Tag Archives: dogs

The Lady Prefers A Separate Wing

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My dog Eva is probably one of the greater loves of my life. There’s pretty much nothing I wouldn’t do for her. She eats expensive food, toys designed to cure boredom, exercise her jaws and just to play. She receives carefully selected treats,  food off of my plate, 2-3 solid walks a day, all sorts of preventative medication, surgery when she tears her damn cruciate ligament and regular vet visits to keep her healthy. I brush her hair, her teeth and keep her nails trimmed. She has multiple beds around the apartment, but chooses to sleep in my bed, or on my couch. And if you come to visit, she will choose to sleep on your feet. She has gone through several trainers, has dog walkers she loves and gets to visit her entire “family” for additional treats and butt rubs.

Eva, protesting her living quarters by monopolizing the bed.

I wouldn’t say my dog is spoiled, but I would say my dog has it damn good.

Life Before Her Apartment

This wasn’t always the case. You see, I got Eva from a local animal shelter almost two years ago. I have no idea what her life was like before the shelter (but I can make some guesses) but she was at that shelter for almost a year and a half. No one came to adopt her. They cared for her the best they could, and she had a “foster family” to relieve her on some weekends (who just came to visit her this past weekend – you should have seen that tail go!). But it must have been very rough for her. The cages are tiny, and she was in for about 20 hours of the day. Her daily “relief” was some alone time in a 15×20 pen, some donated ratty tennis balls, and some occasional on-lead walks. In a shelter next to JFK, so constant loud noise, punctuated only by the sounds and smells of other loud, anxious dogs.

She gained a lot of weight (she’s lost 20 lbs. in the two years since we’ve had her – and has more to go), she got into two separate altercations with other dogs (she lost – and needed stitches). She developed “happy tail” (despite it’s name, it’s no fun – it’s either when a dangerous injury develops at the end of the tail from constant smacking against too small of a cage. ) It has since healed. She was incredibly anxious and I don’t know if she was dog-aggressive before being placed in the shelter, but … she certainly is now. It was a no good place for her. I’m grateful these shelters exist, but I’m glad my dog is home with me now.

“Oh, I won’t have a dog until I live on Moral High Ground”

This is why it drives me batty when people tell me “I’d love to have a dog, but I live in an apartment and dogs should have houses.”

First of all, it can’t help but feel like a judgment. As if by adopting Eva, I have doomed her to a small, cramped apartment that couldn’t possibly be healthy for her.

As if she had a choice between “farm with giant, fenced-in backyard and her own bedroom” and “small apartment in Queens” and by adopting her, I’ve killed that dream.

Believe me, if you could ask Eva, or her “friends” still at the kennel, I bet you she would choose my apartment over that kennel, any day. And so far, no rich farm or suburban collective has come to adopt all of the dogs languishing in shelters, or spay/neuter all of the strays out there.

Sure, do I wish Eva had a backyard she could run around in? Of course. To be honest, I feel the same way about myself. I would really, really love a backyard.

The other thing is – it’s just not true. Of course, there are caveats (see below) but … most dogs really don’t need a house or backyard.  You have to do a little more work (actual walks instead of just opening the door for a morning pee) and for higher-energy dogs than Eva the slug, I imagine it means more play-time and dog parks and more exercise – but the truth is? Dogs need those things anyway.*

People very often fall into the trap that yard = exercise, and it’s not the case. Dogs need to go on walks, they need to socialize and you need to interact with them. Just letting them out in the yard, no matter how many toys you put out there is just simply – not enough.

As for Eva having enough space in my maligned apartment? Dogs will go wherever their people are. If I am in the living room, Eva is in the living room (lounging on the larger couch we bought so all three of us can be on it..). If I am in the kitchen, Eva is by the fridge. If I am in the bedroom, Eva is on the bed.

"If I had a house, I could escape from this torture."

I cannot imagine that if I had a split-level in Long Island, that Eva would be anywhere other than the room I am currently in. So tell me, what would having a larger house do for the dog that my apartment doesn’t?

Please, if you want a dog and live in an apartment, reconsider. If you have the time and energy to devote to being a good dog-owner, then just pick the right breed and temperament for you, and adopt a dog from a local shelter. And if you don’t have the time, resources or patience – then don’t get a dog, period. But stop blaming the size of your home. In most cases, the dog just doesn’t care. And for the dog that’s lucky enough to get a home? They’ll forgive your square footage.

The Exceptions (not what you think…)

Sure, there are exceptions.  Mainly, in small versus large breeds. The common misconception is that larger dogs need more space, and smaller dogs need less. It’s just not true.

There are some breeds, that no matter how many walks you take – they are just going to need more. I couldn’t imagine keeping a Jack Russel in an apartment. They’re just too high energy and would get destructive, quickly. In fact, a lot of the smaller dogs, including terriers – may do better in a larger space with an enclosed backyard.

The best apartment dogs? Believe it or not, on the list: Greyhounds, Mastiffs and Great Danes! Giant dogs who like to lounge around. Sure, they need a few 20-minute walks a day, but … that’s it. And you’re doing that anyway, right?

*I know someone who was complaining about her (small) dog incessantly barking in the apartment. When I suggested that if she upped the amount of walks she takes each day, she said that she didn’t walk the dog at all.  The dog was pee-pad trained and never, ever left the apartment. I was shocked and said that she should consider at least an hour a day of exercise and walking, she seemed upset about the time commitment. So yes, I’ll grant you – if you are going to keep the dog in the apartment and never walk it or take it outside, then – you should not have a dog in your apartment. You probably also shouldn’t have a dog.

The more things change …

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I can’t help but feel like I’m in a strange summer version of Groundhog’s Day. Every day feels a little different, but … I feel like I’m replaying certain scenes, over and over again.

The timelines is screwy, but last summer (or the summer before that?), soon after Frank left for Iceland, an old friend had reappeared in my life, and I had some weird mixed feelings about it (coda: Should have listened to my gut. That did not end well.)

Also last summer, I had a friend going through a tough breakup and figuring out what her new life was going to be like, and to top it all off, some asshole threw a dog from a car, and I was frantically trying to find a foster home for the pup.

Well, Frank left for Iceland on Friday. And because apparently there are no new stories in the naked city, I find myself in the same situation.

A close friend called off her wedding and I’m doing the best I can to support her.

My long lost best friend heard about my dad from another old friend (who ran into another old friend at the Israel Day parade while walking her dog) and tracked me down and called me.

The dog from last summer? Her adoptive parents have decided to move and leave the dog behind. I am once again looking for a home for this sweet dog who can’t catch a break. She’s now housebroken, spayed and kid-tested and approved!  Help? Know anyone who can give her a good, forever home?

I ended up speaking to Kathy (the aforementioned, previously long lost friend) for awhile tonight. I have no idea what will happen with us in the future, but we made tentative plans to get together soon. She has an 8-month old baby, and I’d love to meet him. I don’t think we will ever be what we were, but I already feel better about where we are now.

 

Asking a bit too much of your customers…

Our dog Eva is a sweetie with some … issues. She’s a champion puller and has some serious dog aggression problems. We’ve been working with a behaviorist, and making great progress. Our relationship with the behaviorist is cordial at best, and downright frosty at worst. She’s a bit abrasive and  makes really weird comments about other people (“I think that guy down the block is drunk” or “Maybe Eva is scared of that fat man” (referring to a girl walking towards us.)  She also has a habit of kind of making proclamations and exclaiming that she had told us information previously (“I’m not early, our appointment was always at 7:15!” Sure lady, and we were always at war with Eastasia.) Also, long unanswered silences. So, she’s a little off, but Eva loves her and her methods seem to be working.

We just finished a lesson about two hours ago, and I was sacked out on the couch watching a Suze Orman when my phone rang. It was the trainer/behaviorist. She asked if I had a minute to talk about her Cuckoo Client. Of course. So, she proceeds to tell me this story about a client of hers that she thinks is a little “off” (hello pot, meet the kettle) and she has been involved in an email back-and-forth regarding a payment discrepancy.

I begin thinking that she is telling me all of this because maybe the woman is conducting a smear campaign? Maybe online? I did talk to the behaviorist about online reputation, social media, marketing, etc.  in a previous conversation.

So, she finishes up the story by saying that she doesn’t have time for this kind of back and forth and she told the woman she couldn’t make the next appointment because her aunt has been hospitalized or something. She says the woman wished her a good Easter and asked when the next appointment would be.

Okay …

So then the trainer asks  if I wouldn’t mind giving this woman a call and telling her that she has been hospitalized or something.

…

What?

I clarify. “You want me to call one of your clients?”

The trainer, obviously a master of psychology, apparently senses my hesitation and quickly says that it’s not a big deal, she just figured she would ask since we spoke about this during our session.

I am totally taken aback.

I tell her that I’m sorry I can’t help, I’m just not comfortable with it and would rather not get involved. She starts telling me how it’s nothing, because its not worth her time, this isn’t a big deal. Almost berating me for my apology.

I try another tact. “I’m sorry you have to deal with this situation.” Another berating – “this isn’t something to apologize for, this isn’t a big deal.” Not “sorry for asking” or anything. Then she starts going into how the only reason she called me was because we talked about this during our session. I tell her that I have no recollection of discussing any client of hers during our session, other than a fat pug she worked with earlier in the day. She accuses me of not paying attention to her, but “that’s okay.”

I am totally, totally weirded out. I confirm our appointment for next week, and we hang up. I also want to make sure she has my payment correct in her records.

So, to recap

  • Someone I employ to help me and my dog revealed that she lies to clients (“I’m hospitalized”)
  • Sees nothing wrong with asking clients to call other clients for her
  • Apparently doesn’t feel she can make these calls on her own
  • Either was refused by or didn’t ask her intern for this assistance
  • Likes to accuse me for random things
  • And is really, really, really awkward.

I don’t know what to do. I can find a new trainer (and have one last session with her, since I am pre-paid), or just accept that she’s nuts and keep working with her until my pup seems rehabbed or … well, that’s about it.

But seriously? How do these things keep happening to me?

Update: I realized I had to fire this woman. The more I thought about it, the crazier and crazier this got. So, I called her this morning. Long story short – when she called me, she thought she was calling her intern. She was appropriately horrified, appalled and apologetic. In fact, she was looking for a new intern, because she couldn’t figure out why the intern didn’t remember the conversation and would refuse to do this for her. She was also confused why the intern would say “so, I’ll see you next week.” All in all – oh my god.

We still agreed to end the relationship, she ripped up the check, and I have  a new person coming in a week who sounds a lot more balanced. And is bringing therapy dogs!

Only me, people. Only me.

The Dotted Line (New Things to Worry About)

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I was hesitant to write about it until the lease was signed, but I found us an awesome apartment, and I just signed the lease tonight. I am so excited. This new apartment is awesome. It’s not too far from where we are now (which is good, because this is where our friends live) and one of the small downsides is that it is a 5-minute bus ride to the subway. But what it does have? A parking spot, plenty of street parking, a full size dishwasher (a must!) and the potential to turn my pretend puppy into a real puppy! Yes – dogs are warmly accepted here. This is so incredibly exciting.  It’s also even a little less money than my current apartment. And it’s what’s known as a “garden apartment.” Which means I have courtyards, and grass and common areas, and I can walk around and not feel like I am on top of everyone else. And they have 24-hour security guards. And I can paint!

What it doesn’t have? Giant roaches. I haven’t really wanted to talk about it, because it’s so embarrassing. I have been plagued by giant, disgusting roaches. People call them waterbugs, but really – they are American cockroaches. And in my current apartment, I get about one a day. Sometimes dead – sometimes not. I walk around with Raid. These things are tremendous, and we have no idea where they are coming from. Everything is sealed,  I clean and bleach everything almost every day. It’s just out of control.  And to top it all of, the shower in the apartment above me broke, so my bathroom has to be somewhat gutted, and is now covered in garbage bags and duct tape until the super can some to put up new drywall. It’s insane here. It’s like the apartment knows I am leaving, and is just falling apart.

So, Frank and I move August 15th. Since our lease isn’t up until Sept. 1st, we will do one of those “slow moves” so it should be pretty stress free. Should, being the operative word. Of course, I am totally freaking out. The new apartment is so awesome, but since Frank is still in Iceland – he hasn’t seen it (except in pictures) and I am full of constant doubt that maybe I made the wrong choice, and what if he hates, it and blahblah. I got his blessing to go ahead, but still – picking out a place to live for someone else is a big responsiblity. I love him for trusting me.

And because I feel like you haven’t had a good dose of my neuroses in awhile, listen to today’s conundrum! I have been dealing with the current tenant of the apartment (which is a condo). The person who owns it is the tenant’s mother-in-law. So, today we were supposed to meet at a diner, so I could meet the actual owner. I was supposed to bring my credit scores and a check for the despot, and we would sign the lease. But it’s so weird. I mean, what if she hated me, or I thought she was a nut? Do we still sign? Is it just awkward? But more importantly – how does this all work?!

Do I meet them in the diner? Out? Are we having coffee? Dinner? If we eat – who pays?

These are serious questions, people!

As it turns out, I got there early and called the guy. He was across the street, so we both went in together and waited for his mother-in-law, who turned out to be a little odd, but lovely. We ordered coffee (iced) and we signed the lease. It wasn’t until it was all said and done that I remembered my credit score. Since I went through all the trouble of getting it (which was good to do anyway – yay awesome credit!) I made her take a look at it. It was so funny and different from what it was like when we rented this apartment. Because my current one is a co-op, we had to submit all sorts of financials and meet with the board. These people didn’t even ask me how much I made!

All’s well that ends well, and when Frank comes home at the end of the month, the current tenant told me to drop by to show him the apartment. He also gave me the all clear to start transferring my magazines over to the new apartment.

So excited!

The Best Friend I Don’t Have (yet!)

My “about” page is one of the most popular pages on the site, and I have a rather lame description of who I am.  ” I am in my mid-twenties, live in Forest Hills, NY with my boyfriend and pretend puppy.”   (Those of you who would like to write their own about who I am are more than welcome! They will be posted.).

Thanks to Jamie who gave me some great shout-outs, I have a bunch of new readers (hi!!!). One of these readers questioned what a pretend puppy could be. (As in: I am Erica. I am in my mid-twenties, live in Forest Hills, NY with my boyfriend and pretend puppy.) And so I shall tell you.

Our “pretend puppy” is the amazing, well-behaved, adorable puppy that my boyfriend and I don’t have. Why don’t we have a puppy? For starters – our apartment building won’t allow it (it’s the only form we had to notarize). Then comes the other issues of we aren’t really home enough. And because I work about an hour commute from where we live it would mean either Frank (my boyfriend)  is mainly responsible, or that I have to always come straight home from work – negating the joys of living in NYC. Also, Frank is gone for a good portion of the summer, each summer (he’s an archaeologist and works in Iceland) and that leaves me responsible for another living being.  I have had some success with a mint plant, but I wouldn’t want to push it.  But mainly – it’s the apartment thing. And the expense, and the lack of overall responsibility.

The thing is? I really love puppies (in my head – all dogs are puppies). Some women my age are baby crazy, and some spend a lot of time planning some sort of ridiculous dream wedding. I am gaga over dogs. I can’t imagine that if and when my biological clock starts ticking, how horrifying I am going to be. And Frank pretends  he isn’t that bad, but I am pretty sure he is a secret commenter on the Daily Puppy.

So, we have a pretend puppy. We have long, detailed discussions over who is cleaning up the poop it just made, and who has to walk it on the cold mornings. We debate on whether its appropriate to have a puppy sleep on the bed (of course – I think that’s the reason to have a dog). We have had actual fights over our imagined canine responsibilities.

I have no idea how we would raise a kid, but I know we are on the same page regarding dog food, training techniques and how Frank hates the term “parent” in relation to domestic animals.

Sometimes we name our pretend puppy (of course, it depends on the breed, the coloring and temperment) , and we sneer at dog owners we feel are doing the wrong thing. We make notes of who in the neighborhood carries doggie bags, and which owners make their dogs wear t-shirts. We are awful.

Then, there are the debates and endless research about the best breeds. There is the championing of favorite breeds and the lists of absolute no-no’s (sorry pug owners). I hate dogs with beards, and Frank has a thing against Rottweilers. We both love Huskies, but sometime their eyes freak me out. And we both like big, BIG dogs, but we know we are apartment bound for quite some time. So, then we have to determine which fantasy dog fits the fantasy lifestyle. When in reality, when we are ready, we will head to the shelter and just pick the best dog that works for us and we can give a good home.

Excuse me, while I go look at puppies on the internet, and use my cursor to pet their little bellies and scrach their noses. I need help. Serious, serious help.

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