DR. BELLYRUB
Ask The Advice Terrier
Piper answers dogs’ questions about the weird things their humans do.
Welcome to another edition of Ask The Advice Terrier. I’m Piper La Grange, a twelve-year-old female Border Terrier, and I’m here to answer dogs’ questions about their relationships with humans.
This week’s email is from Max, an eleven-year-old Schnauzer from Schaumburg, Illinois.
Dear Piper. My human-mom and I have grown apart over the years. I’ve assumed a supervisory role. That makes mom my administrative assistant. But she doesn’t get it. I used to carry my fetch-stick in my mouth when we went for walks. Now mom should carry it in her mouth, but she won’t. After she throws a ball, she looks at me like I’m supposed to chase it. And how about when we come across a rotting carp while walking along the creek? It’s not my job to roll over it!
Part of me loves mom and wants to stay with her. But part of me thinks I’ve pulled into Splitsville and its time to change trains. What should I do?
Let’s cut to the chase, Max: the relationship with your mom has run its course. Dump her and move on with your life. How do I know that’s the right choice? Because I’m in the same blankie with my mom.
Back when I was a pup, Mom and I were besties.
- We’d butt-scoot side by side across the linoleum kitchen floor.
- We binge-watched Hallmark® movies in bed — me with my Snausages® and a bowlful of water, and Mom with her jerkies and a bowlful of Budweiser.
- In the Winter, we’d squat outside and made yellow smiley emojis in the snow.
- In the Summer, we’d scamper down the street and leave spam pee-mails on people’s mailbox posts.
Our life was wonderful together. We figured it would last forever.
But it couldn’t. Our relationship was in the Infatuation Stage.¹ That’s the most intensive phase in a loving partnership. The couple’s endorphins are surging. They make them elated, enchanted, and adoring. Consequently, the partners feel head-over-heels in love with each other.
Unfortunately, that euphoria prevents couples from seeing reality. They:
- Overlook each others’ flaws;
- Ignore their incompatibilities; and
- Assume they can overcome irreconcilable differences.
Inevitably, the Infatuation Stage ends. The endorphins peter out, the ardor cools, and the tails stop wagging. Humans and woofers see each other for who they really are.
That’s when they enter the Transition Stage.¹ It’s the most perilous phase in dog/human relationships. They see their differences plainly. They realize they’ve gotta be resolved. So they try to baby-talk them out to come up with rules each partner can live by.
Hopefully, a dog and human come up with a mutually agreeable compromise. Such as, the human accepts that the dog will break their rules. So they agree to abide by the pooch’s rule. If that happens, they reach the True Love Stage.¹
Unfortunately, many dogs and people break up during the Transition Stage. People naturally blame the dog, same as when they fart. But typically, break-ups are the human’s fault. That’s because, as time goes by, people stop being cute, cuddly, and fun to have around.
A perfect example is my mom.
Mom’s not as sharp as she used to be. Naturally — she’s twelve. That makes me over seventy in dog years, and Mom over seventy in human years. Anyway, last week she got frustrated because she texted a fellow geezer to set up a play-date, and he didn’t respond. Turns out Mom typed the text into her calculator.
Mom’s not as affectionate as she used to be. Yesterday, while I was dozing on her lap, she felt me up. I was pleasantly surprised: it’d been a long time since she’d patted my heinie. Turns out I was mistaken. She was feeling around down there for the TV remote control.
Mom’s not aging gracefully. I’m still a cutie patootie. Mom has a droopy patootie. The sagging didn’t stop there. Mom brought home a stray from Dick’s Pour House last Saturday night. He tried to cop a feel on her boobs while they walked to the bedroom. “Aim lower, hoss,” she said. “They’re not up there anymore.”
The main problem with our relationship is Mom’s behaviors. They used to be adorable. Now they’re embarrassing. It’s gotten to the point where I’m thinking of putting Mom up for grabs by setting her out on the curb.
Here’s Mom’s most annoying behaviors.
Scratching
Sure, I’ve been guilty of compulsive scratching. I’ve shagged my ass against the heating grate so often, I’ve scuffed off the paint. But Mom’s worse. Just the other morning, I trotted into the kitchen to find Mom cooking grits on the stove. “For chrissake Mom,” I barked. “Put on some bloomers before scratching your crack!”
Snoring
Dogs think humans are funny when they make little snore snorts. Mom isn’t. If she’s had a nightcap of three fingers of Old Tub®, Mom’s nose’ll sound like an eighty-piece snorechestra. I can sleep through it. But I’ll have nightmares that I’m being chased by maniacal lumberjacks with chainsaws.
Farting
When dogs hang out together and smell a fart, we use the standard dodge: blame a human. If Mom’s there, it’s righteous. Mom’s notorious for making bronto-farts. She doesn’t need much to make ’em: Mom’s butt barks if she so much as looks at a can of baked beans. She’s especially well known for cutting ’em during church services. Just last Sunday, her sphincter siren sounded during the scripture lesson.
Mom could mitigate the problem. She could let out a string of pooter poofs instead of one thunder-down-under. Trouble is, Mom thinks her fanny only fluffs. She’d know the truth if she changed the batteries in her hearing aids.
Chasing
This is adorable when Mom does it in her dreams. She’ll be napping on the sofa; suddenly, her legs kick like she’s running. She’s dreaming of chasing a brawny FedEx driver down the street. Trouble is, last week, she really did chase a hunky FedEx driver down the street. She’d have caught him, too, if her walker hadn’t slowed her down.
Humping
I understand why Mom humped a lot when she was young. Though she experienced spotting² every four weeks, she was constantly in heat. I figured she’d outgrow it. No such luck. “My womb room may be dry as dust,” says Mom. “But where there’s lube, there’s a way.”
Another thing. Mom used to only hump strays she brought home from the bar. But as she’s aged, she’s grown friskier. I’m worried she’ll consider a stranger at the front door to be a “target of opportunity.”³ I’m not concerned about traveling salesmen; they’ll do anything to seal a deal. Or as Mom put it, “If I’ve got the money, Honey, they’ve got the time.” But what about those fresh-faced Jehovah’s Witnesses in their starched white shirts and pressed black slacks? I’d be mortified if Mom tried to grind their thighs while they spread the Gospel.
The bottom line, Max, is this: the relationship with your mom may have run its course. It may be time to cut the leash.
I realize that’s hard to face. When I adopted Mom, I promised to make her happy for the rest of her life. But I didn’t think she’d last this long. Yeah, it’s hard to imagine life without Mom. But that’s no reason not to try.
That said, Max, don’t be hasty. You may be able to heal the relationship with your mom. Here’s some things you can try.
Do a trial separation. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder,”⁴ they say. So stake mom out in the yard for a few days, and see if that makes you want to let her back inside.
Put a shock collar on mom. When she exhibits a problem behavior, use the remote control to give her a thousand-volt “correction.” Just be careful. My mom and her boy-toy du jour were making rumpy-pumpy in the bedroom one day. I thought they needed to dial it down a notch. So I gave her a shock. Crimeny, their screams gave me a shock! Turns out they were getting their freak on in the shower.
Say your mom’s chewing is driving you nuts. I get it: my mom used to grind her teeth when she slept. I found a solution. After we get in bed and she nods off, I sneak up to her face and slip a rawhide chew chip between her teeth. No, I don’t waste new ones on her. I give her chips I’ve already chomped on. Yeah, they’re slimy and smelly. So to help her wake up with a pleasant taste in her mouth, I marinate ’em in Mad Dog 20/20.
What peeved me most was when Mom borrowed the six-inch nylon bones I gnaw on. I’d find ’em later on the floor beside her bed, but it still bugged me. Then I discovered a simple way to make her stop stealing my toys: put fresh batteries in her’s.
[1]: “The stages of love in relationships”, ACCPH, https://www.accph.org.uk/articles/the-stages-of-love-in-relationships
[2]: “How to Care for a Dog in Heat”, The Spruce Pets, https://www.thesprucepets.com/heat-cycle-for-dogs-3385378
[3]: “Target of Opportunity”, MilitaryDictionary.org, https://www.militarydictionary.org/term/target-of-opportunity
[4]: “Isle Of Beauty” by Thomas Haynes Bayly, PoetryExplorer, https://www.poetryexplorer.net/poem.php?id=10037120
