He flunked puppy school. I cried in the car.

I failed obedience school—she cried in the car. Here’s why that was a win.

Pinterest-perfect pups like the ones on PetSafe’s Instagram? Yeah, I tried. I really did. But when the trainer said “Stay,” I heard “Say g’day” and bolted across the room to make a new tail-wagging mate. Spoiler alert: didn't go down well.

For every stylish dog mum out there who dreams of graduation-day portraits and championship-level recall, let me tell you what happened the day I turned a sit command into sit-comedy. And more importantly—why it didn’t make me a ‘bad boy’.

Before: “He’s going to be top of the class!”
After: I was last in line... and chewed my own certificate.

Let’s rewind. Week one of puppy school: I had treats in one paw (figuratively), a shiny new collar, and a doting hooman who believed in me more than she believes in oat milk lattes. She’d memorised every step of the reward-based training method from The Dog Trainer’s Puppy Program. She bought the fancy treat pouch and followed the Instagram trainers with hashtags like #CalmCanine and #DogGoals.

Me? I sniffed the floor, tripped over my own excitement, and got booted out of the final class for “disruptive enthusiasm.”

The drive home smelled like disappointment... and liver treats

I knew I’d messed up. She sat in the car, clutching my half-eaten participation ribbon with the kind of heartbreak you usually save for cancelled brunches. A single, quiet sniffle broke the air. I whined gently, nudged my snout into her hand, and offered my best "but-I’m-still-cute" face. It worked… eventually.

“He flunked puppy school,” she told her sister on speaker. “I cried in the car. Then he licked the tears off my cheek like it was peanut butter.”

Hoomans, you feel big feelings. And sometimes that’s because you expected us pups to be something we’re not ready to be yet. But flopping one class doesn't make us failures. It makes our stories better. Messier, funnier, and definitely more memorable.

So… what went wrong, really?

• Too many distractions: You try focusing when there’s the scent of a golden retriever and someone’s recent lunch spilled under the chair.
• Pacing matters: I learn quickly... just not always on your schedule. I’m wired for excitement, not exams.
• Different priorities: My top goals were belly rubs, sniffing the pug’s bum, and scoring the cheese cube—not certificate glory.

What most hoomans forget: we don’t need to “pass” to belong

Let’s paws for some truth. You don’t need a tasselled cap and diploma to be a good dog. You also don’t need your pup to rank first, heel like a soldier, or sit perfectly on cue to be doing it “right.” What matters more?

• Do we feel safe at home?
• Are you patient when we stumble? (Or zoom across class barking at butterflies?)
• Do you celebrate the effort—just like you’d want your boss to?

This world of Insta-perfection puts a lot of pressure on you. Matching collars, curated meals, colour-coded lead hooks. As a cheeky Rottie with a mind of my own, I’m here to say: let it go, hoomans. Let. It. Go.

Training isn’t just about performance—it’s about partnership

One thing I know? I didn’t learn “stay.” But my hooman did learn to stay… by my side, even when I made her the only mum without a graduation photo to post. We got better at understanding each other on walks. She now notices when my ears go high-alert (neighbourhood cat!). I know that a flick of her wrist means "easy now."

And yes, I eventually mastered “sit.” But only when she taught me in the living room, not in a room full of chaos and canines in cardigans.

The takeaway tale: you don’t need a ribbon to raise a good dog

If your pup isn’t the demo dog of the week—so what? That determination, that bond, those baby steps? All worth more than applause at a four-week course. Let your journey be real, not rehearsed.

Because what starts with chewing the certificate ends with chewing joyfully on a toy we unboxed together, a little wiser, a lot closer, and just the right amount of rebellious.

Used to believe we had to pass. Now I know we’ve already made it.

So here’s to the dropouts, the distracted, the “he’s a bit excitable” pups—may your adventures be waggier than your transcripts. And to every stylish and sentimental dog mum riding home with tear-smudged sunglasses: we’re learning too. Bit by bit, tail wag by tail wag.

Cheeky licks and nuzzles,

Thor 🐾

Follow my adventures on Facebook: Thor's Pawesome Reviews

And follow check me out on Instagram : Live Thor's World