April 2, 2007
Humans haven’t cornered the market on reality TV.
Leading the pack is Animal Planet’s “Animal Precinct,” sort of a “Cops” for society’s dog-fighting, cat-kicking underbelly. That same channel is also home to “Emergency Vets,” among them the surfer-dudish Kevin Fitzgerald, a former bouncer who toured with the Rolling Stones.
And now there’s the newest addition to the real people, real critters pantheon: “Adventures in Doggie Daycare,” which debuts Saturday at 9 p.m. on cable’s WE TV channel.
“I’m sure people think I’m crazy, but I’m OK with that,” says Elise Vincentini, owner of Seattle’s Downtown Dog Lounge, the backdrop for the weekly half-hour show. Housed in an Art Deco building with picket-fenced “puppy pens” and cowhide-print walls, “DDL,” as regulars call it, provides day care to an average of 140 dogs a day, overseen by staffers with job titles like “pooch nanny.” In every episode, we meet a handful of them up close, from woofing Labs to bouncy Berners, not to mention their sometimes overwrought owners.
The best reality shows hold a mirror, as it were. And “Adventures in Doggie Daycare” does just that, showing us, through the saliva streaks, just how obsessed we can be about our animals.
“Their parents are, like, ‘Oh, did you have fun at school today?’” says Vincentini, who left a travel-heavy job in the “seafood industry” after her Weimaraner Lily suffered a bout of bloat.
Indeed, many of the day care’s flourishes - from the frozen-yogurt treats to the spritz of lavender before pickup - benefit the owners, not their dogs, who presumably would just as much appreciate a mouthful of cat poop or a good roll in a cow pie. Clients can indulge them with ostrich or kangaroo meat, as well as the ultimate chew toy, which Elise calls a “pizzle.” “It’s the manly part of a bull, dried and stretched,” she volunteers coyly. (Risque rejoinders abound at DDL, which sells a T-shirt that reads, “Wag if you like it on all fours.”)
All this comes at a price, of course. Vincentini notes that regulars can easily rack up a $10,000 annual tab. Maybe more, if you overindulge on the acupuncture sessions or herbal ear washes.
While it has the potential for being as pretentious as a long-winded Starbucks order, “Adventures in Doggie Daycare” is nonetheless eminently watchable. Part of this has to do with Vincentini’s irrepressibility. “We rate her like hurricanes,” says a staffer affectionately.
And part of it has to do with the whole reason people love dogs, and sometimes treat them more anthropomorphically than they need or want to be: They are individuals, with unique personalities that are charming, or infuriating, or often a little of both.
“He’s like one of those really bad boyfriends - you want to be around him all the time because he’s so funny,” Vincentini says of a Vizsla named Sancho, who’s described as “very manipulative - he always gets his way.” His owner’s not too hard on the eyes, either, someone comments. Love me, love my outta-control Hungarian hunting dog.
All is not idyllic at DDL, where the occasional guest lets loose rivers of urine perilously close to the custom-logoed carpet, or a baby Mauzer (Maltese meets mini-schnauzer) scrambles furiously to escape the tub during her first dip. “I’m kind of embarrassed,” mumbles a bride-to-be after Vincentini presents her with photos of her pooches dressed as a bride and groom - a consolation for the fact that the wedding venue wouldn’t let them be part of the ceremony. (”It’s commitment - everyone’s fearful,” Vincentini says to the brindle groom, who balks at the tux.) And there are disgruntled clients, albeit off-screen: DDL has logged its share of gripes on the recommendation-fueled yelp.com.
But with its seemingly limitless cast of characters, both human and canine - including fashionista Mona, who dresses her Italian greyhound, Carmen, in “I’m a Lover, Not a Biter” T-shirts and pink cable-knit sweaters, with nails polished to match - the show is likely to keep you coming back. If only to learn what a “Brazilian pooch trim” is.