Why keep a Blog and Bark Yourself

My puppy is regressing in behavior and lashing out. The interesting thing about this is that he is snarling at the family members and, oddly enough ,he is wagging his tail at strangers.

The mailman who never rings once at our home, but merely drops packages at the end of the street and has neighbors sign for our registered mail, came to our door and Charly-dog extended his paw in a greeting.  After the door closed he turned to me and raised his upper lip to bare a canine tip, and barked as he leapt towards my chest. I usually don’t show fear at rude and bad behavior (just ask my children), and back down from a confrontation, but I was baffled at my dog’s new(?) mannerism. My voice commands just filtered through dead air and my physical directives where met with nips and growls. I was so confused and angered at what to do that I did what any normal menopausal woman would do when faced with adversity and hormonal assent;   I mixed my self a mojito.

Albeit, not ever having a Mojito molded my anger a little off target. I first had to google a recipe and then check to see if I had all the ingredients. Oh, yeah…Rum and club soda and mint.

I gathered all the makings for the Mojito to purge my menopause outburst and set me on a smooth sailing river of doggie obedience.  Making this cocktail calls for one to use an Apothecary Mortar and Pestle to mash your Mint unconscious. I know this is hard to believe, but I don’t own a Mortar nor a pestle: I had to improvise and use substitution tools that were right at hand, or foot…… a dog dish and a calcified dog bone.  Not really, I would never bend over to a level of apparatus beneath mankind and besides I  think Charly-dog doesn’t like a hint of creme de minth in his Science bites.

I did manage to find a reputable instrument to make my mint match the Mojito  mint in a recipe from Wine Magazine. I smashed those leaves into oblivion and back again all the while envisioning my puppy in the bowl. I added the mint,the Ice, club soda, and a hint of a new secret ingredient that is not yet privy to the most decadent Bars in Manhattan. Menopausal puppy anger.

I am sure there are variances in degrees in the amount of kinetic energy dispersed per bartender while mincing their mint, but no one can compare to a 50 something woman amidst the change of life who has had her last stance with a gnarling dawg. I massacred that mint into green noise… Then I finished the mixture and stared at it in wonder-mint.

I watched as the tiny particles of leaves mingled with the bubbles from the soda and swirled about until they fell to the floor of the glass. They looked as though they were enjoying their own spotlight on dancing with the stars. I wondered if the Rum felt left out. Well it did, because I forgot to add it in.

 I thought by entertaining myself with the task of mixing this drink it could possibly distract me from my possessed puppy, but no, Charly was on a mission from dog hell and determined to destruct my Zen moment.  He was determined to win and I was determined not to let him. I cradled my Mojito and receded to the couch to coil up in fetal position turning to the T.V. to possibly capture a re-run of the Golden Girls.

 My dog would not let that happen, he followed me and jumped up on me to continue his one sided battle. Consequently at the same time, Cesar Milan happen to pop up on high-def wielding a wild doggie resembling my puppy. I watched intently while pushing my pup away from view, and I looked up at the screen and witnessed Mr. Whisperer himself taking a newspaper to a couples pup. He stated that “it was O.K. to use it like an extension of your hand”. Well, I just got Carte Blanche from the Dog whisperer to swat my dog with the NY Times. Hallelujah.

 I got up from the couch and left my Mojito melting on the coffee table to wallow in it’s mint. My puppy chose this opportune time to run after me and nip at my shirt and bark at my hands. My commands were fruitless towards him and his responses were negative. I had no other recourse but to resort to the newspaper technique I attested to onscreen.

To grab what ever source of reading media is handy is not a good idea when  disciplining a dog.  I nearly destroyed Princess Diana in her wedding dress while brandishing my January 1982  collectible edition of Life Magazine on my dog’s heinie.   My dog did not even blink a cows eye, probably due to the fascination of the young Ingenue  in her over blown dress and sparkly tiara.

I should have grabbed the  the ’73 Life  Special Report featuring Nixon and Bebe Rebozo boating in Biscayne Bay. Yeah, that might have calmed Charly’s Mojo. Although  his Mojo is no match for my Mojito….

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Call off the Blogs

Whose correct here. Who is the master behind all the dog trivia and guidelines. Who?

I sought the advice of professionals and had my dog neutered. I listened to the  hounding of many EDO’s and Vet’s and Vet Technicians and friends and families, and dog owning neighbors with the regards to getting your  pet fixed.

I did extensive Google-ing  on this subject until my search engines could no longer Bada-BING, and with all this information circling my brain I came up with one testimony that was consistent with everyone:

” This will calm your dog down and make him less aggressive”.

BULL-testicles!. My dog was calming down just nicely two weeks prior to his operation which nearly made me cancel the appointment. In fact, I think Charly-dog had an inkling of what his future held and he was more obedient than a beaten red-headed orphan. But now, now we are two weeks post-op and you would think he was constantly being stunned by a cattle prod.

Everything I trained him in for the last ten months has completely left his Bobble-pea brain and he has regressed back to the day I lifted him out of that stained Graco playpen fighting for his life with three other siblings in a smoke filled trailer. He is snapping and growling and biting his leash, he is running in circles around the house jumping on furniture he never knew existed before.

Charly has started a new habit of digging and pawing, and hiding disgusting overpriced dental chews under the draperies. This is not the pup I left muzzled and unconscious on a chilly  stainless steel counter  just weeks ago in the hands of a certified Vet.

I wonder if he got switched at the In-humane society with another look alike Chaniel? It could happen, there were other black and white pups with black fabric gluing their snoots quiet. Thank God I used a florescent magic marker  on his belly to draw a neon arrow pointing to the correct  operable region.

These things can happen,  I have heard of stories of babies switched at birth, and operating room surgeons removing the wrong limb, maybe my puppy didn’t get neutered and still hides his cojones in his back pocket.

Maybe this organization just collected my $75 and had me watch him go under the gas and then retreated to  a dunkin do-nuts break while my dog lays in a Curariform coma.

Maybe I didn’t notice  a difference in his balls because they could have shrunk from resting on the cold steel table. All I can say is that Charly is still showing signs of aggression and I expected him to cut that out when they cut his dogly-hood.

I am a type A personality who expects things to happen immediately and not over any length of time. Why, when they cut my female apparatus out and did not furnish me with replacement therapy, I didn’t start biting at the leash when I went out for walks, or growling and barking at people and chasing after White Escolades, or sitting endlessly in a corner licking my wounds. NO, I handled it with all the grace and dignity that I could muster and merely reached for a bottle of Grey Goose…..

That’s the answer! I am going to get my dog wasted on Stoli’s until his hormone levels drop to a desired norm and room temperature. I wonder if he wants it straight or on the rocks. Or maybe blended with his Frosty-Pup.

There is one thing that needs to be addressed and that is his Chaniel barking. I thought that de-testicle-ing him would curb that barking enthusiasm, but it has not. No it has not. NOT ONE BIT. Maybe Charly and I need to take a time out from our hormone crash and sit out back with a pitcher of Martini’s and just gaze up at the Heaven’s and stir up the Cosmos until one of us has a Splashdown……….

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