Dog Wars

Life with four dogs in the house is definitely an adventure.

I know I've mentioned before that we have two dogs who live with us upstairs- a fluffy hotdog dog who moved in here with me (referred to in this post as Noodle) and a great big puppy who I've been referring to as Fang, who is generally big and goofy and was adopted by my girlfriend a couple of months ago. Noodle and Fang get along just fine, especially now that Noodle is over his fear issues and Fang is feeling more part of the family through our efforts of the past several weeks. If only there was only an upstairs to the house, but no, downstairs with my girlfriend's parents live no less than two more dogs: a massive but sweet-natured dog who weighs as much as I do (Hero) and a little, fuzzy teddy bear dog, his faithful Sidekick.

When Fang came to live in the house (before I did), my girlfriend and her mom tried (carefully) to introduce Fang to Hero. They met on leash a couple of times without too much drama, but then during the last attempt, ended up in a fight. No one was too physically damaged, fortunately. But ever since, Hero and Fang have not gotten along. No one wants another fight, so Hero and Sidekick have to be put in the back room anytime Fang needs to go outside (and therefore pass through the downstairs). It used to be just Hero who would be put away, until Sidekick tried to attack Fang seemingly unprovoked by anything other than the fact that he witnessed the earlier fight and wanted to support his Hero. So now both of them have to be lured into the back room with treats to be temporarily shut in. Any time Hero and Sidekick smell Fang being led through their downstairs territory, they let it be known what they think of the situation, as loudly as possible. As a matter of fact, Hero and Sidekick have been getting louder and louder in general since Fang came to live upstairs.

Another thing is that big dogs have a lot of energy, and gigantic puppies especially require a lot of walking. Fang came to my girlfriend (rescued from being tied out in a barn with only occasional food and water) completely untrained. She has a natural gift for getting animals to do what she wants, and has no trouble getting horses to listen to her, much less a naturally submissive dog. So he heels very well and is good on leash. The problem is that he's still a puppy, and he's big and strong and constantly wants to wrestle. Therefore, walking him is a physically demanding job. I haven't tried, but I'm pretty much positive it isn't something I should attempt. I learned my lesson during my very short-lived attempt to volunteer at my local shelter by walking the big dogs. I'm not very strong on a good day and run out of energy quickly. So this is why my girlfriend was the only one walking Fang since he got here a couple of months ago.

My girlfriend has carpal tunnel, which occasionally flares up at the least convenient times possible and renders her hands more or less useless. When she started her student teaching a few weeks ago, she was already having some problems which stress made ten times worse. It culminated in her staying home, completely drugged on pain medication, for two days last week. This was a bit difficult from the dog angle because poor Fang couldn't get any of his usual walks without my girlfriend's mom doing it for us. She doesn't have the same health problems I do, but hers also render her tired and weak a lot of the time, so it wasn't an arrangement that could last. We ended up pretty much convinced that we were going to have to find him a new home if walking him was too hard on my girlfriend's hands. We both got very sad about it because things were going so well with Noodle and Fang's relationship, plus Fang's relationship with me was getting stronger every day.

My girlfriend's mom got a good idea to try to come up with a way to walk the dogs without using hands. She got us a bungee cord, which didn't work, but we modified the idea. It took some fiddling, but we managed to rig a belt with two leashes so that my girlfriend can actually walk both Noodle and Fang at the same time without using her hands at all. She turns slightly to give corrections, and there is a dog on either side of her so that she can correct one without confusing the other. We were so relieved when we found a solution because both of us love Fang to death and didn't want to give him up.

So now the challenge we have is to try to smooth out the relationship between Fang and Hero, at least to the point of less barking and no more marking of territory (which Hero has done in the house since Fang moved in, more often at first but still occasionally now). Having watched a ton of Dog Whisperer episodes, I'm trying to get my girlfriend to walk Hero and Fang together because she's the natural leader of the household and I think that will help. She wants to work with Hero by himself first to remind him who's boss which is totally the first thing to do. I wish I could do it, being the one with time and functional hands, but I can't physically control a 60-pound dog on leash, much less one 60-pound dog and one that weighs just slightly less than I do, at the same time and when they may want to fight each other. So we're waiting until her hands recover a bit more. They are already a lot better this week- thanks to the belt contraption and me being her typist- so hopefully we can start working towards peace between the two packs of the house sometime soon.

Department Store Dog Whisperer

I had an interesting dream last night. I was with my mom at some department store in the changing rooms and I had my dog with me, only he was about half the size he actually is (therefore, tiny). I kept losing him in all the stalls. Luckily no one else was in there so I could go wherever I needed to to find him. When I did find him, we got in the car and drove over to my grandparents' house. My grandmother was there with this half-some-kind-of-terrier, half-dachshund that she had just gotten. He was way over-excited and pulling her down the street and when I tried to make suggestions she would brush them off. She needed to go somewhere, so my mom and I agreed to dogsit.

Then somehow we were in this fancy RV with nice furniture and everything, and we had my dog inside and my grandma's outside because he was going kind of crazy. I started to complain to my mom about owners who don't get their dogs enough exercise, and eventually decided to go see if I could tire out the crazy dog and calm him down.

It was so totally right out of Dog Whisperer, lol. I came outside all calmly and slowly claimed the entire yard while the dog went from barking at me and freaking out to calming down. Eventually I got him to sit, which was hard because he hadn't learned the command yet. And then I brought him outside. My tiny dog was sound asleep on the couch, and I was grateful because he's usually terrified of dogs. He didn't even twitch as I put the terrier mix on the couch, where he fell asleep right away. I watched them awhile and wondered if I was going to be able to control him in front of my grandmother since she belonged to him, and was contemplating how he did look a bit like a dachshund when he was asleep, when I woke up. Man it would be cool to have those mad skills in real life, hahaha.

Middle School Stress Out

Most of my dream was about middle school. It was actually some sort of weird combination of my actual middle school experience and the art college I'm about to stop attending. I had five normal subjects, plus a homeroom class that was apparently a fashion class that was preparing us to be models (probably because I was watching America's Next Top Model the other day). I was sitting in my various classes, trying to figure out how many classes I could drop because I was really overwhelmed, but the year was really close to over so it was hard to decide- I didn't want to take algebra again later, and in English there was just one project left and I thought it was going to be fun- an essay about your imaginary friends and a self portrait (hahaha). Basically I had way too much to do but there was no good way to slow down. I hated homeroom because it was really hard for me- I had to conjure various weird fashion clothing out of thin air and onto myself, plus find makeup and glitter and jewelry that matched to have on my face, and all in front of the class. I thought my costume that day wasn't too bad, but I wasn't very happy with it and thought the class was pretty pointless. Oh yeah, and it was full of people from my art college, haha. I was pretty sad thinking about leaving and not getting to see them anymore, which obviously has a basis in real life.

After struggling to find a way to drop things while also trying to concentrate in math and English, it was finally lunchtime. I grabbed my stuff and followed one of my real middle school friends into the bathroom. I was tired and hungry and really wanted lunch, so of course everything started to go wrong. First, this guy from my elementary school ran into my friend and knocked her over while we were putting all of our stuff down on the floor (we each had about five different bags, and one of mine was a koala backpack for some reason o.O). My friend started crying and I ran over and hugged her, and it took her awhile to calm down. Meanwhile, the entire bathroom got really busy, and then there kept being things wrong with the toilets (as always happens to me when I dream about bathrooms). It took us what seemed like forever to get to our usual lunch spot, which was apparently in the school's carpeted ballroom (because that makes sense). Our other friends were there- high school friends this time- and it turned out to be after school and we were waiting for calls from our parents. I pulled all of my homework out, still trying to figure out how I was going to survive until the end of the semester. Another one of my friends was really grumpy because she'd gotten a B on something, which is funny because it's so her, and the friend who had gotten knocked down was just really quiet and unhappy. Pretty soon I realized I should start packing up to take all of my stuff home, still no closer to figuring out what I was going to do about having too many classes.

I started shoving things into my massive backpack, and as I did more things would form on the floor, so that there was always one more pencil, or folder, or sheet of paper to stow away. After awhile the items got sillier- tiny stubby pencils, or a fistful of rubberbands, or marti gras necklaces in Christmas colors. I woke up while I was still packing.

I feel like there was another dream in the middle of all of that in which my girlfriend and her new dog were at my grandparents' house, trying to introduce him to my dog, only I drifted off and had a dream about a house in a puzzle I'm working on. But I don't remember anything else about that.

Festive Music

Halloween has always been my favorite holiday. Something about getting to dress up like an animal and having it be not weird, most likely. It's been several years since my last trick-or-treating expedition- I eventually admitted to having grown out of it, and when you can't eat the candy anymore (because there's soy or gluten in pretty much all of it) it kind of loses its purpose.

The other side of Halloween- the horror film, blood and gore, scary music, dead rotting people side- has never been something I've enjoyed. I think it has to do with the fact that these things tend to show up in my dreams, which are creepy enough to begin with without any encouragement, thanks. I could write horror films by simply recording my nightmares back before Xyrem. Also, being afraid has never been something I enjoy, even though I know people who actually like it. The weirdos.

All this week I've been watching tv- with all the horror movie previews- and I've ended up coming across the usual stupid fake skeletons in people's yards a lot. At the same time I've been sleeping steadily worse every night this week. So of course last night there were creepy rotting people all the heck over my dreams, and I kept brushing up against them on accident and feeling them- at one point I was swimming in an inky black cave that was completely underwater, and they were all over the floor, and there was a current in there that kept me from easily swimming out. It was a tiny part of a whole lot of complete nonsense that lasted all night, and besides that mostly wasn't creepy. But I woke up dead tired because I had spent all night in REMland instead of getting actual rest. I didn't dare try to sleep in because I knew it would just be more crazy dreams, so I ended up taking a nap right after breakfast instead. It took caffeine to get me through my class okay.

So I get to my class in the afternoon. It's Introduction to Audio, so it's basically about music. So of course our instructor thinks it would be really awesome to play us some creepy music so we can talk about what makes it creepy.

As soon as he announced this I started to tense up. The last time I got talked into watching a horror movie it was the music that really kicked my ass. I was creeped out for months after that. So even without the visual I knew I was pretty much screwed. Still, it didn't occur to me to just leave. I can be stubborn about these things in kind of a bad way.

From the first note of squealy, screechy music I was totally freaked out. And as I was expecting, even after it was turned off, it kept playing in my head. On the way home I blasted bad pop music, but when I got home and turned off the car it was back, screeching away in my brain where I couldn't escape from it. It took lots of happy music and watching Kung Fu Panda to finally get it out of there. So I went upstairs, feeling the inner peace and totally doing fine again.

I'm sitting next to the tv (with it off) eating dinner when my dad comes home and sits down. He turns on the tv, and there's the music again, in a stupid preview for yet another new horror flick. I ask him to mute it. He doesn't hear me. I ask him again. I finally yelled, and he heard me and muted it, looking like I was totally weird for being that insistent. And then he ends up watching this spoof horror movie- probably one of the Scary Movies- and it has the same damn music. I was so out of there. I grabbed my dog and ran for it. When I got downstairs I was shaking.

I decided I needed out of the house. So I got my dog leashed up and we went for a walk. As soon as we got outside I felt better. It's a cool, clear evening, and the moon is beautiful tonight. Walking down the street, looking up at it, I remembered why I like Halloween so much. There's nothing quite like walking around after dark under such a nice moon.

Sleepover Design Star Art Class

Well, I was back to crazy dreams last night. In the first one I was part of this Design Star reunion thing, where all the contestants from the most recent season came back to design this house. They all worked together on the one big room in this really open house, and then one of them did the outside. I was on the film crew or something; I wasn't a designer. I was trying to film the reveal, but the contestant who was doing the explaining was really bad at it. The house looked crazy though. The entire living room wall was covered in blue bathroom tiles, everything in the house clashed because it was all intense colors, and the art they had chosen to put in there was really bizarre. The outside of the house looked like a castle, but they had painted it light blue and white with giant gold reliefs of animals.

That dream morphed into one about everyone who had been involved in the project sleeping over at my grandparents' house. There were like twenty of us in one of the rooms, and I kept trying to get sleep but everyone was being loud- they had all gotten a lot younger and we were all like 12 year olds now. One of my cousins was there, and I was really glad because I haven't seen her in a long time. I kept losing stuff and when people finally started to leave the next day they left a giant mess. I tried to get the remaining people to help me clean it up, but they kept getting distracted. There were stuffed animals everywhere and I had trouble telling which ones were mine- I would find one that looked a lot like one of mine but then something was different; it was sown up in a different place or had something weird missing or was a slightly different color. Eventually we got it mostly cleaned up in there and started looking at a website a couple people had been working on the night before. It was about plans for a movie they were going to make, but it wasn't done right because if you tried to run it Flash would spaz out as if the code was wrong.

Then that turned into me starting this new art class. I had been looking forward to it but the teacher turned out to be really mean and confusing, and he kept showing transparencies of charts of little thumbnails of paintings. I didn't have any idea what he was talking about and he kept getting frustrated with other students and telling them off for not drawing things right. At one point we were supposed to draw lion heads and mine ended up with two sets of eyes on accident, and he yelled at me to fix it. At the end of class I was panicking because I didn't understand what the homework was for next time but I was too afraid of the scary teacher to ask him, so I decided to just make something up.

Obviously I'm not ready for next quarter to start tomorrow, lol.

I Wish This Was Interesting

Today was a serious case of wanting to accomplish something but being too tired. So instead I watched tv until my eyes hurt from staring at a screen for too long, then read the bad fantasy novel I'm currently working on until I got fed up with the pointless drama and found myself skimming more than reading. And then I played silly games on my iphone for awhile.

Well, I guess I did do something with my day- I went to lunch with my dad and dinner with a friend, so I didn't even have to cook. That was pretty nice. But most of my day was spent lying around wishing I was doing something else. To be fair, I did try to draw a couple of times during the day, but just ended up staring into space and zoning out after a few minutes. Yeah, a sinus infection is definitely in the works.

Even right now I would like to be writing about something interesting, but instead I really need to just go lay down again. So never mind.

It's a Mystery

Today I only really had one thing to do, which was to work as much as possible on my project for Friday. I ended up spending about two hours on it, split up throughout the day. Even though I'm impressed with how much I managed to get done on it in that short a time, I wish I'd been able to do more. I have a lot of really great ideas for it but I'm just so rediculously tired today.

I'm trying to figure out what's going on exactly. I haven't eaten anything new or adventurous lately. I've been really careful not to overextend myself with my homework this week. I did have caffeine yesterday, which helped a lot then but might be part of my crashing today. And my sinuses have been getting suspiciously gunky, which never bodes well. I really, really hope that it's not another sinus infection. I've made it to week seven of this 11 week quarter and I'm going to get really mad if I can't get all the way through it without getting sick and falling behind in my classes again.

It might also be the earrings. I'm not quite used to them and it actually might be effecting my sleep more than I want to admit. I definitely haven't been sleeping well this week, but it might also just be the lowered dose settling in.

Basically I don't know what did this to me today, but I spent most of it too tired to do anything but watch tv. And then my dad came home with his not-exactly-accidental comments about how watching tv is a waste of time. Well, if I had the energy to do something else I would. Especially since there's nothing I actually want to watch on most of the time, and I have a great project that I'm really excited about to work on. If, you know, I could work on it for more than 30 minutes at a time without getting so exhausted that I find myself staring blankly at the screen, trying not to dose off.

Yeah. Class tomorrow is not going to go well.

Fashion Police

Last night I actually did manage to get to sleep at a decent hour. I slept pretty well for most of the night. By morning I was tossing and turning some, and had an interesting dream in which I was this life coach person who was helping out people who had gotten makeovers on What Not To Wear. The last part of the show (after the hair and makeup) now featured me giving the person daily life advice and encouragement for the first day after they returned home. There were at least four people I was doing this for, one after another, and the film crew was there capturing it for the different episodes. We kept having to wait while everything got set up, and I remember stressing out about what I was wearing during the filming because I knew Stacy and Clinton were going to watch it later and I didn't want to be their next victim, but all I could find to put on were baggy t-shirts and faded jeans. I'm pretty sure my advice was really random- I remember explaining to one woman that she shouldn't feel bad for spilling a cup of tea at a party because it wasn't her fault and these things just happen sometimes. I also reassured her that remembering people's names is hard and not to feel bad if you can't keep track of them.

This just goes to show that I watch What Not To Wear more times a day than is probably healthy, lol. It comes on at convenient times when I'm sitting down to eat, and it doesn't help that my mom likes to tape it. I've been known to see up to four episodes in a day, more if I'm especially sick or tired. I enjoy it for several reasons that I like to tell myself are good reasons. For one thing, it's interesting to watch people go through a mental transformation in addition to the more superficial, outward transformation. It seems to really help people see themselves as important and gives them a boost of confidence. I also watch it to learn about clothing and appropriateness and how to tell when something really fits. You could say I've been going through my own image transformation for awhile now, and I need the advice.

I was very much stuck in a rut for many of the years I was sick and undiagnosed. I started to collect animal shirts when I hit my teenage years, and continued to buy the same size even as I began to lose weight. I did the same with already baggy cargo pants, and then switched to buying them in the boy's department when I stopped finding them in the girl's. This wasn't because I was particularly attached to my look; it was more because I was living in permanent autopilot and it never occured to me to come up with something else. I eventually got the inclination to come up with a new style when I had been in college for a year or so, but energy was very much a factor. Because of this lack of energy I hated shopping. I thought it was just something I didn't enjoy, but now I realize that I was trying to do too much at once. My mom and I would go to the mall and try to do it all in one sitting- but pretty soon I would start dragging. Nothing is enjoyable when you're about to fall over because you've been on your feet for too long.

It was because of this exhaustion and my bad experiences with shopping for clothes that it took me several years to even really think about changing the way that I was dressing. Once I did decide to change, it was a question of what to change my look to. I did some experimenting and found that I had no idea what I was doing. Finally I went to my aunt for advice, who encouraged me to look in more trendy stores. Since then it's been hit and miss for a year or so. I do feel like I'm starting to figure out how I want to look, but it's come on slowly. I've tried many things and given a lot of it to charity, but one thing I have learned is how to shop. Basically I have to pick a day when I don't have a class, important errands or anything else for that matter. Then I can go to one store, and because I'm standing the whole time I can only really spend an hour there. I usually end up with one or two items, if I'm lucky. Then I come straight home and lay down. The advantage to this is that I officially like shopping now. Trying a few things on is fun, even when I don't find anything that I really like. There is definitely an advantage to knowing your limitations.

I only started watching What Not To Wear this past year, and it's been really helpful in my quest to figure out how I want to look. But I have to admit that I also like it because it's just funny. There's something rediculously entertaining about watching the hosts sneak up on people. What can I say, I can't help myself.

Murder, I Wrote

Last night I had a pretty scary experience. I had one of my now-rare nightmares, and of course thought it was all real and that I really was inside a murder mystery.

My mom has been into murder mysteries forever. She's always reading mystery novels, and watches shows like Psych, Monk, Matlock, Diagnosis Murder, etc. And one of her favorites is Murder, She Wrote. I used to watch it with her growing up, and we've both seen almost every single episode. What I like about it (and, actually, the other shows I listed) is that it's very light-hearted in a way. So it isn't stressful to watch, and it's fun to try and predict what's going to happen since a lot of times the episodes have a pattern. Like how the main character always has some friend who you know is going to get framed, or the fact that any time there's a red-haired woman you know she did it. And every episode ends with what my dad fondly calls the "ha-ha!", in which everything turns out okay and the last line is supposed to be funny.

Normally I enjoy Murder, She Wrote. But last night it wasn't so fun.

It started with me and my aunt staying in a room at this large, vacant mansion. There was (of course) a really loud thunderstorm outside, and it was getting late and therefore pitch black outside except for a couple of porch lights. We were supposed to be there alone, so no one else should be on the property. Our room had a tv on one wall and a sliding glass door without curtains or blinds that opened onto a wooden porch outside, which was illuminated by a porch light. We were watching tv, and I keep seeing movement out on the porch out of the corner of my eye. I looked out and kept seeing shadowy people sneaking past the door and going around the house. I told my aunt and she was totally not concerned and tried to explain it away.

It was strange because I was definitely in the episode, but somehow also knew all about the usual episode pattern- so I could try to predict what would happen. I realized that the shadow people were possible suspects and that a murder was going to take place that night, and we would probably find a body the next morning, and that I would have to remember all the details in order to report them to the police. At that point I was mainly worried about how I was going to remember everything.

We woke up the next morning, and, expecting there to have been a murder I led us in a search of the house. But no one had died apparently, so I decided it would most likely happen during the day as most episodes have the murder close to the beginning. I decided to keep my eyes open so I could have a chance of seeing clues and being able to figure out who did it.

All day, we kept meeting other characters in the episode, the details of which I tried really hard to keep straight, but it was very confusing and I couldn't keep track of who was important and who wasn't. No one died though, and I began to wonder- I mean, a murder mystery with no murder doesn't make any sense. Someone was going to die at some point, and I couldn't for the life of me figure out who it would be.

Later on I decided to explore the expansive grounds. I was looking around in the gardens and trees when it started to get dark and I realized I was lost. Finally I spotted the house, far away. I started hurrying toward it, seriously worried about the fact that this is exactly the time for someone to die. Then I realized I was surrounded. And suddenly I was hit by the terrifying realization that it was me- not one of those other people- who was going to be murdered. The fact that I was going to die in the next few minutes hit me so hard with terror that my eyes jerked open, and I found myself on my back in bed, paralyzed and surrounded by dark shapes of people who I was sure were going to kill me. I tried to move and realized the truth, and slowly and with relief I gained back my ability to jerk my head sideways and fully wake up.

I was very nauseated, very groggy, my eyes kept trying to shut and it took all of my focus to keep myself awake enough to not be immediately plunged back into the nightmare, which was hovering just on the inside of my mind's eye, waiting to suck me back in. I fought sleep with all I had until I was able to reach over and turn on my lamp.

Thank god for bedside lamps. I can't count the number of times that lamp has saved my ass. I sat up and fought more successfully to wake up. It was 45 minutes until time for my next dose of Xyrem, but I knew that without it I would just fall right back into the dream, and I was way too tired to stay awake for 45 minutes. So I went to the bathroom, trying not to imagine people jumping out at me to grab me and trying to shake the lingering fear of imminent death. When I got back I took my next dose early, and fell sound asleep until the morning.

When I woke up I was impressed with how Narcolepsy can make anything, even something as silly as Murder, She Wrote, completely terrifying. Go figure.

The Best Dog Ever

I took my dog out in the yard a moment ago, to a familiar occurance that happens to really get on my nerves. Another dog and owner were passing by, and my dog started to growl. I sternly told him to stop with a word and a hand signal, in an attempt to keep him relaxed until the other dog left. And as often happens, the other owner started telling my dog it was okay for him to growl (which fortunately, he doesn't understand) and acting like I was the meanest owner ever for actually bothering to give my dog discipline. I know the other owners in the neighborhood mean well, and that I would do better to explain myself to them instead of ignoring them or brushing them off, but I can't stand it when people start talking to me like I'm the worst person ever toward my dog.

Part of why this really gets to me is that I have the best dog in the entire world, and am very conscious of this and sincerely want the best life possible for him. The two of us have gone through a huge amount together, and he makes my life worthwhile in every way. And a big part of our unshakable relationship comes from how hard we've worked together to enrich his life and refine his now considerable manners.

When I was in Tokyo for an academic year of college, my host parents told me they were thinking of getting a dog and that if I wanted, I could take him home with me when I left if I got attached. This was the most amazing offer to me because I've always loved dogs, but never really got to live with one. My dad is definitely a cat person, and my mom is allergic to anything with fur or feathers, so aside from a couple of backyard dog experiments that mostly turned out badly, I never had a real pet of my own. I went to check out a pet store one day, not really intending to get anyone yet, and suddenly there was this furry ball of two-month-old dachshund shivering in my arms. I was instantly sold.

Not that I had any idea of what to do with a puppy, never having had any training in that direction. Several days later, he was already wreaking havoc all over my host family's condo. The rest of my trip I spent belatedly figuring out important things, like how to housetrain a puppy, how to teach him not to constantly bite you, how to mostly keep him from chewing things up (that took much trial and even more error), how to teach him to walk on a leash, etc. By the end I had to pay a lot of money to replace the ill-fated carpet in my bedroom, and had many arguments with my host mom on what to feed him and how to do everything. Luckily my host parents not only remembered it was technically their idea in the first place, but fell in love with him just as much as I had in the pet store.

At that point his manners were dubious. He's a very headstrong guy, for one thing, and needs persuasion that for a long time I didn't know how to give him. So when I brought him back to the States, he immediately took over the house that summer. My mom completely spoiled him, and kept giving him piles of chicken for no reason when he was begging. He got way out of control and enjoyed humping everything in sight. He also figured out that barking is fun, which he proceeded to do any time I shut him in my room to keep him from destroying things. I was worried and quite annoyed with him by the end of that summer. I was also feeling pretty crappy, which didn't help the situation.

When I went back to college I brought my dog to live in the apartment with me, three friends and two cats. It quickly turned out that one of my housemates was very allergic to him, which caused room switching and forced him to be confined in a baby-gated room. It was back to total havoc again right away. He started barking and barking when I was out of the room, peeing in random places on the floor and chewing up my roommate's belongings. I got him fixed, which helped a little, but I still hadn't really figured him out so I wasn't sure what else to do. It strained relations with everyone else in the house and was just more stress added to my already stressful situation. That said, there were some good times, though- we would go on long walks in the woods, which we both enjoyed. I really miss those walks. We don't live anywhere near woods anymore.

After graduation, we moved back home to a different house and another difficult arrangement. My dog had to stay on the first of three floors because of my mom's allergies and his lack of manners. And that's when I decided we were going to start working on his behavior problems. I started doing research and discovered the Dog Whisperer and It's Me or the Dog, two really good dog psychology shows. I learned a huge amount from both and started to combine the two techniques. It really allowed me to begin to understand what was going on in his little dachshund head, and I figured out how to finally communicate with him. We worked so hard for the last year, and with exercise, discipline, affection, hand signals and tasty treats, he's now the perfect gentleman. I up the challenge every day to keep him thinking, and every day he amazes me more and more with how hard he works and how well he listens. We went from crazed uncontrolled barking to the occasional single bark, and I can tell him to stop barking and he will immediately. We went from jumping and humping greetings to head low, tail wag meetings. We went from him dragging me down the street to perfect heeling. When I stop, he sits right down. It's astounding how completely awesome he is.

There is still something else to work on now. He's very afraid of other dogs because I didn't socialize him when he was younger, what with living in Tokyo and not knowing anyone. He was starting to get over it from walking around our neighborhood and meeting dogs, until one attacked him. Ever since then, we both get scared when we come across other dogs on the walk. Right now the best I can do is damage control- I discourage him from growling and barking at other dogs because I know that his anxiety could lead into aggression if I allow it to escalate. I distract him when he gets nervous with games and commands. What he really needs, I think, is long exposure to a big group of dogs that aren't going to attack him. I'm not sure how to accomplish this, as I really think something like a dog park would be a disaster because most people don't have enough control over their dogs to make it safe.

In the meantime, I would like all the people who spoil their dogs and think I should do the same to lay off the "but antagonizing other dogs is normal!" and "disciplining your dog makes you mean!!" lectures, because frankly I know I'm doing what's best for my dog at this point, and all our hard work has paid off. I love my dog more than anything in the world, and his life is rich with challenges, fun games and boundaries that make it a structured and relaxed existence. He's happier these days and I am, too. He's so polite now that he's gained another floor of the house, and now we can watch our favorite dog training shows together.