Dawgz r'Us
Can anyone doubt that dogs are the friendly companions of humankind? Just think: some forward-thinking individual thousands of years ago convinced himself (and likely others, eventually) that the offspring of wolves and jackals could be persuaded to rely on humans to advantage their futures. Little did these wolf/jackal offspring realize the ulterior motive; to harness their considerable abilities to forewarn of impending harm, to assist in the hunt; to herd; to patrol; to obey on command the whim of their owners. Their agreeableness would harness them forever to the needs of the obviously less-talented humans. And here we are today, with our beloved dog companions whose genetic imprinting still compel them to swim (ostensibly to retrieve downed prey), burrow into narrow spaces (same purpose), sniff out and hunt down (ditto), herd (assembly of other domesticated animals such as sheep and goats) all for practical naught.But - they love us and we love them for all of their considerable attributes, attitudes, bumptiousness, personalities and most of all because they love us simply because of what we are and what they are. Dog people are dog people. Cat people are cat people. And seldom the twain shall meet in agreement.
Our daughter, herself the mother of a daughter, has amassed a herd of dogs. Her original dog, a German-Shepherd/Husky mix died at nine beloved years of age of an untreatable malignant tumour. The nerve of this dog - coddled and cuddled, fed outrageously expensive food, taken religiously to the veterinarian, even hospitalized twice for expensive operations - to die before her time. In her grief our daughter was inconsolable, and erected a 'shrine' of memory to this dog, which sat on her bedside table. However, despite her grief she swiftly brought home a young Sheltie pup. Followed soon afterward by an Australian-Shepherd pup. Then she adopted a two-year-old rescued dog, part German-Shepherd, part something-or-other, whose behaviour was frighteningly unfriendly, particularly toward men (for obvious reasons). Later came a rescue dog from Iqaluit, Nunavut, a three-month-old German-Shepherd/Husky mix (still growing and now over one hundred pounds). Another rescue: this a small white Pomeranian. Her partner, patient as all get-out, warned he'd had enough. Another dog and he'd move out. What did she bring home next? why a tiny pocket Pomeranian which, once full-grown weighed a stunning 3 pounds. The last (so far) was a Chihuahua pup, love-friendly like you couldn't imagine. Oh, I warned her, said she was in for misery with that kind of mix, that the big ones would bring the tiny ones to harm; at the very least trample them to death. Um, they're all one big happy menagerie.
She somehow manages to walk them all together, on multiple leashes, with a constant stream of advice and orders for one or the other to move to the left, to the right, to the middle of the pack. Incredible, just incredible. She bought a small back-pack so she could carry the two doglets with her when she went shopping and people absolutely googled-eyed them. If and when the big dogs get out of line, she wrestles them to the ground, sticks them on their backs, and admonishes them that better behaviour is in line for the future. They arise when she does, chastened. Just imagine the 'wow' factor (as in let me out of here) when you enter her home, and they all begin barking and yowling. Just as well she lives in the country on one and a half acres. Her partner is still with her, brave and patient soul that he is.
And I haven't even mentioned her other little menagerie; a stable of no fewer than five rabbits of various types, several rescues the others acquired because of their exotic appeal. Do the dogs and the rabbits get along? Well, after much patience and training they do indeed. This, after her original little rabbit, a belligerent-natured little black dwarf who protected his turf (her living room) from the dogs' presence when he was out of his cage, finally pounced once too often on the bad-tempered German-Shepherd who, in a frenzy of pain swung her head around once too often to dislodge the biting little furball and sent it flying into the opposite wall. It's buried on the property.
Us? We have two little dogs. In our long history together, my beloved and I have had a variety of dogs. Two boxers on separate occasions. A toy terrier, and a miniature Doberman-Pinscher. Now we have, sharing our happy home, an eleven-year-old black female miniature Poodle-Pomeranian, and a five-year-old apricot toy Poodle. The female has a laid back temperament, but she insists on ordering us all around, since of course, she's numero uno, and the male insists on being loved and cuddled endlessly, but becomes the picture of unredeeming aggression the minute he sees another dog he's not familiar with. We almost lost him one winter when he attacked a Husky, before we could stop him. One of the rare occasions when we had him off the leash, in the winter, we came across a young man on snowshoes, with a leashed Husky. Our stupid little dog attacked the Husky, which then did its best to swallow him, but I reached them at that point, the dog owner straining to pull his dog back on its leash, while I pried its mouth open and removed our little stupid, now howling with fright. Fortunately, because it was an extremely cold day, he had been wearing a sweater and a thick knitted coat over it (and little boots), which obviously did much to protect him. We apologized to the Husky owner and since that time rarely let our little bugger off the leash.
posted by Pieface @ Wednesday, May 11, 2005
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