Proof That Filters Can Make Crappy Pictures Look Amazing pt. 2

This series I'll cryptically title, Life. Will it cause you to ponder the meaning of life? Will it allow you to reflect on how all species are somehow related? Will it make you think of the circle of life? Who knows! That's why I'm calling it Life. Each picture will speak to each person in a different way.

"Hello, cousin?" --Because monkeys and humans could be related, get it?

"Birds of a Feather" --What does this say about conformity in society? Are we all just a bunch of sheep, even though this picture is clearly of flamingos?

"Giraffes"--Drawing a blank when it comes to a pretentious title, sorry

"Man's Best Friend" --Do we substitute animal relationships for human ones?

If anybody has a better title for "Giraffes," let's hear it. I'm looking for something so pretentious it'll make your head literally hurt.

Puptials

Sometimes, I get afraid I'm turning into one of those crazy dog owners. You know the type: the ones that insist their pups prefer a certain brand of dog food, who treat their dogs like they're close, personal friends instead of a pet. I do tend to bring up Ava a lot in conversation, and she even has her own Twitter account. However, once in awhile, I will catch of glimpse of people who have truly gone off the deep end, which makes me look like I'm still paddling safely in the shallows. Like this:

That there is a dog wedding. People actually dress up Spot and Fido in a wedding dress and groom garb, and HAVE AN HONEST-TO-GOD WEDDING CEREMONY like it ain't no thang. Like it's completely normal for two dogs to get married and for the union to be valid. There was a TV special about this phenomenon a few weeks ago, and it said that people pay thousands for these types of ceremonies.

There's so much I could write on this. So many jokes. So much snark. But it's too easy. So I'll just say that I no longer feel so wackadoo about my dog having her own Twitter account. 

America, you are ridiculous. Don't go changin'.

ASPCA and Chocolate

The other night I was watching television and eating a chocolate orange when a commercial for the ASPCA came on. You know the kind of commercial I'm talking about: the kind that show three-legged dogs looking all pathetic against a backdrop of sad-sounding Sarah McLaughlin music. Normally when these commercials come on, I get teary-eyed, but on this occasion I was particularly sensitive, and I bawled. Like, try-to-hold-it-in-then-you-remember-you-live-alone-and-don't-care-how-ugly-you-look-when-you-cry kind of sobs. But mere gut-wrenching sobs weren't enough. I also had the urge to hold my dog, as if that simple embrace could somehow cross space and time and magically heal the abused animals and transport them into forever homes. So I picked up Ava, who was dozing on my lap, and cried into the back of her neck. Having been woken up, she was understandably all, "What the hell?!" but she knew it was futile trying to escape. I had her in a vice grip. Resignedly, she lay still while I wept into her fur, probably wondering when she could return to her nap.

Here's thing: while all this was going on, I was still SHOVING FISTFULS OF CHOCOLATE ORANGE INTO MY SLOBBERING, BLUBBERING, PIE-HOLE. It's like I was sad, but not so sad to where I still couldn't enjoy a chocolaty treat while weeping for abused animals everywhere. So there I was, Ava in one hand, chocolate orange in the other, alternating between burying my face in my dog's hair and raising my head to gobble up another slice, trying not to choke on it between my sobs. I learned an important thing about myself that night. Apparently tragedy, not even heinous tragedy like animal abuse, can keep me from enjoying chocolate.

It's times like this where I am glad I live alone. I don't know if I could have done that in front of another human being and still retained any dignity.

Ava: Therapy Dog?

A few weeks ago at work, a friend and I got to talking about how cool it would be if we could get our dogs certified as therapy dogs. Images flooded my mind of Ava having her belly rubbed by a group of kids in a hospital and of sitting on the laps of the elderly while they regaled her with war stories and pictures of their grandchildren. I decided to do a little research.

As soon as I pulled up the test drafted by Therapy Dogs International, it became painfully obvious that the only thing Ava would be able to give to the elderly and sick kids were heart attacks and fear. She would pretty much fail the entire test. Here are a few examples (pulled directly from the requirements brochure, which you can view here):

Accepting a Friendly Stranger

"This test demonstrates that the dog will allow a friendly stranger to approach it and speak to the handler in a natural, everyday situation...The dog must show no sign of resentment or shyness, and must not break position or try to go to the Evaluator."

FAIL. On our walks, Ava will lunge at strangers because she wants to attack them with her love.

Walking Through a Crowd

"The dog and handler walk around and pass close to several people (at least three). The dog may show some interest in the strangers, without appearing overexuberant, shy, or resentful...The dog should not be straining at the leash."

FAIL. I've walked Ava past three or more people in my neighborhood. She wants to attack them ALL with her love. And in any crowd thicker than three people, I'm pretty sure she'd flip her shit.

Reaction to Another Dog

"Two handlers and their dogs approach each other from a distance of about 10 yards, stop, shake hands and exchange pleasantries, and continue on for about 5 yards. The dogs should show no more than a casual interest in each other."

FAIL. Ava will go from thinking she's hot shit around other dogs to being afraid of them to wanting to play in about three seconds. She can't figure them out. She may also have split personality disorder.

I'm just glad I looked up the test before I waltzed in and was all, "Go ahead and test my dog, she's awesome, and I'm sure she wouldn't give a Hospice patient high blood pressure." That would have been embarrassing.

* * *

So I swore that when I got a dog, I wouldn't be one of those crazy pet owners who open up Twitter and Facebook accounts for their animals because it was a little wackadoo. But then I thought of all the hilarious and inappropriate stuff I could tweet as my dog, so I caved and now Ava's on Twitter. Follow her if you want. She tweets about Justin Bieber.

Ali's and my Super Special Mystery Date

When Ali and I went to Target on Saturday, I swore I would not succumb to its crack-like beckoning and get sucked into its lair of rock-bottom prices on shit I didn't need. I was on a super-tight budget because of spending more than I intended on booze the last two Friday nights, so I couldn't afford to make any impulse buys. I resolved to ignore the voices coming from the $5 DVD shelf that said, "Come on, only $5 for The Goonies! $5 is nothing! $5 will not send you to the streets! Did I mention that it's The Goonies? It's a frigging classic! AND IT'S ONLY FIVE BUCKS!" I would tell myself that all the clothes on clearance were crap. I knew Target's wily ways, and I wasn't biting.

But then we wound up in the toys section, and found a game that shared a place with such favorites as Dream Phone and Girl Talk.

"Oooh, Mystery Date!" Ali squealed, grabbing a sparkly box.

"WHAT?!" I grabbed the box from her and examined it. "That's so awesome this game is still around!" I started reading the back description. "It's the game of Mystery Date all dressed up in sparkles and glitter!...Spin the knob and open the door...will you meet your matching date? Or will you meet the Nerd--oh no!--and lose your cards--"

"--Hey, what's wrong with the Nerd?" Ali asked.

"Nobody wants to be with him. He'll make you lose your cards."

"But the Nerd is the guy who will grow up and go to MIT and become rich because he's smart. These other guys will be the type who will end up working on my car."

"Ali, this game is for girls who are, like, eight," I said. "They don't have the life experiences we do." I turned the game over and couldn't help but notice the little red clearance sticker in the corner: $7. Only $7!! Really, what was $7 in comparison to a night of cheap thrills and silliness and revisiting childhood? It was practically highway robbery!

"I'm getting this. I have some Jack Daniels at the house, we're gonna get some Coke, and when we get home, we're drinking and having Mystery Date night." Ali was on board, but I didn't have any doubt that she would be. I mean, who wouldn't want to spend a Saturday night consuming alcohol and playing a child's board game? It's a recession-friendly activity.

And you thought I was lying.

Checking out reaffirmed that I was making the right decision by buying the game, for even the check-out guy got excited. Well, actually, I thought he was excited for the same reasons we were, but in retrospect, I think he was just making polite conversation, figuring we were buying it for a younger sibling or a young niece or something. Sometimes, I forget that outsiders "don't get" Ali's and my quirky senses of humor. We can come off as being downright weird, actually, and this is exactly what happened with the check-out guy. I mistook his enthusiasm as coming from the same place as our enthusiasm, so I decided to let him in on our plan: "We're totally drinking Jack and Cokes and playing this tonight!"

"Uh--okay," he said, the light of his excitement becoming noticeably dimmer. At first, I couldn't figure out what the hell his deal was, but then it hit me: it probably looks really strange for two grown-ass women to buy a little girl's board game and use it for their own entertainment instead of buying it for a little girl. Then I remembered that I didn't really care how we looked to him, and just paid for my purchase.

Later on that night, after eating way too much sushi and getting a couple of McFlurries (we decided to forego the booze), we played Mystery Date. We were actually pretty hard-core about it; we didn't talk much during game play because only one thing was on our minds: getting our date outfits together and finding out if we matched our mystery date. For the record, I owned at this game, winning two out of three games. So I feel pretty confident in saying that I can kick pretty much anybody's ass at Mystery Date.

You can't see it here, but all the playing pieces are girls in their PJs. I was concerned, but then I realized they were in their PJs because they were getting ready for their dates, not because they were huge whores.

Mystery Date is so awesome, even Ava wanted to play. And she's a dog.

My Dog Has More Game Than Me

While walking my dog over the past few weeks, I've noticed an interesting phenomenon: almost every man we've come across has unabashedly cuddled with her. They pet her, they kiss on her, they let her kiss them--and these are young guys we're talking about, not necessarily old men, although they love her as well. It hit me: bitch has more game than I do.

Since I've had this revelation, I haven't figured out whether I should kill myself or get into my PJs and listen to sad bastard music by Chicago while shoveling heaping spoonfuls of New York Super Fudge Chunk flavored with the salt of my tears into my mouth. Let's go over some instances where Ava has pwned me in the men department, shall we?

1. Cute dog walker boy: NOT SO AWKWARD AROUND MY DOG.
A lot of times while walking Ava, I run into the guy who lives a few complexes down walking his dog. Ava has barked at both this guy and his dog on several occasions, yet last week, they shared a moment in which the guy squatted down and let Ava kiss his cheek. I, on the other hand, have been nothing but pleasant, and what do I get? Polite, yet incredibly awkward, conversation. Pwned.

2. Tough bicycle dude: NOT SO TOUGH AROUND MY DOG.
For the record, when I say "bicycle dude," I mean a literal bicycle NOT a motorcycle. So maybe the guy wasn't that tough after all. He was in a wife-beater and had tattoos on his arms, though, and that looked pretty tough to me. Okay, I'm getting side-tracked. ANYway, he was on the sidewalk, fixing something on his bike and Ava and I started to walk by. Little attention whore that she is, Ava lunged over to him, and basked in pure glory as he pet her and fawned over to her. Then he looked at me and said, "Beautiful." Meaning my dog. Not me. Pwned.

Maybe I'm missing out on a golden opportunity here. Maybe Ava could be an asset in helping me meet people. Maybe if I went somewhere that had a lot of single guys around, I could just pick her up and hold her out at arm's length in their direction as if she were a giant magnet. Maybe she doesn't have to pwn me. You know what? I think I'll try that. Buh-bye, Chicago.

Ava's New Fave Hiding Place

Here is how I know Ava was meant to be my dog: she, like me, goes through weird phases. Like one time, in college, I went through a phase where I listened to Michael Jackson's "Thriller" non-stop everyday for about two weeks. I don't know how my roommates kept from murdering me. Likewise, Ava went through a phase where she would climb behind my entertainment system and just sit, staring awkwardly at me while I watched TV:

It only lasted a day, so I'm not sure if you could properly call it a phase, and I'm pretty sure she was back there because that was where she hid her rope toy, but you know what I mean. ANYway, she is now doing another weird thing, and it's been going on for the past few weeks: hiding under my bed. Actually, it's not so much as hiding as it is just hanging out. Earlier this week, when I was watching a movie, Ava abandoned her traditional post on my lap to go lounge under the bed. When I came home from work (I get out at 1p.m. every other Friday because my company is on summer hours, holla!) she came out from under the bed suddenly, in a manner that said, "Well, hello, I wasn't expecting to see you so soon." Here's what I think she does under there in ascending levels of ridiculousness:

-sleep

-rehearse her plan of action in case of burglars or if the maintenance man comes for a surprise (to her) visit

-think about the cute boy dog down the street

-contemplate her life and debate whether or not she is behind in what she has contributed thus far, as opposed to other dogs her age

-write in her secret doggie diary

-plot her escape

-plot to take over the world, Pinky and the Brain-style

Looking over the list, "plot her escape" is kind of silly. Why would she plot her escape? I MADE HER CHICKEN BROTH POPSICLES, SON!

Look What I Found!

Look who I caught trying to get in a little GTL before bedtime last night:

New Year's Happenin' and Other Random Crap

This post is just going to be a hodgepodge of randomness, since what I want to write about isn't meaty enough to justify an entire blog post. Just a forewarning.

1. Sometimes I think about random, off-the-wall crap. Case in point: while I was brushing my teeth earlier, I was thinking about when I catch Ava doing something she's not supposed to do, or barking at what appears to be nothing. When I catch her doing these things, I think about how easy it would be to communicate with her if dogs understood English. Then I thought, what if there was a way we could communicate verbally with dogs, but it involved us learning how to bark? Like, if barking were an actual language and we had to learn it in order to communicate with our dogs? If humans could actually learn how to bark, would you do it in order to communicate more easily with your pet? I wouldn't. Actually, the more accurate response is, Hell no I wouldn't. I just couldn't risk looking like a moron by barking at my dog in public, or even in the privacy of my apartment. I have my dignity.

2. Sometime between 8p.m. and midnight on New Year's Eve, I found myself fist-pumping with a bunch of strangers at a bar downtown. You read that right. Fist-pumping. Jersey Shore-style. I was at a New Year's Eve party hosted by Events and Adventures, a singles activity club I recently joined. When I arrived at the party that night, all I was expecting to do was to have a few drinks, eat a few appetizers and meet some new people. Starting an impromptu dance party in the middle of the bar with a group of people I was talking with did not cross my mind, but I'm so glad it happened. I love it when random things like that happen. It's magical. I joined Events and Adventures to get out of my comfort zone and try new things and meet new people, and I don't think I could have started off 2011 any better. I'm not one of those people who look for signs about the future in every little thing in life, but I do like to think that my busting a move with strangers and connecting with them in such a fun way is a good omen to how this new year will unfold. I like to think that it will mean that this upcoming year will be filled with many more such memorable experiences and new friends.

Okay, that's it. I'm going to bed now. Told you this was random.

Adventures With Ava

Every time I take my dog for a walk, I'm really not sure what to expect. I love Ava, but she is really a very quirky dog, and nowhere is this more exemplified than her interaction with humans and other dogs.

Ava thinks every person was put on Earth solely to pet her and generally show her love and affection. Give her a minute of attention, and she will be your new BFF. This is generally not a problem, except when we go on our walks and encounter complete strangers. Whenever she sees an oncoming human, she first stops, dead in her tracks, and observes them for a few seconds, almost as if she's making sure that yes, that is a real live human coming toward her. Once she verifies the human's authenticity, she goes from 0 to 60 in .01 seconds. She bursts forth and starts fighting against the restraint of her leash, frantically trying to run and clamor her way toward the target. Meanwhile, I'm having a mini panic attack at the thought of my dog intruding on the stranger's personal boundaries and inciting an awkward conversation that goes a little something like this:

Stranger: (to Ava) Well, hello there! (reaches down to pet Ava, who is lapping up the attention like the cuddle-whore that she is) You are just so cute!

Me: Say, "Thank you!" (immediately feels stupid that I told a canine, who can neither understand nor speak English, to say "thank you" like I would a toddler)

Stranger: (still petting Ava) How old is she?

Me: (still wallowing in my shame over the whole "thank you" bit) She just turned two.

Stranger: Well, she is adorable. (still petting my dog)

Me: Thank you. (uncomfortable moment is then shared between me and the stranger as we both contemplate how to end this interaction)

Me: Well...you have a good day! (desperately tries to wrangle Ava away as she clamors toward the retreating stranger)

It gets even more awkward when the approaching stranger has no desire to pet my dog, and just wants to continue his or her stroll or jog uninterrupted. When I still had her on the retractable leash, it was difficult to get her out of the line of fire, and there was many a time people nearly tripped over her when she would go into her, "Love me! Love me!" attack. It was pretty embarrassing, encasing me in an envelope of shame that would last the duration of our walk.

It gets even more interesting when we approach a complete stranger who also has a dog. As Ava doesn't care too much for dogs, but loves the shit out of humans, she is caught in a personal conflict: does she try to establish herself as the dominant one, or should she just bypass the other dog altogether and go straight for the human? She makes the decision to do both, and ends up darting forward, then backwards, toward the other dog, then the human, growling, and then whining because she is both confused and sad that the stranger is not petting her. Again, I'm trying to wrangle her back while shame and embarrassment engulf me.

Going on a walk with Ava is like Forrest Gump's box of chocolates: you never know what you're gonna get.

My Dog is Socially Awkward

I didn't want to accept it at first, but after today's excursion to the dog park, making it the fourth excursion since I've gotten Ava, I have no choice but to admit that she's socially awkward around other dogs. In all honesty, I was expecting a little social awkwardness when I first got her. My sister never took her out in public a lot when she owned her, so I knew she was bound to be a little anxious around other members of her own kind. I witnessed this firsthand the first weekend I had her. I met my friend AA and her little Dotson, Rammy, at the dog park, and Ava's behavior was akin to that weird kid in kindergarten who never played with the other kids and instead preferred to sit in the corner and eat dried glue off the carpet. Rammy would try to engage in play; Ava would whimper and run off to a far area of the park where she was perfectly content to sniff the ground. Multiple times during the visit, while Rammy and the other dogs would be frolicking together, my friend would ask, "Where's Ava?" and we would see her standing off by herself, staring into space. It was disheartening, but I was confident that the more I took her out, the more she would get used to other dogs, eventually out-growing her social awkwardness.

Last week, I thought we had made a breakthrough, as she actually played with another little dog. It was only for a short time, as the little dog's owners had to leave, but there was actually playtime occurring. Not only that, but she wasn't as terrified of the bigger dogs like she used to be. Sure, she was still like, "WTF is going on?" when they would come up, but instead of trying to hide behind my legs, she would at least stay still while they sniffed her butt and reciprocate the process. I never thought I would be so excited to see my dog willingly sniff another dog's ass. I was encouraged. The next time we went to the dog park, I was sure she would be cured and engage with the others like a real dog.

Eh, not so much. I wouldn't say she's regressing, but I also don't think she'll make any more progress. During today's visit, she explored the park, but wouldn't engage with the other dogs other than to sniff butts and call it a day. I have to think that maybe she just isn't a dog park kind of girl, but there's another part of me that refuses to give up, like a father who doesn't want to accept that his son would rather write emo poetry than play sports. So I will continue to listen to the part of me that's mired in denial and continue to take her to the dog park in the hopes that one day she'll meet at least one dog that she'll voluntarily play with. I'll love her no matter what her quirks are, but I can't yet accept the fact that I'm the owner of the dog equivalent of "that kid" in kindergarten.

Photographic evidence of Ava's social awkwardness: watching the other dogs and owners play while standing as far away as humanly possible.

Ava's New Toy

I'd always assumed Ava was one of those dogs that never played with toys. I never saw her play with any of her toys when she lived with my sister, and she hasn't played with any of her toys since she moved in with me. I figured she was the type to play with humans or other dogs, but when it came to toys, she just wasn't interested. And then I found out that, yes, she does play with toys, but not necessarily the type you'd expect.

It dawned on me earlier tonight, when I came out of the shower to find Ava chewing on the shoelaces of one of my shoes. I thought back to the other times I'd find something in her mouth that wasn't supposed to be there: old tissue out of the trash can, a sock, a clump of hair (gross, I know). I realized that out of all those things, socks seemed to be her favorite, so I rooted around in a dresser drawer, pulled out an old sock that I never wear, and gave it to her. Bingo. She accepted the sock with the same amount of zeal other dogs accept a Kong toy filled with frozen peanut butter. She ran around the apartment with it in her mouth. She shook it from side to side, play-growling. She would drop it, run a few feet away, look at it, and then run back full-force and attack it. Never mind the other toys in her entertainment arsenal: Socky is now her new (and only) favorite toy. Talk about low maintenance. Who would have thought that the one thing to keep her entertained was something I had in my drawer all along?

Ava and Socky. Note the discarded toy off to the side.

Breakthroughs!

If you read this blog on a semi-regular basis, or know me personally, you would know that I recently inherited a mini schnauzer. You would also know that the first couple of weeks of my having her were quite the adjustment periods--for the both of us. The first week I was an absolute basket case, getting overwhelmed, frustrated and stressed out incredibly easily. I also didn't go to the gym that entire first week either, which is something I do on a regular basis, because I was terrified to leave the apartment, since she had this habit of barking whenever I left. The second week was a bit better, I wasn't as much of a basket case, although still a bit stressed, and I went to the gym twice--however, I was a straight-up hermit Saturday and Sunday because a) I had no plans and b) I was still stressed over leaving the apartment. Well, kids, I'm proud to say that this week--week three--has been a lot better.

First of all, I stopped stressing out over her barking. I was just over it. Secondly, I had to face the fact that if I wanted her to get over her anxiety at me leaving, I would have to actually leave the apartment. So I went back to my regular gym schedule, and took each time I left as a training opportunity. With the help of my friend A (who also had the same problem with her lab), I had a system that I was using to work with her to overcome her separation anxiety, and today we had a major breakthrough: when I left to go to work and heard her start to bark, I simply rapped on my bedroom window a few times (I keep her crated in my bedroom when I'm not home) and gave the command for her to be quiet. And she got quiet. And she stayed quiet. And I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. The magic replicated itself when I left to go to the gym after work: she barked, I rapped on the window, she got quiet, and I did a celebratory fist pump.

This was the first week I was able to truly enjoy my dog. Not gonna lie, those first two weeks I contemplated giving her back to my sister, but I'm really glad I stuck it out, because the progress I'm seeing makes all the hard work and tears worth it. I also had a really good group of friends who were dog owners and encouraged me to stick it out and offered tips, their support and stories of their own. So to A, AA, Taylor, and Carrie--thanks for the support and for putting up with my crazy.

Not gonna lie, I'm feeling like a rock star. :-)

Random Thoughts

Seriously. I'm not even going to try to tie this all into one cohesive entry, it's that random. Gotta love the list format.

1. The other night I had a dream that the killer from the "No Country for Old Men" movie tried to kill me. That's right, folks--Javier Bardem, complete with pageboy haircut and his little doo-hickey thing he carries around (haven't seen the movie or read the book, sorry), was after me, as Anton Chigurh. He was sucking out the brains of my friends and family with his doo-hickey thing and every time he started to go after me, I would scream and run to the next place, watch him kill people I know, and then scream and run again as soon as he started for me. I don't remember the exact details of where this all took place, but he kept killing in very public, crowded places, which even in the dream I thought was a little odd.

2. Last night's dream was even weirder. Me and a few other girls had our pictures taken for a magazine, and when the pictures were developed, we handed them to this lady who was making critiques on them. I have no idea who she was, or why she was even critiquing them in the first place, but I do know that when she saw mine, she called me ugly. I told her to fuck off, and then Mike Rowe showed up and asked me why I was being all smart-mouthy. I told him it was because the lady was kind of a bitch and said I was ugly, and then he disappeared and I woke up.

3. I've hired a home-based dog trainer to get a jump-start on training Ava. RELIEF. (Even though I know I'm still freaking out unnecessarily.) We have our training session this Saturday, and it's through a company called Bark Busters. I found them via the IACP website and they have tons of good testimonials, a lot of which say that dogs improved even after the first session. I'm optimistic and can't wait to see how it goes.

4. Is it just me, or is it really annoying when you go to a website based in another country and try to look at some multimedia and you get the message, "This content is not available in your country?" I get a bit put off, to be honest. I mean, it's the internet--there should be no territorial boundaries online! Doesn't that defeat the whole purpose of the stupid thing? We're supposed to be connected, not turned away because we want to watch a video. Stupid.

That is all. Told you it was a random post.

Gone to the Dogs

This little lady is Ava, and she's the newest addition to my household. She's cute. She's good company. She's also a good challenge--at least, that's what I am telling myself.

Don't misunderstand me--Ava is a good little dog. She has a sweet disposition and she loves nothing better than cuddles and snuggling up next to me. It's just that she has a few unacceptable habits of which I'm trying to break her:

1. Alerting on everything. I keep reminding myself that she's only been with me for two days, so she's still not used to her surroundings. Every noise she hears outside causes her little ears to prick and her to growl, make a little gruff, or sometimes a bark. I've been working on this with her, and slowly, but surely, we're making progress. My method is to grab her snout and say, "SHHH!" and then praise her and give her treats when she's quiet. She's pretty receptive to this, although we've still got a ways to go. I also think some of it may be her testing my authority and seeing how much she can get away with. Just a few minutes ago, she made a little bark, with no provocation, and then looked at me as if to say, "Your move, counselor."

2. Socialization. She's not socialized. At least, not a lot, and this is evidenced by her being scared of other dogs when we encounter them on our walks, or other people. I've only had her for two days, but I can tell I've got my work cut out for me on this one. I felt like we took one step forward yesterday and two steps back today. My method to get her socialized is full immersion--walks around the block where she's bound to run into other animals or dogs, taking her on errands with me when I can, and tomorrow we're going to the Davis Island dog park after work, weather pending. Yesterday she did so well--didn't bark at anybody on our walks, and on our errand to Petsmart she was quiet once I got her in the cart and started walking around. I could tell she was a bit overwhelmed and scared, as it was a sensory overload, and she was shaking (which broke my heart), but she seemed to relax the more I petted her and told her she was being a good girl. And she let the Petsmart clerk pet her without any protest. When we got ready to go on our walk after work today, though, she barked bloody murder at a guy who was coming up the stairs as we were going down. The grabbing her snout trick and going "SHHHH!" didn't work--at all. I think the guy took me closing her snout as me trying to stop her from biting him, which wasn't the case at all, and he eventually walked to his apartment via an alternate route.

Later on our walk, we ran into a guy named Jeremiah who had two dogs, and this experience went a bit better. I could tell Ava was scared, but she didn't bark, and allowed the dogs to sniff her and she sniffed them back, even though a couple of times she tried to run away from them (didn't get very far, though, since she was on the leash). She did allow Jeremiah to pet her, and I explained that I just got her and we were working on socialization. He said she was a good dog, and said that the dog park was a good place to take her as well. After Jeremiah, we ran into an old guy who was walking his dog, Samson. I honestly couldn't tell whether Ava was scared or was trying to play with Samson (who was also a little dog--littler than Ava, in fact). I do know that she ran around the old man's legs, which had me frantically following her, trying to untangle the leashes. The old man was nice, but he and Samson did walk on the opposite side of the sidewalk after the leash untangling bit.

3. Separation anxiety. She barks for a minute or two after I leave, then settles and is quiet. It's not a huge problem, but out of all her traits, this is the one that bothers me the most, mainly because I don't want to annoy my neighbors. Yesterday when I was heading out the door, my next door neighbor, The Screamer, (look for a post on him later) came out and complained about her barking. I was nice and explained that I had just gotten her and that I was working on breaking her of her habit, but he just mumbled something about "if she carries on..." and walked back inside his apartment. Everybody I've talked to all have said the same thing: I shouldn't stress, her barking for a few minutes after I immediately leave isn't a big deal, and she's not doing it during inappropriate hours, like late at night. And it's a pet-friendly apartment, he knew that when he moved in, so he should expect to hear a dog bark once in awhile. I know they're right, and that's what I keep telling myself as we work on training, but it still makes me paranoid as all get-out. I freak myself out by imagining worst-case scenarios, like The Screamer rallying all his other friends I never knew he had in the complex and then the whole angry mob comes pounding on my door, demanding I get rid of my dog. Not unlike that scene in Beauty and the Beast where the mob demands to "kill the beast."

I know this one will take some time and I need to be patient, but I have started taking steps to get her more comfortable with me leaving, like putting her in her crate for a few minutes when I'm home and giving her treats through the bars so she'll begin to associate her crate with treats and not always with me leaving. Today after our walk we spent a few minutes going over my "getting ready to leave" routine up until putting her Kong toy in her crate, so she can begin to get used to it. Tomorrow after the dog park will be more of the same. Right now I'm listening to the CDs I play for her when I'm not home so she can get used to the music and not associate music with me leaving. As mentioned before, I bought her a Kong toy (recommended to me by all my other pet parent friends) which I stuff with peanut butter and freeze and give to her so she'll have something to work on while I'm not home. I also give it to her when I am home so she can figure it out, play with it and enjoy it so that when I do put it in her crate, hopefully she'll think "Kong time!" instead of, "Oh, no, she's leaving!" I've also tried to make leaving and coming home as low-key as possible, so she'll know they are not big events. It's a work in progress. We're only two days in; I know I have a long way to go.

4. Me. This one isn't one of her habits, but it does affect how she acts, I think. Quite simply, I need to chill out--big time. The process of training her has been a bit overwhelming, and I don't even have the extra stress of crate- and house-training her. Since I brought her home Sunday night, I have been in tears at some point every day from sheer panic, and my sister and several very understanding pet owner friends have been on the other end of my tear-filled neurotic venting. I know I need to stop worrying about my neighbors, stop getting overwhelmed and emotional and just focus on enjoying Ava and training her, but it's easier said than done. At one point today, I was sure I wasn't able to handle it, but luckily I had enough foresight to talk to my sister and my friend Taylor who talked me down from the ledge. I also understand that this is a transition period for Ava, too, and try to keep that in mind. She's probably had to make a bigger transition than me, considering that two days ago she was uprooted from everything she knew (my sister and her apartment) and forced into new surroundings. I know things will get better once we get used to each other and develop a routine, and I'm pretty sure I can probably smooth the entire process a little if I can just get it together, take the bull by the horns and focus on training her. This is a challenge, and I'm trying to look at it as a good one. In the end, I will have the patience of a saint, and Ava will be the best dog she can be.