You Just Have To Wonder

Every once in a while you see something pass by the TV screen that seems plausible at the moment. As it germinates in the back of your consciousness, though, it evolves into something patently ludicrous. Take this inane and wholly unsubstantiated example: (All names have been left intact to preserve the name-dropping effect.)

In day two of my fevered state (102.1 at its top, so no records broken), I caught part of Oprah and forced myself to remain conscious because the lovely and talented Nate Berkus (interior designer extraordinaire) was on the couch. I have loved Nate from afar since first I laid eyes on him - right there on Oprah's couch. I love the nice remodeling jobs he's done for both poor folk and rich folk alike. I loved when he made the Out Magazine's "Out 100" of openly gay people. I had weeks-long fantasies about Nate rummaging around in Jerry O'Connell's bedroom during that make-over, courtesy of Oprah. I was heart broken for him when he lost his partner in the tsunami. And I wept openly from the gut when I saw him insist that they would rescue a man's dogs from New Orleans in the hours following Katrina.

I believe Nate Berkus may be one of the finest looking humanitarians on our planet. This should be a lesson to future Mother Theresa types. You do not have to look like a Shar-pei puppy to be a good human being. That said, what I saw of Nate on Oprah yesterday made me giggle a little...but not until today.

Nate was having control problems with his two dogs who gave every appearance of having been bred for the dog-fight rings of rural Alabama. Enter The Dog Whisperer, as Oprah calls him. This very nice Hispanic man has made his nickel by walking into Bad Dog situations and leaving Good Dogs behind. He's a Super Nanny for those of us who don't choose real children. Within minutes, by the magic of editing, Nate's dogs were as well-behaved as though they attended Her Majesty, Elizabeth II, The Queen of England, herself. The diagnosis of the problem made perfect sense to me, as a dog owner.

Mr. Dog Whisperer said that Nate was not viewed by the two canines as the Pack Leader. He was not the dominant one in the relationship. No top, he, to put it in words we might use in our own little ghetto. I feverishly made mental notes on how to display my dominance to my own occasional terror (Yorkshire Terror, that is) without actually using a weapon or raising my voice.

Not until today, however, when I recounted the episode on the phone did it occur to me that these dogs may have known full-well all along that they were dealing with a hoity-toity interior decorator: a breed more known for their bark than their bite. I think the dogs knew something we didn't. I giggled a little when I thought about the dogs now being made to act cowed by a man who hauls around paint chips and fabric swatches for people who have people that wash their underthings. Sometimes our true characteristics are more on display to those around us than we care to believe - even to the dogs.

You Just Have To Wonder why more of us don't know that.