Puppies will be puppies

"You should write about how to stop a puppy from chewing things," suggested an editor, who, not coincidentally, has just acquired a chocolate-Lab puppy.

The usual remedies came to mind: Leave lots of appropriate chew toys around, such as Nylabones. Offer carrots as an all-natural chomp option. Spray the object of temptation with a repellent like Bitter Apple. Give the puppy plenty of opportunity for exercise, because - cliche alert - a tired puppy is a good puppy.

I was tempted to suggest that with Lab puppies, sometimes the best option is to saw off your dining-room table legs and just let them have at it. Why postpone the inevitable?

You can do your level best to try to stop puppies from chewing, but you can never guarantee that they will. Steeling yourself for the unforeseeable is a lesson I relearned a couple of months ago.

Many years ago, in a previous iteration of myself in this newspaper, I was the home columnist. (Logically, this followed my tenure as the nightclub columnist - I have been around that long.)

I was in a deep, dark antiquing phase back then, and one of my first columns was about my prize possession, an early 19th century classical sofa. I took it to Brooklyn to have Willie, the best refinisher in the city, French-polish it to perfection. I covered it in a period-specific gold Napoleonic bee pattern that cost as much as a vacation to Elba. I refused to let anyone sit on it, rendering it the equivalent of those "for show" towels in the bathroom that are reserved for company.

And then came my life with dogs. Roxy, my ancient mutt, never went near it. Blitz and Diva, my first Rhodesian Ridgebacks, lived up to their breed's reputation as easy keepers by never setting so much as one tooth to mahogany.

Then came Lola.

Along with her older sister, Kya, Lola has been an unrepentant chewer of children's playthings. I take this as a blessing of sorts, as my three preschoolers have too many toys, anyway, and doggie decapitation keeps the population down. Barbies, Little Ponies, Webkinz ... they all succumbed to the carnage.

When Lola was about 10 months old, I came home to find a confetti-like file of wood shavings at the base of the treasured sofa. Its fluid, hand-carved arm, graced with tendrils and acanthus leaves, had been filed away with all the delicacy of a rasp.

Someone had left Lola unattended for 10 minutes that day. That was about nine minutes more than she needed.

I vacuumed up the splinters. I bought a touch-up marker and applied the mahogany stain to the raw wood. But for days, even weeks, I could not bear to look at that corner of the living room. It felt like a karate chop to the solar plexus. I covered the gnawed appendage with a quilt.

A few weeks later, Lola took a few chomps out of the other arm.

I have been through Kubler-Ross' five stages of grief: Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. And, finally now, acceptance.

Dogs teach us who we are, and who we want to become. Ten years ago, when I wrote columns about my search for the perfect needlepoint pillow, or my elation of scoring an art-deco nude for my growing German porcelain collection, I would still be stewing about the lesson in imperfection that Lola taught me. I'm not happy that I now own a mauled antique, but I accept the fact that in those handful of minutes when my dogs - or, for that matter, my kids - are out of eyeshot, most anything can happen.

I do not love things so much after my life with dogs. Maybe this is a cop-out rather than an epiphany. But that's perfectly fine with me.

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THIS MOUSE MAKES SCENTS

The bane of cat ownership is the litterbox. One way to clear the air is the CatMouse, an odor eliminator shaped like a computer mouse and powered by "green" technology: It replicates the environment's natural blend of beneficial ions and activated oxygen. The manufacturer likens the scent emitted by the three-watt unit to "air after a thunderstorm." You also can use the optional pheromone-therapy diffuser - which wafts soothing maternal chemical signals in the air - to help address behavioral issues. Available for $39.95 at shopusi.com, or call 262-334-3000.

NOW THAT'S SOLID FOOD

Owners whose dogs inhale their food rather than just eating it sometimes use this meal-extending tip: Place a large (read: too big to accidentally eat) rock in the food bowl, which forces the dog to slow down and eat around it. The DogPause Bowl utilizes a similar principle of divide and conquer: It has four divided sections, making a dog pause between each. Available for $17.95 from dogpausebowl .com, or call 303-991-1976. Or you could just go look for a nice-size rock.

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© 2008, Newsday.

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