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Where's Cesar Millan when you need him?

Okay, so if any of you know how to reach Cesar Millan, a.k.a. The Dog Whisperer, call him, please. Quickly! Give him my name and ask him to get in touch. I have 11 pounds of fur living in my house and he's driving me crazy.

He looks innocent enough, all white and fluffy tinged with gray and a touch of black with big, big, almond-shaped dark brown eyes. Who could know that he'd turn out to be a tyrant, running the household? I didn't.

We've had Ozzie Nelson, our Havanese puppy, since October. He's funny and cute and he gives great puppy hugs and kisses, but he's dominating my life. I mean: Is this normal?

Okay, let me explain. First housebreaking has been a challenge. He either has to go every twenty minutes, or he's figured out that uttering his I've-gotta-use-the-facilities moan earns him a respite outside to romp in the grass. I guess this is an improvement, since before we were finding little packages left all around the house. That's no longer happening, but he's employing the woeful eye roll and guttural call combo so often, I had him outside 14 times yesterday. That's not a typo: 14 times!

And the bark. Who would have thought that a such a little guy would pack such a powerful set of lungs? I did a radio interview last evening and had to ask someone to entertain Nelson so he wouldn't bark his way through the hour. I needed a dog sitter, while I was home! It's like having a baby, one that bites. Nips really. Not a lot, and he is getting better, I think. Sigh. Maybe it's operator error, as in my errors?

The truth is that our little Nelson does have the prettiest brown eyes. He gives the softest kisses, and he truly is my best furry friend. So, I guess it's time to just gut it up and work my way through the first year, the puppy year, hoping that when he's a big dog, he'll understand that his mom is a writer who needs quiet for at least part of the day.

Thanks for listening. It's appreciated. You've saved me therapy bills. I've talked my way through this. The nipping, pooping in the house, whining to go outside, barking loud enough to shake the house off its foundation, will get better.

Still, if you know how to reach Cesar Millan, please send him to my house. Ozzie Nelson and I need him.
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