Darby got the Rimadyl―but only because he was already dying of bone cancer.

It always surprises me when I find out that someone has put their beloved dog on a heavy-duty medication without even questioning it. People seem to have complete trust in their vets, which is sweet but not conducive to the health of their dogs. An old friend of mine visited this past weekend, and she said that her husband prints up a long list of questions before each vet visit and insists on getting an answer to each question―to the point where their vet started charging them extra! But I say, "Bravo!" to my friends. We alone are responsible for our dogs' health and no one else―not even the vet―so it's up to us to stay informed so that we can make intelligent decisions on their behalf.

So I was reminded of the horrible side effects that Rimadyl can cause when PETA was contacted by a member recently whose dog's health took a nosedive after starting on that arthritis drug. Rimadyl is a nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drug (NSAID), and there is no question that it can ease arthritic pain to the point of transforming weary old lame dogs into youthful frolicking puppies. Obviously, this is very appealing. But it's one of those pacts with the devil because some dogs can't tolerate the drug and it will make them so ill that they have to be euthanized or they just die outright. The symptoms tend to come on quickly so that it's just about too late by the time the dog gets to the vet. And Rimadyl isn't the only one―there's EtoGesic and Deramaxx as well. They're all prescribed for the same reasons, and they all have a history of extremely severe side effects in a percentage of the dogs who take them.

The irony is that there are many, many holistic alternatives to these drugs. Joint pain is most definitely nothing to sneeze at. It can make you miserable. I myself am intimately familiar with joint pain and holistic treatments for it, as I sustained a ruptured disc in my neck about 15 years ago, and several of my dogs have had joint issues, too, beginning in 1980. So through the years, I've sought out and discovered some of the best treatments for joint pain, whether it stems from arthritis or disc troubles or an injury.

It all started when, because of my own ignorance and recklessness, my first dog, Koro, a German shepherd mix, was hit by a car and broke her back. She had a metal rod implanted along her spine to stabilize it, and after she recovered, all was well for about five years. Then the arthritis set in. As luck would have it, at just about that time I met Dr. Monique Maniet, a holistic vet in Bethesda, Maryland, and she put Koro on Chinese herbs (specifically something called Clematis-Stefania), homeopathic remedies, alfalfa tablets, yucca, and megadoses of vitamin C (about a gram per 10 pounds of bodyweight). After that, Koro was good to go up until her dying day at age 13. Not even a limp!

Next up was Rogan, my cocker spaniel mix, who was unfortunate enough to rupture a disc in his lower back at the age of 8. He had surgery to remove all the fragments, and then he had to remain inactive for a month or so, but he also got chiropractic and acupuncture (with electricity!) treatments during his rehabilitation. He had developed a curvature in his spine after the surgery, and it only took one chiropractic adjustment by Dr. Maniet to straighten him out. I also gave him physical therapy to strengthen his right rear leg (by pushing down on his hips and encouraging him to push back), which had come out of the operation weaker than his left leg, and I put him on glucosamine, turmeric, and vitamin C. It wasn't until his last year or two of life (he lived to be 15) that he started getting a little stiff and having trouble on the stairs because that right rear leg had sustained some nerve damage that came back to haunt him.

And finally, there was my beautiful husky mix Darby. Now, Darby I loaded up on Rimadyl with no thought at all about the side effects. That's because I knew he was dying of bone cancer. Sad to say that even Rimadyl couldn't totally mask that bone pain, so it wasn't long before he was sent off to heaven surrounded by people who loved him.

The moral of the story is, for garden-variety arthritis, try the alternatives first. These include acupuncture and Chinese herbs, chiropractic adjustments, homeopathic remedies, weight loss, an upgrade in diet, herbal supplements (e.g., turmeric, alfalfa, boswellia, horsetail, and yucca), and nutritional supplements (e.g., glucosamine, bromelain, cetyl myristoleate, MSM, and essential fatty acids). Try to locate a holistic vet near you who can tailor a program specifically to your dog.

However, if all else fails, by all means go for the heavy-duty drugs if the alternative is to let your dog suffer in misery. Just proceed with caution. Read all about the drug and grill your vet about it. Have blood work done beforehand to make sure that your dog is otherwise healthy. Use the smallest possible dose, and administer it with food. Monitor your dog's health with regular checkups and blood work. The bottom line is quality of life. I would much prefer to see my dog take Rimadyl and feel great and then die rather suddenly after four months than to see my dog suffering in constant joint pain and misery for 16 months. I’m pretty sure that most dogs would agree with that.

Nola: "Please don't lock me up!"

If you want to get my hackles up, just make the above statement about your dog. It works every time. I've always known deep in my bones that there's something so wrong about that statement. In my mind, it conjures up visions of brainwashing and George Orwell's 1984. Now I've finally stumbled upon the scientific underpinnings for my aversion to crating dogs in a book called Handbook of Applied Dog Behavior and Training by Steven Lindsay. The author is a dog trainer in Newtown Square, Pennsylvania, and his book is very technical (and very heavy―almost 800 pages!).

Here's something that Lindsay has to say about crating: "Many advocates of long-term crate confinement claim that dogs are phylogenetically preadapted to live in a crate. These conclusions are based on various fallacious assumptions derived from inappropriate comparisons with the use of dens by wild canids and feral dogs. In reality, a crate has far more in common with a trap (or grave) than it does with a den [emphasis mine]. Further, a den actually has far more in common with a home, the natural environment of a dog, providing access to communal indoor and outdoor living spaces via a two-way door. An obvious distinction between a den and a crate is physical entrapment, isolation, and inescapability. While the den provides the mother with the seclusion and security that she needs to deliver and care for her young, it does not restrict her freedom of movement, as the crate does. Instead of providing a safe environ for her young, the crate serves the express purpose of separating the dog from social attachment objects. Further, instead of promoting comfort and safety, the inescapable exclusion imposed by crate confinement appears to confer an increased vulnerability for disruptive emotional arousal and insecure place attachments. Most puppies and dogs show a high degree of aversive arousal when first exposed to crate confinement, which is consistent with the foregoing comparison. After learning that the crate is inescapable, however, dogs appear to treat the crate in a paradoxical manner analogous to persons affected by the Stockholm syndrome; that is, they appear to form strong attachments with the crate, which becomes the place they identify as home" [emphasis mine].

Wikipedia defines "Stockholm syndrome" this way: "Stockholm syndrome is a psychological response sometimes seen in an abducted hostage, in which the hostage shows signs of loyalty to the hostage-taker, regardless of the danger (or at least risk) in which the hostage has been placed. Stockholm syndrome is also sometimes discussed in reference to other situations with similar tensions, such as battered person syndrome, rape cases, child abuse cases and bride kidnapping. The syndrome is named after the Norrmalmstorg robbery of Kreditbanken at Norrmalmstorg, Stockholm, Sweden, in which the bank robbers held bank employees hostage from August 23 to August 28 in 1973. In this case, the victims became emotionally attached to their victimizers and even defended their captors after they were freed from their six-day ordeal. The term 'Stockholm syndrome' was coined by the criminologist and psychiatrist Nils Bejerot, who assisted the police during the robbery and referred to the syndrome in a news broadcast."

Wow! I would not want any of my training methods to be associated with this sort of unsavory activity!

Lindsay goes on to describe this abnormal attachment to the crate and why it's so bad for the dog: "Some puppies and dogs appear to develop an inordinate attachment with their crates, sometimes preferring to be in their crates rather than with the owner. The daily repeated exposure to the sterile environs of the crate may significantly undermine a developing dog's ability to habituate and adjust to the wider domestic social and physical environment. Although most puppies initially respond to crate confinement as a stressful state of affairs, with repeated exposure, stress and aversion gradually give way to an odd attraction to confinement. This gradual attraction to crate confinement appears to occur in association with increased feelings of security, safety, and comfort, rather than increasing levels of vulnerability and insecurity, as one might expect from a condition of entrapment. One possible explanation for this paradoxical effect is provided by opponent-process theory. The lengthy exposure to crate confinement provides a situation in which separation distress and other reactions associated with vulnerable isolation eventually give way to opponent affects of comfort and safety, that is, the exact opposite to the distress and vulnerability initially evoked by crate confinement. … So far, this opponent-processing analysis does not sound like much of a problem for a dog until one considers how it may interfere with the formation of a satisfying attachment and bond between the owner and the dog. … For dogs exposed to excessive crate confinement …, their search for comfort and safety may gradually turn from the family and home to the crate. Such dogs may develop a powerful bond and dependency upon the crate as a space of comfort and safety. … So, as many owners say, it may be truer than expected that some dogs do, in fact, love their crates, perhaps in some cases more than they love the owner."

This makes my heart ache. Mostly for the crated dogs but also for the dog guardians who may one day wake up and realize just how much damage they've done to their beloved dogs.

Py loves the elements!

The following is a guest post by my creative colleague Bob.

I looked around the rental car. Wet socks hung from the sun visors, and soaked pants, jackets, and T-shirts were flung over the backs of the seats. I had duct-taped my sneakers to the heater vents on the dashboard in the hope they would dry, but now it looked as if someone had gotten stuck while trying to crawl head-first through the dashboard. A car like this in Seattle would soon be covered in slugs yearning for its muggy comfort.

Yet there sat my new dog, soaking wet, on a damp towel, smiling, peering around, or pressing her nose in glee to the already fogged-up windows. Every time I slowed down or put on the turn signal, she perked up at the possibility of getting back out into the rain. If I lowered her window, she’d stick her head out, then pull it back in and soak me with a high-spirited shake.

I adopted my dog from PETA just as Hurricane Floyd, one of the strongest Atlantic hurricanes ever recorded, made landfall off the North Carolina coast. I was visiting PETA headquarters while traveling by rental car between Norfolk and New York. I planned to adopt a dog when I returned home, but then I came across Py, who was being fostered by PETA and seemed like the perfect dog, so our plans changed.

Floyd chased us up the coast. It dumped more than 16 inches of rain in the Norfolk area, which had been evacuated. The speed limit on I-95, the major north-south freeway, was reduced to 35 miles per hour. Fortunately, the car rental agency had upgraded me to a full-size Oldsmobile, probably because all the Neons and Geo Metros were bobbing like corks in the rising floodwaters. I'd had the foresight to buy a bag of towels and blankets from a thrift store to cover the seats.

At every stop, my new dog wanted to walk and explore, so we did. Soon all my clothes were soaked. My socks squished in my sneakers. Near Coney Island, we walked along a bay that the wind and rain were whipping into a froth. By then, I'd figured out to wear plastic bags over dry socks inside my wet sneakers during our walks. There was no longer anything dry in the car.

Once I got Py home, I walked with her twice a day, come rain or come shine; and since I lived in Seattle, it was mostly come rain. Py delights in exploring new places and checking out changes in old places. She loves to follow her nose, and when smells beckon, Py follows―weather be damned.

I soon learned about dog parks and the people who visit them. A few people I saw almost every day with their dogs. But most people, the fair-weather dog walkers, only took their dogs out on nice days. Most days, there were several dozen dogs in the large park; on sunny days, there were hundreds.

I began to wonder what these fair-weather dogs did during the long rainy spells and realized that they were probably trapped in their houses, bored and longing to get out and about to visit with friends and sniff out the latest news. It seems to me that adding a dog to your family means making some concessions to the dog's needs and preferences. It's a small sacrifice to buy a weather-proof jacket, a stack of old towels and even a raincoat for your dog, then follow him or her through the rain to places you've never been to before.

Sweet Koro paid a painful price for her barking one morning.

Yesterday morning, my next-door neighbor's landlord appeared in her back yard and started cleaning up debris from the trees. My rambunctious Dexter ran outside through the doggie door, jumped up on the picnic table for a good vantage point, and then started barking. I stuck my head out the door and called him to come back inside, and he did, but just then, Chihuahua Sophia ran outside and started to bark, so I called her back inside too. Then the landlord called over to me, "Let 'em bark!" He told me not to worry about it if they annoyed people. So I explained to him why I wasn't comfortable with that:

Back in the mid-'80s, I was living in Columbus, Ohio, and I had a lovely young shepherd mix named Koro, my first dog. Early one Sunday morning, before I had even gotten out of bed, a friend who was visiting for the weekend let Koro out into the back yard, where she began to bark. What followed were two sounds that are etched into my memory forever―a gunshot and a canine scream. Koro had been shot through the chest by my neighbor, a college student who likely had a hangover. At the time, I didn't even have a car, so I had to call a cab in order to rush my beloved, bleeding dog to the emergency vet. Thankfully, the bullet missed all Koro's vital organs, and she made a full recovery within a few days.

But I never did. My trust in people had been damaged―I learned the hard way, through that experience, that neighbors can do unspeakable things to a person's animals if they happen to dislike them. Not everyone loves or even tolerates dogs. Not everyone is willing to be patient as you work through dog behavior problems. And worst of all, not everyone will communicate their annoyance in a reasonable, nonviolent way.

Fast-forward to 2003, when I decided to move from Virginia Beach to Norfolk, Virginia. The qualification at the top of my list for a new house was "must be located in a dog-friendly neighborhood." So when I saw the two loud and incessantly barking dogs confined to the back yard of the house that I was considering, I knew that here was a place where barking was tolerated―just in case. I did have misgivings about buying a house from people who would force their dogs to live outside all the time, but then I realized that if I held everyone to a humane standard, I might never find a house to live in.

I've been in that house for almost four years now. A few months ago, a couple with a beagle moved into the house directly behind me. Thankfully, beagle Rex isn't forced to live his life outside, but he is left outside for a few hours every morning, and he doesn't like that one bit, so he barks his head off pretty much the whole time. At first, I considered this a curse, mainly because of my dog Dexter, who is a very "reactive" dog. I don't know exactly how he was treated as a puppy, but whatever happened to him made him acutely sensitive to sounds of all kinds, especially human- and dog-generated sounds. So if we're walking down the street and he hears a dog barking, for example, he goes into alarm mode and wants to start barking and lunging. We've been working on this particular issue since the beginning, and he's much, much better than he was before, but still, fears and compulsions learned in puppyhood die hard. So I thought, "Ugh! Just what I need―a constantly barking dog nearby to keep Dexter revved up and barking."

However, the curse turned out to be a blessing in disguise. I was able to use Rex's barking as a tool to practice teaching Dexter how to control himself when those alarm bells go off in his head. Each morning, while I clean up the back yard, Dexter practices not barking and attacking the fence in response to Rex. Instead he quietly runs to me for a treat. (We call this "Nice!" as in, "Dexter, are you nice?" OK, we get pretty silly, but―hey―it works.) And the repetition has really helped enormously. Sometimes, Rex and the dog living next door to him get into barking matches, and now Dexter is actually able to just sit and listen or even ignore them instead of being compelled to bark too.

If you have a dog who is disturbing your neighbors by barking, here are a few tips that might help:

1. Exercise and lots of it, especially early. Get Fido out of the house every day, if possible, for a long morning walk. Tired dogs prefer sleeping to barking.
2. Counterconditioning. Teach Fido a behavior that is incompatible with the barking. He'll be distracted from the barking if he's following your cue to sit, come to you, lie down, or do something else that earns him a yummy treat. Eventually, this will become second nature.
3. Interactive toys and chew bones. These occupy Fido's mind and jaws and prevent boredom, which can lead to barking.
4. Minimal solitude. If you leave Fido alone for extended periods, then it's not fair to expect him not to get bored and react in some way, such as barking. Plan your schedule with him in mind. Don't spend all day at work, rush in for 10 minutes―just long enough to pour some dry, boring kibble into a bowl―and then rush back out again for a hot date. Who's more important here? Your faithful friend who would give his life for you, or some new paramour who will probably end up ditching you in a week or two anyway? Plan some at-home evening activities. And if you absolutely must leave Fido at home by himself, try to arrange for him to have some company. Surely there are other dogs in the same boat who would like to hang out with him. You can also arrange for him to have some human company―drop him off at a relative's house or even engage a pet sitter.

Whatever you do, if you know that your dog is behaving in a way that might be annoying your neighbors, do not count on the goodness of their hearts to put up with it. They can't possibly know how wonderful Fido is; in fact, they might be thinking, "Shut up, you mangy fleabag!!!" and fantasizing about doing him in. Indeed, it would be a simple matter to just toss some poisoned meat over the fence. So talk to them and see if all is well, and by all means, get cracking on toning down that barking.

Dexter gets serious about the task at hand―transporting some cargo in his new backpack while accompanying his mom on a nice walk.

I think that even if I hadn't had a neck injury myself, I would still wince whenever I see people dragging their dogs around by the neck, which―amazingly―is still pretty common. The worst is when they're running or even riding a bike. I just think, what if the dog falls down? Ouch! It's got to be a royal pain to be leashed by the neck, especially if your guardian tends to tug or even yank on it. There are all kinds of sensitive tissues in there, like discs and nerves and the esophagus and windpipe.

Add to that the hideous torture-device collars invented to control dogs via pain and you've got a real recipe for torment and even injury. Take choke collars, for example. The following have all been associated with choke collars: whiplash; intervertebral disc protusion; fainting; spinal cord injuries leading to partial or complete paralysis of the fore and/or hind limbs; damage to the vagus nerve, which affects the functioning of major organs such as the heart, lungs, liver, bladder, spleen, kidneys, etc.; crushing of the trachea with partial or complete asphyxiation; crushing of and sometimes fracture of the bones in the larynx; dislocated neck bones; bruising of the esophagus; damage to the voicebox; and sharp increases in pressure in the head, which can cause brain or eye damage and sometimes prolapse of the eye.

The choke chain can also cause bruising and damage to the skin and tissues in the neck, resulting in the formation of scar tissue, which has no feeling, so subsequent jerks will require greater force to achieve the same effect.

I once knew an adorable, sweet beagle whose loving guardian always walked her with a choke chain because, back then, it was considered normal. (I even had one for my Dobie Shandy way back when.) But wouldn't you know it―this dear angel of a dog had to be euthanized at the age of 7 because her neck had become so painful that it caused her to cry all night long and her guardian was desperate to end her suffering.

Not only can using a choke collar cause physical injury, it can also cause psychological damage. Kevin Behan, author of Natural Dog Training, says: "[W]ith a choke collar, the dog has an instinctive reflex at his disposal to deal with the sensation of something tightening around his neck. He may misinterpret the correction on the choke collar as a stranglehold and unnecessarily become rebellious or afraid." And Australian veterinarian Dr. Robert K. Wansbrough warns that choke collars can cause dogs to become fearful of hands, resentful, and aggressive.

Now, shock collars―I've written about them before, so I won't repeat myself. But as far as prong collars go, well, I mean, just look at them! Metal prongs circling Fido's neck that poke more deeply and directly into his neck tissue the more he pulls. Who invented that thing? Josef Mengele? How brainwashed do you have to be to put one of those things around the neck of your beloved dog and yank on it? I shudder to think of it.

Lady looks fetching in her soft pink Puppia harness.

The bottom line is, collars of any kind should only be used to carry identification. For keeping your dog out of trouble, a harness is always the way to go. There are many kinds of harnesses to choose from. If excessive pulling isn't an issue with your dog, then a standard nylon-web H-style harness might be just the ticket (I think it's just called "H-style" because from a certain angle, it's shaped like an "H"). For tiny dogs, there is a soft, comfy little harness called the Puppia (see photo), which I discovered yesterday. Apparently, they hold up well, even though they're soft. (I need to order one of those for each of the Chihuahua girls!)

For pullers, my pick is the Sense-ation harness. It has a front leash attachment, which aids in redirecting a lunging dog back to you. It's comfortable, and it really helps curb strong pulling without doing any harm to Fido. Another approach to handling dogs who pull is to have them wear a backpack during your walks (see photo of Dexter). A backpack tends to calm a dog down. Suddenly, Fido has a job to do, and that's serious business. You can fill the backpack with water bottles, bags of dried beans or anything else, as long as it's balanced on both sides and appropriate to the dog's strength. Many different styles are available online or at your local pet supply store.

There are four rather popular types of harnesses that I don't recommend. The first is the canine head halter (either the Halti or the Gentle Leader). While it's true that they're effective at keeping dogs from pulling hard, I don't like them because dogs tend to hate them and take a long time to get used to them. They even look depressed with head halters on. And this type of harness puts pressure on the neck, too, although not in the same way as a collar. The second type of harness that I don't recommend is the Easy-Walk. It's a front leash attachment harness similar to the Sense-ation, except that it has a martingale effect in the front, which puts additional pressure on the dog's chest. It's effective and humane, but I stopped recommending this harness because the company that produces it (Premier Pet Supplies) also produces a lot of citronella products designed to spray citronella into dogs' faces whenever they bark. If you don't support that, then don't buy an Easy-Walk.

Then there are the Sporn and the Holt harnesses, which both have leash attachments over the dog's back, so they're less effective than the Sense-ation at stopping pulling. The Sporn can also cause chafing or pressure under Fido's armpits, and it has a flat plastic buckle on top that looks uncomfortable, like it's digging into Fido's shoulder blades (it's not curved to fit the dog's natural contours). The Holt doesn't have either of these problems and it's a much simpler design, but the problem with the Holt is that the company that manufactures it, Coastal Pet Products, also makes prong collars and choke chains, so I don't want to support that, and I hope you won't, either.

Here's one more advantage that harnesses have over collars―if Fido ever has the misfortune of falling into a canal or a deep hole and you have to haul him out, it won't hurt him to be lifted up by a harness. A collar, on the other hand, could strangle him or injure his neck. I found myself in this situation when Rowdy fell off a seawall into the Elizabeth River a few years ago. If he hadn't had his harness on, saving him from drowning would have meant dragging all 65 pounds of him out of the water by the neck―I would've hated that, and so would he!

Barry Kipperman, D.V.M., is a veterinary specialist in internal medicine practicing in California.

I walk into the examination room and see a cute, 6-month-old male Shih Tzu named Gus. Gus' caretaker is a frail, older woman with a walking cane. Gus appears bright and happy. I'm told, "You’re the fourth vet I've seen for this problem, so I hope you can fix him." As a veterinary specialist, I'm often viewed as the proverbial "Custer's last stand" for arriving at an elusive diagnosis or improving an animal's condition.

Gus' mom tells me that he has a wound that bleeds at home and will not heal, despite numerous salves and medications. Upon inspection, it's evident why she is so frustrated. The wound is too large to heal on its own and will require skin-graft surgery. The prognosis is excellent with this procedure, but Gus' viability as a companion animal depends on this repair. I discuss this with the woman, who replies, "I'd love to help him, doctor, but I'm on a fixed income and can't afford this. What can I do?"

I see a 1-year-old cat brought in by Mrs. Jones for weight loss for a week. I'm told she'd like me to find the cause in as inexpensive a manner as possible. I feel a lump in the cat's abdomen, which is always troubling. I advise a sonogram to further investigate and discover a benign but life-threatening condition in which the intestines clump together into a mass. With surgery, the prognosis is excellent. Without surgery, the cat will die a lingering death. I discuss the need for surgery with Mrs. Jones and provide an estimate of approximately $2,500. I'm told that she will consult with her family. An hour later, Mr. Jones arrives to speak with me and tells me, "You know, doc, we've got a mortgage to pay for, and we have to save for the kids' college, so I guess you'll have to put the cat to sleep."

Winston Kipperman is Barry's confidant and consultant on canine behavior.

In the case of the cat, the bond was not as strong, and euthanasia was elected.

Our animal companions commonly take ill after regular business hours, and a serious illness or injury can require thousands of dollars to resolve or repair. So, what can you do to avoid finding yourself in this situation?

1) Consider pet health insurance. This does not cover the majority of costs, as it does in people, but instead is a subsidy that can help meet out-of-pocket veterinary expenses.
2) Create a medical fund for your animal companion and start saving!
3) Ensure that you have the financial resources to care for an animal prior to adopting one.
4) Discuss these issues with your family veterinarian during puppy or kitten visits.

With the evolving role of companion animals as family members in our society, the breadth of services that veterinary medicine can provide has increased exponentially. Chemotherapy, dialysis, MRI imaging, laparoscopy, and 24-hour monitoring are provided for dogs and cats daily. It is vital for both the well-being of our animal companions and the viability of veterinary medicine that animal guardians plan ahead in order to be able to cover the costs of these services.

Max: "Rules? Why, yes―I think I would like to have some rules."

Shortly after I discovered Cesar Millan (TV's "Dog Whisperer"), I discovered just how deeply he is hated by many dog trainers. What really struck me was that some of these dog trainers just hated him in principle without ever having watched his TV show or read his books or newsletter. I set out to find out more about him so that I could judge for myself. My opinion is based on having rented and watched the first two seasons of his TV show and read his first book. After I watch the third season and read his second book, my opinion might change. But for now, this is it.

Like all dog trainers, Cesar has his good points and his bad points. I'll start with his bad points.

1. Choke collars. He tends to rely on these, and they are simply not humane. He doesn't use them all the time (I'd say about half the time or a little less), but he reaches for them especially in dealing with aggressive dogs and has even invented a special kind of choke collar that keeps the collar positioned up high on the dog's neck for maximum effect.
2. Shock collars. I only saw him use a shock collar once during the first two seasons, but it was horrible. And he didn't own up to the fact that it was a shock collar―he called it an "e-collar." He was trying to teach a dog to get along with the family cat, so he put the cat into a crate and when the dog lunged at the crate, Cesar zapped him and the dog screamed. It REALLY hurt. That's completely unacceptable, in my opinion.
3. Crates. I only saw one crate used for training purposes in the entire first two seasons (not counting the above episode), but I despise crates, and I think his usage of one in this particular episode was completely unnecessary. The problem, separation anxiety, had already been pretty much resolved by the time he brought in the crate, so that really disappointed me.

I actually think that Cesar is a good enough trainer using body language alone to accomplish most of what he accomplishes without using these inhumane techniques, but I have a feeling that he succumbs to pressure to package the show neatly into the time allotted and therefore has to take some shortcuts. In my opinion, he would be better off experimenting with the use of treats, which he tends to shun. If Cesar ever reads this blog post, then I challenge him to move away from the choke collars, shock collars, and crates. Show us what you can do without being inhumane. Look at it from the dog's perspective. And use a few treats once in a while. It wouldn't kill you.

Now to his good points.

1. Exercise. Frustration caused by a lack of exercise is often the key to canine behavior problems. Often, an hour-long walk in the morning is all a dog needs in order to calm down and behave nicely, and Cesar preaches this relentlessly. In a nation of couch potatoes in which convenience is idolized, it's a hard sell, so my hat is off to him. He also distinguishes between romping at the dog park and a real walk, explaining that walking together is a better bonding experience for you and your dog because it simulates the migratory experience―dogs traveling together as a pack.
2. Thoughts. Cesar Millan is the only dog trainer that I know of who insists that you have to change your way of thinking in order to change your relationship with your dog and thus your dog's behavior. I think this is extremely important. If you don't feel like a pack leader, your dogs won't follow you, for example. Cesar even delves into people's psychology to find out exactly what's going on with them that's causing them to screw up their relationship with their dog.
3. Energy. Ditto for energy. What other dog trainers talk about energy? Cesar explains how the energy coming from your thoughts is easily perceived by your dogs. When they perceive that your energy is unbalanced, such as when you're angry or scared or lacking confidence, they won't perceive you as a pack leader and thus won't follow you.
4. Rules and boundaries. Cesar always talks about "exercise, discipline, and affection―in that order," and I couldn't agree with him more. In my line of work, I see so many people who adopt dogs and shower them with affection, especially rescued dogs, but don't set any boundaries or establish any rules for the dogs. This is not doing them any favors. Just as with kids, rules are appreciated by dogs. The more you act like a pack leader, the more your dogs will love you. I see this over and over again. It's a hard sell, but it's the truth. Parents who don't provide boundaries for their children end up with spoiled brats, and animal guardians who don't provide rules for their dogs end up with barking, biting, house-soiling, out-of-control little canine monsters. And the irony is that these little monsters are not happy being out of control―they're full of anxiety because they don't have a proper pack leader.
5. Body language. Cesar reads dogs as easily as we read books. He is so well versed in canine body language that he is even able to imitate dogs' facial expressions. It's quite amazing.

I know that Cesar is despised by many so-called "positive" dog trainers, who consider him to be a throwback to a less enlightened time. I would invite them to take a closer look and to listen carefully to what he says. He grew up among many free-roaming dogs, so he has a more natural approach that incorporates dog psychology and behavior. In many ways, I think it's superior to some of the so-called "positive" methods, which can include the use of citronella collars that spray citronella into a dog's face for barking and the heavy-handed use of crates, including locking dogs inside them for hours at a time.

The bottom line is that there probably aren't any 100 percent humane and effective dog trainers out there, so you have to be your dog's own advocate and select the best techniques and ideas from a wide array of trainers. Keep reading and keep learning―and keep an open mind.

1-year-old Dexter: A zest for life in spite of his unfortunate beginnings

When I first adopted Dexter, during Labor Day weekend of 2003, he was so full of anxiety that for a full month, he would chew the tip of his tail bloody, beginning the moment he heard my car pulling into the driveway. Clearly, he thought I was going to walk through that door and start yelling at him or beating on him or doing whatever unspeakable thing his previous owner had done to him. Once during that first month, he accidentally knocked over an end table―this caused him to panic and run out the doggie door and under the picnic table, where he crouched, shivering, for about an hour. No amount of coaxing by me or his friend Sunny could persuade him that it was safe to come out. It was heartbreaking how much psychological damage had already been inflicted on him by the tender age of 1 year.

Dexter's phobias extended to both children and men. I started filling the hands of children we met on the street with treats for Dexter, and his opinion of the little people soon began to change. With men, however, it was a little tougher. The treat trick only went so far.

So it shouldn't have come as a surprise to me when, on his third trip to our veterinary chiropractor, Dr. Paul Rowan (this time without his pillar of strength, Sunny), he had a full-blown panic attack. Dexter has never liked having things done to him, so a spinal manipulation by a tall man really put him over the edge. It was horrible! He was in an altered state of mind―so terrified that he looked like a completely different dog.

For three years, I never took him back, even though, God knows, he needed to be adjusted. Dexter is the kind of dog who leaps before he looks. His usual modus operandi is to get from point A to point B as quickly as possible, whether by dashing, leaping, lurching, or lunging. I did manage to desensitize him enough to take him to a female conventional veterinarian for his annual heartworm blood tests and later to a female veterinary acupuncturist, who, over the course of three appointments, got him to relax and be comfortable. But the thought of going back to Dr. Rowan again was truly daunting.

However, recently Dexter started to get a chronic limp in one of his front legs that seemed to be coming from his shoulder, and I knew that Dr. Rowan was the best person to take him to, so I bit the bullet and made the appointment. Luckily, Dr. Rowan is now working out of his own home, so the atmosphere there is homey, like a living room. I also slipped Dexter an herbal calming agent to take the edge off. And I brought Rowdy along for moral support―as well as a bunch of tasty treats. And then there was the gerbil. Dr. Rowan had gotten his kids a gerbil, whose unfortunate fate it was to be in a cage on the floor in that same room. That unexpected distraction turned out well for Dexter if not for the gerbil. In any case, it all went very smoothly! Dexter got adjusted, and there was nothing wrong with his shoulder―his neck was just out of whack. Hallelujah! That's progress.

Additional progress could be seen this morning, when Dexter raced through the house and knocked over a metallic trash can with a loud clanging sound. Instead of hiding and cringing in fear, as he would have three years ago, he just sat there wagging his tail while I righted the trashcan and told him how silly he was.

Dexter does seem to benefit from incremental, slow desensitization to help him work through his fears. But there is another method, called "flooding," that has become extra controversial since the sometimes beloved and sometimes despised Cesar Millan began showcasing it in his Dog Whisperer TV show. In one very memorable episode in the first season, he helped a Great Dane overcome his fear through the use of flooding. The dog had been a school mascot, attending along with his guardian, who was a teacher there. Then one day, the dog ran smack into a glass wall, and his guardian made such a fuss over the incident that the dog developed a phobia and refused to set foot back inside the school.

Cesar's approach was to tire the dog out by running him around the block numerous times and then running him straight through the front doors of the school. Of course, they only got a few feet inside before the dog put on the brakes. At that point, he became petrified. But Cesar walked a few feet ahead of him and stood quietly and waited for the dog to follow, and eventually he did! They continued, step by step, until it got easier and easier, and within a half-hour, that dog was back to normal, walking calmly down the halls of the school! It was actually quite moving. Cesar said, "This is the hardest day of this dog's life," and he really seemed to appreciate and understand what the dog was going through.

Many people take issue with flooding, saying that it's mean and disrespectful and can backfire, causing a dog to become even more sensitive. I don't know about the backfiring, but I have to say that I don't think it's so terrible under the right circumstances. In fact, I've used it myself. I have fostered five Chihuahua mixes from the same hideous puppy mill, and each of them came to me scared to death. With the first two, Joey and Chandler, whom I fostered sequentially, I basically forced myself on them, holding them on my lap for the duration of a movie or two, and after that, we were best buds! They both became completely normal within a few months and now live in a wonderful home together. Every time I see them, they go wild, climbing all over me.

Now, in contrast, with the three Chihuahua mix girls from the puppy mill, I decided to try the slow, sensitive, respectful approach, without forcing myself on them, and guess what? After 16, 12, and 10 months, respectively, they're still not normal or completely trusting of me. In fact, Sarah only recently stopped looking at me as if I were an ax murderer, Theresa still won't let me put a harness on her without first herding her onto the front porch, and Sophia still cringes sometimes when I look at her. I have to wonder if it isn't better to just get it over with and make them face their fears, instead of letting this fearfulness go on and on and on. After all, it's no fun being scared! In fairness, I have to say that the girls have come a long way: Two of them sleep with me and let me pet them most of the time, but there's still a long way to go before they can be called "normal" in the sense that Joey and Chandler are now normal. This is just my opinion (and feel free to try to get me to change it), but I think flooding can be done in a respectful and sensitive manner, depending on the particular dog and the particular fear.

In a way, I feel like I experienced flooding myself in 1993 when I had to face my driving phobia. It may seem like I had a choice in the matter, but I really didn't―not in the real world. If I hadn't confronted my phobia, I would have had to quit my job, and my whole life would have fallen apart. So I just did it. I got behind the wheel. I had to write out directions on index cards, and I could only drive to one destination and then back home again at first. I hadn't driven in probably a decade, and I was really scared. But now I enjoy driving (as long as I have a functioning radio in the car!), and I'm really glad I was forced to overcome that psychological hurdle.

Napoleon: "If you ask me, citronella is for candles, not collars!"

The following is a guest post by German dog trainer Clarissa v. Reinhardt of animal learn, translated from the German by Nadja Kutscher.

Many dog trainers now recommend citronella collars, which have become popular in numerous different styles. The collars, which allegedly send out a totally harmless little spritz of fragrance, have become even more popular ever since our TV dog nanny, Katja Geb-Mann, started to present them on German television every week, showing that no matter what the problem with a dog is, the simple use of the remote can solve it.

However, common sense tells us that something must be wrong when producers and users of the product claim that it's "nothing." Really, it's a bit strange that something the dog doesn't care about at all is supposed to change instinctive, genetically programmed behaviors, like hunting. People are asked to try putting the collar on themselves while the trainer triggers the device … wow, it really isn't bad at all! A little shhhh of damp, cold air—"Seriously," confirms the convinced dog owner, "it didn’t hurt a bit." But producers and trainers don't tell people (either because they don't know or because they fear losing profits) that sudden sounds that seem to come out of nowhere are scary to dogs.

Have you noticed how dogs turn around and around before finally lying down to go to sleep? This is an inherited behavior from earlier times when dogs always used to live outside. Before lying down in the grass, they turned around to see if it was safe, and if they heard a noise (like the shhhh of a snake), they could just jump aside to safety. Biologically, this makes sense—and we are now taking this noise that causes so much fear in them and producing it right under their chins! Plus, we even press the button a couple of times, which causes them not only fear but real panic—with no way to escape!

This fact alone is reason enough never to use this device on our beloved animal companions. However, there are even more problems with it.

Dogs never know when and why this is happening to them so they are always waiting for it to happen. If you want to know how that feels, just conduct the following experiment on yourself: Ask a member of your family or a friend to scare you to death—they could shout loudly or turn the stereo up suddenly when you're not expecting it, like, for example, when you're relaxing in your favorite armchair or playing cards with your friends—on a random schedule. The experiment should continue for at least a few hours or even days and you should get frightened several times without knowing when it's going to be. You will soon realize that the actual fright is not as bad as the endless minutes that you're dreading it. Even though you don't want it to happen, you almost hope it won't be too long before it does so that you can rest for a little while afterwards—which isn't really the case because it could happen again a few minutes later, and then again—whatever your friend decides. Doesn't sound too nice, does it?

Another big problem is the fact that dogs learn by associating things with other things. Let's say that Fido wears the collar and gets the shhhh because he hasn't reacted to several calls to come. You do this because you want to show him that he will be punished if he doesn't obey. However, there's a good chance that he might see a child, a runner, or another dog right at that very moment—whom he then connects to the punishment. Then you'll have a dog who is still not reacting to your calls but is now afraid of or even aggressive toward the person or animal he saw. People have no clue why their dog doesn't like kids anymore and barks at runners, which he didn't do before.

I work with many of these cases in my dog school. Very recently, I met a male Rhodesian ridgeback whose collar was activated whenever he was about to go hunting. However, his female companion dog was always present on those outings too. His human companions didn't come to see me because of the hunting but because the male dog seemed to avoid the female's company. Whenever she entered the room or wanted to snuggle with him (as she frequently did), he anxiously left the room and nobody knew why. What had they done to these dogs! What kind of feelings had humans provoked in them? The dog had become afraid of his friend whom he used to love so much. She, on the other hand, just couldn't understand why he avoided her now, when, in the past, they used to play and have fun together. And by the way, the trainer who recommended the collar now thought it was a good idea to give one of the dogs away because they had developed very differently and just didn't get along anymore. She said that the male's fears had to be attributed to the female's very dominant character. I could cry when I meet dogs like these—or get very angry.

And it gets worse because, among dogs, nothing generalizes as quickly as the fear of noises. Many dogs develop a fear of noises after having had to wear a citronella collar. They are afraid of things they didn't care about before, like the opening of a soda bottle, the noise of hot oil in a saucepan, banging sounds, and gunshots. The Rhodesian ridgeback I was talking about ran straight under my table when I opened my bottle of water. I didn't do this because I was thirsty—sadly enough, this has become part of my standard procedures when getting to know and analyzing a new dog, to see if people have used a citronella collar on him or her before.

His human companion was really surprised when I told her straight away after the bottle trick that I knew a citronella collar had been used on him before. She hadn't planned to tell me as she had heard that I don't approve of those things. She was really shocked when I told her about her dog's reaction to the bottle. And she was angry when I told her the reason why her dog was afraid of his companion and various noises now. She was mad at the trainer who didn't tell her about the side effects of the collar but instead constantly told her how simple and harmless it was. I have to ask myself whether my colleagues using this device don't know about the side effects or simply don't tell people because nobody would allow them to be used otherwise. I don't know which is worse.

Last, but not least, there are also technical problems with these collars. It has been reported that citronella collars can be triggered by other radio frequencies or even the remote control of another citronella collar close by. That means that a dog who is just standing there, playing or doing something else, can get the punishment. Of course, this causes the dog to expect it even more often and greatly increases the likelihood of a mistaken association.

Additionally, these collars don't always work properly and can fail or be delayed by damp air (fog or rain). Plus, they don't show you in advance when the batteries will run out, so you could be pressing the button without anything happening—which could have the effect of praising Rover for negative behavior (if he ever understood the punishment in the first place). The dog then learns that he just has to do something over and over again in order to succeed (i.e., not get punished by the collar).

So there's really no doubt: Citronella collars are not harmless at all—they are, in fact, dangerous. Some dogs are so traumatized by them that they develop "learned helplessness," which causes them to hardly do anything because of the constant fear of punishment that seems to come out of nowhere. Rehabilitating these animals—and helping their desperate human companions—often requires long-term appropriate training in order to lead them out of their helplessness and free them of their fears.

Citronella collars are supposed to be a quick solution for all real and imagined "problems." But it's just not that simple. Dogs are sensitive and intelligent beings who can't be manipulated and whose ways of learning are very different from ours. I urge people to become informed and to research all methods recommended by trainers before trying them on their dogs. When in doubt, the best way to decide is by applying the Golden Rule: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

Baby Louie tucked in for a nap with her blankie.

The following is a guest post from my dogwise friend and colleague Amanda.

I live next door to a redneck. I don't use that term loosely—I am talking about a man who, when my roommates and I moved in next door, asked if he could rent our spacious back yard to store junk. Why? Because he had run out of room in his own yard. His cats roam freely and wreak havoc on neighborhood birds, and when one of them had kittens (she is now spayed, thanks to PETA), he lost track of the babies more frequently than other people lose pocket change. So I always get a good chuckle when his German shepherd, Hannah, gets the best of him.

Hannah loves her dad, and she loves to go for rides in the bed of his pick-up truck. If he is working in the yard and says "drive," "ride," "truck," or anything similar-sounding, Hannah jumps in the back of the truck. My neighbor will then roll his eyes, tell Hannah that "we are not going for a ride," and demand that she get out of the truck in his gruff way. She responds by lying down in the truck bed. Then, looking sheepish, my neighbor rolls his eyes and says to anyone who has witnessed the exchange, "Guess I gotta take her for a ride now"—and he does!

Dogs are experts in operant conditioning (something that we "superior" humans have to take classes and read books in order to figure out). They can't speak our language, so they have to come up with creative ways to show us what they want and reward us when we exhibit the desired behavior. One of my coworkers tells me that when her canine friend Keeley wants to go for a walk, he stares at her intently from about 5 feet away. When she notices him, he wags, prances around a bit, and grins at her, and—bingo—she gets the hint and takes him for the walk he was asking for. Another PETA office dog, Chloe, prefers butt scratches to head pats. Since most people she meets on the street are not mind readers, Chloe's guardian says that she shows them what she wants by backing up to them and wiggling her behind until they understand.

At my house, we all know that my Louie wants to be tucked in for a nap when she hops up on the couch and paws expectantly at her blankie. My little jumping bean, who can leap 4 feet high with ease, has even managed to convince a frequent guest of mine that the couch is just too high. Whenever he visits, she daintily puts her paws on his lap and gives him a pitiful look. He lifts her up to the couch and she curls up next to him, rewarding him with an adoring look that clearly says, "You are my hero." I am certain she laughs at him behind his back.

I was told once by one of my college professors that animals can't communicate because they have no language. I told him that was the stupidest thing I had ever heard anyone say. Canine communication may be different from ours, but it isn't any less valid. Pay attention to what your dog is trying to tell you and you just might become bilingual!

Koro: "I like running in the snow, too, but not that much!"

I was kicking myself for forgetting to write about the Iditarod sled-dog race while it was still going on earlier this month, when I came across two articles that rekindled my fury over the stupid yet deadly event. The first one was about yet another Alaskan sled-dog race that started today―a 408-mile round-trip race between Nome and Candle called the All-Alaska Sweepstakes. This race is even older than the Iditarod, but it has a larger purse ($100,000 vs. $69,000) and includes a rule that threatens to harm even more dogs: Mushers are penalized by 10 hours and ineligibility for the first prize if they drop off any dogs because of injury or illness. Can you imagine being sick or injured and having to ride that sled the rest of the way, through icy wind? But of course, organizers pretend that this rule will force mushers to take better care of their dogs. Right. Anyone who would push a dog that hard just to win a cash prize is never going to care about a dog. It's all about money and ego.

In fact, the organizers of the All-Alaska Sweepstakes are even going to allow a musher suspended for abusing a dog in the Iditarod to participate. That's right―Ramy Brooks, who "was disqualified from the 2007 race for striking his dogs with a wooden trail marker." One of his dogs even died the next day, but since the cause of death could not be determined, he was merely reprimanded but not convicted of anything. Yeah, those animal abusers have to stick together. I'm sorry, but planning an event in which dogs are forced to run hundreds of miles through sub-zero temperatures, ice, snow, and wind and then rewarding the participants who drive their dogs the hardest―well, that's dog abuse in my book.

Every year in the Iditarod, at least one dog dies, but this year three did. What do these young, fit, healthy dogs die of? Gastric ulcers, pneumonia, trauma, sudden death, internal hemorrhaging, heart failure, strangulation, being kicked to death, being forced to mush through waist-deep water and ice―a "sport" with this kind of risk factor doesn't sound like much fun for the dogs. Oh, but no human has ever died in the Iditarod, so I guess it's OK.

Meanwhile, in an article that came out on Easter Sunday in The New York Times, Dr. Randall J. Basaraba, an associate professor of pathology at Colorado State University's College of Veterinary Medicine and Biomedical Sciences, and his colleagues have come out with a study analyzing the deaths of the 23 dogs who died in the Iditarod from 1994 to 2006. You would think that a man who has immersed himself in this topic since 1995 would actually be against the harsh treatment inflicted on these dogs, but instead he's just trying to figure out ways to keep the dogs from dying so that the race can continue unfettered every year. His helpful tips include watching for warning signs of muscle degeneration and gastric ulceration and pulling any dogs showing these symptoms from the race. All I can say is, how thoughtful! And how ethical! And it only took 13 years to come up with that.

Oh, but that's not all: Another of Basaraba's suggestions is to administer over-the-counter ulcer medications to the dogs in order to prevent stomach ulcers from forming. Hmmm. Hey, here's a thought―how about preventing the stress that causes the ulcers in the first place? Perhaps forcing dogs to pull sleds weighing hundreds of pounds over rugged terrain for two weeks or more in horribly uncomfortable and even deadly weather conditions is a bit stressful for them.

Basaraba says that he is also still puzzled by 30 percent of the deaths among sled dogs for which he hasn't identified a cause. Dr. Basaraba, at the risk of sounding like a broken record, let me just say once again: Perhaps forcing dogs to pull sleds weighing hundreds of pounds over rugged terrain for two weeks or more in horribly uncomfortable and even deadly weather conditions isn't especially good for dogs. Dogs are dying just so that mushers can have fun playing "rugged individualist" and trying to win a silly race. Are the exact details of the causes of death really necessary for you to understand that sled-dog racing isn't healthy for dogs and never will be?

It's time to get real and expose this cruel competition for what it truly is―an inhumane relic of the past. If you would like to take action to help speed up the demise of sled-dog racing, please click here.

Alex and Myshkin out on the town!

The following is a guest post by my compassionate friend and colleague Alex.

Senior dogs have so much to offer us, and they need our care and love so badly, yet they are so often ignored. How can anyone not melt at the sight of a sweet old dog's face with those big sad eyes and fur that's gone white?

The biggest problem is when human caretakers lose their patience, just as they do with puppies. There are a lot of similarities between baby dogs and grandpa dogs. Both need to sleep a lot, they might have special dietary needs, they're most likely not completely housetrained, and they don't seem to respect you. Puppies just haven't learned your language yet, while old dogs are often hard of hearing or going blind so they don't know you're asking them to "sit." They want to sit, they love you just as much as they ever did, but they need a little patience and extra TLC from you.

Anytime I visit an animal shelter, I see gentle old dogs shivering in the corner of their kennels, curled up, afraid and painfully confused. They gave all the love and loyalty they had to their people, but when they became a bit "messy," they were dumped at the pound. How could any decent human being do that?

Other folks might not dump their old dogs, but they yell at them for peeing in the wrong place, jerk them impatiently on the leash to make their tired legs go faster, and stop giving them attention because their breath isn't puppy fresh anymore.

If you adopt a dog, please plan ahead for his or her golden years. Make the commitment now to stick with Fifi until the very end and give her the love and loyalty she'll give you for all the years of her youth. There are ways to make it a happy time for both of you.

Accident-proof your home. If old Blue is becoming incontinent but not suffering in any other way, then just deal with it. First, of course, you must take him to the vet to see why he's having little accidents after years of being housetrained. If there's no medical issue that needs to be addressed, then you simply have to treat him like a puppy again. Let him out more often, arrange for more dog-walking visits, and roll up the expensive Persian rugs. The difference is that you're not going to try and train him like you would a puppy. Remember, he can't help it and he's not any happier than you are about it. I'll never forget my old Daisy Mae's face when she had an accident in the house—she was mortified. She knew it was wrong, but she couldn't control her body as well as she used to—there is no way I could ever have yelled at her!

Get creative. If Fluffy is too slow to take on the usual walks, you don't have to choose between forcing her to go too far or leaving her at home. The sweetest dog in the world spent a good 12 years hiking up mountains with me, but during her last couple of years she just couldn't do it. I was frustrated. I didn't want to give up my personal exercise, but I had to find time for two walks—a strenuous walk for me and then a slow and easy walk for her. A PETA coworker tipped me off to the perfect solution, and I purchased a secondhand bike trailer (pictured) for $30. I had to make a couple of adjustments, and she wasn’t too sure about it the first time I put her in it, but treats and praise won her over. She and I ran miles and miles with that buggy―her inside it and me behind it. She loved it, and everyone we passed by just melted. Those walks are some of my all-time favorite memories.

Stop whining. How would you feel if you were in a car accident and you needed a lot of help during your recovery? Help walking, eating, going to the bathroom, getting to the doctor … would you like to have your caretaker yelling at you? Impatient with you? Ignoring you? Letting you wet your bed? Skipping your food or meds? What if your caretaker was someone you had always loved and who had always loved you but was now treating you like dirt? Not such a nice thought. Imagine how old Max feels, when he can’t even express his sadness and confusion to his caretakers. Or his needs. He needs for you to be patient and compassionate. Just a few changes in your daily schedule can make things work when your best friend gets old. Trust me―it will be worth it all when the time comes to say that final goodbye: Your heart will still be aching, but at least it won't be aching from guilt. You'll know that your dog had the best life he or she could possibly have had up to the very end because you did everything in your power to make your old dog comfortable.

You are the world to your dogs, and you're all they have. Don't let them down when they need you the most!

Ouch!

I could really use some good advice and creative ideas right now. I mentioned recently that my rambunctious, muscle-bound drama queen, Dexter, had started limping on his right front leg as a result of a misalignment in his neck and that the veterinary chiropractor had fixed him right up.

Well, that lasted about two weeks, and then one night, I was walking him and Rowdy late at night, when we unexpectedly came upon a very aggressive chained golden retriever. He and Dexter have always been mortal enemies, so we've always kept our distance from him, but this time, we got caught off-guard and found ourselves only a few feet away from him. Dexter went into red alert and instantly started lunging. Normally, I walk him alone, so it was pretty scary to have this happen with Rowdy along since I didn't want there to be any deferred aggression directed toward Rowdy. So I quickly jerked him back (he was wearing a front-leash attachment Sense-ation harness), got him to sit down and look at me, facing away from the golden retriever, gave him a treat, and prepared to cross the street to put some distance between us and the golden, when suddenly he whipped around and started lunging again and we had to repeat the whole process all over again. This happened three times before we finally got away from the golden retriever.

And wouldn't you know it―the next day, Dexter was limping again! Back we went to the chiropractor for an adjustment. I explained what had happened and asked if he had any suggestions for avoiding this scenario in the future, other than being more careful about where, when, and with whom Dexter walks on the leash. (He's fine off the leash, such as at the beach or the dog park.) My veterinary chiropractor gave a response that made me pretty unhappy. He said that chiropractically, a prong (or pinch) collar was the least harmful. Apparently, it leaves the discs and vertebrae and spinal cord alone but stops a dog from pulling by pinching the skin. "He'll only lunge one more time, and then he'll walk nicely after that," was about what the vet said. He said that he also had thought they looked like torture devices when he first saw them but had gradually been won over, and now his black lab wears one when they go walking. He explained that the prongs are supposed to simulate a mother dog's teeth on her puppy's neck, because that's how she would discipline her puppy.

Still, you're getting the dog to walk nicely by inflicting pain. I just can't see putting one of those things around Dexter's neck. I would probably burst into tears doing it! I can just hear him yelping after that first lunge and picture the confused, scared look on his face. But at the same time, I don't want him to keep throwing his neck out, now that it seems to have become his Achilles' heel. There must be a better idea out there somewhere.

By the way, Haltis aren't an option―my vet said that they're bad for Dexter's neck, too, and I doubt that I could ever get one on him anyway, as hypersensitive and hyperactive as he is. I've tried a backpack, which helped somewhat, taking the edge off his reactivity, but that's not quite enough to prevent him from lunging. I've used treats extensively―giving him a treat every time he turns his attention to me. I've used the "stop and go" technique, planting my feet and stopping all forward motion each time he starts pulling and then rewarding him each time he slacks up on the leash. I have specific language I use to encourage him to turn his attention to me (don't ask). I've used body-blocking techniques, blocking his view of the barking dog. Yet I've still been unsuccessful at preventing the initial lunging, and we've been working on this for more than four years. (He's much better than he was at the outset, but everything is relative, of course.) The good part is that I can calm him down pretty quickly. I just can't seem to prevent him from launching in the first place.

The thing about Dexter is that he is extremely sensitive to the sound of another dog barking (as well as other sounds). Recently, I've been able to desensitize him via the beagle in the yard behind us who barks incessantly, but while on the leash, a barking dog still puts Dexter on red alert and pumps up his adrenalin, making him want to lunge and go crazy.

I used to think that Dexter's lunging was just my problem because it could take a toll on my joints. But now that the lunging is starting to take a toll on Dexter, too, it's become his problem, and I don't like that one bit. I can't stand to see anyone in my pack in pain.

So if you can think of an alternative to the monstrosity pictured in the accompanying photo, please leave me a comment and tell me what it is. What would you do if Dexter were your dog?