Booze, bitterness and burglary: Cures for separation anxiety from your dog

In the words of Lucille Bluth, “Let’s make sure we don’t give [her] any real power.” These words reverberate throughout corporate board rooms and small tropical legislatures the world over.

Unfortunately, my new editor is no disciple of Ms. Bluth and as such made the unwise decision of bestowing upon me a real gall-darn title here at The Ubyssey — complete with the power that accompanies it (none). On the spectrum of poor choices, this is somewhere between “intervening in a foreign country to remove their dictator and in the process creating a volatile socio-political atmosphere whose power vacuum leads the way for insurgent groups to gain significant influence” and “liking Kirk Cameron.” Notably, it is below “whoever designed Buchanan Tower.”

I include this only as a disclaimer, the bottom line being DO NOT KEEP READING THIS, YOU SWEET INNOCENT BABY-CHILD BECAUSE IT’S ABOUT TO GET REAL JENKY.

Anyways, now on to the real topic at hand: The universal experience that is leaving your dog behind to come to UBC.

I’m sure upon reading that you just burst into tears in the back row of an econ 113 lecture and are currently trying to hide your ugly cry from that cute guy to your left.

It’s okay though! Everybody here misses their dog. Even more than they miss eating food that isn’t single-serving Kraft Dinner cups.

As such — and as a connoisseur in really really really wanting, but not being able to, cuddle your dog because they are a billion miles away — I’ve written up a handy dandy “How to,” complete with everything you need to cope.

There are two main options. The first is called the Schneider Method. This is named after its founder, Earl Method. Missing things – dogs, girlfriends, an above average pair of shoes – he argued, could be remedied by what he called, “Not being a little twerp.”

The first tenet in the Schneider Method went as follows:

“Do not succumb to your feelings. Conquer them; be the victor. Engaging in discussion can be replaced with bitching at Steve, that keener from ANTH 220. Slowly become grumpier and generally worse as a person as it eats away at you until you reach your end and uppercut a brick wall, break three bones in your hand and turn even angrier, causing you to rethink your life, join a yoga studio in an attempt to find inner peace, and then rate it three stars on Yelp.”

Earl Method died in 1946 of what doctors called “a disgustingly obliterated aorta. It’s like the blitz in there.”

If that’s not for you, I can especially recommend an alternative called alkoholism, which is Swedish for alcoholism.

But if, for whatever reason, neither of these appeal to you, there is still one more coping mechanism. Because nobody wants to hear you drunkenly explain how your pup once decimated a wolverine in the Okanagan and since it’s sometimes considered “a bit forward” or “please go away it’s been two hours” to stop strangers on the sidewalk to get a good cuddle in with their two-month-old Bernese, the following is a popular alternative.

Dognapping, long considered a practice limited to fringe groups and the Koch Brothers, has enjoyed a resurgence as of late – and for good reason. I mean, I wouldn’t know, but a friend tells me she’s accumulated so many dogs that now she barely misses Spot from back home.

She says she has all sorts of dogs — big dogs and little dogs, fluffy dogs and skinny dogs, pleasant dogs and shih tzus. It’s like coming home to your own little fur family every day. In fact, an estimated one in four students are currently sheltering dognapped dogs in their homes as a way to make up for missing their family pupper. And so can you!

Unless of course you want to take it out on Steve from ANTH 220, which, now that I think about it, is probably easier.