Homage

From time to time, I encounter a real live person with traits that I’d like to give a character in a book. If I had a book to write. Probably I ought to finish my second attempt, but I feel guilty about how much I’ve plagiarized from a friend’s real life, although the embellished parts are pure genius. I’ve really got to try writing fiction next time.

I wish I’d tape recorded port commission hearings when I’d had the chance, because there was this one commissioner who always peppered his comments with the most bizarre expressions, like, “Then we really fall into the rat hole.” Except weirder. And I thought it would be funny to write a character who used expressions that had never been used before, and thus weren’t actual expressions. But I can’t think of any.

Another idea is a character who explains the most mundane and obvious concepts as though they’re rocket science. As in, he bought an outfit for his wife as a present. Excitedly, he explained how he did it.

A catalog arrived from the store. He looked at it and asked his wife if she liked a certain outfit. She did. Then he went to the store and saw a salesgirl who was about the same size as his wife. He asked her what size she’d wear. So he bought it in that size … and then they put it in a box, and they put colored paper around it, secured it with tape and wrapped a ribbon around it.

Today, I overheard him announce to a colleague that he’d just discouraged a solicitor.

“Someone came in?” she asked.

“No, they called on the phone.”

I stopped eavesdropping at that point, but you’d think he’d never encountered a telemarketer before.

Heroine chic

As I mentioned, I was thoroughly enjoying Lucky, a memoir by Alice Sebold, author of The Lovely Bones. Or maybe I didn’t mention the enjoying part, just the grisliness of the rape depiction.

The rape is described about a bajillion more times throughout the book, as she reports it to the police and her parents. And then again to the police when a suspect is arrested. And then again in the preliminary hearing and before the grand jury. And during the trial.

It doesn’t get old. I don’t know what it would be like to read the words, but hearing her speak them on the audio CD is rather lyrical. She did have to tell the story dozens of times. I found even the repetition of exact phrasing to be compelling. Especially during the trial when the defense attorney repeats every one of her answers back to her as though she’s lying. (“How far away would you say he was?” (“A hundred yards, 150 at most.” “A hundred yards? One hundred fifty at most??”)

Even though nothing bad has ever happened to me in my entire life, I related to her. I imagined that if I were to go through something like that, I would handle it as she had: “The best rape witness ever seen on the stand.”

I was dumbstruck, therefore, when listening to one of the last tracks of the book. (This is one thing I don’t like about the audio experience…stories end rather abruptly when you can’t tell with your fingers how many pages are left.) The chapter that begins with “Aftermath…” describes Alice procuring and then snorting cheap heroin.

Heroin? What happened to the heroine whose rape accusations were believable in part because she was stone-cold sober when it happened? Pot or acid, fine, but heroin? I’m so disillusioned.

I feel "off"

Could be because I didn’t come into the office yesterday after my dental appointment. (Something about having a half-numb face makes me want to lie on the couch.) Could be because I’m listening to an audiobook of a memoir that opens with a graphic description of the author’s rape.

Could be moon wobble.

I just saw an ad in the classifieds giving away a 7-month-old female German shepherd mix. Tempting. Maybe Isis would like a friend. That inspired me to look at the pet ads on Craigslist and I saw one looking for a German shepherd between 5 months and a year. I e-mailed the Craigslister with the phone number from the classified ad. Is that superweird?

Flea to be you and me

Frontline Plus is way cool. I applied it for the first time yesterday, so I’m not quite ready to declare it 100 percent effective, but this morning, little dying fleas were surfacing on top of Isis’ fur to gasp a last breath before I picked them off and flicked them in the toilet.

I was told that fleas aren’t really a problem during the winter ’round these parts. So as spring sprang, I started to wonder when was a good time to start defending against the buggers. I mail-ordered some Frontline and on Easter asked Rob’s sister (a double-dog owner) if she used something similar. She said “No, I don’t like that stuff.” And she’s never had a “problem.”

So I didn’t immediately apply the stuff when it arrived Wednesday, but wouldn’t you know it, I saw a little flea hopping around on my bed yesterday morning, en route, no doubt, to lay a bunch of little flea eggs on my pillow.

At this point, it occurs to me why some people keep their dogs off their beds. And couches. And blankets. Earlier in the morning, I got up to pee and Isis used the opportunity to get up on my pillow. I got back in bed and lay next to her, both of our heads on my pillow and our bodies under the covers, with Rob on the other side of Isis. And she had fleas at the time! Gross.

Upon discovery of the flea, I applied the poison, because I’m environmentally savvy and all, but I’m not going to eschew an easy, effective way to get rid of creepy-crawlies. (Although now I’m worried about killing Stew or giving Isis thyroid cancer.)

As far as infestations go, it wasn’t the worst I’ve seen. I might spot one on her belly or under her arm, but not dozens. I was disappointed this morning that some were still alive, but a few minutes later was delighted as I watched fleas literally fall off my dog.

Now, it’s cool if Frontline breaks the flea cycle and all, as every flea that jumps on her bites her and dies…but in the meantime, we’ve got larvae and pupae incubating on my new accent rug, my couch, three different blankets in the TV room, the reclining chair…

Coincidentally, I washed her crate bedding on Wednesday night, and you bet I put clean sheets, pillow cases and comforter on our bed. Guess I’ll be doing some vacuuming when I get home tonight.

School Bully

Now that Isis has gotten a hang of this training thing, I’m starting to enjoy taking her to school. It’s way better working with a group of other dogs, and we’re starting to feel friendly toward some of her fellow students, including other shepherds and a 7-month-old floppy-eared Great Dane she’s been in class with since the first day. The Great Dane’s owner asked me my name Monday evening and I commented that it was funny that we know the dogs’ names, but not each other’s.

Class was moving along nicely when Mrs. Trainer let us know that a pit bull was working in the adjacent parking lot. It was muzzled, she said, but very aggressive. If the pit bull came at us, we should get in front of our own dog, she advised.

I’m so twisted that I thought to myself, “Now that would be exciting.”

The pit bull (who had shorter legs and a flatter face than most of the pits I’ve seen) was thrashing about on its lead, but when we moved our dogs farther away from the offending animal, I observed it sitting calmly beside its handler.

I can’t even remember what we were working on when I looked up and saw that the pit bull wasn’t wearing a lead anymore. It scrambled from a seated position toward the Great Dane, the nearest dog to the parking lot. Isis sat very peacefully (possibly oblivious) while the pit bull attacked the friendly dog. The Great Dane’s owner and Mrs. Trainer tried to move their bodies between the two dogs and wound up falling down on top of each other on the ground.

The pit bull was wrangled and Mrs. Trainer said, “We’re done.”

She took the Great Dane and her owner inside and examined the puppy. Isis and I followed because I sort of felt like the owner was my friend and I wanted to be there for her. She was teary and shaken. Mrs. Trainer found three puncture wounds on the puppy, who was taking it quite well. When I left, the owner and Mrs. Trainer were discussing whether to take the dog to a more expensive 24-hour clinic or wait til morning to go to the vet.

The pit bull’s handler was standing near her car, looking hysterical.

I was shaken too, and so grateful that Isis hadn’t been the target. When I got home, Rob asked me about the school’s liability, which hadn’t even occurred to me. Hell, yeah, the owner should have taken her dog to the 24-hour clinic and the school should pay for it.

I signed a release holding the school harmless for acts of negligence by myself, any person acting together with me or any animal I bring to class. What about the acts of an aggressive pit bull being given a private lesson, who, under the supervision of Mr. Trainer, was off lead and allowed to attack a dog in a group lesson?

Which makes me wonder about the liability of a martial arts instructor who allows a student to spar a little too enthusiastically and injure another student…but it’s not the same thing, because a martial arts student, in theory, should have more impulse control than an aggressive pit bull. Is it reasonable to expect dog trainers to have more control over their students than martial arts instructors have over theirs?

So I’ll go back to wondering why the pit bull was off lead at all. And whether the pit bull can be rehabilitated (to use Cesar Millan’s phrase) or will be put down. And whether the school will compensate the Great Dane’s owner. And whether she is having trouble sleeping too.

Get sprung

Yup. It’s here. Sposed to get into the 70s today. Quite a change considering it hailed on Sunday.

I plan to take both my dog and my iguana out when I get home from work today, because sadly, it’s supposed to rain tomorrow and Sunday.

This is definitely a day when I should find a reason to get out in the “field,” rather than sit with my back to an open window facing the levee and the freeway bridge that goes over the river.

Surely someone is out counting fish somewhere. Too bad all my appointments are scheduled for next week. Does it count as work if I just go out and sit by the river? Guess that’s more work than sitting here buying bully sticks and dog poop digesters online.

Maybe I’ll go out at lunch and try to take the perfect picture to represent this perfect day…

Dear Dog Whisperer,

It pains me to admit it, but my dog isn’t perfect. She talks a good game, sometimes, like Monday morning when she followed my treat lures right into the house and into her crate. Monday night, we went to an obedience class and she was on point. I didn’t have to deliver a single stern correction and she didn’t have any breakdowns. Didn’t jump on a soul. (There were some problem pit bully dogs in the class and I remember feeling so grateful that my dog is never snarly.)

Yesterday, I took her to the vet instead of playing soccer with her, and you can imagine this was a confusing change of routine. I had a hard time getting her to come inside the house from the dog run. We were late.

Today I actually wanted to kill her. I had a 10 a.m. appointment, so I took her out at 8:20, so she’d have plenty of time to play before I had to leave at 9. But I couldn’t get her in the house. I couldn’t even get her in the dog run. She knew that following the treat lures would lead to incarceration, so she nibbled them as far as the door of the run, and then dashed back up the hill to the yard. If I made a move like I was going to grab her, she’d race away from me.

Oh, the chase game, I love this one.

I tried reverse psychology, and shut the dog run door and the sliding glass door and went inside. She tiptoed down to the dog run, stepped inside, and then turned around to race back up to the yard.

When I came back outside, she walked toward me, and I said, “Good girl. Good puppy,” but when I reached for her, she ran away. The girl’s like a cheetah. Am I supposed to shriek “No” at her when she does that?

I should add, by the way, that although she is stronger than me (and weighs 65 pounds), that once I do get a hold of her collar, she doesn’t struggle to get away from me and will come willingly inside. It’s the getting a hold of the collar that is the struggle.

At 9:30 I called to cancel my appointment. I was tied up, I said. No way I’m telling work people that I’m late because I can’t get my dog in the house. Who has such little control over their dog?

She chased her tail. She started a couple of excavations, for which she was sharply reprimanded.

I don’t know whether to show no emotion at all (as some trainers advise) or to yell at her so she knows that I don’t think we’re playing anymore.

At about 10:15, she finally slowed down enough to let me catch her. I’m not even angry at this point. She’s just a puppy who needs a lot of exercise.

Still…guess who’s not getting to play outside anymore without wearing a leash?

Smiley

We took Isis to a “free” agility class this weekend. I didn’t care for it. The teacher was very keen on using treats as a lure, which is all well and good if you have a stupid dog who’d follow a treat off a cliff.

Our dog is much too clever for such bribery. She knows when accepting a treat directly leads to my leaving to go to work. You can’t reliably train a dog with food if she’s got the intellectual capacity to weigh one option against another.

Let’s see, freeze-dried chicken breast or chase my soccer ball for another 20 minutes…? Maybe I can get the chicken breast out of her hand and then run away real fast so I can have the treat and 20 more minutes of soccer ball chase.

Also, the teacher didn’t want us to use the pinch collar (pictured), and I’m sorry but it’s the only way to control Isis when she’s hyped up (which she frequently is in new situations involving other dogs). There’s no point putting a leash on her regular flat collar. She’s way too strong. If the collar doesn’t slide right off her head (which it did on Saturday, putting the whole class on hold while she ran around like crazy with other dog owners falling down trying to catch her. I just stood there and watched. No human is fast enough to catch her unless she wants to get caught), she’s likely to break the buckle or at the very least, pull the leash out of my hand.

I didn’t even get very many pictures of the excursion, because I also had to be her handler. When I tried to remove the camera strap from around my neck, to hand it to Rob, I whacked myself in the head with the camera. There’s a bump. Good thing I wear bangs.

Our real problem with the class was its philosophy or lack thereof. The teacher didn’t bother to tell us why we’d want to get our dog to jump over a hurdle or climb an A-frame or weave around some posts. Yes, it’s fun, but we would have liked to hear a little intro about Agility Competition and how it strengthens the dog’s mind-body connection, bringing balance and harmony. Guess we’re more cut out for Doggie Yoga.

Anyway, after struggling with the jump, weave and tunnel, we were surprised how quickly Isis caught on to the A-frame (climbing up a plank at a steep angle to a point and then climbing down). Again we were instructed to lure her with a treat, but doggone it if she didn’t like climbing up the thing for the pure fun of it. She raced up it right past my hand with the treat, ignoring the lure altogether.

We’re thinking about getting some agility equipment for the backyard, and playing with it on our own.