The old man went slack-jawed: he couldn’t believe it. Ray loved that show, even though he hadn’t seen it in a while — what with the Kaos Kousins and domestic folderol. So that’s the fellow they’d been pushing him to call! This guy Cesar Millan was a real shaman: in 10 minutes he could transform a pet and its owner’s lives. He was some kind of magician who made good dogs from bad, inevitably attributing whatever trouble was going on to the lazy or ill-advised habits of the masters themselves. The biggest problem stemmed from people treating their dogs too much like human beings. He said dogs got confused when that happened. Millan’s mission was to make the owners into pack leaders instead of neurotic, babytalking bleedinghearts. Ray didn’t exactly think of himself in that category but hell, maybe he was (or wasn’t) doing something that perpetuated or even exacerbated the Friar’s current problems. Millan was warm and “calm-assertive,” a no-nonsense Mex who’d been raised on a ranch, with a healthy respect for all species — including his wife. They had a couple of boys and sometimes the whole family was on the show. Each episode began with the Whisperer on a skateboard being “towed” by a dozen Red Zone dogs. Red Zone meant the worst of the worst — rottweilers and scary pit bulls that Millan had completely rehabilitated.
Jesus, with Millan’s intervention, they might even be able to keep Friar Tuck after the baby was born. He’d have to maneuver Big Gulp into watching a few shows; Ray knew she’d become an instant fan. If anyone could help, it was the soft-spoken macho from Distrito Federal. He could “whisper” sweet nothings in the Friar’s ear to his heart’s content.
Hell, he had to have seen far worse.
A few days later, the Dog Whisperer dropped by Mercantile Road without a film crew. Ray made sure the cousins had decamped beforehand. Cesar — he insisted on being called by his 1st name — was a gentle spirit but not anyone to be trifled with. He was polite and direct and looked into Ray’s eyes, unblinking.
The old man told him Nip/Tuck had always been good, but since the shooting he’d “gone paranoid.” (Cesar, who had a sense of humor, preferred “Nip,” possibly having been influenced by the folks at the Center.) Ray was upfront about his pregnant roommate — Ghulpa poked her head in to bobble a mute hello; she was a little starstruck, having watched some of the National Geographics — discreetly adding that the doctors had ordered her confined to bed. If they taped a show, she preferred not to be on camera. Cesar said he didn’t want to put the cart before the horse — or the dog, in this case — but if he did decide to film, that wouldn’t be a problem.
He spent an hour at the house, half talking to Ray, the other working with Nip. Cesar let himself be sniffed, and deliberately never looked Nip in the eye. He said that because of the trauma — to both dog and owner—“the Rausches” were probably letting the animal get away with bad behaviors. That was understandable, he said, but not helpful to Nip’s recovery. Ray and his “roommate” needed to use dog psychology, not human psychology. Cesar said it was his feeling, from everything he’d been told, that Ray was the “pack leader”—before the shooting. Since Nip had returned from the hospital, their roles had reversed, and the dog was now dominant.
“America does not have a pack animal mentality,” he said. “That’s why dogs are so neurotic. 3rd World countries don’t have that problem—neuroses. The neurotic dog and neurotic owner. In America, it’s all about ‘doing it yourself.’ I am trying to change that. That’s why I came here, to the States. I thank America every day for teaching me about women. Respecting women. Here, you have laws against hitting women, spanking children — not so in 3rd World countries. In America, when there is a divorce, the woman gets 50/50! In 3rd World countries, men can move on, and the woman gets nothing. In my social class, it was all mind-body, no ‘Good morning, darling.’ ‘Good morning, darling’ was practiced by the upper classes, and even then it wasn’t authentic. My grandfather always taught me to go to the authentic—that’s why I went through a period where I was antisocial. An outsider. I came here 14 years ago but 1st had to learn English: then how to relate to Caucasians, Blacks, Koreans. Everyone needs to be taught differently. Dogs would follow Castro, not Gandhi. Gandhi had stooped shoulders; he was fighting with submission. Castro was fighting with domination. My wife and I are ‘co-packleaders.’ I had to learn to give her what she wanted. In 3rd World countries, the women are depressed. They work like mules. Work and exercise is not what they need 1st; they need affection, appreciation. That is what America taught me. With dogs, it’s a different way. They need discipline, exercise—then, affection.”
They took out the bowl and put food in it. Nip bared his teeth and tried to attack. Ray flinched, but guessed the Dog Whisperer could handle himself. Cesar grabbed Nip by the neck, firmly, and made short, hissing sounds until Nip lay down. When he tried to eat, he stood between Nip and his vittles, blocking and frustrating the dog’s efforts. Cesar said this was a way to establish dominance. Ray couldn’t believe it, but after a minute Nip rolled on his back. He hadn’t done that since before the shooting. Cesar said he was now in a calm-submissive state, and it would be good to reward him. He encouraged Ray to stroke his belly. A dog, he said, should never be rewarded or even spoken to when he wasn’t in a state of calm-submission. Dogs do not listen, learn, or respond when they’re in the dominant mode.
They talked about Nip’s exercise regimen and the Dog Whisperer stressed its importance. Discipline, exercise, and affection were the holy trinity. “In America,” he said, “we treat dogs like people. That helps us, it doesn’t help them. We need to see Nip as an animal 1st. Species: dog. 2nd, we need to see him as a breed: terrier mix.” (Ray had taken to calling the Friar “a terrier on 2 wheels.”) “3rd: we see personality. Then, but only then, can we see ‘Nip/Tuck.’ That way, we work toward a calm-submissive, happy dog.”
He showed Ray how to use sounds and harmless “bites” with his hand to get Nip’s attention, and deter him from disobedience — clucks, shushes, and other nonverbal exhortations. They took him for a jaunt. Because of the Friar’s acting out, Ray hadn’t walked him in a few weeks; it was just too difficult. Cesar said he understood that Ghulpa (Ray finally told him her name) couldn’t take the dog out in her present state, and Ray might not have the energy — he knew he’d recently recovered from a heart attack — but stressed how important exercise was to Nip’s recovery, particularly a 45 minute walk. The Center staffers were already incorporating that into his regimen and Cesar thought it might be a good idea to let him stay at the facility a few weeks until Ray was strong enough to take the walks himself. It was important for the old man’s recovery as well.
When they got back to the apartment, Cesar smiled broadly.
“So: would you and ‘Mr Nip’ like to be on the show?”
“Why, sure!” said Ray, beaming. “But you’ll have to ask him. He has a mind of his own!”