I couldn't believe my ears. It was hard to grasp that canine begging would lead to a veterinary behavior consultation. But Christine Popper was not just any one, and Jacko was not just any dog.

Jacko was a 3-year-old streetwise Boxer/Terrier mutt who had never known a real home until Christine Popper spotted him trash-trolling in an alley, and decided to rescue him. Because of the stench, Christine drove Jacko quickly to a local dog groomer, and asked for his transformation into a "gentleman dog." Later that day, the proud groomer presented the refurbished Jacko, complete with bow tie and a dash of doggie cologne.

Normally, the Popper kids wore white-starched shirts, and played indoors. But when they fell for fun-loving Jacko, they joined him in outdoor chase games and learned about dirt. After failed efforts to find his original owner, Jacko became a Popper.

It was the same generous Popper spirit that took in a homeless dog that also resulted in the children giving Jacko under-the-table treats. When Mr. Popper discovered this game, he used his CEO voice to forbid the practice.

Christine Popper continued her story. "We were all so surprised at Jacko's table manners when the children stopped giving him tidbits. He leaped onto the dinner table, and walked from plate to plate eating whatever he wanted. We were shocked, and frankly, considered it rude."

"What did your husband do?" I asked incredulously, worrying that a shotgun might be involved. "Because none of us wanted to hurt Jacko's feelings, we all retired to the living room while Jacko finished his meal." Finding it hard to visualize this unbelievable scene, I realized my lower jaw had gone slack.

Canine begging is very common, and usually benign. I explained to Mrs. Popper that canines naturally gravitate to the aroma of a dinner table. This began with canine wolf-ancestors circling the caveman's fire, hoping for leftovers. If never rewarded, most dogs would stop begging. However, once the dog was given a tidbit, the dog would typically try to figure out how to get another one, perhaps thinking, "What did I just do to deserve this? If staring doesn't work, a yip or whimper might. How about a paw touch? What about barking? More barking?"

In this arena, Jacko didn't mess around. He went right for the jackpot on the table and it worked — at least once. Now he was in danger of losing his new digs because Mr. Popper was about to pop. After his first table walk, Jacko had been tied during meals, and his escalating barking was escalating his chances of being banished from the home into solitary confinement as a backyard dog.

Although the Popper's intention when sharing food from the table was philanthropic, this was one case of canine begging gone wrong. The Popper paradigm of social etiquette was stumped. Mrs. Popper had shared her woes with her veterinarian who recommended me as a veterinary behavior consultant.

As part of the behavioral history, I asked if Jacko also begged for attention, play, walks, or had other behavioral issues. Jacko did bring his leash to Mr. Popper every day at 5:30 p.m. Christine liked that because it got them both out for some daily exercise. The behavior questionnaire revealed no other problems, so begging and secondary frustration vocalization were Jacko's issues.

I asked about Jacko's waistline. If too thin, begging can further spoil a dog's appetite. If too heavy, begging can contribute to obesity. It turned out that within a few weeks of being in his new home, Jacko had converted from Wayward Waif to Pudgy Pooch. I requested his veterinarian do a health check up and recommend a prescription reducing diet, and I outlined a behavioral treatment plan for Jacko and the Poppers.

First, Christine was to manage Jacko's daily schedule. The 5:30 p.m. walk was a good start, but I suggested she also try to schedule his playtime, some chew toy activity, and a regular bedtime. To reduce hunger as an incentive to beg, she was also to feed Jacko his prescription diet just before the family ate dinner.

Every member of the family took an oath to stop being slot machines of food that rewarded Jacko's persistent begging. If Jacko made a dinner table raid attempt, I explained how it was okay to just say no, quite firmly. But someone would then have to get up and calmly move Jacko over to his special bed and rawhide on the other side of the room. If Jacko left, he would simply be returned and praised lavishly when on his bed and when chewing his bone. During the first week, I also suggested a kitchen timer game for the children. If Jacko stayed on his bed for one minute without begging during dinner, a child was allowed to get up and give Jacko a small treat. The next goal was 2 minutes, and so on.

Each person was allowed to save a tiny bit of food. After the meal was done and cleaned up, all food bits could be placed in Jacko's food dish. If he left his bed too soon, he would lose, but if he stayed until he heard "Jacko, Come!" he would win the table scraps. These calories meant reducing his kibble so he could continue his weight-loss diet.

By learning to rest quietly on his bed during the evening meal, Jacko could win the reward he wanted so badly, a few of Mrs. Popper's tasty dinner scraps. Only this time, he got those scraps in his own food bowl appropriately positioned on the floor in the kitchen, not on the table! In the end, Jacko got many jackpots, and the Poppers got their "gentleman dog."