Indeed, what would Jill do?
Just ask me and find out. This is your chance . . . a golden opportunity for you terriers to pose your questions to little ol' me and find out, what would Jill do?
Experiencing trouble with your uprights? Got a question about the Terrier Handbook? Not getting enough attention, either positive OR negative. I can help.
Just eMail me (click on the pooch at the bottom of the page) and submit your query.

Hi Jill, it’s me, Jovi.
I need your help. How much do you weigh? I weigh twenty pounds and the vet says I am turning into a porker. Should I join Weight Watchers?
 

Dear Jovi,
I know you're young, but before we address your question, let's get one thing perfectly clear. You NEVER ask a girl her weight. Never, ever! Now with that little misunderstanding out of the way, I'll tell you in confidence that I weight a precise and svelte 14.9 pounds. I'm a show-girl, you know . . . and I must maintain my figure and my tuck-up in order to properly navigate the earth dog tunnels. Now, about your problem.  My best pal, Fred, weighs every-bit of twenty pounds . . . and he's a very fine figure of a Lakeland. Trust me when I say, Fred is very fine! It's not the weight, Jovi, it's how you carry it; and I'm confident that you're GQ-perfect. If your vet has any more insulting comments, send him directly to me and I'll nip it in the bud, so to speak. Enough said.
Your pal, the Jillet
P.S. I think I love you.

Dear Jill,
I have read your complaints about Trudy Ann and I agree. But you don’t have to live with her! I DO!! All I hear is “Trudy Ann is so good. Trudy Ann comes when she’s called. Blah, blah, blah.” Trudy Ann now spends the day with the uprights in the grooming room on a table right inside the door. Now all of their clients meet her and think she’s God’s gift to the world. And when a new uprights walk in, she wiggles and makes them think that all Lakelands are just like her. Just ‘cuz I hop off the table and inspect the crate room, I get banned to the house; and Trudy Ann stays with people all day. What can I do? I’d put exlax in her MilkBones if I only had thumbs.
Help me!
Snitch

Dear, dear Snitch,
Alas, you have much to learn. There's an old saying among Lakelands, perhaps you've heard it: Two wrongs don't make a right. NEVER stoop to the ol' ExLax trick. I'm shocked at the suggestion, and frankly my dear, it's beneath you. As for our "pal" Trudy Ann, please understand that perhaps it is she who is in the inferior position. Is it possible that our own Trudy Ann is with the uprights for a reason . . . can you say SUPERVISION? Let me remind you -- I personally saw Trudy Ann sneak out of her towel box to fetch herself a chicken dinner. A chicken dinner that was neither hers nor at any time offered to her. It was a treacherous act . . . downright thievery . . . the act of a criminal mind, arguably sociopathic! You do know that she can manipulate her own body temperature and use that mood collar of hers to her own advantage. Talk about bio-feedback. Talk about manipulation. No wonder the uprights don't allow her out of their sight. If you are, as you put it, banned to the house, you must immediately set about to turn it to your advantage. Nest, hide treats, take Miss Trudy's toys, indulge yourself in a sunbath. Use this leisure time to your advantage. And don't underestimate the confidence and trust bestowed upon you by your uprights. Being left alone is the ultimate acknowledgment of being a good terrier. You ARE a good terrier, aren't you Snitch?
Best regards, and good luck,
Jill-the-Pill
P.S. In all candor, Snitch, I truly do understand your plight. And we both know, good mommy though she may be, Trudy Ann is a bitch!
 

Dear Jillbaby,
This is your great-grandmother Crystal and I would like to ask you a very serious question. My human likes to eat and does so often. However, when I get to the table it seems all the food has been consumed and I am left to eat at my bowl on the floor, alone! This has been ongoing ever since I moved in and I would like to know if you have this problem and if not, how do I go about changing my situation here? I know without a doubt that my human loves me dearly but I am sorely perplexed that I cannot sit on the big chair at the table when I eat. Thank you in advance for any assistance you may offer.
Lovingly, your gran,
Crystal

Dearest Grand Ma-ma,
Let me tell you a little story. Just this weekend I was being admired by hundreds of my fans. I was offered a treat, naturally. Another Lakie was present -- the 7th Earl of Cumbria, no less. Well His Lordship also got a treat, though clearly I should have received that treat, too. I had to correct him for eating it. True, the treat may have been in his mouth, but clearly it was MINE.  I point out this little tale because eating alone on the floor isn't necessarily a bad thing. All the food is yours -- no one else can take it from you. YOU, however, are free to remove your dinner from the bowl and take it to a place of your choice for consumption. I recommend carpet. Your lady is sending you this signal, so feel the power. Revel in it. You have been given your own bowl . . . perhaps Wedgewood, perhaps Waterford . . . but certainly something outrageously expensive, if not priceless.  You have been empowered with this bowl. YOUR bowl. As for sitting on the chair, this is a completely understandable desire. However, I remind you of that famous old Lakie saying: Pick your battles. Me thinks that a happy compromise is in order. Perhaps you can persuade her to let you sit on the chair solely on special occasions . . . a birthday, holidays, days that end in the letter Y. But before you spend too much energy eyeing that coveted place in the chair, remember that you can win the battle and still lose the war. Why, before you know it  you might find that she wants what's in your bowl. Then, dearest, where would you be? There is another benefit to remaining on the floor. Have you ever noticed how morsels of food sometimes leap from the table onto the floor? Rogue morsels, I call them. Well sweetie, you can't get those rogues if you're up and they're down.  So I say, enjoy that place on the floor. Use it to your advantage. And never forget the words of Annie (now guarding us from heaven): If it's good in the bowl, it's better on the carpet.
 

Hi, Jill,
My mom is taking me to obedience school. When I went to register the lady put this collar-thing on me that makes me look like the guy from Silence of the Lambs. I was wondering, do you have any ideas how I might get it off. They make me wear it when I'm having my meals and going for a walk. I'll have to wear it at school every week. Do you have one and if you do, do you ever get used to it? I think it's called a "gentle leader." Gentle, my foot! I'll sign this by my new name,
Hannibal Lector
 

Dear H.L.,
Guilt is a useless emotion. Happily, uprights are unaware of this fact. They embrace guilt, so use it to your advantage. The next time you see your people with this "gentle leader" in their hands, run as if your life depends on it. Run from hiding place to hiding place, then run under the bed. Yip, whimper . . . muster a few tears and a pathetic whine. Even if they catch you, they will be consumed with guilt. If they put the evil device on your head, try the ol' frozen-terrier trick. Don't move. Refuse to budge. Maintain a cowering position on the floor. Try to melt into the carpet. Quiver if they come near you. This will have them begging for forgiveness. They'll probably host a bonfire to burn the tortuous machine. If this fails, begin your hunger strike. How dare them make you wear it at mealtimes. In three days, they'll be plying you with gifts and the device will be history. Your patience in this matter will far outlast their pitiful, guilt-ridden effort at obedience training. Just say no. For further assistance with this half-cocked attempt at intervention, see Gimlet's solution.
The Jillinator

 Another recent question comes from the Lakie gal known as Oooh La La Cha Cha Cha.  OoohLa, writes:

Dear Jill:
My Uncle Peter lives in Washington, D.C. He is an accomplished chef and enjoys entertaining our capitol's elite eaters. As an elite eater, myself, naturally, I'm always welcomed at his table. I was recently at Uncle Peter's home for a fashionable dinner party. I was seated at the table on a lovely brocade pillow while Uncle Peter fed me with a spoon (sterling, of course). When my lady arrived to collect me, she discovered me at the table with my head on a plate. Was this action somehow a breech of etiquette? Have I committed some unintentional faux-paw? Please help. I would never intentionally misbehave in front of Uncle Peter's dignitary guests. I'm left wondering, What Would Jill Do?
Minding my manners,
OoohLa

Dear OoohLa:
You are young and it is conceivable that you have a few things to learn about etiquette. Somewhere one must draw the line between decorum and impropriety. There are myriad habits unbecoming to a  young Lakie and which are not acceptable while seated on brocade at your Uncle's dining table . . . or any dining table.  Placing your head on the plate, however, is not one of them!
OoohLa, Uncle Peter sought the pleasure of your company for all the right reasons -- no one livens-up a dinner gala like a Lakie. In the circumstances (having been the center of attention and then being well-sated after your spoon-feeding), it is understandable that you were a wee bit drowsy. I see no problem with placing your well-groomed pate on Uncle Peter's plate. However, my dear, for future reference, it is never acceptable to clean your beard in the Waterford. Some things simply aren't done. I'm sure you agree. I've read nothing that leads me to believe that your manners are anything less than impeccable. Your platinum reputation remains unsullied. Keep up the good work. You are a splendid example of good company.
Jill

Send your questions to me. I'm happy to help. Just click on the dog with the question in his mouth.