A Word From the Weiss

        For months now, I’ve been alluding to the big trip I will be taking to visit my daughter in Hong Kong. Well, it’s time for the alluding to be over. Let the eluding begin!
        That is to say, my husband and I are about to embark on a three-week trip to Asia. In addition to spending time with Allegra, who is singing at the Hong Kong Four Seasons for seven months, we’ll also travel to Beijing and Bangkok and a Thai beach. And as much as I would love to take you along for the ride, the fact is that I’m anxious about schlepping my computer on such an elaborate journey. This also may be the only time I ever get to visit these distant destinations, and I don’t want to sit in a hotel room writing when I could be out climbing the Great Wall or devouring dim sum or pad thai.
        This is my way of saying that I have no intention of breaking up with you, but I’m about to take a break for three full weeks. I hope you won’t forget me while I’m gone.
        With that in mind, let me assure you that I will be back in mid-October with exciting new adventures. Not only will I be hanging out with my daughter in many exotic locales, but we’ll be observing Rosh Hashanah in Hong Kong and then Yom Kippur in Bangkok. How cool (albeit unorthodox) is that?
        And if you actually find that you miss me that much (as if!), feel free to “friend” me on Facebook, where I’m sure I will be posting plenty of pictures as Patricia Weiss Levy.
        Yet whether or not you miss me, I promise that I will genuinely miss you. Then again, I cannot tell a lie. It may be a great relief to take this much-needed respite. As of this week, I've been writing in this space for four years and have only taken off two weeks in a row once, when we went on our last real family vacation to Italy three years ago.
        What I have never taken (since I was a zaftig teen, anyway) was a three-week trip. Seems impossibly extravagant, doesn't it? It’s just that after taking a 16-hour flight, I feel we should get our money’s worth and see as much of Allegra and another continent as we can.
        Still, I must admit that I’m feeling a little guilty about leaving all of you behind, especially during the High Holy Days. (Shouldn’t I be home posting tips about making kugel and brisket?) But what I’m really feeling guilty about (nice Jewish mom that I am) is leaving behind our dog. You know where I’m going and that we will be back soon. How do I explain that to Latke?
        Never fear, however. She will be having a vacation of her own with her many friends at Wags, her favorite puppy “playcare” center. Also, just before leaving, we treated her to an extra special day on which I can safely say she had the time of her life.
        Our local JCC swim club was once again hosting a Doggie Funday, held after the facilities closed for the summer, but just before they drained the pools.
        When Latke attended this illustrious event last year, she not only had a total blast diving in and out of the kiddie pool with reckless abandon, but also entered the talent competition, in which, to our amazement, she managed to clinch third place.
        Although she thoroughly impressed the judges with her ability to leap over a stick, I doubted that reproducing the same trick a year later would produce the same results. So the moment that we decided to attend again, I began wracking my brain for a new stunt.
        They say that you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, but at 2½ Latke is far from old. As a Portuguese Water Dog, she’s also pretty sharp as canines go. However, we’d spent much of last summer perfecting her jumping skills. With only a few weeks left, we might not want to stick with the stick, but she’s still a dog. We couldn’t be too ambitious.
        My first impulse was to attempt that oldie but goodie, getting Rover to roll over. Detailed instructions that I found online indicated that this could be achieved by holding a fragrant treat by her ear while she was lying down and getting her to follow the scent. When that didn’t work, I tried manually rolling her over. Gravity and growling intervened.
        A clerk at the pet supplies store suggested getting her to stand on her hind legs and pirouette by holding a treat above her head. Latke was very interested in the treat. Spinning, though? Not so much. She’d balance for a few seconds on her toes before planting her paws painfully on my stomach. Sharp as she is, a ballerina she’ll never be.
        As a last resort, I tried capitalizing on a novel skill that Latke already possessed. For years, we have been playing a sort of three-card Monte game in which I conceal a treat in one of my hands, hold them both closed, palm down, in front of her and get her to choose which one it’s in. She is pretty good at this feat, but let’s face it – it’s not all that impressive. She hits one hand with her paw, and if she doesn’t get it on the first try, then she always does the second time around because there’s only one other choice.
        What would make the trick more impressive was if she could get it right every time (which seemed possible if I resorted to using VERY SMELLY treats). Better yet, what if I could teach her to know her left from her right? Or at least appear to know her left from her right?
        We worked on this for awhile, with me exclaiming “Left!” and looking pointedly toward my left hand, then doing the same thing with the right. Any luck? Yeah, right!        Latke was happy to keep practicing, but it remained a clear case of hit or miss. Maybe it was time to give up and simply stick with the stick.
        The day before the big day, with none of her new skills quite ready for prime time, we came up with a final inspiration. We went to the store to buy a Hula Hoop. I figured she could jump through that as easily as she could leap over a stick, but it would look like it was something new.

        We bought a very impressive lemon yellow hoop with bright pink plastic doohickies that lit up on contact. Latke took one look at this and ran the other way.

        Until, that is, her bff Zoey came over. Zoey, at about 6 months, may be only a puppy, and less than half of Latke’s size at that, but she took one look at the treat we were brandishing on the other side of the hoop and stepped bravely through. And not to be outdone in the treat department, so instantly did Latke.
        They practiced this new prowess until it was perfected and we were out of treats.
        The next morning, before leaving for the JCC, I dressed Latke in her costume, a shocking pink feathered boa I had found in my daughter’s closet. This may sound a little over-the-top as dogwear goes. But it was so light that she didn’t notice it, and even smiled for the camera.
        Then I took her into the yard to practice jumping through the hoop one last time. She took one look at it and ran again.
        We were back to square one.
        With only minutes left to prepare, we couldn’t begin to teach her a new trick now. The best we could do, we figured, was demonstrate all of her half-baked skills hoping that one would work.
        My husband came up with a clever name for this circus act: Cirque de Lat-Kay. I quickly fashioned a sign on my computer, adding a pretty pink tulle bow. We were off!
        Before you cast any aspersions about my trying to get my dog to perform, let me just mention that under most circumstances, I am far from a competitive person. No, it’s beyond that. I am probably just about the least competitive person you know.
        Growing up in a family of fiercely competitive people, I quickly learned when I was young that I was never going to win and set about learning instead to lose graciously.
        As time went on, I began to realize that other people enjoyed winning so much more than I did that it was in everyone’s best interest that I lose. So the real challenge for me became to lose not just graciously but deliberately without making it too obvious.
        So when it came to Latke winning or losing, I didn’t care because she wouldn’t care. The person who would care was my husband, and I wanted to try for his benefit.
        Besides, in the end, win or lose, it is always much more fun to participate than just sit and watch.
        The moment that we arrived, we discovered that there was once again a whole lot of participating to do.
        Dozens of dogs and their owners had gathered for the fun and games in store.
        First, everyone lined up for the doggie dash, a nearly 2-mile, on-leash walk-run around the property.
        Latke thought this was pretty cool, but after it was iver she was all ready to cool off. One look at the adult swimming pool and she took a sudden leap in, only to think better of it and scramble out with a whole lot of tugging from us.
        Then I did my best to dry her off because the talent show was about to begin.
        A black and white dog named Phred (yes, Fred with a Ph, “just to be different”) impressed everyone by catching a Frisbee (or was it a Phrisbee?).
        A dinosaur of a dog named Daisy perched on her hind legs to retrieve a treat (although the most notable part of the act was her sheer height, which exceeded that of her young owner).
        Latke watched intently as her next competitor, who looked a lot like her, simply sat and gave his or her paw.
        Then it was our turn up at bat. My husband donned a wizard’s hat I had brought while I held up our nifty sign for all present to see.
        Latke balanced on her hind legs just long enough to snatch a treat without leaning on me, which looked somehow much more impressive performed with that pink boa on.
        Then she leapt over her good old stick in both directions before catching a bright pink ball that lit up in her mouth.
        Dare we even try for the grand finale? Nothing ventured, nothing gained. We held up the hoop. I proffered a treat. She didn’t leap, but didn’t run either. Dogs are nothing if not natural performers. Egged on by an appreciative audience, Latke stepped through. One small step for a previously skittish dog. One giant leap for canine-kind!
        Raucous applause ensued.
        Next up, unfortunately, was Charlie, a little spaniel who had come in first last year.
        Last year, all Charlie had done, as far as I can recall, was a whole lot of standard dog stuff like sitting and giving his paw. The secret weapon in his act was his pint-sized owner, who looked too damn adorable to settle for second-best.
        This year, that owner had grown a bit. But so had Charlie’s repertoire. He sat. He gave a paw. He went down on all fours. And then, with stunning aplomb, he rolled over.
        Upstaged again.
        It took the judges only moments to come to a decision.
        Charlie, no surprise, nabbed first place. Again.
        But then – big surprise – Latke came in second!
        Our prize was merely a certificate bearing her name. Still, victory was sweet.
        Maybe losing, however graciously, isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be – in my book, anyway – after all.
        Although I knew we had already garnered our share of recognition for the day, I still entered Latke in the costume contest, requiring us to parade around in a circle with the other pets who had dressed for the occasion. As glam as Latke looked still sporting her flaming pink boa, there were many other worthy contenders, including one of the saddest clowns I’ve ever seen and Charlie, our arch rival, who looked awfully cute all dolled up in his itsy bitsy sailor suit.
        First prize, however, went to the dog in the football jersey, with an owner to match. Together, they made a great team. Touchdown!
        The next event – dog who looked most like its owner – was one contest for which I was content to sit out and watch. But others were less proud and I must say the winners made quite a spectacle of themselves. Almost literally.
        I let Latke take off her fine feathered regalia for the next competition, a race through an obstacle course, for which she made a good enough showing to come in fourth place.
        But soon enough it was time to do what we’d really come for all along – not to win. To jump in! All summer long, I had felt guilty every single time that we had gone to the club for a swim on a hot, sunny day and left poor Latke languishing inside at home. Now was her moment to make up for lost time.
        Last year, it had taken a ball tossed into the water to get her to dive in. This time, she needed no props, nor encouragement. There were countless other hounds already having a blast in the water and she eagerly joined the wet and wild throng.
        So, however, did several children present, who didn’t quite get the idea that the kiddie pool had been taken over by other bathers for the day. Diving in with dogs may be even more exhilarating than swimming with, say, dolphins, but I hope that these youngsters’ mothers hosed them down afterwards. After seeing many a dog squat in the water (including my own, I must confess) I can assure you that I bathed Latke.
        But first she got to swim her fill and then some, and by the time we left we had one very wet, waterlogged, yet thoroughly satisfied pooch. And the knowledge that we now had a full year to pick, learn and perchance perfect another talent for her bag of tricks.
        Assuming that they hold the event again, in which case you know we will be there.
        Here, for those who may not get it, is the great thing about dogs. Sure, they’ll jump through hoops for you (or at the very least walk reluctantly through them). But far better is how boundlessly they love you, even if you only take them swimming once a year. They erupt in full-blown ecstasy whenever you just return from taking out the garbage. Can you imagine how Latke will react when we return from Asia after three long weeks?
        Right now, it’s a little hard to imagine leaving her behind for so long. But that’s a small price to pay for getting to see my daughter’s face for first time in three months.
        And I know somehow that Latke will forgive me for going. I hope you will too. See you after September. After Columbus Day that is. Don’t forget to check back then.
        Until then, happy new year!