See Spot Luxuriate
While many animals are feeling the pinch of a down economy, others are living it up - massages, art classes, catered birthday parties.
(Illustration by Mark Matcho)
THE QUESTION HAS TO BE ASKED: DOES OLLIE, AN English bulldog with short legs, a big wrinkly head, and his own collection of Maria Callas CDs, know he's pampered? Or does he consider it normal to take meals on the patios of Back Bay restaurants, shop at Neiman Marcus and Saks, and have catered birthday parties? "That's funny," his "mother," Rhonda Rudner, a Boston psychotherapist, replies. "His nanny was just saying to me . . ."
Yes, nanny. Well, you wouldn't expect a dog who's had his eyelids lifted (to improve his vision) and whose "mother" carries his bottled water in a Pierre Deux diaper bag to mix with the masses at doggie day care, would you?
The economy may be going to the dogs, but the animals themselves are going to spas and fancy hotels, flying on private jets, and enjoying the services of chauffeurs and masseuses. They have health insurance and trust funds and $300 strollers. Americans have increasingly come to think of pets as children or significant others, and the American Pet Products Manufacturers Association expects spending to hit $43 billion this year. That's almost double the amount spent a decade ago, the dark ages before pets enjoyed such necessities as personal trainers, designer wardrobes, and their own wide-screen TVs. Before bark mitzvahs, even! Oy.
As Ranjit Phillipose, hotel manager of the pet-friendly Taj Boston, observes: "It's good to be a dog." At his hotel, four-legged guests find personalized welcome notes and room-service menus in their suites. Over at the Liberty Hotel, dogs are greeted with organic treats.
But not all animals are so lucky. Adoptions have declined at more than half the shelters and rescue groups across the country, according to a March survey by Petfinder.com, and there's been a significant increase in pet surrenders due to home foreclosures. While most people aren't deciding between splurging on their beloved or helping less fortunate animals, here's a number to ponder: $500 can buy either a Ralph Lauren alligator collar for your pup or food for a week for the cats and dogs at the Animal Rescue League of Boston's Animal Care and Adoption Center in the South End.
But for the pampered set, indulging is de rigueur. At LaundroMutt in Cambridge, the groomer is booking a month out (longer than it takes to see most Newbury Street stylists). Prices can top $200 for a wash, groom, and, of course, a blowout. At Ruff Workouts in Belmont, owners pay $30 for a half-hour treadmill session. "The dogs hate getting started," owner Lesley Levine reports, "but once they get on the treadmill, they feel so much better."
At Dog Day Afternoons Country Day Prep in Boston, where tuition is $30 per day, theater arts and paw painting are part of the curriculum. "It sounds silly to say we're going to do crafts with the dogs," says co-headmaster Nora Meiners, "but the owners love it. You're doing one-on-one contact with the dog, and the owner gets a piece of artwork they can hang on the wall." The dogs also receive report cards. And for the pooch who earns all A's? What nicer reward than a massage with Arnie Katz of the South End-based Katz & Dogz? Owners treat pets to $75 house-call massages for birthdays and special occasions, Katz says, or "just because you're you." People-pet packages are also available. "It's an opportunity for the owner and the dog to share relaxation time."
While the human housing market is going bust, business is holding at La Petite Maison, where custom doghouses go for upward of $30,000, says Michelle Pollak, design president of the South Carolina- and Colorado-based firm. Features can include artisan wallpaper, crystal chandeliers, and porches. Even so, owners sometimes feel the need for something new. "We've recently gotten into remodeling our own doghouses," Pollak says. "We add an addition or change the style to go with a new dog." Pollak doesn't believe in reincarnation, but if she changes her mind, "I want to come back as [one of our] clients' pets."
Or would she? "People are projecting their own sense of self-actualization onto their animals," says Judy Ramberg, a vice president at the Minneapolis trend-tracking firm Iconoculture. Reflecting on high-end everything for animals, she says: "Those are not their needs. Their needs are you." Perhaps indulgent owners aren't so sure. Like a jealous lover who showers his adored with gifts, they serve up sirloin so Rex won't succumb to the charms of another human. Or worse - ditch them for the siren scent of a decaying squirrel.
Beth Teitell is the Boston-based author of the forthcoming Drinking Problems at the Fountain of Youth. E-mail her at bteitell@gmail.com.
