High School Hometown Ink!

I got a very welcome surprise today in the form of a phonecall from a Farragut Press reporter. I graduated from Farragut High School (Go Admirals!) and decided to, in my press release blitz a couple of months ago, send press releases down to Tennessee, figuring I might be able to get some ink-by-association.

Turns out I was right! The friendly reporter interviewed me for about ten minutes (I hope I didn't say anything too dumb) and said it would hopefully appear in next week's issue.

I'm going to have to ask my parents to pick up a copy for me; I'll keep you posted!

Happy Holidays!

As you can tell from the last couple of weeks--in which I've mainly posted my essays--my outgoing book promotion efforts (and results) are light right now during the holidays. The great news for me is that I have sold almost 100 books "from the trunk of my car" in the last 2 months, and that's in addition to the online sales from Amazon, et al.

What I have learned is that since I am relying on grass-roots methods, I have to work really hard while at the same time remain really patient. I look forward to trying some new things after the start of the year, like contacting some small radio talk shows and seeking new animal contacts that may have interest.

If you out there have any ideas for me, please e-mail me at the link on the right. As always, I would appreciate your telling your friends and family about the book!

To everyone out there who celebrates the holiday, I hope you have a very Merry Christmas!

Don't Take Candy From Strangers Who Are On Top of Your Roof

Lesson Number 7: Everyone Deserves To Be Fussed Over Now and Then, or...How To Raise a Princess Dog, part FOUR

When we moved to Naperville, a neighbor recommended Petsmart, a pet supply store. She told me that they allowed—-nay, they welcomed-—pets on leashes while their owners shopped. This was quite exciting to me, and shortly after I spoke to my neighbor, I put Bijoux in the car for our first field trip.

Bijoux became immediately confused when, after the ten-minute drive, I not only stopped the car, but also talked to her as if she were leaving the car with me. I think she, probably due to her intense sense of smell and her recognition that other animals had been there before us, thought that we were at a veterinarian’s office instead of a Walt Disney World for dogs. When walked around to her side of the car, I attached the leash to her collar and said, “Come on!” She didn’t move a muscle; she merely sat there staring at me, as if to say, “Are you kidding?” It took some coaxing, but I finally got her out of the car. I let her sniff around for a few minutes in the parking lot, and then we headed towards the entrance.

Freaked out momentarily by the “whoosh” and the rapid movement of the double electric sliding doors as we stepped onto the entrance pad, Bijoux needed more coaxing in order to enter the store. Once we did, however, she suddenly became excited and tugged on her leash, dragging me behind her on her first exploration in many years of a retail store since Leewards in Norfolk, Virginia.

Bijoux sniffed excitedly while we explored the aisles and aisles of dog supplies, from food to toys to beds to rawhide bones. Every now and then I had to pull on her leash a bit, to keep her from helping herself to the many treats that were “conveniently” placed at doggie level.

While we were there, I decided to take her in to the grooming department to get her nails clipped. The friendly woman who took care of us spoke to Bijoux for the duration of our visit, and when she finished with the business of nail trimming, she asked me if she could give Bijoux a treat. I said yes, and was lucky enough to witness the first occurrence of one of the funniest habits Bijoux had: her refusal to take treats from strangers. The woman held a Milk Bone between her thumb and forefinger and offered it to Bijoux, and Bijoux sniffed once and then turned her head away. She kept talking to Bijoux, asking her if she wanted it, and Bijoux walked away from her. Finally, I took the treat from the woman, thanked her, and walked Bijoux out to the main part of the store.

When we reached the end of the aisle, I called Bijoux to come closer, kneeled down, and offered her the Milk Bone. She promptly took it from my hand and held it between her teeth. As we walked around the store she didn’t chew it; she calmly held it in her mouth, occasionally dropping it and picking it back up, until we reached the car. I opened the passenger door and she hopped up into her seat and then ate the bone.

From then on, her routine from taking treats in public, from strangers, or at the vet, was the same. She refused any and all treats unless one of her family members gave them to her.



When it came to treats (in either variety: doggie snacks or people snacks), Bijoux was a happy camper when anything came her way. A pet peeve of mine grew over time as she became “grabby”, yanking the treat from the hand of the person who fed her, so to speak. It was time for more training. I wanted to teach her the command “Nice”, as in “Be Nice”. Each time I had a treat for her, I commanded her first to sit or lay down. My next command was “Niiiiiiiice”, and as I held the treat slightly above her mouth, she eventually learned to delicately take it from me, just barely grasping it between her teeth. She waited until I completely released it to her before she chomped down and enjoyed it. Going further, I sometimes put her treat between my teeth and got down on her level. I said, “Niiiiiice” as well as I could, and she learned to take it gently from me in this way as well.

One very enjoyable routine I had with Bijoux was discovered after I taught her the command “Speak”. The basic “Speak” command entailed my giving the order and her barking once. After a while we spiced it up: after she barked, I asked, “What?” She wagged her tail and barked again. “What’d you say?” I asked, watching her grow both excited and impatient, barking so that I would relinquish whatever treat I had in my hand.

Talking to Bijoux was one of my favorite things about spending time with her. (BLOGNOTE: I realize that there might be some non-dog people out there who are curious about my stories anyway and, in reading this, are now completely convinced that I am a freak. I'm not...and offer no apologies. LOL)

Sometimes in play, she “talked” to me while I tried to “steal” her rawhide bone. First she barked in her normal way. As I brought my face closer to hers and the theft was inevitable, she tried to “talk me out of it” by whining. As I whined back it antagonized her even more, and she got louder and louder until I clamped down on her bone and she either growled at me (To tell me to go somewhere else and get my own bone; she wasn’t really in the mood) or released the bone and licked my face.

Julie had some great “conversations” with Bijoux as well. Not being satisfied with that old joke about asking your dog what’s on top of the house (Roof), Julie took it one step further. She reached back into her memory banks and pulled out the lyrics to the Bloodhound Gang hit “The Roof Is On Fire”. As she stood in front of Bijoux, Julie said “The” and waited for Bijoux to add the “Roof!” Sometimes it took a little longer than others, but when Bijoux “roofed”, Julie would say “Is on Fire!” Repeating this the three times that’s required when singing the original song, Julie always stopped before going on with the rest of the song, which didn’t require Bijoux’s talents and was also quite vulgar.

The Importance of a Wardrobe and Good Hair and Nails

Lesson Number 7: Everyone Deserves To Be Fussed Over Now and Then, or...How To Raise a Princess Dog, part three

(BLOGNOTE: This one is a little fragmented...excuse the rough transitions; I am posting this as I last left it!)

Every princess values the way she looks, and always enjoys those special times when emphasis is placed upon her appearance. Or so I’ve heard. Frankly, we never would have wanted nor been able to afford the kind of dog which needed a regular grooming appointment with a professional. The biggest part of grooming Bijoux was trying to keep her nails clipped to a manageable length. Bathing her came in second, as nobody in the house likes a stinky dog. Further down on the list was brushing her, which is something I enjoyed doing when she was a puppy—not because it was something she needed—because it was quality time. Her coat was short and smooth by nature, and when our household life got filled with too many activities to handle in the time we had each day, I stopped brushing her. Bijoux hardly saw or felt her brush for years, getting treated to a stroking by brush only rarely.

One day, Julie asked if we had a brush for Bijoux. I told her where to find it, and she took Bijoux outside on the front porch. Bijoux sat down near Julie’s legs and reveled in the feel-good time as Julie brushed her. This became a tradition for them, and Princess Bijoux finally had a coat worthy of her status.



One of the important lessons one learns in raising a puppy is the attraction that said puppy has to any article of clothing belonging to its master. In many ways, it’s one of the methods a dog uses to indulge or pamper herself. Bijoux was no different. When we brought her home and said goodnight to her, we tucked her in with a blanket and one of our t-shirts. Part of the reason that socks were among her favorite toys to play with, I believe, was because we had worn them. It was no surprise, then, that we often found Bijoux nesting in our clean, freshly dried laundry. In fact, she made regular appearances (sometimes with muddy paws) not only on any huge pile of clean clothing that was waiting to be folded on the couch, but even in laundry baskets full of clean, folded clothing. I can’t count the number of times she actually dumped laundry baskets full of clean, folded clothing over, while trying to get in!

I also have a picture of Bijoux, cozy as could be, relaxing in my underwear and pajama drawer, which happened to be on the floor at the time because I had just sifted through it and refolded everything.

When she became sick, I tried to give her some comfort by leaving my robe on the couch so she could snuggle up in it while we were all gone for the day. I often returned home to find her entire body underneath the robe, with just her little face sticking out.



Bijoux went through a stage—or, rather, I went through a stage—where she enjoyed wearing different types of bandanas around her neck. I always thought it was hilarious to see dogs “dressed”, although I thought that the financial commitment that would be required to keep her in sweaters and such was not reasonable at all. I spent a couple of dollars on a pink bandana in the “Western Cowboy” style—with the paisley design and all—as well as a holiday bandana that was made specifically for dogs. Bijoux wore these bandanas daily, and they were quite the conversation pieces. After a while I “grew out of” my stage, and Bijoux went back to wearing her collar by itself. It wasn’t until about seven years later when Minnie stayed with us for a week that she again “got dressed”: I cut two funky pink and orange bandanas from some scrap I had in the closet, and the girls were twins during their visit.



Bijoux gave “neurotic” a whole new world of meaning in many different ways, but one of the funniest was her nail-biting tendency. I don’t remember her doing this for the first few years, however at some point in the middle of her life she was laying next to me on the couch and I heard a soft grinding noise. I looked down at her and noticed that she appeared to be chewing on her paw. I leaned in closer and took her paw in my hand to check it out. Her paw was disgustingly wet and slimy. I noticed that a couple of her nails were jagged, and then realized what she had been doing.

The next time we made a trip to the vet, I asked the doctor questions about her nail biting. I was told that I didn’t have anything to worry about, so I didn’t. Bijoux continued this habit for the rest of her life. It didn’t seem to be a nervous habit; for example, I didn’t notice her chewing on her nails on a car ride to the vet or upon being left home alone for the day. She seemed to bite her nails for two reasons: the first was to intentionally shorten them if it had been a while since I had her nails trimmed. The second reason for her habit appeared to me to be a way to fill time. It was not at all unusual for us to be sitting on the couch together (just as we were the first time I noticed the nail biting) as she gnawed away at her nails absent-mindedly, her eyes glazed over, in a sort of glorious ignorance of everyone and everything around her.

Click here for part 4!

Food, Glorious Food!

Lesson Number 7: Everyone Deserves To Be Fussed Over Now and Then, or...How To Raise a Princess Dog, part two


Everyone who reads any material on dog ownership knows that table scraps are a big no-no. I understand this, in theory. As someone who grew up with three dachshunds in the house who commenced vomiting whenever they ingested something that wasn’t made for dogs, I had great intentions of following this Golden Rule for dogs.

Alas, but great intentions are often thwarted by a combination of reality and cuteness. Bijoux learned how to beg without actually going through the motions. Her legs were too long and gangly to sit up on her rear end and beg in the traditional canine method. As a puppy, she begged by barking. We curbed that bad habit, but as a very creative animal, she found a way around that. In her later years she refined the art of begging. If her subject (usually me) was sitting at the dining room table, she would stand at the side, wagging her tail and either sneezing or letting out a “Hrrumph”. When that got her nothing (as was the usual case), she would disappear from sight…but only for a minute. She was under the table, and in the next moment, her head would suddenly pop into my lap, where she would rest it as she looked at me with those eyes (See Lesson on Cuteness). Her upper half would be completely still, but her entire rear end would move along with the intensity of her tail wag. When she was completely annoying, we commanded her to “Go lay down!” She backed up, not taking her eyes off of what she desired, until her back feet stepped off of the hardwood floor onto our area rug, where she plopped her body down in one clumsy motion. Eventually she would slink back over, only to be sent out again.

We discovered that Bijoux had certain “favorite” people foods by trial and error; that is, when we accidentally left a full lunch or dinner plate too close to the edge of the table and walked away from it to grab the ketchup or other accompaniment, Bijoux would calmly sneak over to it and make a calm, collected, well-thought out attack. We would return to the table to catch her, paws on the chair to hold her up, gobbling food like there was no tomorrow. After being scolded, she would slink away…but the memory of the food she ate lasted forever. After each instance (if it was something she really enjoyed), her begging would dramatically increase in urgency.

One of her favorite foods throughout her life was toast with peanut butter and jelly on it. It was something about the smell combined with her memory of the taste and texture (from her first Grand Toast Theft). Whenever this was on my menu, she went ballistic. She sat and stared at me as I ate it, cocking her head to one side and then the other. If I looked at her, she would sometimes pick up one paw, as if to tell me, “Hey…shake my paw. I’m offering! And then you can reward me with some peanut butter and jelly toast!” Eventually, when that got her nothing, she commenced light whining. Gradually the whining would build up to a bark/sneeze combination. It was surely one of the cutest things I had ever seen, and always got the best of me. In her early years, I would wait until the cuteness got to be unbearable before I would treat her. Later on and until the day she died, I always saved the last corner of my peanut butter and jelly toast for Bijoux, no matter if she asked for it or not. Wait. Who am I kidding? She always asked for it.

Toast in its raw form was just plain bread. Bijoux didn’t care about the formality of using a toaster. I once returned home from work to find a torn, empty, plastic bread bag on the kitchen floor. Thinking back to the morning rush in the house, I marveled at my own stupidity, having left a brand new loaf of wheat bread on the kitchen counter, completely within Bijoux’s reach. Looking at her guilty little face, tail tucked between her legs as she backed away from me slowly, and noticing that she looked physically fine at this point, I decided that she had waited probably a whole five or ten seconds after I left the house to “make the kill”. The poor loaf of bread never had a chance.

The other food that was in Bijoux’s top two was rice. The story of her attachment to rice has a strange “full circle” quality. As a puppy, Bijoux had some intense and mysterious intestinal problems. For many weeks she was on a diet of broth, chicken, and white rice. She loved it.

Over the years, Jim became quite fond of making Stir Fry for dinner. When Bijoux caught a whiff of the rice, she was beside herself. I started to put some rice in a bowl for her, and she ate dinner “with us”. She became so excited about the rice that she devoured it quickly, practically without chewing or breathing. We noticed that after her rice binge, her chest seemed enormous before the rice worked its way through her system. After we made this discovery, we took some control over her rice meal. We allowed her to take a couple of bites, and then one of us would command her to “Sit”. She sat down right in front of her bowl, head hanging down towards her meal, ears dangling millimeters away from the rice, and waited. We let her sit there for a moment or two, to make sure she had swallowed and taken a breath, and then one of us would say, “Okay!” That was her signal to continue eating. We repeated this exercise three or four times, and she would walk away from her empty dish satisfied, but not overly plump as before.

In her final months of life, she wouldn’t eat her dog food. Desperate for her to get something in her stomach, I cooked chicken and rice, and sometimes scrambled eggs, for her daily. At the end she wouldn’t even touch the rice, and I understood that she wouldn’t live much longer.

Click here for part 3!

Deja-vu, All Over Again!

I found out yesterday that the book also appeared in the Wheaton/Glen Ellyn Glancer, the sister magazine (and almost identical twin on the inside) of the Naperville Glancer. So yay!

Finally, Another Appearance in the Press...

Yay...a friend told me on Friday evening that another of my press releases paid off; Remembering Ruby was in the Naperville Glancer. She was kind enough to bring me her copy this morning.

I didn't scan it for the blog because it's basically a recap of the newspaper article of a few weeks ago (they basically formatted my press release and printed it on 1/3 of a page in the magazine), but I am really excited that it's in there; besides it being more publicity which is always a good thing, I really, really like the magazine! So yay Ruby!

How To Raise a Princess Dog

Lesson Number Seven: Everyone Deserves To Be Fussed Over, Now and Then…Or, How To Raise A Princess Dog, Part one

Bijoux’s status as a Princess was cemented firmly in place even before we parked the pickup truck outside on that very first night we brought her home. As such, that meant that extreme care would be taken to ensure that certain things happened to enhance her quality of life. Now, we weren’t completely over the edge; we didn’t build her an air-conditioned doghouse or feed her filet mignon for dinner, but we—I, especially—certainly didn’t bring her into our home as an animal that was merely to be tolerated and patted on the head once or twice a day.

The first important order of business, after all of her basic physical needs had been met, was to make sure she had a proper AKC name. Her rank as a purebred beagle affiliated with the American Kennel Club mattered to nobody, really. We had no intention of showing her, and we certainly had no plans to breed her. In fact, we were having her spayed as soon as it was possible to do so. I think the level of urgency upon which I had placed on registering her with the AKC stemmed from my experience as a young girl with Willie and Sandy. When they were born, my sister Julie and I wanted to give Willie the name “Cloud”, because of the smeary white markings on his back. Our “brilliant” idea was promptly shot down by our parents, who instead decided on the very regal-sounding names “Sir Sandor von Dapple” and Sir Wilhelm von Dapple”. Julie and I didn’t like the names, but as we were not in charge at the time, we had no choice but to let it go.

When it was my turn, then, to bestow a meaningful name on my own pet, I took it very seriously. Jim and I had already chosen her first name; now we just needed something more. I suggested “Aurora” as her middle name. I had always been a fan of mythology, and Aurora was the Goddess of the Dawn. I told Jim that this name was appropriate because Bijoux got us up everyday at sunrise. Having noticed that many AKC names end with something that gives a hint about a long and distinguished line of ancestors, we brainstormed a bit and finally came up with “Our Lady”. It was only right, Jim rationalized, because Bijoux really acted like she was one of us, a person. I promptly sent in the AKC registration form and a check. When we received the paperwork back—indicating that “Bijoux Aurora, Our Lady” was indeed now an official, registered member of the American Kennel Club—I took that very important envelope and put it…right in the file cabinet. It’s still in our safe deposit box, to this very day.

To say that Bijoux was “particular” about things would be a massive understatement. While occasionally frustrating, most of the time I found her finicky ways to be quite hilarious. The Milk Bone Company manufactures a treat called “Flavor Snacks”. These are in the shape of traditional Milk Bone dog treats but in five special flavors, which were, at the time, chicken, beef, turkey, lamb, and vegetable. Bijoux would eat every flavor except vegetable. I handed her a treat, and she hungrily tossed it to the back of her mouth and chewed like crazy until she was able to swallow it…unless I had tried to give her the green one. She sniffed at it tentatively, occasionally touching it with the tip of her tongue, and then she turned her head away from my hand. What nerve! I ended up throwing away boxes of Flavor Snacks, completely empty except for one layer of vegetable-flavored snacks that lined the bottom. Finally, we moved on to other dog treats.

At times, Bijoux’s failure to be the boss on a continual basis caused her to pout in her own doggie kind of way. Normally she would merely walk away, tail down, and not looking us in the eye at all. There were a couple of times in her life, however, when she definitely made a bigger impression.

Other than the Couch Incident, which I believe was started out of just plain “puppyness” and developed into a sort of retribution for being left home alone for hours at a time, the earliest indication of her demanding our respect appeared on one summer day in 1990. Jim and I walked to our local K-mart, which was only about one mile away from home. Why we walked there is now a mystery to me, a detail completely lost in the shuffle. Oddly enough, I do remember that we went there to purchase a new shower curtain and a set of shower curtain rings. The day was very hot and, as we had no air conditioning, the windows were open to the screens and we had a couple of fans running to try to circulate the air. We had been playing with the Princess that morning and had decided that as we wouldn’t be gone very long, we’d not put her in her crate. We took her outside so she could relieve herself, and then put her back inside. Not having a clue about her mischievous persona at this point, we said, “See you later, alligator!” and left the house as she watched us from her perch on top of the couch.

We returned less than an hour later with our shower curtain and rings, and as Jim unlocked the door, Bijoux was right there, complete with wagging tail and yelps of joy. It only took a second or two before our noses noticed the offensive smell. Bijoux had obviously left a “gift” somewhere in the house. It wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last; anyone raising a puppy expects accidents now and then.

It was actually the placement of this gift that boggled our minds and is still a story that we laugh about. As we made our way through the doorway and into the house, we found it. She had placed herself in front of the large box fan that was standing on the floor in the living room—set on its highest setting due to the heat of the day—and left a stinky mess less than 10 inches from the face of the fan. The smell was then carried throughout the entire house. To this day I’m unsure exactly how she was able to do that without being blown across the room. As we tried everything we could think of to quickly air out a stinky house on a hot summer day, we wondered to ourselves if she could have had the intelligence to do what she did intentionally…but how could it not have been done intentionally? From that day on, we gave her more credit for the process of thought than most people would find normal!

Click here for part 2!

Cute=Good...Or Not?

Lesson Number Six: Cuteness CAN Get You What You Want (Or...Choose Your Battles)

Everyone’s a sucker for a Cute puppy. Those eyes—Puppy Dog Eyes—are famous for a reason. “Don’t look at me with those Puppy Dog Eyes!” The manipulative qualities of Puppy Dog Eyes are infinite in nature. Besides the eyes, puppies have lots of Cuteness: floppy ears, a particularly adorable tail, tiny teeth, the way they prance, the way they fall all over themselves when they are running, the tricks they can quickly learn when they figure out that there are rewards involved, and those paws! These, and many additional things (depending on the dog and the sensibilities of the owner), not only melt a master’s heart in seconds, but also can sometimes be the very reason why puppies are not trained properly. Cuteness—there are two kinds of it: natural and learned—breeds inconsistency…unless you’re careful!

It can be quite tempting to just let a puppy do whatever she wants to do, merely because of its C.F., or Cute Factor. When you first bring a puppy home, almost everything she does is about a “ten” on the C.F. scale of one to ten:
• Look, she’s curling up on a blanket!
• Look, she’s eating her food!
• Look how cute she is while she’s drinking her water!
• Isn’t that simply amazing, the way she tugs on that squeaky toy?
• Uh-oh, she peed on the carpet! Bad girl! Ooh, but you’re so CUTE!

After a time, though, puppy owners, just like new parents, must be sure to separate Natural Cuteness from Learned Cuteness. They arrive at a figurative Fork in the Road. Some owners take the Wrong Fork. They make a semi-serious effort to train their dog and subsequently give up because it’s “too hard” (and even sometimes because they don’t want to hurt their puppy’s feelings with the Tough Love that training requires!) and their dog is just “too Cute”. Some owners take the Right Fork. These owners are rewarded handsomely because they train themselves first, and then use consistency to teach their dog right from wrong.

Jim and I definitely wanted to take the Right Fork. It was important to us to balance Bijoux’s sky-high Natural C.F. rating with solid discipline and training so that her behavior would stay in check, and thus, her Learned C.F. (her ability to get what she wanted by just being cute) would be low on the scale. After studying “Superpuppy”, I was sure that we were up to the task at hand. We, having no children yet, spent much of our free time each day with Bijoux, balancing play with behavior management. There were some bumps in the road, however; i.e. the Couch Incident and Bijoux’s ability to “Cute” herself into bed with us. Over time I slowly realized, because Bijoux showed me, that people can bend rules occasionally and still stay on the Right Fork. Learned Cuteness can sometimes be, well, Cute.

Generally, we praised Bijoux as much as possible (when she deserved it, of course!), and when she misbehaved, we disciplined her but were quick to forgive her Little Cute Self. (I was definitely quicker than Jim, though; I’m the Softy) Once we came out of the “New Puppy Fog”, we achieved great balance, but only after we started choosing our battles.

Cute? When Bijoux would actually make it from one trip outside to the next, without soiling the floor. Not Cute? Well, you guessed it. As with all puppies, we had good days and bad days in the housebreaking department. Cute? When we hung a ribbon filled with jingle bells from the handle on the sliding glass door in back as well as on the front entrance to our home, and taught Bijoux to ring them with her nose when she had to do her business. It took time; each time we took her outside we’d say, “Do you want to go outside?” and then gently hit her nose against the bells. It was a relatively easy lesson for her to learn, and it was a charming trick to show visitors. Battle won.

Cute? When Bijoux would run outside in the yard, suddenly put her nose to the ground, and roll on her back, rubbing her body into the grass beneath her. Not Cute: when Bijoux would come to the door and smell like who-knows-what because of some kind of stinky bug (or something!) she had been rolling in.

Cute? When I would then give her a bath and then sprayed her with one of my sweet-smelling Bath and Body Works products as she sneezed and stared at me sheepishly, seeming to feel remorse for her actions. Not Cute: when, thirty minutes later, she would beg to go outside again, acting like she had to urinate, and then perform the same rolling act in a different, yet just as stinky, area of grass. One summer I was bathing her three or four times in a day because I couldn’t stand her smell. Leaving her outside for the day was out of the question; it was too hot. Battle lost. I gave up; how do you keep an Animal (In Bijoux’s defense, I often told Jim “Don’t forget, she is an Animal,” and ten minutes later I was claiming to have had a meaningful, non-verbal exchange with my Girl. I truly felt like we understood each other.) from doing what comes naturally? In some cases, it’s not worth trying. I kept the Dog Shampoo industry in business for years.

Cute? Bijoux’s ability to catch things, like tennis balls and, in winter, snowballs. Not Cute? A dog that constantly begs for you to toss food at her. Cute? Her Puppy Dog Eyes, upon smelling and hearing that you’re microwaving popcorn for dessert. Cuter? Her ability to leap up and catch said popcorn. Battle lost. Or won? It depends on who you ask. There were challenges everyday, and making the decision about which issues could slide and which weren’t to be negotiated was only one of the many joys of having a dog in the house.