Moving in with Marco and his dog has meant that now, zap, I’m an instant dog owner. And since I’ve never had a dog before, not even when I was a kid, the sudden upgrade has left me feeling a little helpless. Like when I’m walking Piggy, and she meets a dog that she for some reason HATE-HATE-HATEs with the heat of a thousand hot lavas, and she hurls herself at the offending animal while unleashing a bowel-loosening crazy train of “ai, ai, ai” screams, apparently it’s not enough to stutter “n-n-noo” and tug wanly at her leash. Clearly there is some sort of authority that needs to be exerted, some line drawn deeply into the sand, but the new-to-me blend of public dog embarrassment + futility just unhinges me.

So I joined Urbanhound, a resource site for city dog owners, currently concentrating on SF, Chicago, and NY — my smart and pretty friend Laura writes for the site, which is why you should join the site, too, and get in on that be-Laura-ed newsletter! I also started watching Cesar Millan, aka The Dog Whisperer, he of the balls-out big-wheel Land Roller blades and the magic “ssshh!” capable of reining in/over all dogs. Marco, however, can not stand the sound Cesar’s voice, so I’ve taken to Tivoing TDW and watching it during the day when Marco’s not home, which has paved the way for some disturbingly long marathon Cesar sessions; if you threw a penny down into the crevasse that is my capacity for watching televised dog training, you would still be waiting for the sound of it hitting bottom. Still. Still. Stilllllll-lll-ll-l.

One of Cesar’s big not-so-secret secrets is that simply walking the dog on a regular basis curbs many behavioral issues. Not just around the block, though…long, tiring walks, forty minutes minimum per day. This leaves the dog too tired to go crazy, and also it reinforces the status of Owner as Alpha Dog. Which makes sense. I can do that! So that’s one thing: Piggy and I have been going for long, sweaty walks every day. One, sometimes two hours (the fact that I keep getting fantastically lost helps prolong things even more). And it seems to be doing good things for her nerves; at least she appears to have taken it down a few notches from her constant state of RED ALERT. (Evany: “I don’t know, maybe the Pig is depressed? She’s just lying there.” Marco: “No, I think we’ve just never actually seen her tired out before.”) Plus I suspect the walking might also be good for me and my ever-thickening layer of breakfast-brown fat, the result of weeks and weeks and also years of fried road foods, yeah.

So the walking is AWESOME cardio, and I’ve browned up a nice farmer’s tan. I’ve also been Cesar “shhhh“ing all over the place. It’s super satisfying and empowering, the “admonishment shhh,” and once you start using it, it’s hard to stop. I even caught myself shhh-ing at a girl who got between me and a really cute firework-splattered kimono top at For(N)ever Twenty-One (Not Ever Again). Though, thankfully, I’m almost sure my shhh-ziness got lost in the mind-scattering blast of neo new wave reheated Sparks that they pump around the clock at that store. (I am very old.)

Unfortunately Piggy is a huge leash-tugger, and all the walking was causing my leash-holding hand to blister in unpleasant ways. So I went to the pet store and, per the recommendation of one of the employees (whose voice Marco also couldn’t stand … Marco may be going crazy? More damning evidence: in the past month, his one surfboard has somehow given immaculate birth to three additional surf boards, all four of which are all stacked out on the landing?), I bought a choke chain.

The first time I tried the choke chain on Piggy, using that corrective “pop” (a fast tug and release), she gave a small, little yelp, and I almost threw up. And then I started to cry. Which was when I finally learned that I don’t really like inflicting pain on innocent animals. Especially animals that I, apparently, am now deeply in love with. PIGGY!

So the scene is this: I’m walking the streets of Oakland, weeping, with a little brown dog at my side, and of course I am also wearing a really weird outfit, with my rolling black orthopedic Masai barefoot technology shoes, drier-tightened sweats, and belly-revealing Neckfire tee, plus orange rain hat. It is, at first glance, the picture of a woman having a very particular strain of breakdown. But then, what? Piggy stops with the pulling! After that one yelp, she settles right in to walking calmly at my side. As in, choke chains really work! But still, all the not-pulling in the world wasn’t worth all the queasy I was feeling. So I raced over to the internet for some guidance, and I immediately found a million militant anti-choke chain sites. And then I found all these people who instead recommend the “pinch collar,” that scary, medieval ring of prongs? I guess the prongs mimic the gentle, guiding nip of a mother dog, versus violently puncturing the dog’s neck like I’ve always suspected. Nonetheless, they still make me feel a little woozy, plus they seem like a big, flowery invitation for exhausting Berkeley types to come a-tsking.

So I took Piggy down to a (different) pet store, and we spent an hour trying out a bunch of different collars. I didn’t test the Gentle Leader, which is a huge favorite among many dog owners if my informal polling is any indication, because Marco has already tried it with her, and reportedly it makes her scrape her head along the sidewalk. But I did try out the pinch collar as well as a few different sizes of choke chains, but Piggy responded best to a “European” leash, which is basically the same choke-loop setup but made out of soft, nylon-wrapped rope.

The new leash seems to be working okay, but Piggy still pulls against it when she gets super excited — squirrels, cats, dogs that reminder her of squirrels and cats — and then I feel queasy all over again. Anyway. (I just fell asleep typing this, it’s all so very boring and boring and boring…I guess my all-consuming obsessions are just as snorable as everyone else’s? And no I’m not getting any writing done these days, thank you.) ANYWAY! Caroleen.com has apparently had success with the Sense-ible harness, so I think I’m going totrythatnexttheend.

In other news (not really), Piggy has a new habit of lunging at Marbles the Cat whenever she, the Cat, tries to sharpen her claws on the furniture. Apparently, with all our clapping and yelling at Marbles to stop her from destroying the living room, we’ve accidentally trained Piggy to become a furniture narc! Which pleases and amazes Marco and me to no end, but leaves Marbles feeling very, very wary.