Chapo
He was a racist, he picked fights with anyone bigger than he, hated the aged, fur coats and people carrying big heavy bags–back packs and shoulder carry-alls particularly annoyed him. One day, he attacked Dan Dorfman’s wife, who was wearing both a fur coat and carrying a big bag, and he threatened to have him euthanized. The authorities came and fined me but power attorney Sid Davidoff had taken on his case and said: “Over my dead body.” That’s the kind of dog Chapo (shortie in Spanish) was. He had presence. He was a little guy with a huge personality who no one could ignore.
If someone came to the house he would bark in a high, irritating pitch until properly acknowledged and petted, at which point he would lie and display his big belly to be rubbed. Only then would peace reign again until the next guest arrived. Yet most people appreciated his spirit and remember him fondly.
On a day-to-day basis, Chapo’s constant need of attention could be maddening. He liked to lie by the side of my desk as I worked and every few minutes he would give out a “here I am” kind of bark that would break my concentration. But I was powerless –he was incorrigible despite the hundreds of dollars I spent on the best trainers. Perhaps it was my fault.
When my adored Jefferson, calm, sweet Jeffie passed away, I felt the need to replace him immediately and went on the internet to try to find a cairn terrier breeder in the area. There were none to be found. Breeders had cut back because cairns were becoming too popular and would lose their cache. But I found one in Springfield, Massachusetts, and I drove there and back by myself because no one would take the two-way 7 hour plus drive with me. I did not take a carrier with me so he baptized the car with his pee but the adorable salt and pepper ball of fur with the wet, shiny nose rode on my lap most of the way, licking my hand every time I petted him.
Patience not being one of my virtues, I hired a trainer who agreed to take him home for a week and return a house-broken, educated dog. With him came a 6-page, extremely detailed analysis typed in size 8 Times New Roman font of very aspect of Chapo’s personality and how to continue his job of turning my new puppy into the perfect dog. (Read the attached pdf and you’ll see why Chapo rebelled to the end)
What he accomplished in one week was impressive. Chapo was house broken, never gnawed on any of my Charles Jourdan spike heels but he did chew off the black beads and made holes in the powder blue sweater the staff had given me for my birthday. But he could do nothing about the constant yapping or aggressive behavior. After the Dorfman incident it became apparent that I needed to hire someone with a different approach.
Our next door neighbors had become acquainted with Chapo one early morning when he finally succeeded in digging a hole under the fence dividing our properties and ran through their doggy gate, up three flights of stairs and unto the bed where Post reporter Linda Stasi lay sleeping. She was startled awake and threw him off the bed thinking that it was a rat. But she grew to love him and insisted on calling him Fonzi. He and their Rhodesian Ridgeback became bosom buddies and had sleep-overs during which Chapo would torment Leo, a noble sort with an eating disorder, by stealing a bone, getting under a low table and contently gnaw away out of his reach. Too big to get under the table Leo whimpered or barked, frustrated and helpless until Chapo decided to come out. They’d take him for late night walks on the beach and he would fight the waves barking joyously. At the end of the weekend depression set in for both Leo and Chapo from missing each other.
Sid and Linda suggested celebrity trainer Bash Dibra but his tough-love method was a dismal failure because I couldn’t follow his instructions to be hard on my adorable little puppy. So he grew up behaving pretty much as he wanted. When Jamie moved in with me he immediately went on the internet to try to find a way to stop the constant barking and complete disregard for any rules. He discovered that Chapo considered himself the man of the house. He was the Alpha male and Jamie tried mightily to show him that he was now the dominant man of the household but soon tired of the effort. Chapo had prevailed one more time.
It was embarrassing to walk with him not just because of his prejudices but because he attacked any dog bigger than him so I had to hire a dog walker. Linda had connections with the Dog Whisperer and they asked us to make a six-minute tape of Chapo misbehaving and send it to them. I was able to film him barking incessantly at the grunting radiator but when Jamie and I took him out on a walk video camera in hand, he trotted contentedly along us, lifting his leg, doing his duty and never attacked a big dog or bit an old lady. Needless to say, we never got on the program and Chapo was able to live on his own terms until today when we had to sadly put him to sleep forever. He had developed a tumor in his chest and couldn’t breathe. It is truly a gift to be able to end a beloved animal’s suffering. If only we could do the same for our loved ones who want to go.
Thank you, Chapito, for the happiness you brought, You were loved and will be missed.
