Dog Whispering

We are watching Cesar Milan, Lizzie and I, teach humans how to be calm dominant--pack leaders.

Cesar's slogan is something like: "I rehabilitate dogs. I train humans."

I want to be as calm energized as Cesar is with dogs. I don't want to be the human who needs to be trained (ugh), like all of the humans in Cesar's fascinating segments. I've always said that I want to be a force to be reckoned with.

I'm sucked in whenever Cesar's on the boob tube. I wonder if, when we get a dog this May, we'll be able to train ourselves to remain in a calm state of mind, a Zenlike master-subject relationship. What if I'm one of those women who gets dragged down the street by her beast?

The dog we grew up with, Sheba, was totally out of control. She scratched up the laundry room door, she barked at us when we were eating dinner, she'd escape and roll in whatever she could find that was dead.

Cesar tells us to live "in one zone only, the 'I can' zone." Mostly, Cesar argues, animals with obsessions, fears, and imbalances are picking up these wavelengths from us. Dogs don't have a past or future problem (as we do); instead, they live in the moment.

I need to get this dog soon. I need to be in charge of my own moment, not living in the past (where I don't get writing done, or I send it out and it gets rejected, again and again, or someone in a workshop setting says something stupid and thoughtless, such as 'No one gives a shit about your stupid life, Laurie'") or in the future, where I'm not writing or I'm bumping my head against ridiculous political walls at school.