my work pants.  I banish her from the bathroom and once again I feel lost.

Hubby says she is stubborn.  It’s not that she isn’t smart, she is stubborn.

So am I. I am not a defeatist. You can knock me down and I will get back up. Do it 100 times, I will get back up.  I might cry and rage, but I will get back up and I will figure out a way to knock you down.

Not this time.  This time I’m defeated.  It’s a horrible feeling.  I’m not quite sure how to deal with it.

Crying, lots of crying.  Which is another thing I don’t do well.

I have no confidence, if I can’t help this dog after almost five full years, then maybe I’m just not the right person for the job.

I’ve failed.  I failed myself.  I failed you, my faithful readers.  I’ve failed all the positive reward based trainers out there but most of all I’ve failed my dog.

I wonder if the rescue will take her back.  I wonder if this is the reason she was surrendered in the first place.

I wonder how people do this, day after day and still manage to put a smile on their face and accept the uniqueness that is their crazy, wild, untrainable dog.

P.S. This was written yesterday and I am in a much better place today, I haven’t put the collar on her yet (even though I borrowed one from a friend.) I want to order the DVD by Dr. Patricia McConnell and give it one last shot.