Everyone talks about Joe Yukna. Now I know why. Joe the Dogman is an expert at training people. I mean dogs.

It was a ruff (sorry) start. When he gave our border collie, Becky, her first lesson, my husband, Bob, acted like a lunatic. He hung his head in shame and said, "Bad, bad me," each time Becky wouldn't drop what was in her mouth, such as Bob's hand.

Joe said, "I'd like to teach you a highly specialized complex word. Think you can handle an innovative, ground-breaking approach?"

Bob stood in front of Becky protectively and covered her ears. He took in a deep breath and courageously said, "I'm ready. What is this word?"

Joe paused for emphasis. His stand-up comedian style is hilarious. "OK. Drum roll time. This amazing word is power-packed with punch. It's my miracle secret. It's ..."

"Well, what is it?" Bob said, panting and drooling in expectation.

"It's ... the word 'no.'"

"Oh God! You can't be serious?"

"Have you ever said the word 'no' to her in her life?"

Bob, shuffling his feet in embarrassment, whispered, "No." Upon hearing that word, Becky stopped chewing the wooden table leg, sat at attention, and excitedly wagged her tail in anticipation of her next command. Um — maybe we should have said the word "no" before now.

Joe, always as patient as a saint, said, "I suggest you say it when she slams into you like a she-devil and smashes you to the ground, possibly breaking every bone in your body, and you having to go to the ER ... again."

Now, Joe does not say "no" in a loud manner. He gently, though firmly, enunciates the word by stretching it out and ending with the softening tone of a question. "Noooooo?"

So when Becky did what Bob endearingly calls her "Smash-into-Dad-rocket-blast-off-hug," my doofus husband muttered a barely audible "No." Then he flung himself on the floor and, in a ridiculous praying posture, literally begged Becky for forgiveness.

Joe calmly went to take the leash from Bob's hand. Bob refused.

"Honey," I said to Bob. "Give him Becky's leash." It was humiliating to see Bob crying during this exchange. Joe kept his hold on his end of the leash and softly said to Bob, "Noooooo?"

Bob immediately dropped the leash. Joe is such a good trainer.

Where was this man when I needed to find a therapist for Bob? Oops — I mean "us"? Can you imagine how quickly Bob's, rather "our," problems would have been solved?

We attended Joe's group sessions at Derbyfield Kennel in Harwich. To protect confidentiality and spare owners' mortification, I've changed all names and most circumstances.

Everyone was supposed to demonstrate how well they had taught their dogs to heel on a loose leash. I saw the following psychological defenses:

1. Pretending it's not happening

Joe taught us to pat our leg while commanding, "Heel." When Mary, the owner of Prince Charles, the Great Dane, patted her thigh, the prince decided that meant having intimate relations with her leg. Mary ignored this demonstration while we all looked away to give them privacy.

2. Making up excuses

As Stinky, the Shih Tzu, responded to "Heel" by tugging his owner's glove off of her hand, the excuse was, "I couldn't practice because my great uncle twice removed on my great step-aunt's side who was the sister of ..." Then she lost track. We all did. In a moment, she finally recalled and shouted out, "Died! Whew!"

On Joe's Web site, www.joethedogman.com, his ideas are neatly summarized. His goal is, in fact, to help make dogs happier. When they don't know the rules, they're confused. And owners get frustrated. He believes that when a dog knows what's what, they relax. From the miraculous transformations I've seen, he's right.

Although Joe explains how owners need to be Alpha (in charge), that's not what makes him the best trainer I know. What won me over is the compassion and tenderness Joe showed toward Becky. He wanted her to be joyful and be safe so she can have a long, wonderful life. Isn't that what every owner wants for their much-loved pets?

And so, I'm happy to report that Becky is doing great. When Bob showed the class how well Becky sits, stays and heels, we all cheered with a resounding, "Good boy!" And gave Bob a cookie.

He lapped it all up.