My history as a dog owner is about the same as my record as a parent. I love my increasingly-bad-tempered Lhasa Apso, Sable, and I provide what I consider to be a high level of good care. But there are times when my wife and I have to be away for a while, and I feel a great sense of freedom as I hand over my doggie to a boarding kennel. A week or two without a dog is just what every family needs to rediscover the joys of having a dog around.

Thus it was with considerable amusement that I listened to an actual radio news report one evening, describing the availability of a veterinary drug claimed to relieve, or at least alleviate, separation anxiety. The reporter said that tests have shown the drug to be effective in calming down dogs when the owner must go away for an evening, a weekend or longer.

Well, as they used to say around the hot tubs at the Essalen Institute, I want to share something with you. I used to be greatly affected by the obvious distress of my doggie whenever I had to go out of town. I would drive her out to the home of my elderly parents for the duration, and return to hear that she didn't eat her dog food, she would only eat table scraps, and she pooped on the living room carpet right in front of the fireplace. Scratch one set of dog-sitters.

Then we left Sable with a kind and generous adult son. We returned to similarly negative reports. One after another, Sable wore out her welcome all over town. Finally, I had no choice but to leave her at a boarding kennel, carefully selected after inspecting several. Sable put on a big show of trembling and whining when I left her, but our reunion, ten days later, was a surprise to me. Sable was plump, calm and freshly bathed. She had eaten her dry dog food every day. She had developed an affection for one of the kennel attendants. She was glad to see me, but not overwhelmed. In short, she had done just fine at the boarding kennel. If there was any genuine separation anxiety in the family, it was with the humans, not the dog.

My recommended prescription for separation anxiety is a stiff shot of scotch and a decent boarding kennel. Don't let an overly demonstrative dog ruin your vacation. As soon as you're out of sight, the dog will sigh, take a nap, and forget all about you.

My wife and I were about midway along the 260 mile drive to visit one of the sets of grandchildren, and we had the radio turned on. We were astonished to hear one of those oily baritone voices that are so popular in radio commercials, urging listeners to "Call your veterinarian for a behavior appointment." Honest. I swear this is true stuff.

We got the giggles. Are vets now doubling as psychiatrists? Will psychiatrists retaliate by offering to give rabies shots and neuter their patients? Does a vet with a waiting room full of barking and meowing patients really want to kick shut his consulting room door and ask a high-strung Poodle to tell him about the first time she ever felt anxious about an electric shear?

There's a name for this kind of entrepreneurial activity: Mission Creep. It is the same phenomenon that moved the old March of Dimes into birth defects when the original target, polio, was shot down by immunization. It's why public libraries teach adults how to read, in addition to providing the reading material. It's why the computer you bought to keep your checking account straight had to be abandoned in favor of a much more expensive model when your bank put up a web site.

Actually, my vet isn't too bad when it comes to counseling. When I complained that Sable had a nasty habit of chewing on herself and whimpering while my wife and I eat supper, he advised me to stop yelling at Sable to "Stop that damn chewing and whimpering!" Sure enough, shortly after I stopped commenting, Sable stopped disrupting our dinner hour.

Maybe doggie psychiatry isn't so ridiculous after all. There are all sorts of things I'd like to find out about Sable's innermost thoughts. I'd like to know why she poops in our living room on rainy days, instead of going out to the screened porch that has washable carpeting. I'd like to know why she growls and barks at one of the cat brothers and not at the other one. And I wonder whether Sable, or any other dog, knows the difference between a one-day stay in the kennel and a week-long confinement.

Well, we're halfway there. All we need now is a suitable shrink. Sable is already on the couch. And I know that the "behavior appointment" is likely to result in a prescription for Clomicalm, which is really anafranil, an old tricyclic antidepressant for people.

Dick Molay is a writer of advertising, books, marketing materials and videos in Temple Terrace, FL.