Happy Thanksgiving!

          I will not be submitting a story to "My Life with Dogs" again until the weekend of December 7-9.  I am taking the Thanksgiving holiday off from writing.  With this announcement, I want to take the opportunity to wish all my loyal dog readers a very Happy Thanksgiving.  Until we share again our love of dogs, God bless you all.

Your Friend,
Teresa

  

The Barking Dog

The dog’s presence is known tremendously throughout the world.  There are 400 million dogs.  Can you imagine that?  What if they all started barking at the same time?  That would truly be something out of the science fiction.  It brings about my story this week.

As a child growing up in the country back in the sixties, I have a vivid memory of lots and lots of dogs.  There were dogs and dogs, everywhere!  And everywhere they seemed to be at many of our neighbor’s houses.  It does seem like I am running out of topics when I write a story like this.  But it becomes a memory from childhood.  It was when growing up on a farm; there was that dog.  We never exceeded a limit of more than two or three at one time.  But some neighbors had lots of them.  And what better time to realize it was when we went to visit them.

In visiting that certain neighbor with my Mother, there came the barking dogs.  In fact, several came barking at the same time.  My Mother had to maneuver the car so as not to hit one.  They seemed to be everywhere.  We were not allowed out of the car until the neighbor came to the front door of the house yelling, “They don’t bite!”  It didn’t always stop the barking. When there’s a pack of them, the noise boggles the mind.  We generally did not stay long at the neighbor’s house.

Dogs bark!  It is especially annoying if one barks all night keeping you up.  The owner is apparently immune to the noise.  But just how many have had a sleepless night from a barking dog?  I know I have.  I was so happy when the neighbor next door decided to give her daughter back the dog she gave her.  I guess the daughter felt mom living at home alone needed a companion.  But mom never showed the dog any attention.  It was her pet and required that love.  But apparently she never gave it.  If she had, perhaps there would not have been all that barking.  The dog moved to the other side of town.

I am a dog lover.  But I was still glad to see that dog move.  Once a dog starts barking, there seems to be no stopping it.  A barking dog goes on and on forever….

As I type this piece, my son gets up from his chair and goes to the front door.

“What did you see?”  I asked.

“I didn’t see anything.  I heard dogs barking.”

It never fails.  The dog can be a warning to us all that something is not right outside.  Whether it an intruder, another dog, cat or other animal, he is letting us know.  I think if known, everyone looks.  I guess it can be said, "Sometimes barking is a good thing!"

Two Wrongs Don't Make a Right

It was in the seventies and a new subdivision we had just moved into.  The world seemed like a safe place.  It was not unusual to speak to your neighbor even if the neighbor lived several houses away.  Constantly there was bicycle riding on the street.  There was walking.  You just never figured anything was needed for protection.  But today, in the same subdivision, there is less bicycle riding.  There is less walking.  If walking; the person carries a stick.  I have even seen the carrying of a golf club.  Who or what are we protecting ourselves from?  Even I don’t walk much on the same street.  I contribute mine though to being older and bad knees.

At the end of my street those many years back was an open field where many would go to ride their bicycles, ride motor vehicles, and walk.  We called this area the trails.  It seemed like many neighbors put that area to use.  But as progress came, so did the end of the trails.  The trails became more houses with more people.

It was actually fun to walk back then.  And even I rode a bicycle occasionally with my children.  But in those walks someone always seemed to walk with me.  But not so on this one day as I walked alone.  It was just before me there was a boy on a bicycle.  Before my eyes, I saw something I found hard to comprehend.

It was from a house came running a dog and he/she proceeded to head right for the boy on the bicycle.  The dog took the boy off that bicycle.  The dog began his biting.  I didn’t think twice about my own safety as I headed for the dog and boy.  I managed to get the dog off the boy.  The boy jumped on his bicycle and took off.  I assumed he was heading home.  The dog headed in the other direction.  I assumed he too was heading home.  I stood there amazed at what I had witnessed.  I received no thanks.  I believed the boy to be minding his own business.  But at the same time, I wondered what had provoked the dog?  I would soon learn the answer.  I was not the only eye witness to that incident that day.  But I was the only one who proceeded to stop it.

From a near-by house came a lady yelling at me, “I saw that!  Why didn’t you leave it alone?”

I was surprised by the lady’s reaction to which I replied, “I couldn’t let that dog hurt that boy!”

“That boy deserved it!” she insisted, “On his way to school, he always throws rocks at the dog.  He pokes sticks at him.  He does whatever he can to abuse the animal.”

“No one deserves to be mangled to death by any animal.”  I replied.

I have often thought about that incident over the years.  How long a memory span does a dog have?  Was the dog justified in his action?

Apparently other neighbors felt the same way about the boy deserving it.  I got other opinions later about the incident.  It seemed no one sided with the boy.  He had deserved it.  There were witnesses to the incident.  No one tried stopping it besides me.  As I thought about it, I wondered why no one ever tried stopping the abuse to the dog in the first place.  They had left it up to the dog to get his revenge.  And then when he did, they said the dog was justified.

Two wrongs don't make a right.  It is so wrong to abuse an animal.  It is so wrong to just sit by and watch a dog attack a human.  Again, two wrongs don't make a right.  I can't help but think I made the right call that day.  What would you have done?  Would you have made the same call?

My Dream Dog

            As a baby boomer, I grew up in a generation of family television shows.  I remember those horse shows with Fury and Flicker.  I remember later on the dolphin, Flipper.  There may have been other countless animal shows before and after.  I never saw myself owning a horse, a dolphin, monkey or others.  But I sure knew some day in my life I would own a dog.  The dog shows captivated my full attention.

I never could figure out how those dogs did all those great things.  As a child, I believed everything I watched.  I tried making every dog we ever owned into a Lassie.  I did get the hand shake, sit, roll over, and speak.  But I never got beyond that.  And even for those tricks the dog expected payment for them.  But I never wanted a Collie, German shepherd, or any other well-known breed from television or movie.  Except, maybe it was that one.  It was a St. Bernard.

My knowledge of the St. Bernard came from an old television series.  It came from a movie originally with the same name.  The name of the show was, “Topper.”

“Topper” focuses around a wealthy couple who die in an avalanche along with their St. Bernard, Neil.  Cosmo Topper finds his house is haunted by the couple, (the Kirby’s), and that of alcoholic St. Bernard, Neil.  The Kirby’s never did anything good in life.  But by haunting Cosmo Topper, they have a second chance at good.  For two seasons, it made for a good comedy.  The one stealing the show was the Kirby’s martini-loving St. Bernard, Neil.  And that was my first love for the St. Bernard.

I couldn’t think about getting my own dog until married.  Then I settled on another breed of dog.

“You don’t need a St. Bernard,” said my husband.  “He’ll eat us out of house and home!”

“Why do people say things like that?”

The research helped as I found out a St. Bernard weighs from one hundred-forty to two-hundred and sixty-four pounds.  His height is twenty-seven and a half to thirty-five and a half inches.  He eats six to eight cups of food a day.  I didn’t see that as eating us out of house and home.  He sheds a lot.  I could knit a sweater from his hair.  He drools a lot.  But nothing about him came as a deterrent.

I still see a St. Bernard as my dream dog.  Perhaps all dog lovers have a dream dog.  Most owners may well have fulfilled their desire for a dream dog.  I’m still waiting to fulfill mine.  I have not given up on getting my own St. Bernard.

The Markdown

A grocery truck pulled up in front of a super market.  The driver jumped out of the truck and began unloading boxes and bags of different food.  He threw down all items on the same skid.  His route included a weekly visit to this store.  He did his job quickly.  After unloading, he would then pull the skid by his hand jack to an area where store employees would then sort and stock their shelves.  In his haste, he tore open a large bag of dog food.  He was unaware of it, but it was noticed by another.  Instantly there came a yell.                            

“Ouch!” was the cry that came from under the torn bag.  “Be careful, Buddy!  You’re spilling all over me!”

“I’m sorry,” replied the torn bag.  “I have no way of controlling my contents.”

The first bag yelled to the other bags that came off the truck.

“Hey guys, we’ve got another torn bag.”

“If he’s torn, keep him on your side.”  There came laughter from all.

“It’s not my fault I got damaged,” said Buddy.  “I am a high priced bag of dog food.  Can’t I still be sold?”

“Yes and no,” replied the first bag.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Well, I’m the bag you landed on.  I’ll explain it to you.  My name is Earl and your name is?”

“I’m Buddy!” He replied.  “You had the name right the first time.”

“We all have started out as a new bag of dog food.”  Earl continued, “Because you are torn, you will be sold for less.  Undamaged, we will be sold to customers for full price.”

“That doesn’t sound fair.”  In a loud voice Buddy insisted, “I think I am still worth as much as you!”

“In a good sturdy package, freshness stays in.  Your bag is torn releasing freshness.  Besides, any customer isn’t going to want to pay the same price for a torn bag.”

“The way you talk, I will be lucky to be sold at all.”

“No, not so.  You will be sold.  Some customers will see you as a bargain.”           

“I may be damaged, but I’m still in good shape,” Insisted Buddy.  “I bet I get sold before any of you.  I bet I am some dog’s meal by the end of the day while the rest of you are still sitting on the store shelf.”

Buddy was not off from his prediction.  He was placed in a cart of markdown items.  He was picked up quickly by one of the first customers entering the store.  As he passed by all the other bags of dog food on the pet aisle, he spoke where only they could hear.

“My bag may have been damaged and taped.  But inside I’m as good as I ever was.”

Buddy found himself laughing all the way to the checkout line.  He knew some dog would be eating a fine feast tonight.

The Unwelcomed Visitor

           Teresa happened to be off work that Monday morning.  As she came out her front door heading to her car, she heard what she thought dogs fighting in her backyard.  But it couldn’t be as her dogs, Santana and Snyder, got along fine.  Looking into the fenced backyard, she saw what was causing the ruckus.  A Pit Bull was inside the backyard beating up on her little Labrador retriever, Santana.  The pure-bred husky, Snyder, was left alone.  Immediately, she yelled for help.  Luckily at a neighboring house several men were outside.  They came running and got the Pit Bull out of her backyard.  The repair to the spot where the dog had dug under the fence was done.  Later the same day a Pit Bull was seen being walked down the street by two boys.  Hopefully, it was the same dog and the problem apparently solved.

          It was one month later, August 25, 2012, that once again a Pit Bull was found in the fenced backyard.  Santana was once again the victim.  The only explanation to why choice of Pit Bull’s victim may have been that Snyder was neutered and Santana was not.  Whatever the reason, Santana was not a match for the Pit Bull.  It was a Saturday and the dog pound closed.  Teresa called the Police while her husband Dale tried separating the dogs.  Being extremely cautious, he used a ladder stretched across in both arms to get the Pit Bull on their wooden deck.  He held it across the doorway enclosing the Pit Bull within.  It was a vicious dog apparently on the prowl.  A policeman came and sit in front of the house until someone from the dog pound came.  Upon arrival, they immediately took the Pit Bull into custody.  They took pictures of Santana’s injuries.  Santana had bleeding around the neck and an eye showed injury.  As for the Pit Bull, there were apparently no injuries.  The information was taken and now they would be in search for the dog’s owner.  Blocks had been laid across the entrance where the Pit Bull got in the first time.  Those blocks had been moved and the same entrance had been used this last time.  Hopefully with more secure method of blocking, no dog would be able to enter again.

           It has been a few weeks now and Santana’s injuries have healed.  With the injury to the neck, there is not much question as what the outcome may have been if the presence of the Pit Bull had not been detected when it was.
           Once again, Santana and Snyder are at play in their own backyard.  There’s the tennis ball or toy thrown to enhance their play.  They have not a worry in the world.
           Together they are once again in what is believed to be the safety of their own home.
            If a sign was posted on the fence it should read, “Please!  No unwelcomed visitors are welcome!”


Update:  After apparently paying a fine at the dog pound, the owner took the dog home.  For the third time now the Pit Bull has gotten in the backyard, apparently jumping the fence this time.  Will a solution to the problem of an unwelcome visitor coming into a fenced backyard and attacking Teresa’s dog ever be found?                   

The Heart Of Dixie

This was written by my daughter, Karen Gillespie. She said that I could share it on my blog.

My niece, Rachel, was expecting her first child with her boyfriend, Thomas.  They were young and excited and completely unprepared for what was to come.  At six months along in Rachel’s pregnancy, Thomas thought it would be cute to purchase a puppy for Rachel at the pet store in the mall.  It was tiny, white, brown, and curly all over.  It was a Maltipoo.  For those of us who aren’t familiar with all of the new-fangled dog breeds out there, a Maltipoo is a cross between a Maltese and a Poodle.  Rachel was thrilled with the puppy and named her Dixie.

            Rachel loved Dixie.  Rachel was also impatient for her baby to arrive so that she could begin her role as “the little mother.”  Well, since she had Dixie now, she could simply love, cuddle, and “mother” Dixie until the baby arrived.  That is exactly what she did.  Rachel hand-fed Dixie cut up lunch meat and cheese.  She carried little Dixie around all day long in her arms. The puppy never walked on her own through the door to go outside to potty.  Rachel carried her every time and set her neatly on the grass.  Dixie was rarely left to her own devices, much less set on the floor to freely walk or run on her own four legs. 

            When Thomas broke things off with Rachel and left for Marine basic training, Rachel’s babying of Dixie only grew more severe.  Family members began to warn Rachel that once the baby arrived, Rachel wouldn’t have the time or space in her arms to carry Dixie around anymore.  The warnings came mostly from her mother, her aunts, and her grandmother.  These were the women in her life who had, had babies and knew this to be true. Rachel dismissed all of their warnings.  She never got angry.  She quietly disagreed and continued to over indulge the puppy.

            Well, you can guess what happened.  Rachel’s son, Isaac, arrived.  He was all of seven pounds and completely demanding.  Lack of sleep, bottles of formula, endless diaper changes, and what seemed like a steadily crying bundle, took every bit of Rachel’s time and attention.  Dixie suddenly had to eat out of a food dish! What ended up happening was Dixie whimpering in a corner with an exhausted Rachel furious to find that Dixie had used the bathroom in the house yet again.

            Rachel yelled at Dixie and immediately regretted it.  She stopped what she was doing, took a deep breath, picked up little Dixie, and made a phone call that changed two lives forever.  Rachel meant to call her grandmother, but the person who picked up the phone was her grandfather.  He is known to the family as Papaw. 

            Papaw was the only member of the large family who never got attached to animals.  However, he had just retired AND had just lost his elderly father.  It was a time in his life where he found himself with extra time on his hands and a lot of sadness.  He listened to Rachel despair over trying to take care of a spoiled puppy and a newborn.  He asked Rachel if she felt like she could allow him to have Dixie for his own.  Rachel thought on it for a moment, and then said that she could.

            No one ever thought Papaw would grow so attached to an animal, but from that point on, the two have become inseparable. The man and the dog are the two whose lives have been changed forever. Papaw takes Dixie in the car with him and they run around on all sorts of errands. Papaw takes Dixie out on the boat with him when he goes fishing.  We laugh because Papaw continues to hand feed Dixie her lunch meat and cheese when it is meal time. He has gradually supplemented her diet with dry dog food.  He carries her around the house and takes her outside when it is time to potty. Sometimes, though, he just opens the door for her to go out on her own. He has spent some quality time encouraging her to develop some independence.  We often see her walking around on her own four legs. 

            Rachel’s son, Isaac, is three now.  He is healthy, happy, and well-cared for.  He is not spoiled.  He is very independent.  Either he has that strong type of personality genetically, or Rachel learned not to over indulge him after practicing on Dixie.  When Rachel and her son come to visit Papaw, Dixie always greets Rachel by sitting on her back legs and lifting up her front paws.  It’s like she is asking to be picked up.  Rachel always picks her up and nuzzles her for a few minutes.  Afterward, Dixie enjoys running all over the place at Isaac’s heels. 

            It is very obvious, though, who Dixie’s heart truly belongs to.  Her heart belongs to Papaw.  She sleeps next to his side of the bed every night.  What happened with Rachel could have ended a number of ways. Sure, Dixie could have learned to cope, even though the changes were abrupt.  But Papaw needed a friend and Dixie probably needed a little more babying along the way that Rachel could no longer provide.  If you ask Papaw who his best friend is, he will tell you it is Dixie.  His heart belongs to her as well.