Dog Vs. Wild

Dear Sophie,

Thank you for finally bringing a dog's common-sense solutions to the human's attention.  It's time for a real dog to take control of the govt, not these puppies that seem to rule the day. Democrat or Republican, it doesn't make a difference, neither side can scent a clear path while they're running after the ball.  I guess it could be worse, the CATS could be in charge...

How can I train the humans around me to prepare for the disasters (human-made and natural) that seem to be looming upon the horizon?  I don't want to see my dog-bowl go empty when bad things happen, nor my humans out howling at the full moon in dispair when they can't take care of me {or themselves} any more.  I smell their fear, and the fear on everyone that they meet, but how can I channel their fear-scent into something concrete, before it's too late?

Ike and Angus, a two-dog team sharing life WAY out in the country.

Dear Ike and Angus,

As a girl who lives in the city, where there lots of curbs and buildings and things I seem to always smack into, I envy your life out in the big, wide country. Can I visit sometime? I would like to run and run and run and not get stopped by the leash.  I am sorry to hear that your humans are not preparing for disasters. You know what is a disaster to me? When we run out of my favorite peanut butter dog cookies. But when I think about like, if there were a disaster, I would need my mommies more than ever! I can't see much, and I could never find my way to the grocery store without assistance, so I know I probably have to have the talk with my mommies, too, about the day when we run out of peanut butter dog cookies and there are no more.

What is so awesome about dogs is that we are pack animals. There is a hierarchy, with an alpha dog (hello, me!) and the omega (the outcast), and all the worker dogs in-between. Each dog is essential to the health of the pack, and everyone performs their role of following the alpha dog, of breeding, of raising the puppies, and protecting the pack against outsiders (the lone wolf, or omega).

From politics down to relationships, I think that humans seem to get the pecking order of our pack mentality pretty well, except that everyone thinks they are the alpha dog when really they should all be trying to find their role and support the pack. In short, I think your humans need a little less "me" in their world and a little more "we." Do your humans have a good support network of friends and family? Can they help out in a crisis? Does each person have a unique skill that could contribute toward the health of the pack? Do they have a community garden, or an extra room for the unfortunate stray? Do they at least know the name of their neighbors?  I think your humans should discuss these important things, including who will store your peanut butter dog cookies in the event of apocalypse and who will carry your dog bed to dry land. 

Imagine how great a world it would be if everyone followed their dog pack instead of money, fame, and fortune (things we dogs have no understanding of and no use for). Tell your humans that finding their pack will go a long way in uncertain times, and making sure they know their place in it will keep it from becoming like Lord of the Flies.

S O P H I E 

Let's Call the Whole Thing Off

Sophie, I'm confused. My owner seems to love me. She feeds me, walks me, pets me, buys me treats, kisses my belly, all that stuff. But then every so often she does terrible things to me - dumps me in a tub of water, chops my nails in half, drops liquid into my ears with a syringe, and worse. Am I the victim of domestic abuse? 

Grisby

Dear Grisby,

You don't say? The same, awful, awful things happen to me as well. I don't understand, really. It takes me a long time to lick myself and roll in the grass and kick the dirt with my paws to get just the right amount of camouflage to survive in the jungles of my super-dangerous secret agent world, and then mom takes me in the shower with her and suds me up with oatmeal shampoo?!?!? I'm like, mom, I'm not doing recon in a box of Quaker Oats; I have to hide in the grass and catch that squirrel. And how do my mommies expect me to be the Wolverine for Halloween if they keep trimming my nails?

Seriously, though, Grisb. Once my mommies forgot to cut the one of the cat's claws for weeks, and the cat's nail grew right into their toe pad and my mommies had to cut it out. It looked and sounded like it hurt and the cat certainly wasn't happy about it. I totally don't want that to happen to me. And the ear stuff--I don't like it but I can hear so much better when they've been cleaned. Like, after two squirts and a head-shake, I can hear the refrigerator door open from three blocks away. 

So don't sweat it, kid. Humans and dogs are like vinegar and water sometimes, but I think, compared with so many of my dog friends when I was in the shelter, we have some good cribs. However, we can have an ultra-secret "stuff we don't like that our mommies do to us" club if it will make you feel any better. You bring the squeaker toys and I will bring the peanut butter cookies.

S O P H I E

Stuck in the Middle

Hi Sophie,

You look like a shapely lady, so I'd appreciate your thoughts. I'm on a new diet. It's working, in that I've lost weight and feel healthy, but I'm constantly constipated. Are there any long-term side effects to being blocked like this? I can handle the discomfort as long as I'm losing weight.

Slim and Stuck 

Dear Slim,

Congratulations on finding a diet that works for you! I am always in the market for ways to slim down (although not like those skinny girls at the Westminster Kennel Club), so I'm curious as to what is your secret. Is your diet veterinarian approved? Assuming that your diet has been approved, I have heard sometimes it takes a few weeks for one's body to get adjusted to new things (in fact, whenever my mommies try out some new kibble, they mix a little of the old in with the new, gradually reducing the old over time so it's not such a shock to my system). 

However, the old adage, "food in, garbage out" should always apply: I've been told that if I eat three times a day, I should poop three times a day, and although I can survive a day or two without pooping, it should not be much longer. Otherwise, my mommies take me to the vet thinking I've eaten a chicken bone at the park. Do you think you ate a chicken bone at the park? 

If your diet is veterinarian approved, you're healthy, and you're slim, I don't see why you just can't add some fiber, like raw vegetables (or cooked, as my mommies give me) or even a little bit of fiber powder (like Metamucil). Neither will add much calorically to your diet, but they will add roughage and hopefully many happy returns (and less discomfort). However, if you feel dizzy, or weak, or sluggish, or you start to strain or rub your butt on the floor, you should go to the vet right away. 

S O P H I E

The Land Down Under

Dear Sophie, 

Why do you like smelling strangers' butts?  I don't mind butts and the other stuff but don't want to smell those of stranger's.  Explain please.

Love,
Down Under

Dear Down Under,

My, the questions have sure taken a turn southerly this week. Why does everyone think dogs have intimate knowledge of the human nether regions? However, I will try to answer as best I can. Dr Roger (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JwTL_zOQAG8) offers the simplest explanation on YouTube; dogs have two scent glands in their butt that tell us everything we need to know about other dogs, like their sex, what they've eaten, even their health. My mommies have read that our noses are so finely tuned, we've been known to sniff out cancer in our human friends. We can even smell the fear of the dog who was in the exam room before us at the vet's, which makes us nervous about what. has. happened. in. there.

Even if sniffing butts is like Facebook in the dog world, but it doesn't explain why we continue to sniff the girl and boy parts of the dogs we know really well. I have heard that our memories and categorization systems are less advanced than humans'; if humans have folders in their computer brains, we only have desktop minds. So, even though I knew cat brother Boo an hour ago, sometimes an hour later I forget about what the heck my relationship with him unless I smell him (Cat. Boo. Brother). According to Kevin Behan, sniffing each other's junk is a way of grounding ourselves. Like the smell of your mom's apple pie, or your favorite cologne. By the way, we hate the smell of that dog shampoo. Really. Why can't it smell like bug guts, chicken bones, and dirt?

What was I talking about? Oh, right - bottoms and stuff. Seriously, they smell better than you realize; you just have really weakling human noses that can barely tell a pinot from a shiraz. Imagine being in the biggest patisserie in the world. Oh, the smells! That is what a dog's behind smells like, seriously. Some have really good tarts, and others croissants. The Newfoundland at the park smells like a hazelnut macaroon, I am not kidding.

S O P H I E

The Care and Feeding of Humans

Dear Sophie,

This boy I know? That I really, really like, and we saw each other a few times when we shudna? OK, so we don't see each other anymore, but he sends me an awesome gushy sweet message every time it's the anniversary of a day we secretly went out. He writes like a boyfriend but he's invisible - so far away and no visiting. His messages are the best, better than what any boy in my real life writes. What does a dog think about this? Woof and hugs!

Uncertain


Dear Uncertain,

Sometimes my mommies are mean. And by mean, I mean won’t share their pizza, even though it hasn't been conclusively proven to give me diarrhea, and or let me run willy-nilly through the streets of Baltimore off-leash. Given that I am nearly blind and face-smack into things with great regularity, if I were allowed such free reign, after two days I would probably have more concussions than Mike Tyson.

Yet, sometimes when people visit my mommies, or someone watches me when my mommies go wherever it is they go without me, I get French Fries or string cheese from these SPECIAL PEOPLE, and maybe they let me walk with a great lead or don’t wash my feet when we come back afterward.

What am I trying to say? Well, my mommies may not be the people who give me pizza all the time, but they are the people who give me baths, medicine, regular trips to the vet, and a lifetime free of headaches and broken orbital sockets. And just because that SPECIAL PERSON, shudna boy, feeds you pizza and lights your world up when you see him, he doesn’t do all the hard stuff like your real-life boy does, am I right? I mean, like your real-life boy is there when you have a bad day at work or need a bath, when you must visit in-laws you don’t care for, or when you have to go to the vet for a big, scary test. Shudna boy is special, but what makes him special is that he’s not a boring real-life boy.

The truth is, according to some wise guy, probably a pet owner, if you try sometimes, you just might find you get what you need. Sometimes my mommies give me a piece of cheese and let me roll around in the dirt before I get a bath. Sometimes they are not totally mean. Maybe real-life boy needs to know sometimes you need a little cheese. Maybe he does not understand how to care for a Boston Terrier but is game to try. Maybe you should sign him up for an obedience class.

I must add that if my mommies did not feed me or walk me or keep me up-to-date on my shots, then that would be a good reason to look for another mommy. Not a SPECIAL PERSON, but a real-life person. Does your real-life boy feed you and walk you and keep you up-to-date on your shots? If not, you may need to be adopted by another human. But first, I think you must decide what your basic necessities are and who is best equipped to meet them.

S O P H I E

Don't Make Me Beg

Dear Sophie,

I’m a successful woman in my thirties. I have a MD/PhD, have published academic papers, and have worked at some of the most prestigious medical institutions around, but I can’t get a date. I haven’t dated anyone for almost 5 years.

Of course, I’m picky. Some men at the hospital have shown interest in me, but I feel like I should be doing better than the chubby, socially awkward men who could probably get a recurring guest role on “The Big Bang Theory.” I feel like I should be attracting more conventionally handsome, self-assured, desirable men. I’m not a super model but I’m pretty, fit, and dress appropriately for a woman my age (ie, not a slut). I’ve joined book clubs and a bowling team and have gone out to happy hours with my colleagues from the hospital. I played with a coed kickball team last season, even though I hate that stuff, to be more spontaneous and confident. No dice. I’ve tried a few dates on Match.com; either I didn’t like the guys or the ones I did like never followed-up. I’ve asked friends to size me up, and they say I’m quiet and sweet and have a wry sense of humor.

I don’t know what to do. All my friends are married and have kids. I don’t want to be a spinster, but the most I seem to know about these days are the television schedule on the weekends and the intimate habits of my dog.

Sincerely,

Hunger Dame

Dear HD,

Wow, you are a whiz! Congratulations on your accomplishments! I’m sure your owners must be proud of you and your extended years of obedience training. Your question is a tough one, and one I can relate to. You see, I am currently in my third (and hopefully) forever home. I never understood why my owner wanted to give me up, or why no one wanted to adopt me (I was considered a “long term” by my foster family). Even when I got to my forever home with my mommies, I could sense that I wasn’t what they were expecting. Their other dog, perfect in their eyes, had just gone over the rainbow bridge, and I was an overweight, excitable thing that barked at their cats, nipped at them, and was just real, real nervous. Also, I was a cancer survivor and was passed over several times for adoption because people were afraid it would come back.

Thankfully, my new mommies could look beyond all of my imperfections and visualize the most important thing: my potential. They made me feel at home, they were patient, and they took me to the vet and had all my rotten teeth removed. They had biopsies done to make sure I was not suffering silently. They changed my diet and took me on lots of walks. Now, I look and feel like a different dog. In return, I have tried to be the best dog I can be for them. I think they know, when I lick them on the face or leg or blindly follow them around the house, even to the bathroom, how thankful I am they are my mommies and how it would be the worst thing to me in the world to lose them.

The moral of this story is that sometimes you need to take a chance. Maybe one of those guys who is interested in you has potential. Maybe he is only a few pounds or a teeth cleaning away from being your desirable man. Maybe you need to go on one more date with him, or say yes to a coffee. Conversely, never give up that someone will take a chance on you. I lived in my foster home for eight months before a match was made; that’s probably a long time in human years. But I didn’t fret while I was there; I was happy, and I made most of my life, deciding that, even if I was never adopted, that I already was really lucky. And then, all of the sudden I was on a plane to Baltimore to be with my mommies. So make the most of your time while you are single - do all those things you like to do, roll on your back in the sun, and be yourself. That’s most important, because your happiness will shine through and make you a more attractive person - people will notice your confidence and think you are some kind of highly desirable pedigree and try hard to impress you with fancy chew-toys. Like me, the man you adopt or who will adopt you will probably not be featured on the Milk-Bones box, but I am certain, even if he isn’t the purest breed, that he will bring you many years of devoted companionship, and that is the most important thing.

S O P H I E