Victoria Stilwell is coming.
And I'm chomping at the bit. Who is she, you ask? She's the latest Brit to set us colonists straight--and make a pile of dough in the process.
To my total shock, I've been totally taken in by the dog training star of the Brit's "It's me or the dog." This intensely attractive woman dolled up in skin tight clothing and black leather boots, comes to the rescue of owners whose pets treat them like, well, dogs. These people are the equivalent of those unbelievable incompetent parents who can't control their offspring in Nanny 911.
Not to worry. Victoria, her posh accent, her chicken treats and her snazzy sports car are on their way across the pond to teach us her brand of tough love. She is often shot from below, arms crossed, making her look 10-foot tall and more intimidating than those women wrestlers. Regardless of her presentation, she is more lace than leather, unflappable but kind, confident and caring. I have picked up tips that actually work on my cat, Abbie.
I am entirely without sympathy for these clueless pet owners, many of whom claim to treat their pets like "children." Well, excuuuuuuuse me, but even THEIR children don't toilet all over the house.
And although I've become suspicious of the fairy tale outcomes, I still watch. (I just love the way she pronounces "dog".) This DD breezes into town for 2 days, turns the doggies and their OWNERS around and leaves for the owners to follow-through, checking back in two weeks and sometimes in 6 months.
Call me a cynic, but I find it difficult to believe that women-- whose dogs won't let their husbands so much as touch them for years and chase them from the connubial bed--don't have something a bit deeper going on. The men come off as pussy-whipped victims or sexist bullies who refuse to neuter male dogs who are abusing their partners, or walk a "girlie dog."
Animal Planet TV is taking over my house. I've become a regular viewer of animal cop shows (especially the one in NYC), wild animal rescue shows and have even watched the Grizzyman Diaries, made so poignant by its known tragic ending.
T'is a real puzzlement
My growing addiction to the Animal Planet is rather startling.. Looking over these posts, I realize a good many deal with pets. That also surprises me because I've never thought of myself as an animal person. For most of my adult life, I've viewed pets kindly, but at a distance. Much like people who chose to remain childless view other's kids.
As a child, I would discard one coloring book after another in search of one without those sickening baby animals. My interest rests solely in people. And my natural inclination isn’t helped by my youthful pet experiences.
I find my first pet, an adorable black and white Cocker Spaniel named Penny, gone one day as I return from my second grade class at South Grove Elementary down the block. My mother gives her away because we are not walking her. I never understood why she didn't let us say good-bye.
A few years later, it was Corky, a mischievous mutt, who also mysteriously disappeared. All I recall of Corky is my dad hitting her with a rolled-up newspaper while sticking her nose into her poo, as part of his "house training." (Our DD would have been mortified.)
Then it was Snowball, the first tiny calico cat. By then I was a teenager. And guess what? She went missing one day, never to be seen again. Decades later, my mom told me she was mauled to death by a neighbor's German Shepard.
So it's not a total shock it took me years get back on on the horse, so to speak. After my children are out of the house, I gradually acquire three cats-- the aforementioned Abbie and Rosie, along with my daughter's adult male, Starbuck. Over the past several years, I have cared for my aunt and uncle's Rottweiler, Tammy, and Angel, my friends Lab. And my bonding with these large, aging dogs has been intense.
So, Animal Planet it is. No politics, no financial moaning and groaning. Just a bit of barking now and then.
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