pet connection

No, it’s not a joke. Or if it is, I don’t know the punch line. But I do know my dad, the Pet Connection’s Dr. Marty Becker (seems so weird to spell out your dad’s name like that) is in New York now, preparing for a bunch of meetings and upcoming appearances.

Gina has asked me to keep track of him so she doesn’t have to. Later in the month, he’ll be on a bunch of TV shows, including, of course, his regular appearance on “Good Morning America” to talk about pets and summer hazards. I’ll write about that more then.

This trip, though, he’s meeting with magazine editors. Dad says phone calls are like Internet dating — hey, what does my dad know about internet dating? My folks have been happily, lovingly and devotedly married for 26 years!– and he’d rather meet people in person any time. (Those are my parents, on our family’s Idaho ranch.)

My dad can make a friend out of anyone. I’ve seen it all my life, that combination of small-town charm and a Labrador retriever personality the second he shakes hands. He kind of reminds me of my pug, Bruce, who wouldn’t hesitate to lick anyone’s face or jump in the car with any stranger. I’m pretty sure dad has enough sense not to lick any magazine editor’s face, and I certainly hope he won’t try to sniff any rear ends, but point is, I know he’ll come back home to North Idaho with more friends than before he left.

One of the things he’ll be talking about in New York in the Wisdom Panel MX, which is a dog genetic testing kit available through veterinarians. Mars says the test is 84 percent accurate for most AKC breeds. And it’s easy: Your veterinarian takes a little blood, and you’ll get your results in three weeks.

My husband and I have pugs, but my parents have a dog named Quixote. When we got him, we were told he was a mix of Papillon, Yorkie and Poodle. The test showed that he was really a mix of Chihuahua, Pomeranian and Yorkie. Of course, dad will be the first to tell you that knowing “what he is” doesn’t mean we love him any less, but it’s still fun to find out. And now my dad as a veterinarian can also keep an eye out for any special breed-related problems.

We think it also helps explain some of Quixote’s personality. I always thought Quixote was just a ‘fraidy cat, or ‘fraidy dog in this case, because he was always hiding from the vacuum cleaner, ducking when he heard the rustle of plastic bags, shaking whenever we hit the ridges in the road with the car, or getting upset at the tiniest noise. Now, we all joke that “It’s just the Chihuahua in him.”

More details on the TV appearances when I know when they’ll be.

For now, I can dish a little on dad: He has a nightly ritual in NYC: He enjoys a pint of Haagen Daz ice cream at one of the local delis. If the trip’s a long one, this habit sometimes makes his jeans a little snug by the time he comes home to North Idaho. But a few days of work at the ranch takes those extra pounds off in a hurry, let me tell you!