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Read more of Karen Fishler's dog diary columns |
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 December 1, 1998 |we prepare
We prepare… oh, how we prepare. The date is now set. On December 19, we will drive east for two and a half hours while our breeder (sounds like we're the ones being bred, doesn't it?) drives two and a half hours west. When we meet, the Great Handover will take place. We will receive our puppy, and drive him home. In preparation, we have read at least as much, I'm sure, as people who are pregnant. And, God help us, we have started to buy dog stuff. None of this used to happen. It used to be that, when you got a dog, you simply got a dog. Someone you knew had a litter, or maybe a stray or runaway followed you home, and there you were. You had a dog. Not anymore. Nowadays, as Caroline Platt points out in her recent book Pack of Two, dogs stand in for a lot of things. They're often therapeutic for people, they're an important dynamic in marriages and pre-marriage relationships, in some cases they are the owner's entire family. They used to live outside; now they live in our bedrooms. They used to have a bone, and maybe a ball. Now they have — well, what don't they have? There are dog trainers, dog behaviorists and therapists, dog consultants. There are mail-order outfits that sell high-quality dog food, and specialty stores that sell everything from dog clothing to dog toys. Americans in the nineties spend tons of money on their dogs, and invest lots of emotional energy in them, because dogs' roles have become much more important in a post-nuclear-family era. Barry and I are extremely typical Americans in many ways, though it pains us to admit it, and we certainly are no exception when it comes to preparing for this dog. Most recent books: Jean Donaldson's The Culture Clash, published in 1996, and April Frost's Beyond Obedience: Training With Awareness for You and Your Dog, published this year. They make a great pairing, as it turns out. Donaldson, a very blunt and also, fortunately, very clear writer, has written the most useful training book I've ever seen. The whole thing is about how dogs learn and how to motivate them. She explains the basic drives dogs have so you don't assume they're going to ever go away — the need to chew, the drive to chase prey, and so on. Her training method seems to be built around sublimating and channeling these underlying drives so they don't create problems for dogs living in a human-dominated world. Her explanation of why you should play tug-of-war with your dog (most trainers strongly advise against it) is worth the price of the book. Donaldson also thinks a lot of ideas in current circulation are a bunch of crap: for instance, the supposed struggle for dominance between owner and dog. I came away from the book very relieved, because her approach makes perfect sense and made me feel I could communicate effectively with a dog. Frost uses the same underlying principles to train dogs — that is, positive motivation and rewards — but doesn't explain them nearly as clearly, because her purpose is different. Her book does supply what's missing from The Culture Clash: a sense of the inner life of both dogs and owners, and the flow of the relationship between them. Frost is very New Age; she talks a lot about energies, visualization, and so on. Her analyses of the owners who come to see her and why they are having problems with their dogs (and vice versa) are extremely perceptive, and the stories she tells are fascinating. If you've ever felt emotionally connected to an animal, this book will speak to you. And despite its out-there ideas, it's very, very practical. If you buy it, spend some time looking at the cover photograph. It shows Frost surrounded by her dogs (she has about thirty), who look up at her attentively as she speaks to them. You can feel them listening to her, and something about her ideas comes through in the image. So… dog books, leading to much discussion with Barry. (A recent bedtime exchange: "My God, everything you do teaches the dog something." "I know. The pressure!") And, of course, the consultation. Gail, our trainer, is coming over later this week to help us puppy-proof the house and to answer our long list of last-minute questions, such as, "Are we really not going to screw this up?" Finally, and inevitably, dog stuff. We went to the "natural" pet store near us recently. Not only did we find out about a combination holistic vet/D.V.M. right in our own area. We also bought our first leash. Then we bought a stoneware dog dish with cute green-and-blue artwork and the word "Dog" in beautiful flowing letters on one side. Then we bought matching "Cat" dishes for Shamu and Samantha. A few days ago we went to Bow Meow, a "deli and gifts" shop for dogs and cats (or, rather, their bipeds) downtown. We managed to get past the Christmas tree ornaments in the shapes of dogs and cats (some of the dog ones came in the form of specific breeds; you had to hunt through a little bin to find your breed). Somehow I avoided buying any dog-related jewelry (well, some of it was okay…), and reined myself in as I looked at the canine pottery, though I was deeply tempted. But we did take away information on the extremely sophisticated dog tags that you can order there, designed in retro style on bronzy metal, with a slogan on one side such as "Stalwart and True." I know, I know, but you should have seen them. They were way cooler than those stupid tiny ones shaped like bones and hearts that you get direct-mail ads for. After all that, we got to the room with the toys, and that prompted a major struggle. Somehow we restrained ourselves (we do, after all, have questions about appropriate toy selection to ask Gail), and bought only two things: a soft flying disk that glows in the dark and floats, in a small size just right for puppies, and a dark pink rubber chew ball with a cool cutout that you can stuff food into so the dog will have a challenge. We got the smaller size of that, too. I can't tell you how much we enjoyed it. And this is just the beginning! We get to make complete fools of ourselves from now on, more or less for the rest of our lives. We'll go on trips with a bag of dog toys. Each Christmas the dog will get a present (we've done this for the cats since we got them). Everywhere we go we'll be able to keep an eye out for more fun dog stuff. And he'll probably just love one or two things, and stick to them, but it won't make any difference. We'll still buy him stuff. They say dog training is really about training owners. We now know the other secret: that dog stuff is really for owners, too. Don't tell anybody. We're already embarrassed enough as it is. 
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