“Dog taking you for a walk?” quipped the fellow passing by as I tried to dragTucker away from the French fries scattered on the ground.[1] I smiled politely,as if I hadn't heard it before, and Tucker took the opportunity to scarf up thefries, wrapper and all.[2]
“You want sauce[3] with that?” I asked. At timeslike that, I had to wonder how a cat lover like me had come to acquire a doglike Tucker, a Dalmatian-black Lab[4] mix. Why would someone who had never haddogs and was actually a little afraid of them start with such a big one? Whywasn’t I at home with my cats?
Kids, of course. My two sons had begged for adog and sworn they’d take care of it: feed it, walk it, groom it, teach it cooltricks. All I would have to do was pay the vet and have a bag of kibble in thecar now and then.[5] Many people had dogs. So how hard could it be?
Tuckerwas 9 months old when he entered our lives. To someone used to cats, it was likebringing a horse into the house. We came in the front door and let him off theleash, and he galloped out the back door.[6] We found him staring up a tree atone very startled cat. “You can’t be serious,” she seemed to be saying.
Ourlearning curve was steep.[7] “What happened to the sandwiches?” I’d ask.“Where’s the pie?” All eyes would turn to Tucker, calmly licking his chops[8].An entire ham disappeared, as did baseballs and every single cat toy. Tuckerripped out the carpet from under a threshold, ate the carpet, and then ate thethreshold.
The property destruction was unpleasant, but with boys in thehouse, not unprecedented[9]. I could live with it. When Tucker moved on topeople, however, tackling visitors who came to the door, I put my footdown[10].
“Stop it,” I told him. He didn’t. “Don’t do that.” He did. I poredover[11] books. One recommended “telepathic[12] communication with your dog”.Another advised a booby trap of pots and pans to foil food snitching.[13] Thecrash dented the pans but not Tucker’s gourmet habits.[14]
So Tucker went toobedience school, where I quickly learned something myself: A dog is not a cat.Not even close. Tucker was more like a wolf, and I was the woeful omega to hisalpha.[15]
“You must be the leader,” the trainer admonished. No matter howmuch I might prefer, say, to sit quietly reading a novel with a cat in my lap, Ihad to get busy and teach our dog that I, not he, led the pack and—this waskey—controlled the food. My secret weapon? Meaty Bones.
To teach Tucker toleave visitors alone, we practiced: One son would knock on the door, Tuckerwould raise the alarm, I would distract him with the magic word “treat!” And myson would enter. (Repeat 10,000 times—Tucker was not a quick study.) Then, camea day when Tucker heard a knock, yawned, and sauntered to the treat bin. Inearly barked for joy.
Other wolf-like behaviors also receded as Tucker beganto respect my leadership skills. He learned to come, sit, stay, and merely gazewith deep affection at food on the counter. He even learned that with a catcurled in my lap, I could still stroke his velvety black ears.
The boys weretrue to their word. They fed Tucker, soaped him up and hosed him down, andtaught him amazing tricks: for example, throw a ball and he brings back a stick.(OK, that one still needs work.)
But because I walk often and it’s hard toleave behind a creature so elated by the sight of sneakers, I do most of the dogwalking.[16] Now, when a roadside delicacy beckons, I tell him to leave it. Hecocks an ear, remembers the Meaty Bone in my pocket, and then we move along, astately suburban pair. “Beautiful dog”, says a passerby. No issue there. None atall.
| “你的狗带你出来遛弯啦？”一位路人经过时对我调侃道，此时我正努力地把塔克拽离那些撒落在地上的炸薯条。我礼貌地笑了笑，就好像我从未听到过这样的话似的，而塔克则趁机把炸薯条和包装纸全都吞到了肚子里去。
“你是不是还想来点儿番茄酱搭配啊？”我问塔克。每每此时，我总会感到奇怪，为什么爱猫如我竟会领养塔克这样一条狗，一条达尔马提亚狗和拉布拉多猎犬的混血品种？为何像我这样一个从未养过狗，甚至还有些怕它们的人会从一条这么大的狗开始养起呢？为什么我不跟我的猫咪们一起呆在家里？
当然是因为孩子们了。我的两个儿子一直恳求要养一条狗，并且发誓说他们会好好照顾它：喂它吃的，带它散步，给它刷洗，还要教它一些很酷的把戏。我所要做的只是（狗生病的时候）付一下看兽医的钱，并且时不时地在车里放一些狗粮就可以了。很多人都养狗。那（养一条狗）又会有多难呢？
塔克走进我们的生活时只有九个月大。对于一个养惯了猫的人来说，那就像带了一匹马到家里来。我们从前门进来，给它松开了链条，然后它就从后门飞奔了出去。我们发现它正抬头盯着树上一只吓坏了的猫。那只猫似乎在说：“你不是来真的吧。”
我们适应塔克的过程风波不断。“三明治怎么了？”我问道。“馅饼去哪了？”所有的眼睛都转向塔克，而它正在平静地舔着肉块。一整块火腿都不见了，跟棒球和所有猫的玩具一样的下场。塔克从门槛底下将地毯连撕带咬地叼了出来，先是啃地毯，后来开始啃门槛。
东西的损坏让人十分不悦，不过家里有男孩子在，这种事情也不是没发生过。我能够忍受这些。但当塔克的目标转移到了人的身上，每当有客人来访，它就会冲向门口时，我忍无可忍了。
“停下，”我对它说。它没有。“别这样干。”它依旧我行我素。我仔细地查阅了相关书籍。有一本建议说“和你的狗进行心灵交流”。另一本则建议说在罐子和锅里弄一些饵雷就可以对付狗狗的偷吃行为了。可是用作饵雷的东西炸开后只是毁了锅，对塔克的偷吃习惯却毫无作用。
于是我将塔克送去训练学校，在那里倒是我自己学到了些东西：狗不是猫。甚至没有相似的地方。塔克更像是一头狼，而我则要痛苦地去结束他那刚刚显露的狼性。
“你一定得成为它的头儿，”训犬人婉言警告说。举个例子，不管我多想静静地坐下来读一本小说，让一只猫趴在腿上，我都不得不忙碌起来，并教会我们的狗：我，而不是它，才是领头的，而且——最关键的是——我对食物拥有控制权。我的秘密武器？肉骨头。
为了教会塔克不去纠缠客人，我们这样训练他：一个儿子去敲门，塔克就会提高警惕，此时我就会用一个魔法般的词“好吃的！”来分散它的注意力。同时，我儿子就进来了。（这样大概重复了有一万次，因为塔克不算个学东西很快的学生。）之后，这个日子终于来了，塔克听到了敲门声，打了个哈欠，然后就慢悠悠地去食盘那里了。我当时差点高兴地“汪汪”叫起来。
随着塔克开始尊重我的领导才能，它身上其他类似于狼的特征也开始逐渐消退。它学会了过来、坐下、呆着不动和只是很向往地盯着台子上的食物。它甚至还明白了即便是有一只猫蜷在我的腿上，我还是可以轻轻抚摸它那天鹅绒般的黑耳朵。
儿子们遵守了他们的诺言。他们给塔克喂食，给它打肥皂，用水管给它冲澡，并教会它各种出人意料的把戏：比如说，扔个球出去，他就会把一根棍子叼回来。（不过，这个技巧还需要继续训练。）
但是因为我经常散步，而且很不忍心把一个看到我穿运动鞋就兴奋的家伙留在家里，所以多数情况下都是我负责遛狗。现在，当它闻到路边的某种美食时，我就让它离开那儿。它翘起一只耳朵，记起我口袋里的肉骨头，然后我们就一起继续向前走了，我俩在郊区散着步，是一对很气派的搭档。“很漂亮的狗，”一个路人说。没人在说什么俏皮话了，一句也没
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