Settle

“I'm da boss, I'm da boss, I'm da boss, I'm da boss, I'm da boss ... I'm da boss, I'm da boss, I'm da boss, I'm da boss, I'm da boss.”

- Jake La Motta

 Raging Bull           

               Late Thursday afternoon, I flipped through Stephen King’s mad dog classic “Cujo” while I kept an eye on Vito, as he quietly ripped through the pages of his “Lassie” anthology.

            The rumble of the garage door started, and so ended our peaceful afternoon.

            From around the corner, Nick called, “V-e-e-e-t-o-o-o-o, come out and pla-a-a-ay-y-y!”

            Vito dropped “Lassie” and cocked his head. Nick was home! He sprung like he had swallowed a bottle of diet pills and washed them down with a triple mocha latte.

             Nick-time was wrestle-time.

            He lurched and hopped like the floor was electrified. He panted and howled. That’s how excited Nick got. You should have seen Vito.

            Vito channeled his inner Jake La Motta, stood on his hind legs, and batted Nick with his paws like a professional boxer. They circled each other and ducked punches. By now, Vito’s pupils were dilated. His heart rate increased to the pulse of a Keith Moon drum solo.

             Which was the exact point Nick decided he was done playing with Vito. Nick just cut out, went upstairs to his room, and left me alone with Vito, who by now needed an injection of ketamine to calm down. And since Michael Jackson’s personal veterinarian no longer makes house calls, I no longer have access to that particular sedative, which is used only in animal hospitals. So I had to find another way to calm the crazed animal.

            This, I decided, was the perfect time to practice the “settle” command.

            My vet showed me how to do it: lay the dog on his side, place the bottom of your forearms over the dog’s shoulders and hips, and hold his bottom paws with your hands. He might fuss, but eventually the dog will exhale deeply and relax. Brian and I have done it before, and it’s not fun. Vito fights and scratches to get out of the hold. He also moans unpleasantly.

            Nick is not a fan of “settle.” He says it’s the same as torture. He says next we’ll be water-boarding Vito. As smart as he is, Nick appears to have missed the point that he is a general reason why Vito needs to "settle."

            Still, I couldn’t risk a budding Cujo on my hands. I called for Brian, who pulled Vito off my head and pinned him into the “settle” position. Vito thrashed like his foot was caught in a bear trap. He writhed like an old lady poked him with Vito-voodoo pins.

            “Settle” was not working, but both Brian and I vowed not to give up because we didn’t want Vito to think he could win by outlasting us. If we gave up, all the power in the house would shift towards Vito, which meant that he would control the TV remote. That is the line that Brian and I could not allow him to cross.

            In the middle of Vito’s alternating guttural moans, then ear shattering screams, the home phone rang. Brian and I decided nothing should deter us from our mission to break Vito, so we let it ring through to the answering machine. From the first syllable of the message, I could tell it was Nick. He called on his cell from his room, upstairs. He left a message.

            “I have no idea what is going on down there …” he said in a droll, superior voice over the distant piercing shrieks of Vito, which we could also hear on the recording. “…But for the love of God, please don’t tell me you’re doing the ‘settle’ thing with Vito.” Then Nick hung up.

            I went ballistic. “You think you know everything,” I shook my fist and screamed at the ceiling. “But you know nothing! I would rather do this with a 25-pound puppy than a 55-pound … d-o-o-o-o-g!”

            Somewhere after Nick’s phone call and before Vito hit the 20-minute mark in his “settle” tirade, I must have slipped out of consciousness. When I came to, I heard something beautiful, which meant I heard nothing. A second later, it was Brian's voice that brought me completely back.

            “Good settle,” said Brian, who released Vito and gave him a treat.

            Vito snuggled against Brian, who embraced him back.

            “After all that, I think Vito still likes us,” I said.

            “I think he likes us more,” said Brian.

            I wonder if  “settle” works on 22-year-old humans.