Helloooo Newman: How to Raise the Perfect Wife

Helloooo Newman: How to Raise the Perfect Wife: I heard the Dog Whisperer is into a new line of work - how to raise your wife properly. Okay, he's not. But he should be. I see from...

How to Raise the Perfect Wife

I heard the Dog Whisperer is into a new line of work - how to raise your wife properly.

Okay, he's not. But he should be.

I get from reading his book How to Raise the Perfect Dog all kinds of excellent marriage advice.

In Chapter 4, called "Puppy Comes Home", General Cesar deals with the all-important issue of preventing separation anxiety.

The human equivalent Chapter Title would be "When My Marriage Begins." The advice is worth a gander, ladies.

Cesar discusses a dog named Angel, who had the hardest time when her owner would stay out late, leaving Angel to her own devices. Those devices included whining out of every window in the house, barking at pictures of her owner, scratching the screen and occasionally loading the family Uzi and intently studying "Uzi Does It" courses on Youtube.

The owner made the typical human mistake when he got home – he went to Angel and started to coo, and woowoo, and dopey doh, and "it's okay, good girl."

Bad human. By reacting kindly, the owner is just reinforcing Angel's use of the Uzi. I don't mind if my 9-year-old daughter uses an Uzi, but my dog? Never!

General Cesar says you must be calm and assertive, communicating to the dog, "I don't agree with your behaviour. I want you to relax."

I employ this sage advice in my marriage.

It's 3 a.m., there's a pile of vomit in the backyard and I am just about to enter the bedroom. My wife is upset, was probably screaming from every window but, on the bright side, does not hold an Uzi.

Now, you tell me. Am I suppose to reward this behaviour with an apology? "It's okay honey woney, I'm home now, I'm sorry, good girl."

I think not. So I be calm, assertive and drunk. Very quickly, of course, because I soon fall asleep.

"I don't agree with your behaviour, honey. I want you to relax." Zzzzzzzzzzzz…

Angel, and my wife, don't understand that this treatment is ultimately good for them.

That's okay. I am very patient with my wife.

Helloooo Newman: What Colour is Newman's Parachute?

Helloooo Newman: What Colour is Newman's Parachute?: Newman woke up this morning and told me in broken English that he no longer desires to be the family pet. He's tired of placating us, ...

Helloooo Newman: What Colour is Newman's Parachute?

Helloooo Newman: What Colour is Newman's Parachute?: Newman woke up this morning and told me in broken English that he no longer desires to be the family pet. He's tired of placating us, ...

What Colour is Newman's Parachute?

Newman told me this morning in broken English that he no longer desires to be the family pet.

He's tired of placating us, performing silly tricks and he has no privacy to bring home dog dates.

He wants to get a job. Eventually he sees himself getting a place of his own, preferably near the water because there are lots of off-leash parks there and plenty of, as he calls it, poodle-tang.

Newman is part poodle.

I said "fair enough." "I'll miss you, but I'm really proud of you."

So now I had to help Newman pick a career.

Proctologist popped into my head. This shouldn't be surprising. Newman has been sticking his nose in other people's butts since day one.

I suggested "Assman" on his dog tag. For marketing purposes.

Gynecologist is another possibility. He is well versed in the exploration of genitalia.

There are lots of benefits to Newman choosing this area. Women need only stand there while Newman performs his exam. No undignified lying on a cold metal table and inserting feet into medical stirrups.

The exam can also be performed at one's leisure at dinner parties or during Sunday brunch.

Newman went as far as to take the OB/GYN exam. That was a toughie, as I had to talk him through the entire process.

"No Newman, this is a person, she's not your bitch."

"I see that you brought your ball but you can't bury it in the hole. Not in this context, Newman."

"Yes, I realize you're the only one in the room that's fixed." "I know it's unfair, but we can't fix her. Not now, anyway."

"Newman, we went over this." "It's at these delicate times you cannot get an erection. Just think of Phyllis Diller."

"Newman, stop licking that." "I expressly told you…"

He failed the exam.

He could be a drug-sniffing dog at the airport but how boring is that? I suggested air traffic controller.

When I introduced Newman to the air traffic controller screen he kept trying to bite the little moving dots. No Newman. These are planes with people on them. Gentle, boy.

Since Newman has the pack animal instinct, he wanted to group all the planes together in a cozy bundle and land them all at once. The pilot monitoring the flight simulator test had never seen so many virtual deaths.

We both agreed that Newman was too rambunctious to be a seeing eye dog for the blind, unless people enjoy being dragged along the concrete at 10 kph.

Newman suggested being a hearing ear dog for the deaf. I was proud of him for quickly realizing the drawbacks of this as a career. When Newman hears a strange sound he barks frantically for 20 minutes, growls for 3 minutes and huffs and snorts for 30 seconds. Then back to sleep. Neither of us could figure out how this would help a deaf person.

I guess for now Newman's wisest career choice is to be my best friend.