It’s been well-established that our pit bull, Roxie, is adorable and we love her. After all, who could not love this face?

Adora-bull

But as with any shelter dog, Roxie came with some baggage. Roxie’s most serious issue became apparent on the first day we had her, when we left her shut in our guest room for five minutes and she responded by howling her head off and scratching away the paint on the door frame. Roxie hated to be left alone or confined in any way – I guess I would, too, if I’d been shut up in a shelter kennel for almost six months.

Initially, we put her crate in our bedroom, but soon that arrangement began to have a detrimental effect on, you know, our relationship. So we moved the crate out to our library/dining room. We had to drag the guest bedroom mattress in there and sleep on the floor for the first few nights to get her to settle down even slightly. Eventually, she would go to sleep on her own, but she still woke us up several times a night with intermittent whines and barks.

During the day, if I stepped out of my office to so much as get a drink of water, her high-pitched cries followed me about 15 seconds later. And if we left the apartment (which we did with increasing rarity), she would immediately whine and howl, with mounting fervor, and/or bark continuously until we returned. Luckily, we have very understanding neighbors, most of whom are dog owners themselves. But for the sake of our sanity and theirs, we knew this couldn’t go on forever.

I admit, there were some times, especially in the first few days, when I had serious thoughts about returning her to the shelter. I knew dogs were more work than cats, but I wasn’t prepared for this. I was constantly on edge and felt trapped in our apartment.

At first, we thought the issue was separation anxiety, but after doing some more research, we realized it was actually more akin to isolation distress, which is less severe but still extremely annoying. Basically, separation anxiety is a sort of panic attack; if left alone, dogs with separation anxiety will salivate, shake all over, and do just about anything to escape, including harming themselves and whatever unfortunate inanimate objects might stand in their way. Isolation distress is more like a doggy tantrum. Roxie wanted us around all the time, and she was letting us know, ear-splittingly loud and clear.

One day, after well over a month of trying and failing to get Roxie to calm down, I was trawling the archives of one of my favorite pit bull blogs, Two Pitties in the City (written by a Chicago couple who have two pits and also founded a dog walking club called SociaBulls – more on that later), and I came across a post about how their dog, Mr. B, overcame his isolation distress after just one session with a local dog trainer named Curtis Scott. I immediately found his website and sent him an email describing our problems with Roxie, and he agreed to come to our apartment to evaluate her a few days later. I was afraid to get my hopes up too high, but as it turned out, all those glowing, 5-star Yelp reviews don’t lie: Curtis Scott is a total badass. He has 8 pitties himself, and he knows how to handle powerful dogs. Curtis was here for an hour, and in that time Roxie went from a barking, whining bundle of nerves, to sitting calmly in her crate, in a submissive, relaxed posture.

We learned a lot from Curtis, but perhaps the most important thing he taught us is that it’s not just the tone of voice that matters when you give verbal commands to your dog, it’s the pitch. We were responding to Roxie’s high-pitched whines with high-pitched scolding, which just served to create more excitement. Dropping our voices to a lower, almost growly tone showed her that we meant business, and he advised us to give her a strong correction at the first sign of vocalization, rather than letting her ramp up to full-on tantrum mode. Curtis also demonstrated how to make the “mean dog face” – another way to communicate to Roxie that we’re the “alpha dogs” of the household.

Nate demonstrates the “mean dog face” – Roxie is, as you can see, utterly terrified.

All of this pretty much blew Roxie’s mind – I don’t think she’d ever had a human really take charge with her before. We’re fairly sure her original owners got her as a puppy and didn’t discipline her in the slightest (probably why they couldn’t handle her as an full-grown dog and foisted her off on the Anti-Cruelty Society). Now, I don’t think these techniques would go over so well with a timid or fearful dog. But Roxie is strong-willed and stubborn (kinda like her mama…), and she needs a firmer, more dominant presence to keep her in line. The point of this type of discipline is not to intimidate or scare your dog, but to make them realize that you’re in charge, so they don’t have to be.

Roxie still isn’t fond of being left in her crate, but she’s made considerable progress. We have a “ritual” that we follow when leaving her home alone that seems to do the trick: first, we put in her the crate very calmly, at least 10 minutes before we need to leave, then completely ignore her (except to correct any whining with the “quiet” command) until we’re ready to go. We leave a radio playing next to her crate to block out any ambient noise from the street or the other units. When we exit the apartment, we do it as quietly and calmly as possible, without rushing. Then we wait outside the door. At the first sign of whining, we open the door and tell her “quiet” in a growly alpha-dog voice (seriously, our neighbors must think we’re such freaks). If her whining escalates to howling or barking, we barge back in with a much louder “quiet!” and sometimes even a rap on the side of her crate, then turn and leave again. When we first started doing this, it would take about 20 minutes to get her to settle down. Now, we might get one or two little whimpers, and then she falls silent and remains that way until we return. We can go to the store, go out to eat, go see a movie – it’s almost like I have a life again!

The next big project with Roxie is getting her to stop pulling on the leash. Roxie is reasonably well-behaved on walks, but sometimes prey drive or good old-fashioned curiosity takes over, sending her barreling off towards yummy-looking squirrels or the fun-smelling shopping bags of strangers. And with all my physical problems, one ill-timed lunge is all it takes to pull my back completely out of whack and doom me to yet another $65 chiropractor visit.

I can haz delicious squirrels?

Our solution so far has been for Nate to do most of the dog walking (he was once a professional, after all) and for me to use a shock-absorbing bungee leash when I do have to take her out (we have the Cujo Leash from Ezydog, and also their Chest Plate Harness). In the interest of helping Roxie improve her leash manners, we’ve joined the aforementioned SociaBulls walking club, which meets every Sunday morning for a “pack walk” somewhere in Chicago. The dogs (not all pit bulls, by the way, though there are quite a few) aren’t allowed to physically interact with one another, which teaches them to socialize respectfully and keep their energy under control. Roxie has been on two SociaBulls walks so far, and we can already see a difference in her on-leash behavior. It’s also been great to meet all the responsible, knowledgeable – and friendly! – dog owners who are part of the group. Roxie is a work in progress (aren’t we all?), but with such a supportive community to rely on, I feel much more equipped to handle whatever future adventures in pet parenting we may encounter.

I’ve been practicing Bikram yoga sporadically for over two years now, and we have a decidedly love/hate relationship.  The class itself is pure agony:  an hour and a half of bending, twisting, and stretching in 100-degree heat, that usually leaves my muscles either spasming or quivering like jello (sometimes both at once).  Even the creator of this style of yoga, Bikram Choudhury, calls the practice ”Bikram’s torture chamber.”

Bikram himself.  At least my teacher doesn’t do this (so far).

So why do I do it?  The main reason is my chronic pain, which I’ve suffered from for over a decade.  I started out with just some back/neck pain and headaches as a teenager, and now that I’m in my late twenties, it’s progressed to a herniated cervical disc, fibromyalgia, and the early stages of carpal tunnel.  I am in pain 24/7, in my neck, jaw, shoulders, elbows, wrists, hands, hips, ankles, feet – basically everywhere.  I’ve tried expensive pillows, special diets, chiropractic adjustments, massages, vitamin supplements, prescription drugs, orthotics, weird neck traction devices…but the only thing that makes me feel halfway human is Bikram yoga.  When I go to class regularly (at least 4-5 times per week), my pain becomes manageable.  It never goes away, but it dials down to a barely-audible buzz in the back of my mind rather than dominating every waking and sleeping moment of my day.

All of that is tough to remember, though, when the alarm goes off at 5:15 AM and I just want fifteen more minutes of sleep.  So sometimes I skip class (like…most of last week), and I’m always sorry.  My theory is that I experience the same amount of pain per day whether I do yoga or not, but if I go to class, the majority of that pain is concentrated into those 90 excruciating minutes, and then I’ve earned some relief for the rest of the day.

Evolution of a Backbend (on a good day, I can get to the second stage)

But full disclosure?  I suck at yoga.  I’m not just talking about a lack of strength and flexibility – even with all of my physical problems, the biggest challenge for me is mental.  I’m horrible at staying in the present, inhabiting my body, concentrating on the current pose.  Instead, I make grocery lists in my head.  I contemplate the last episode of Grey’s Anatomy.  I estimate the dress sizes of the other women around me and feel secretly smug when mine isn’t the largest.  I make mental bargains with myself (such as:  if I do the next two poses, I can sit the third one out.  Or, if I make it to the end of class, I can get a blueberry muffin for breakfast at the bakery a few doors down).  I think uncharitable thoughts about the petite girl in the front row with the ballerina bun and flat stomach, who does the splits before and after class, or I check out/covet the ass of the hot tattooed chick to my left.

No matter how long I continue my Bikram practice, I will never become a serene, lithe, bendy yogi.  I will probably always be a flabby, fidgety, neurotic mess.  But maybe someday I’ll be a flabby, fidgety, neurotic mess who can wrap her foot in Eagle pose. A girl can dream.

What I do (most) every morning. Well, some of it.

Hard to believe it’s 2012 already, but . . . here we are.  I don’t have any New Year’s resolutions per se, but I’m looking forward to a year with less upheaval and more improvement – of my health, my job, my relationship, my apartment, whatever I can work on.  Today I sorted out our finances and organized my filing cabinet, but I also skipped yoga, ate Nutella with a spoon, and watched about 6 episodes of Grey’s Anatomy in a row.  But hey – you can’t make over your life in a single day.

I started this Best Of post last week, but I kept putting off publishing it, thinking I might finally get out to see another play or some of the movies currently in theatres (at the top of my to-watch list:  Sherlock Holmes 2, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, and Young Adult) and end up with some late entries in the race.  No such luck, but here’s the list anyway.  As always, these are my favorites, not necessarily what I think was truly the “best” of the year in any proper critical sense.

Favorite Film: X-Men: First Class

Also my pick for sexiest movie of the year – would you look at that smoldering chemistry?  I didn’t expect much when I went to the theatre to see this one (well, the first time), but First Class turned out to be an intelligent, thoroughly enjoyable superhero movie for adults, and my favorite film I saw all year.  I can even overlook the high Bacon content.

Honorable Mentions: Bridesmaids, Crazy Stupid Love

Bridesmaids is absolutely hilarious, full of fearless, vanity-free comedic performances and insightful observations about female friendship.  But I will never be able to watch Gilmore Girls in the same way again.

And finally, Crazy Stupid Love, which is that rarest breed of film:  a romantic comedy that’s actually funny, and avoids wrapping everything up in a cloying little bow.  Also, Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone make the cutest onscreen couple (after McAvoy and Fassbender, of course).

Favorite TV Episode: “Always” (Friday Night Lights)

Really I could have picked just about any FNL episode, but “Always” was such a fitting finale for one of the best series of all time.  I loathe football, small towns, and Texas accents, and still I can’t help but adore this show.  I only wish I’d listened to my grad school women’s studies professor (yes, really – she was a huge fan) and jumped on the bandwagon years ago.

Honorable Mentions: “Birth” (American Horror Story); “Game” (America’s Next Top Model)

American Horror Story is a crazy, fucked-up show, and this was by far it’s craziest, most fucked-up hour.  There’s not much I can tell you about the episode that wouldn’t be a massive spoiler, so I’ll have to just leave it at this:  IT. WAS. AWESOME.  Come for the Lange/Quinto bitch-off, stay for . . . well, I’ve said too much already.

And for my final pick:  a very special musical episode of America’s Next Top Model, wherein the girls make the ears of America bleed by starring in their very own pop videos, and the rapper Game (the guest judge for the week) finds forbidden love with nose-bleed obsessed weirdo (and my favorite contestant), Allison. Brain-melting reality TV at its finest.

Favorite Theatrical Event: Superstars of Burlesque (Studio L’amour/The Park West)

Last year’s Superstars was great, too, but this year was extra-special for me because my advisor from Ohio State (who supervised my Master’s thesis on burlesque) came to the city especially to see the show.  It was her first time ever attending a live burlesque performance, and seeing it through her eyes made it all the more spectacular for me.

Honorable Mentions: Jesus Christ Superstar (The Stratford Festival), Eastland (Lookingglass Theatre Company)

Who knew my favorite show at a Shakespeare festival would be an Andrew Lloyd Webber musical?  Stratford’s production of JC Superstar was exciting, sexy, and impressively un-campy (I was even more impressed by this after watching some YouTube clips of other versions – yikes).  It’s transferring to Broadway this year, and I wish I could head to NYC to see it again.  National tour and cast album, plz?

It’s sort of a cheat including Eastland here, since the show doesn’t officially open at Lookingglass until summer 2012.  But I got to see a staged reading of the show last April (thanks to my friend, Shannon, who’s the production dramaturg), and I thought it was incredibly well-done and moving.  Eastland is a new musical about the SS Eastland, a passenger ship that capsized in the Chicago River in 1915, killing over 800 people.  If you think that sounds like a weird thing to write a musical about – well, come to Lookingglass in June and be proven wrong, just like I was.

Favorite Album: Camp by Childish Gambino

Childish Gambino is the rap name of Community actor Donald Glover.  Though it’s hilarious in parts, this album is no joke.  Glover mixes fascinating analyses of modern masculinity and black youth culture with quick-witted pop culture references.  All that, and you can dance to it – watch out, Kanye.  Sample Track:  “Hold You Down”

Honorable Mentions: Psycho Jukebox by Jon Fratelli, The Rip Tide by Beirut

Jon Fratelli is the former lead singer of the Scottish band The Fratellis.  Their first album Costello Music rocked my socks off,  but their follow-up Here We Stand was a bit too slickly-produced and bland.  Fratelli is back in top form on this solo album – which means, he’s back to sounding like he’s just smoked multiple packs of cigarettes and is hell-bent on blowing out the sound system of whatever crappy dive bar he’s playing.  Sample Track:  “Santo Domingo”

The Rip Tide isn’t Beirut’s best album (that would be, in my estimation, their debut Gulag Orkestar), but I love most anything they do.  What can I say, I love some hot brass.  Sample Track:  “A Candle’s Fire”

I’ve never had much Christmas spirit.  I like the holiday okay, but I don’t get really swept up in the festive seasonal excitement.  This year, since we’ve spent the last few months dealing with all sorts of happy-but-stressful life changes and hemorrhaging money from our savings account, it’s seemed like more of a hassle than usual.  My mom is visiting this weekend, and I’m excited about that, but otherwise?  I feel like, let’s just get this over with and move right along to 2012 (hopefully a more stable and less expensive year).

But I do love at least two things about Christmas:  cookies and carols.  So today I set the holiday music on my iPod to shuffle and whipped up a batch of my favorite childhood Christmas cookies.  And I figured, why not share the recipe, as well as some of my favorite holiday tunes?  My gift to you, dear readers.  Happy Holidays!

Chocolate Mint Cream Cookies

Ingredients:
1 1/4 C flour
1/2 tsp. baking soda
2/3 C packed brown sugar
6 T butter or margarine
1 T water
1 C chocolate chips
1 egg
1 bag of pastel meltaway mints

(The mints seem to be easy to find at small town superstores, but tough to locate in the city, so I ordered them online this year from a vendor on Amazon.  You can buy freaking everything on Amazon.)

Step 1:  Pick out all of the yellow mints and eat them, because yellow is not a Christmasy color.

Step 2:  Stir together the flour and baking soda.  Set aside.

Step 3:  In a medium saucepan, heat and stir brown sugar, butter, and water over low heat until butter melts.  DO NOT let it boil, or you will end up with a lumpy mess and have to start over (not that I would know…).  Remove from heat and add chocolate pieces.  Stir until melted.  Pour the mixture into a large mixing bowl and let cool for 10-15 minutes.

Photographic evidence of my willing presence in a kitchen

Close-up of my festive fingernails

Step 4:  Beat egg into chocolate mixture, then stir in flour mixture.  Cover and chill for the length of 1 to 2 Top Model episodes.

Step 5:  Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  Shape dough into small balls and place them 2 inches apart on an un-greased cookie sheet.  Bake for 8 minutes, then remove and top each cookie with a mint (pointy side up!).  Bake an additional two minutes.

Step 6:  Lick any remaining dough out of the mixing bowl while cookies cool.  Then enjoy!

Recipe makes about 30 cookies, which will most likely survive in my presence for less than 24 hours.

While you’re baking/eating delicious cookies, you can also rock out to some of my favorite non-lame Christmas songs (okay, some of them are a little lame – ’tis the season!).  Click to download from MediaFire.

“Baby, It’s Cold Outside” – Liza Minnelli & Alan Cumming

“Christmas With You is the Best” – The Long Winters

“Carol of the Bells (A Demonic Christmas)” – DJ Demonixx

“Frosty the Snowman” – Fiona Apple

“Wizards in Winter” – Trans-Siberian Orchestra

“Donna & Blitzen” – Badly Drawn Boy

“Carol of the Meows” – Guster

“Auld Lang Syne” – Barenaked Ladies

In early November, my partner and I became the proud adoptive parents of a pit bull named Roxie. We had actually met her over a month before, while visiting the Chicago Anti-Cruelty Society with a friend who was adopting a kitten. Animal shelters, even nice ones like the ACS, always make me sad – I just want to take every single dog and cat home with me and love them forever! But there was something special about Roxie. Nate and I stood in front of her kennel, and she just sat there, tail wagging, looking up at us with a wide, tongue-lolling grin. I stared into her chocolate-brown eyes, and I suddenly started crying – I felt so overwhelmed, I had to leave the room. Weeks later, we couldn’t get her out of our minds, and after watching her video on the shelter’s website about 50 times, we knew she was our girl.

So far, the most interesting part of owning a pit bull has been the reactions. Roxie is a total sweetheart, who loves people and other dogs (and is getting used to the idea of cats), but I’m very conscious of the bad reputation of her breed. When we told Nate’s grandfather that we were planning on adopting a pit bull, he responded, “Oh, you mean those dogs police officers are always shooting on the news?” Our landlord, even with his incredibly permissive pet policy, needed some convincing, since his only prior experience with pits was a previous tenant whose pit bull lunged at him when he came on the property, and eventually bit a guest in the face, resulting in a messy, drawn-out eviction. And once Roxie became part of our family, our longtime rental insurance company dropped us because of their prohibited breeds list, which expressly forbids pit bulls and Rotties. (But German shepherds and Dobermans? Totally fine. We’ve since switched to State Farm, which has a much more reasonable dog policy.)

Strangers also love to offer their two cents about Roxie. We do get people coming up to us and wanting to meet her, but we also see lots of people tense up and draw back when she passes, or even cross the street to get away from her. Once, while Nate was walking Roxie, a woman shouted at him, “That dog needs a muzzle!” Nate’s also had at least one of the surly youths who loiter/deal drugs by the Thorndale stop ask how much he wanted for her. Sorry, buddy – not for sale.

The day we adopted Roxie, we took her to a local pet store to get some treats. The owner and several customers were exclaiming over her and giving her lots of head pats, when another customer, an older African-American gentleman who seemed like somewhat of a Kooky Neighborhood Character, came over and proceeded to give us a speech about how bad owners were always to blame for violent dogs. “If you read any news story about a dog attack,” he said in a loud, declamatory voice, “just keep reading and you’ll see: the owners are always black or Hispanic.” Noting our uncomfortable stares, he continued: “Oh, I know, you can’t say that, because you’re afraid people will call you racist. But I’m black, so I can say it! Now, if you were a black lady,” he said to me, since I was holding Roxie’s leash at the time, “I’d stay away from that dog, but since you’re white, I can walk right by you, no problem.” He then proceeded to demonstrate moseying casually past Roxie, while she gazed up at him, tail wagging. Nate and I just kept our mouths shut and our expressions neutral – what the heck do you say to that??

So yes, people will say the WEIRDEST SHIT to you when you have a pit bull. It’s a bit off-putting, but also illuminating. Our dog is controversial, polarizing – a furry little conversation piece. One big thing we’ve learned, though, now that Chicago winter is setting in: public opinion of Roxie becomes much more favorable when she’s decked out in her goofy winter gear. We are not the sort of people who are inclined dress up our pets, but Roxie has super-short fur and basically no body fat, so she shivers uncontrollably once the temperature dips below 50. We bought a coat and sweatshirt to keep her warm (and to keep her harness from chafing her belly), and some booties to keep her paws from bleeding (which happened all the time when we first brought her home, since she’d been cooped up in a kennel for so long).

Figure A: Vicious Beast

Figure B: Adorable Puppydog!

The nonthreatening adorableness is just a side bonus. Because really: who could be scared of a pit bull in a hoodie?