Paris Hilton: Pet Poodle in the Pound

One of these is an out-of-control pervert; the other is just an old man.


The story dominating the news is that Paris Hilton is cracking up because the poor thing has to spend a few weeks in jail.

Her inititial four-day stint in the County jail reportedly had her breaking out in hives and in self-pitying crying jags. Yesterday, after being dragged back into court to serve the remainder of her already-reduced jail sentence for repeatedly driving on a revoked driver's license (revoked because she repeatedly drove drunk and failed to take a court-required alcohol-and-drug intervention course), she screamed out to her mother in court: Mommy, it isn't fair!

Am I the only one that is reminded of one of those pampered Hollywood pooches that dog trainer Cesar Millan is always being asked to fix?

Ms. Hilton is like a toy poodle runnning wild in the neighborhood. She craps on everyone's lawn, digs up the flowers, ignores commands, occassionally bites people, and sets other dogs to barking. It helps not at all that she is unspayed and promiscuous.

There is nothing intrinsically wrong with this young bitch, but its owner has raised it all wrong. As a young pup this dog learned to jump up on the table and grab whatever it wanted from the main plate. It was allowed to sleep on the bed and crap on the rug as well. When it barked at the door, no one ever told it to shut up, and after it began biting the occassional visitor, people were told to walk slowly and keep their hands close by their side. If it wants to sit on the couch, you need to sit in the chair. Don't even think about removing her food bowl.

Initially, when this little dog was seen running wild in the neighborhood, people merely smiled. We've all had a dog get loose once or twice. Your dog pissed on the rug? Let me tell you about mine.

What might have generated a sympathetic head bob the first time around, however, is a great deal less amusing on the 10th iteration.

And it's especially not amusing if it's drunk driving. There is a place in this world for dog catchers and dog pounds.

The pampered poodle at the dog pound is in for a world of shock. For one thing, it's a small dog that has been tossed into a wire cage next to a lot of very big animals. Even though the big dogs in the next cage cannot quite reach it through the wire, there is a very real sense that it would not take much for very bad things to happen. Not much at all.

Instead of soft couches, perfume and soap, this metal and concrete cage smells of urine, dog shit, vomit and death.

At meal time the folks at the pound do not cook and cut up up little steaks and serve them in a bowl of cream -- they scoop dry kibble out of 50-pound bags, and water comes from a lick spigot with a drain cut into the floor.

At the dog pound, Paris the pampered poodle will not get a nice warm fleece bed to curl up in --she's going to get the wire tray or concrete slab, the same as everyone else. The toilet will be in the open and no one will scoop up her dooty after she has finished. Jeweled leather collars and cute bandanas are now allowed; she will wear the same flat nylon collar with numbered slide tag as everyone else. It will not be new.

Worse than all the auster physical amenities is the fact that the folks in jail do not seem to give a damn about Paris the pampered poodle. This is a dog used to attention and used to having her every demand catered to. This dog has never had to deal with frustration and therefore has almost no capacity to cope.

Nor will acting out get her too much attention. At the pound, you can bark and howl, wag your tail or jump against the fence, play bow and even present your rear end up for any willing dog to mount, but no one is going to pay the slightest bit of attention to you if you are in a solitary cage. And believe me, if you are small pampered poodle at the dog pound, you want to be in a solitary cage.

Equally distressing to the pampered poodle is that some of the keepers at the pound seem to have issues themselves. Instead of smiling and saying submissive things, they stride into the cage and dominate the space with their presence. They think nothing of putting a choke chain on a dog and leading it on a short leash to wherever the it is they want it to go. And you better go -- this is not a request. Don't make them use the catch pole.

Paris the dog and Paris the human are different in one regard. If Paris the dog had exhibited the kind of behavior she did yesterday, she would probably have gotten a black tag placed on her cage. The black tag is the one that says that after a three day waiting period, the dog will be walked to the back room and given the Final Shot. After all, the world is full of good dogs without emotional problems; who needs to waste time on another pampered poodle who bites the hand that feeds it?

Paris, of course, is not going to be given the Final Shot; she is going to be let out. Unfortunately, when she is let out she will still be the same maladjusted young bitch she was when she went in a few weeks earlier.

When let out she will immediately be surrounded by the same people who helped make her so dysfunctional in the first place; her enabling mother, her alcohol and drug-addicted friends, and a raft of syncophant lawyers and assistants. In her social circle Paris will have no trouble all finding a half dozen mewing morons to tell her she was really a victim in all this because they treated her so much worse just because she was a well-bred toy poodle. My God, where are the dog catchers when all those black rottweilers are running about?

The idea that Cesar Millan should be called. is an idea that will occur to no one, yet I have little doubt that Cesar could set Paris right in short order. Cesar has worked with a lot of willfull bitches before, and has a track record of success.

Cesar Millan would not try to talk to Paris. He would not try to "understand" Paris. Instead, he would put a slip collar on her and take her on a long run every morning.

Cesar would stop all free-feeding. If Paris wants to eat, Paris will have to work, and that means physical work doing something normal like chasing a ball or doing yard work or painting the outside of a house.

Above all, Cesar will let Paris understand that she is not the top dog; she is just a small dog in a large pack, and with her small size and complete lack of ulility the best she can hope for is not to end up two rungs below the stupidest waitress at The Waffle House.

When not being worked or excercised, Cesar will mostly ignore Paris provided the dog behaves reasonably well. When Paris does get attention it will be when Cesar has time for it, and only on Cesar's terms. Attention and play is what you get after excercise and after doing good work and following directions. It is a reward, not an unearned right.

Time will tell what happens to Paris Hilton the human. In truth, I'm not sure why anyone cares. This girl is not any prettier than the peroxide-blondes we sneered at in high school and her morals are not as good. Based on her judgement calls, she is a mental defective. Both she and her friends are a traveling circus of alcholic dysfunction and unnecessary drama.

As for her mother, she is more of the same.

Which brings me to a concluding throught. To paraphrase the late Supreme Court judge Oliver Wendell Holmes: "Isn't three generations of idiots enough?

While Paris Hilton is incarcerated, is it possible she could be spayed?

Two related articles from this blog:

• A Balanced Trainer for Unbalanced Dogs


• Gassed by Noxious Fumes

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