thefutureisred

Three Lessons My Dog Taught Me About People

Who would have thought I'd learn so much about humans from living with a puppy?

 

This morning, I spent an hour playing catch with Mani. He's got so much energy and loves running around, but it's not fun playing when he bites me with his sharp puppy teeth. It's taken a while for me to understand how to communicate with him, how to let him know my boundaries, but I think I finally have the hang of it.

That's when it hit me. These doggy guidelines aren't all that different from setting boundaries with humans.

You want to play catch? Bring the squeaky to me.

That which you chase retreats from you!

I'm sure you've met this type of person. I call them the Push-Pull sort. You push, try to engage in a relationship, they pull away. You pull away? They're pushing to be all sorts of parts of your life.

It has never been as clear how to deal with the Push-Pull as when playing catch with Mani. He has a squeaky toy peanut, and he loves to play catch with it. I throw. He brings it back.  But like most puppies, he doesn't actually drop it by my feet for me to throw again. No, he's not ready for the game to end, so he runs away. 

What do I do? I run the other way when I see him coming. He chases full tilt in my direction, tries to get my attention. All I have to do is turn around. When I do, he slips smack into me.

I try to recognize this trait in humans as early as possible and keep a wide berth. Life is to short to cultivate friendships with people who aren't sure they want to be in your life. But like everything else, there will always be exceptions. When it comes to maintaining these relationships -- usually with family or old friends -- I let them decide when they're ready to play and only then meet them half way.

That way, I never find myself running aimlessly around the couch.

Sit. Shake. Good boy!

In human speak, that means be clear and consistent.

Know what you want. Figure out how to say it in as straightforward a way as possible. Say it.

Mani learned to soften his play bite because every time he bit our hands and clothing or jumped on us, we backed away and woudln't play with him. It was frustrating, because for two weeks, nothing changed. He continued to bite my feet every time I walked out of the house. I even began reconsidering this whole dog-owner thing.

Then one day it clicked for him. I bite. They run away. I I don't want them to run away, I won't bite them.

You have to sit if you want your cheese.

If you want respect, hold your ground.

If I tell Mani to sit, he must sit before I give him his treat. I don't plead with him. I don't repeat myself more than once. I just wait. No shouting. No upset. Just wait. And if he doesn't sit. He doesn't get his cheese.

This applies to everyone in your life. If you say you want something, stick with it. Don't change just because you think you'll get the outcome you want by making the change. You won't.

Obviously, there are times when compromise is in order. Like negotiating a salary or deciding bedtime with your child, but those instances must be chosen and exacted carefully. You go in knowing there will be a compromise.

Then you only need to know when you are just plain wrong and figure out how and when to back down. That, though, is a whole other blog post in itself.

Photo by It's Greg and Mccun934.

The Meaning of Dog: Does A Pet Signal the End Of Your Travel Days?

We recently adopted a dog. He's an adorable Labrador puppy named Mani, and he's part of the family now. So what does that mean about travel?

"I'd love to get a dog," so many other travelers say to me. "But I'm not ready to make the commitment to being in one place. I want to keep moving."

I've always been a strong proponent of not allowing circumstances to get in the way of travel, particularly children. People use children as a reason not to travel, but the reality is it's entirely possible to go anywhere and do anything with your kids if that's what you really want to do.

I don't think the same with pets.

A child can adapt to a new circumstance. She can ride a bus. He can climb a mountain. They can learn to pack light, say goodbye and do everything an adult can do.

A pet cannot.

Is it fair to stick them in kennels underneath the airplane? Sure you can find a pet sitter, but ultimately, if you plan on being gone for a year or longer, is that pet still your pet? How do you take a 500 mile bike trek with your dog?  Crossing borders becomes far more complicated depending on vaccine needs. And exactly how will a dog last on one of those 20 hour bus rides from one end of a country to another?

So what does it mean that we have a dog now?

Does this mean we plan on being in one place for the next ten years or whatever Mani's lifespan will be? Does that mean we might travel short periods of time instead of going free with no return in mind? Does it mean we will move the entire family to another spot in the world and set up shop and home somewhere else for a while? Or maybe it means we travel by car, dog in tow, as we go wherever four wheels can manage?

It means as anything else. There are more questions to ask. There are more complications. It's most definitely not as simple as throwing passport, money and pocket knife in a pack and heading out the door. But as with anything else, we'll figure it out when the time comes.

In the meantime, here are a few websites I've found that might make the trip a little easier.

• The American Veterinary Medical Association Traveling With Pets Brochure

Tips for cat, dog and horse owners covering everything from what to consider with vaccinations, crossing borders and tips for traveling by air, car or bus.

• Fly With Your Emotional Support Animal

This article from Matador Change discusses how "support animal" was originally another word for seeing eye dog or other animal used to help people with disabilities, but now is often used by anyone who wants to avoid the pet transportation fee on airlines.

• Centers for Disease Control Animal Importation Information

All you could possibly want to know regarding laws and regulations related to traveling with your pets. Includes an extremely useful FAQ that includes animals such as birds, reptiles and amphibians as well as the standard mammals (including rodents!). Yes, you can travel with your rat.

• Pets Welcome

A United States based website providing information to travel, camp, ski, lie on the beach, romp in a state park and find a hotel for the night with your pet. Includes a smaller international database of resources as well. 

• International Air Transport Association Pet's Corner

All inclusive instructions on shipping your pet nationally or internationally. Provides recommendations for papers, pet preparation and vaccination.

Photo by SeeMidTN.com

The Inevitable Lightness of Dark (Or Some Such Nonsense)

It's the paradox of the move that does it. We're in one place but moving. Lila and I are baking cookies tomorrow for her teachers. Noah's picking up a package at DHL. It's our first day of dogsitting Cosby (who seems rather irate these days, although I'm mostly sure he wasn't offended by my last post.)

Everything slows down the week before we move. We don't go out as much. Don't see as much, and we don't seem to get as much done. Yet the days slip and slide forward so fast I don't know Monday from Friday. I suppose it's something like turning a corner. You're slowing down, slowing down, but really speeding up at the same time.

Does this make any sense at all?

I didn't make it to yoga and the abortion protest this week bc we went to Toronto again to see family. This coming weekend will be my last chance. I haven't started Lila's Halloween costume. We didn't go to Maid of the Mist or Cave of the Winds.

Between now and Monday morning, I plan to go through all our stuff, pick something up from DHL, launder and iron the cloth for Lila's costume, make cookies for Lila's teachers, give a donation to a couple charities around here, do laundry, mail some stuff back to Atlanta because it won't all fit in the car and plan the trip down to Atlanta. Also, go to four yoga classes so I can use up the rest of my ten-class pass (unless someone else wants it. If so, let me know. I'd be happy to ask Darcy if she'll transfer it to someone else), take pictures of the protesters. I have a list of questions in my head for them. Should probably write them down but whenever I try, I forget them.

Blah blah blah. Have you noticed that between moves I list all the things to do, to go, to be?

I've noticed. It's tedious as hell, but it's what in my head now. It's my process, so now those of you who have asked how we do this, this is it. To do lists and you just don't think about it too much more. You really can't think too much about it, because if you do, it's becomes more difficult to reach the ends of those lists.

Have I mentioned preparing Lila to go. We've already started the goodbyes, returned our library books, barbequed with the in-laws one last time. We go through our clothes and decide what to pack. Begin to talk about what we'll do next week, the week after, where we're going, who we'll see.

All this before Monday morning, when we start the decent from Move to Road Trip to Month in Atlanta to Deal with Last Details of Argentina to ARGENTINA.

It is evitable. A ball rolling down hill, and yet I still feel like I'm on the steep uphill of the next leg the journey.

I Am A Dogwalking Sham

We're back in Buffalo at Ken's and will be dogsitting his dog Cosby for a week.

I'm not good with dog etiquette. We'd dogsit for Cosby sometimes in Brooklyn. I hated those moments when you're walking your dog, minding your own business but every time you pass someone with a dog you're required to stop, let them sniff each other while you, the owners, talk all things dog.

"He's so cute. What kind of dog is he?"

"I don't know," I'd say at first, because I didn't. He's not my dog. I got the gas face and the other dog and owner were suddenly off.

Or I'd make the mistake of mentioning that I was just dogsitting. Same gas face. Same walk off.

After some time, I began to learn the rules of this game. You meet, say hi, determine if the dogs are friendly. Cosby most definitely is, but sometimes, he'd get a bit aggressive. And people are very protective of their dogs. Sort of like the moms on the playground. They'd get so upset if your little one pushed too hard with theirs.

People, wanted to shout, they're dogs!  DOGS!

After a while, I began to get nervous when I'd see other dogs approaching because I never knew when there would be a fight. I hated that moment, almost as much as the one that followed.

Once you determined that the dogs were indeed friendly and were also actually interested in getting to know each other better, perhaps to one day become neighborhood friends and invite each other to birthday parties and park dates, they'd sniff each other while we owners enjoyed some chat time discussing how adorable each dog is. How fluffy. What kind is he? Or perhaps we'd tell a little story.

I never got the hang of it. My dog chit chat never lasted longer than a few minutes and always ended up with the tell tale nose in air, walk away. Most of the time, I had no idea what I'd done wrong.

Today, while walking Cosby, I had some similar feeling. We met Baby and her owner, who for all I know has and never has had a name of her own. Baby's a puppy, very cute, lots of energy and jumps on people. Cosby is old, has allergies all over and is currently on medication that gives him bad diarrhea if he eats anything other than rice and edamame.

Sharing this is not winning dog conversation.

Still I persevered. What kind of dog is he? He's part Chow, part Labrador, a chowbrador, if you will." Believe it or not, this merited a smille and a chuckle.

A bit later, a mail main stopped me to ask what happened to his leg. Cosby's back leg is wrapped in a little blue bandage. "Allergies," I told the guy. "He gets them badly and bites until he bleeds." Oddly, the man did not walk away.

Next thing I know, I'm invovled in a conversation about dogs and their allergies and what to do for them. "Because, you know, you really can't do anything for them. They're just miserable."

"You can give them benedryl," he suggested "but then they're just knocked out." That's what happened to his Rottweiller.

I have never given a dog allergy medication, although I do remember my childhood dog Sadie going nuts, breathing heavily and all around going crazy with her fur sticking up like an angry cat. The vet cried allergy, but I have no idea how my parents handled it.

I'm not really even sure if Cosby has them. I just remember Ken saying something about this at some point.

Truth be told, I'm not much of a dog person anymore. They're stinky. Messy. slobbery and have to be walked. Worst part of walking, without a doubt is picking up their poop in little plastic bags. It ruins any walk. Permanently. From the time I'm forced to lean over and grasp whatever little or large nuggets squeeze out from the dog, I simply cannot remove the look of disgust from my face. At least not until I find a place to dispose of the baggie, which is usually when I get back home.

I have this fear of people running out of their houses screaming bloody murder as I trespass on their property to dump, well, dog dump in their garbage cans. I was traumatized by a sign left on the garbage can near our old building in Brooklyn. "If you leave your bags of dogshit in my garbage cans, I will find you and make you eat it."

Lovely. Just lovely.

This is also a reason I don't just leave the poop on the ground. I suspect there are homeowners everywhere with nothing better to do than peer out their windows watching and waiting for me to leave poop surprise on their lawns. They'll then fly down in an unholy rage and punish me, somehow. Cosby, I'd guess, does not have the energy or stamina to protect me in such a case.

It also just seems like something that should never be done in a civilized world.

I'm not proud of my non-dogpersonhood. I used to love them. As a kid, I used to climb into Sadie's doghouse, ramble through the woods with her, even put her ears in fluffy pony tail holders to match mine. She was awesome and very patient.

So I'm not sure how between there and here, I stopped liking dogs. I don't hate them. I just don't have any desire to have one living life indoors with me. Or stop and play with them on the street. Or compliment strangers on their dogs winning personalities.

Does that make me a bad person?