Little Miss came away from her grooming appointment with a broken tail.

I've never trusted groomers. I've never felt comfortable enough to leave any of my beloved dogs at a groomer's. Initially, this suspicion stemmed from the horror stories told to me by a professional groomer who came to my house to cut my dogs' nails years ago. And then later, I saw the steady stream of hideous articles about dogs who had been injured at grooming facilities that flowed into PETA's office, filling up a fat file called "Grooming Accidents." There were dogs who had been burned, dogs who had been cut, dogs whose tails had been broken, and dogs who had died of strangulation or heatstroke.

Just last month, a little dog named Bendi came home from a PetSmart grooming facility and had to go straight to the vet because her paws had been burned during a flea treatment. PetSmart paid the vet bill.

I have actually taken dogs to grooming facilities myself, but I've always stayed and watched the proceedings. One year, I wanted to try having my late husky, Darby, shaved down for the summer, so I took him to a groomer. When I made the appointment, I stated that I wanted to watch, so they made me take the last appointment of the day, which was fine. And just last week, I took my three foster Chihuahuas to a local groomer to have their nails trimmed and their anal glands expressed, and I thought the groomer did a wonderful, professional, and very speedy job. We didn't even have to leave the reception area―we were done in less than 10 minutes.

However, I could see back into the grooming area, and what I saw really worried me: An unattended dog with a noose around his neck standing on top of a grooming table. I spoke up and said to the groomer, "Hey, I'm really worried that that dog over there is going to jump and hang himself or get his neck broken." She looked momentarily annoyed with me and then said, "It's fine. I know that dog." Well, I know my dogs, too, but I can't predict their every movement. And when the stakes are that high, I think a groomer should have been standing next to that dog as long as he was on the table.

Many people saw the grooming exposé "Pet Grooming Dangers," on the Today show on August 1, which was prompted by the grooming death of Sushi, the 2-year-old Labrador retriever of one of the Today show's employees. Sushi had been left for a week at a boarding facility and was supposed to get a bath before being picked up. When her guardian, Amanda, arrived to pick her up, instead of the thrill of a joyful reunion, she experienced the horror of learning that Sushi was unconscious. Not long after that, Sushi died at the vet's. Later it was determined that Sushi had been put inside a "cage dryer" for 30 minutes with the temperature set at 100°F.

I took one look at those dryers in the Today piece and shuddered. I couldn't believe my ears as I watched person after person, including someone from The Humane Society of the United States, repeat some version of the mantra, "These cage dryers are safe if used properly." Excuse me? First of all, the cage dryer has a setting that goes up to 100°F, so it has a built-in setting for death. Secondly, machines malfunction. A groomer might think that the dryer was set at 80°F, but in reality, it might go haywire and shoot up to 100°F or even 135°F. Thirdly, there are many dogs who, for various reasons, are automatically going to be at high risk inside one of these contraptions. These include dogs with flat muzzles, older dogs, dogs with heart problems, dogs with respiratory problems, etc. Finally, the dryers are run by mere mortals, who work for a largely unregulated industry. On any given day, a person can be distracted, tired, hung over, ill, depressed, or just plain stupid―any of which could cause a careless mistake, leading to tragedy.

And what is the purpose of these cage dryers anyway? There is nothing inherently necessary about them. According to a leading professional groomer who was interviewed on the Today show segment, a cage dryer "gives the groomer the ability to do more dogs in one day." That's the ONLY raison d'être for cage dryers. Money. Cage dryers don't make dogs safer, and they don't make dogs healthier. They just make groomers wealthier.

I have nothing at all against groomers per se. I think groomers provide a wonderful service, especially for people who are unskilled at trimming nails, expressing anal glands, or giving a dog a summer shave. But a bath can certainly be given at home. (And dogs don't even need to be bathed that often.) In any case, there is no reason on Earth to drop a dog off at a groomer's and just leave. Doing that just so that you can cram more activities into a busy day is just not acceptable. Your dog's life is at stake. In my view, leaving a dog with a groomer is riskier than leaving a child with a sitter because (a) the dog can't tell you what happened while you were gone, and (b) the groomer has a cage dryer.

I think cage dryers should be banned outright. A plain old fan will do just fine.

For more information about grooming accidents, how to prevent them, and basic grooming that you can do at home, click here.

Rogan doing his impersonation of a human smile

If you have a close relationship with a dog, you already know that dogs can empathize with others―it's just so obvious. But some people feel the need to prove it in the lab, so a team at the University of London took the approach of trying to see whether dogs would yawn when faced with a yawning human. Yesterday, they reported their findings in the BBC News, and it was pretty interesting. They found that 21 out of 29 dogs yawned after watching a human stranger yawn!

They made sure that it was more than just copying behavior by setting up a parallel experiment in which the stranger merely opened and closed his mouth, without actually yawning, and not one dog yawned at this. It's well known that dogs are extremely perceptive and sensitive to human body language, so it should come as no big surprise that they might react to a human yawn by feeling like yawning themselves, just as we do.

However, I think authenticity is critical here. I tried the experiment on my six canine buddies, but I really couldn't pull off that many genuine yawns, so I faked some of them. And my results reflected this: Only two out of six dogs yawned back at me (Dexter and Theresa, the two most reactive dogs of the pack). The others just kind of stared at me with a look of concern on their faces. Oh, and Sunny couldn't stand to have me sitting across the room gazing at her―she kept running to put her head in my lap, so I'm not sure how to rate her reaction.

For years, I've been using a variation on this activity to induce calmness and sleepiness in my dogs. When they're a bit hyped up and I want them to settle down, I'll kind of blink at them with sleepy, droopy eyelids and talk to them in a sleepy voice, and they instantly start to look sleepy too. And again, it's not just copying, because they are likely to then roll over and fall asleep. It's pretty cool. I even used this technique on my late cocker spaniel, Rogan, when a friend was taking his stitches out.

But now I'm going to go out on a limb and go one better on the subject of dogs' amazing abilities. Call me crazy, but I believe that not only can dogs empathize, they can also sometimes even read our minds, at least the images in our minds.

Wait! Keep reading. Just hear me out. You be the judge. How else can one explain the following experience, which happened to me almost 20 years ago:

My beloved dog Druzhok had recently died (he was the first one), and I missed him so. He had had the unusual ability to smile and snort like a laughing human. It was so cute and endearing and funny. So one day, I was sitting on the kitchen floor, lamenting to my then-husband about the fact that I was never going to get to see that smile again, when my cocker spaniel, Rogan, suddenly ran into the next room and grabbed an old tennis ball with the felt torn off of it. He then proceeded to chew the ball in half and position half of it in his mouth with the round side down and his lips curling over the edges of the rim. This had the effect of making him look like he was smiling (take a look at the photo). Then he put his face right up to mine and started snorting! If he had had a bubble caption over his head reading, "Look, Mom! I'll smile for you!" it wouldn't have been any more obvious what he was trying to convey.

If that wasn’t mind-reading (not to mention empathy), then I don’t know what is.

Markus, one of countless Turkish dogs abandoned in the woods to starve to death

The following is a guest post by my lovely colleague and PETA Germany campaigner for homeless dogs in Turkey, Magda.

If I think about my trip to Istanbul as part of PETA Germany's Turkish stray-dog campaign, I immediately think of a little puppy who was named Markus by Turkish animal activists—the same name as my partner.

We found Markus on our way to Beykoz animal shelter, which we knew of because, day after day for several weeks, we had been hearing horror stories about neglected, traumatized, and starving dogs there.

The little pup was about 4 months old, wandering the back roads far away from any civilization. Probably our foundling was one of the hundreds of dogs who had been abandoned in Beykoz's forests. Turkish officials use this inhumane and absolutely counter-productive method to fight the obvious and pervasive problem of dog overpopulation. If these animals are not found by animal activists, they just starve to death.

We stopped the car to take a look at the intimidated puppy. Markus ducked into a corner and tried to make himself invisible. Yasemin Baban, a Turkish animal activist who has been fighting for animals for years and cares for dozens of neglected dogs in the Beykoz forest every day, lifted him up, saw how emaciated he was, and carried him to the car. Markus was almost completely hairless and had gaping wounds all over his worn-out body—signs of the advanced stages of mange. At first, Markus tried to escape from the back seat of the car, so afraid was he of what was to come. However, after he discovered the dog food stored back there, always at the ready for hungry dogs, he changed his mind and gobbled up everything he could get his little paws on.

While I continued on my mission to document the inhumane conditions at the Beykoz animal shelter, puppy Markus was taken to the rehabilitation center of an animal activist group called SHKD. These activists have been fighting for Istanbul's homeless dogs for years under the patronage of Robert Smith. Their work includes neutering as many dogs as possible—the only long-term, humane solution to a reduction in the overpopulation problem. The group's work and its "forest shelter" will remain in my mind's eye as a glimmer of hope. Twenty-four hours later, I was a guest there.

Upon arrival, I could see "my" little foundling recovering in a pleasant, shady fenced-in area along with three other rescued puppies. I tried to raise his spirits by clapping and offering him words of praise, and he shyly wagged his tail. But the look on his face still seemed rather lost, after all he had been through. Although I worried that he might remain traumatized for the rest of his life, in that moment I could see a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

I was sad and heavy-hearted when I had to leave Markus and the SHKD shelter behind—the only place I saw in Istanbul where dogs have a life worth living. What will happen to all the other dogs on the streets and in the forests who won't be as lucky as the dogs who were found by the animal activists? What will happen to all the dogs wasting away in the horrible conditions of the government animal shelters? What will happen to Markus? Will he recover?

Now back in Germany, I still have to deal with the images I saw in Istanbul. Mother dogs whose puppies died cause they couldn't nurse them; depressed dogs living in the shelters who seemed to have given up and who looked at me with empty eyes; sick, injured, and hungry dogs who had been abandoned in the forests by the hundreds. However, most of the time I think about "my" Markus who—because his illness was too advanced by the time he was rescued—died in the SHKD shelter last Friday, August 8.

If you would like to help stray dogs in Turkey, please contact the Turkish Embassy or Consulate in your country and express your feelings on this subject.

Koro understood dozens of words and phrases, including some in French and German!

I used to teach English as a Second Language to people from many different countries, and I think many of the principles needed to successfully help foreign students learn English can also be applied to dogs. Consistency, clarity, relevance, repetition—these are all just as important in dog language training as in human language training.

Obviously, dogs are more clued in to human body language than our spoken language (since canine body language is their mother tongue), but it's not hard to get dogs to shift their focus and learn English words (or words in another language). My first dog, Koro, not only knew dozens of words and phrases in English, she also knew many words in French and German (including her name pronounced in three different accents) because we lived together in France and Germany too.

It really gets my hackles up when I see control freaks who communicate with their dogs in only one way—commands. It's like they think they're drill sergeants, and their dogs are lowly recruits. All they do is "bark" orders (pun intended). You see them in vet's offices and at the dog park. It's so frustrating when you know that their communication could be so much more nuanced and enjoyable—both for the dogs and for themselves.

I've been thinking about the many types of verbal communication that can occur between humans and dogs other than commands, and I thought I would jot down some examples.

Apologies: It happens from time to time that we accidentally hurt our dogs. We step on their tails when the lighting isn't good or we drop a spoon on them in the kitchen. This is a good time for a very clear apology—always in the same tone of voice with the same words so that our dogs immediately understand that what happened was unintentional. This is especially important for rescued dogs who have been abused in the past and aren't too sure that we won't turn against them just like their previous owners.

Choices: Our dogs have so little control over their own lives. We decide when they eat, what they eat, when they go for walks, and on and on. It's really nice for them to get to make a few decisions of their own. For example, when you're on a walk with your dogs and you come to an intersection, you can ask, "Which way?" and let them decide. My late husky, Darby, lived for his walks, and he had us going in different directions every single day—no two walks were ever the same.

Suggestions: My dogs and I have a ritual that we engage in first thing in the morning and then every time I come home, but it's purely voluntary. I always propose to them, "Let’s go outside!" No one has to go outside—it's just a suggestion—but, of course, they always take me up on it … unless it's raining.

Requests: These are like commands but not so strict. For example, in my tiny house, we often have traffic jams, so I'll say, "Excuse me!" to get my dogs to move out of the way, but it's like a soft command that I wouldn't necessarily enforce. Or if we're out walking, and I want to cross the street, I'll say, "Let's cross!" so they know that that's my intention, but I'm not going to insist if they haven't finished sniffing something interesting.

Providing Information: Dogs thrive on routine and predictability, yet so much of their lives isn't predictable (to them). They're at the mercy of our daily schedules, which can be chaotic, so they have no idea what to expect on any given day at any given time. We can help add some predictability to our dogs' lives by trying to maintain a consistent daily routine, but we can also tell them what's going to happen next. If we always use the same terminology, they'll understand exactly what we mean. For example, I walk my dogs in three shifts, so before each shift, I simply make an announcement as to which dogs' turn it is.

One very useful, informative phrase is "All done!" Once dogs understand what it means ("The current activity is finished"), the phrase can be extrapolated to any activity, either positive or negative. For example, I can signal the end of a vet appointment or the end of a nail-clipping session by saying, "All done!" and I can also indicate that the last treat that I handed out was the final one. (This makes it possible to give dogs table scraps without having them beg throughout the rest of the meal.)

Also in this category would be "Oops!" which I use to respond to very minor infractions just to convey that I didn't like what they did, such as if one of them gets too pushy.

I also like to be able to convey to my dogs how long I'm going to be away from home. If I'm just going around the block, I use different language from what I would say if I were leaving to go to work. And if I'm embarking on a trip of several days' duration, I communicate the amount of time that I'm going to be gone by counting out the number of days for them. I don't know how much of it they truly understand, but I like to give them the benefit of the doubt and assume that they're able to gain some sense of what to expect over the next few days.

Words of Appreciation: Sometimes I'll look at my whole pack and just lovingly and goofily gush, "How did Mommy get so lucky to have so many ANGELS! I know it's silly and highly embarrassing, but dogs just love that kind of attention. They eat it up. They all start wagging their tails and wiggling and looking very pleased, so I think it really gives them a nice, warm-and-fuzzy feeling.

Songs: I think all dogs should have their own song that gets sung to them regularly. When you sing their special song to them, dogs feel appreciated. You have to try this, if you haven't already. I'll give you some examples. Sophia's song is to the tune of "Maria" from West Side Story: "Sophia! I just met a girl named Sophia. Say it loud and it's music playing. Say it soft, and it's almost like praying." Dexter's song is based on a 1979 hit song, "Doctor Doctor": "Dexter, Dexter, gimme the news. I got a bad case of lovin' you." And Sunny has two songs: a Paul Mauriat song from the 1970s, called "Sunny" ("Sunny, thank you for the love that you give to me") and the popular 1940 song "You Are My Sunshine" ("You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away"). You don't have to be a good singer—your dogs won't care at all!

So talk to your dogs as much as possible, using consistent phrases (and a little drama and some silliness wouldn't hurt). They understand a lot more than you think. Much of it they just pick up on without any effort on our part because they're just so exquisitely sensitive and perceptive. I know some people even have to spell in front of their dogs in order to discuss topics that they don't want their dogs to understand!

Bye! See you in the "Living" section!

Today's post is my last official "KP's Dog Blog" entry.

I'm sad about it, but as they say, when one door closes, another one opens. We are restructuring our Web sites and now have a brand-new section called "Living." You'll soon be able to read my future entries about dogs under the category "Holistic and Humane Dog Care" here: http://living.peta.org.

We'll also be bringing back some archival posts for those who haven't been reading the dog blog from the beginning.

I hope to "see" you all there! While you're in the Living section, do check out some of the other categories, such as "home and garden," "parenting," "health and beauty," and "family and relationships."

Should be fun!