Dear Lucille, My husband is obsessed with his cell phone. He’s so addicted to it that he checks his messages even while we’re having sex!–propping his phone up on a pillow next to us. We had a huge blowout about it. It’s beyond rude–but he says he has to stay ‘on top’ of things. I’ve had enough Lucille. What can I do? Heather, Bottomed Out In Cleveland
Wow, your husband won’t let go of his bone! It’s his favorite toy.
When my Dad is texting, first I just stare at him with my tongue hanging out. Take a look: IMG_4329
Then I run and get a sock for a game of tug of war. Or I just sit still and look pretty until he notices. And if he still ignores me, I start barking and never stop until he pays attention.Maybe you should try it.
Cell phones are the pits—for dogs too. Last night, when I was out taking a walk, somebody (staring down at their phone) stepped on my paw. Ouch!
My Dad says: Compulsive texters are virtual sleepwalkers. They move in a trance, consumed by that little box. It’s an addiction that gobbles up 8-10 hours a day.
Heather, you have it bad in bed, but out there in the park, it isn’t so great either. Phone junkies don’t see or hear anything happening around them. They’re not actually IN the park–they’re just AT the park, never ‘in the moment’ like we dogs are. Why not? Because they find the sunshine, plants, flowers, dogs like me–and all the people around them much less interesting than Facebook, Twitter, E-mails, and Amazon.
Even if their own dog (or daughter) is dancing, they just ignore or, or miss it! And when people text and drive, or talk and drive, it’s even worse, with their heads are up their you know whats. Accidents happen.
My nose is always to the ground, my eyes and ears on alert. Dogs don’t need phones—and people don’t need ’em as much they think they do.
But texters walk right into you, and if they’re unlucky, maybe into a bus or a car.
In your case, Heather, enough is enough. If your husband won’t put that phone away, even when you’re rubbing his tummy, then you have to teach him a lesson:
Bite on his bone! Take away his water.Forget his laundry.Mix up his socks. Lose a golf club.Hide his phone charger.
And if nothing else works, kick him to the curb. Either he loses his phone or he loses you.
My literary agent, Jan Miller, is a passionate lover of beagles, and her adorable dog Schumacher just celebrated his birthday with a delicious cookie treat–which made my dog, Lucy, quite jealous. Look at those soulful eyes!
Yes, she has plenty of dog toys–an elk bone, a Nylabone, stuffed animals, kongs, rubber balls, torn socks–but why bother with those when she can eat Chinese grasscloth off the wall? Or my new sneakers? Or most recently, C A S H. Yes, I was in the bathtub reading a magazine and I heard Lucy contentedly chewing on something–which turned out to be my WALLET. Not only did she eat through the leather with gusto, but she also took $200 and efficiently tore the money in half with her nice white teeth. By the time I got out of the tub, and almost broke my back slipping on the marble floor, she had my American Express card in her mouth, knawing on that as well.
She could be a custodian–as she also relishes going through the bathroom and kitchen waste baskets, excavating for watermelon rinds or used paper toweling. And when she can can work it into her schedule, a long doggie list of don’ts, she also has enjoyed eating through the silk backing of pillows. And in the evening, nothing makes her happier than finding Bazooka chewing gum. I recently found four pieces in her mouth, and she managed to blow a few bubbles.
Mind you, while “her” room is untouched by chewing and totally intact with no damage done–her very own silk pillows still in pristine condition without a saliva stain on them–she doesn’t feel a bit of guilt about tearing into my space.
Today, she’s in “time out” in her room, stretched out on the beige couch, enjoying the air-conditioining, and watching the Food Channel, too hot to destroy anything else for the moment, but she will. The terrible twos really are pretty bad, but I’m hopeful that with proper
training, and lots of NO’s–she’ll understand that hers is a dog’s life, rather than my own.