Tuesday, March 21, 2023

My Life In Dogs

 


One thing I do before I leave for my daily walks is to grab a few small dog biscuits from the jar on the counter and tuck them into my pocket. Ours is a dogful neighborhood, and I'm on a first-name basis with many of them:  Sophie, Beethoven, Milo, Onyx, Clover, Bruno, Copper, Oswego, Therese, and, most recently, a very impressive and sweet pair of bloodhound sisters named Gracie and Delilah. We were walking toward each other and Gracie let out a perfectly wonderful, breed-standard baying Hello. I greeted her almost as enthusiastically, and her Dog Dad simply let their leashes go and both girls loped over to meet me. Needless to say, it was the high point of my walk that day.

I have to say that the Dogs Of My Childhood were not nearly as charming or fun as the Dogs Of My Maturity. They were certainly full of strange personality, and it's definitely true that you can't blame the dogs; you can only blame their owners. 

Right across the street (and that's East 38th Street) lived Tuffy Ward, a morbidly obese cocker spaniel, pet of Marge, also enormously fleshy. Marge and her husband frequently ate Hydrox cookies out of a huge tin and so did Tuffy. So did I, as a matter of fact, as a favoured and regular visitor. I don't think I ever heard Tuffy bark, only huff, puff, and wheeze. At one point, he had to be helped up and down the porch steps.

Two doors west from us lived Candy Schroeder, a small black terrier mix who looked like she swallowed a propane tank. She was one of the ugliest dogs I ever saw, and she perpetually had a snappish look on her face. Every so often, Marie, the long-suffering matriarch of the house, used to holler out the front door at Curt, the youngest son, "Cu-urt! Come take Candy for a walk!" Curt, who was my sister Susan's best friend, would sigh deeply and trudge home. A few minutes later we'd see him pulling his red wagon with Candy sitting in it like a terrier Buddha up one side of the street and then down. 

Two doors eastward could have been Candy's cousin, Ladybug Rigo. The difference between the two was probably about ten pounds and mobility. If Ladybug wasn't tied up, she'd come after you, all snarling and snapping. Years later, the family inexplicably got a beautiful English Setter and named it Pete. (I know; how British!) This dog...something was terribly wrong with this dog. Unpredictable and mean, it would often get loose and gallop the neighborhood, terrorizing everyone.  Pete also had some sort of seizure disorder or something:  every so often, he would suddenly stop--a little off balance, neck sort of wrenched, legs stiff--then immediately recover and start running like hell. It was legitimately frightening to find Pete in your yard.

Next door to Pete was Skippy Losh the Pomeranian. Skippy was a cute dog, but nippy and unapproachable. He spent a lot of time outdoors tied to a clothesline so he could run up and down the length of his back yard, which he did with infinite zest and zeal. The sound of Skippy's bark, however, sent every single woman on East 37th, 38th, 39th, and part of Tacoma Avenue out to bring in her laundry off the line, and it made me hurry on my paper route. Kids at Homewood Park knew they had very little time left to finish their baseball game, and other kids knew they'd better get off the swings and monkey bars and get home. It was uncanny--the only time Skippy barked was when rain was imminent, and he was never, ever wrong. 

Right next door to us was Katie Lesh the black chihuahua. She was owned by Helen, who was not much bigger than Katie and was the smallest grownup I ever saw. Helen carried Katie constantly, and like most chihuahuas, that dog always looked miserable and nervous. She wasn't, I'm sure, because Helen treated her like a baby and was constantly fussing over her. Sometimes I wonder if my general disdain for chihuahuas is due to Helen and her annoyingly nasal voice always calling Katie's name and hauling her around, or if it's just because of how they're so trembly and seem like they need some heroin real bad or something.

I had a paper route for years on my street and a couple of the surrounding ones, and one of the houses had an enormous dog. If I had to guess, it was likely some sort of mastiff. (I think his name was Brutus, but I'm not sure.) He was owned by a Russian couple, and he used to be outside in his fenced-in yard when I delivered the paper. As soon as I came near the driveway, he'd start barking and stand up at the fence. I knew if he really wanted to, not only could he take that fence, he could make short work of me. But his owners would give a command in Russian, and he'd get down and be quiet. After some careful listening, I tried to say the same thing in an equally forceful voice. It worked!

I vastly prefer my present-day neighborhood dogs. They are far more pleasant and well-behaved. Perhaps it's just that Dog Ownership is largely different now. Most people are more compassionate and humane about their pets. There's more of a Pet Culture, and there's definitely a Dog Culture. And maybe I have more appreciation for dogs now because I have a granddog and because I'm not out there delivering papers. Despite my Joy in neighborhood dogs and even in seeing dog heads hanging out of cars, one thing is forever certain:  I'm not going to get a dog of my own. For me, Other People's Dogs is my favourite breed.


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27 comments:

  1. You got me thinking....and thinking ...and .......... I think we were the only people on our street with a dog. We had a collie and a standard poodle. Neither were snappy, thank goodness.

    We have a yappy little thing next to us. She almost always wearing a dress. I'd yap about that too.

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    1. Dee--A collie was my father's dream dog. He always loved them and wanted one. He almost adopted a pair of Shelties because they look like miniature collies, but realized they'd be too much for him (actually, that they'd be too much for my mother; he never took care of anything but the yard in his whole life). They are a beautiful breed.

      LOL about being yappy because of wearing a dress all the time. Same here.

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  2. A fun post for sure. The things people name their dogs amazes me regularly. My parents' next door neighbour had a yappie poodle named Cha Gheill. (You pronounce this Kay ELL, and it means Horray for the Gaels. How do I know this? Because my university was the daughter of a Scottish university and our chants, etc, were in Gaelic. Freshmen had to learn to spell and pronounce this stuff - and my parents' neighbour had been to that university, thus the dog's name.
    But, you are right about the differences in culture. In my childhood, dogs were Out In The Yard, not pampered in the house and allowed, as one of our (Gilmour household) dogs was, to sleep on its owner's slippers. While I, aforesaid owner, was wearing them, mind. Although we did have a running line and leash for one of ours, a hound who needed the outlet.
    Go one more Gilmour generation, and the dog is on the bed. Mind you, the daughter who allows this also secretly hauled the dogs of her childhood into her bed. And I never caught her at it. No wonder she grew up the way she did.
    Still chuckling about all the names. And your pocket full of treats. I found half of a Milkbone in my raincoat pocket last spring. But Shammy (Shamwari, Shona for 'friend') has left us.
    And, yes, other people's dogs. Unless the offspring coerce you into dog sitting. And checking your pockets before you put the coat away for the season is a good rule.

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    1. Mary--Thanks; I'm glad you enjoyed the post. I love a good name in general, and I particularly love good pet names that aren't generic like Fluffy or Brownie or something uninspired like that. I also get really tired of hearing about dogs named Max or Bear or Buddy--so common!

      I also wonder how much impact Disney had on how we treat our pets. Disney anthropomorphizes so many animals, and certainly that industrial complex was on the rise and gaining more steam after I got older.

      We got a dog when I was just in high school. My mother laid down the law that it would not be permitted on the furniture nor in our beds. Of course, Dusty was immediately welcomed both places and spoiled terribly by her especially.

      I'm sorry about Shammy. She was a Good Girl. And thanks for the tip about checking pockets. I will be sure to do that.

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  3. I agree that the current crop of neighboring dogs sounds much better than those of the past, but I love the idea of the rain-alert dog, who only barked when it was about to rain!

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    1. ccr--Hello, and welcome to the Dept.
      Skippy was a marvel. We all missed him when he passed on. And we all got a little wetter more often!

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  4. I don't recall anyone other than us having dogs when I was a kid. Not at our in town house or our cottage. I miss having one every day. I too don't like chihuahuas. My great neice has one with a bigger wardrobe than I've got.

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    1. Jean--I know you miss Levi terribly. He was a mighty force and a Very Good Boy.
      People can't resist dressing up little dogs. Even my big bully-breed granddog Zydrunas has a few shirts and a coat for outdoors if it's terribly cold. Back in my neighborhood, that would have been unheard of.

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  5. I'm a cat person, not really a dog person. BUT, there are some dogs that I like or have liked: Merlin is the Great Dane living in the farm house across the street. Merlin is fun but really is more a rambunctious pony than a dog. Then there was Dudley, a Basset Hound, who lived next to us years ago. He used to chew the cement around his parent's pool. And, he was penned in my an electric fence...our cat knew just where to stand to make Dudley crazy - he would lunge for Boots the cat and get zapped. My girlfriend's dog barks constantly (when we are on the phone or in person) and also jumps up on you which I hate. But, I blame the humans for not training her properly. There was a husky dog (can't remember his name) who used to visit my Aunt in Vermont daily. Quite the gentleman and very well behaved. And quiet!

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    1. Vera--Those are some great dog names, and very apt for their breeds. I love big dogs, especially burly dogs, but there is something about the elegant structure of Great Danes that speaks to me. The only Basset Hound I ever knew was a red one named Cyrus, once owned by my aunt and uncle. He was very lazy and sleepy and slobbery. LOL at your kitty playing such an evil game.

      Huskies are gorgeous and have such personality. I'm surprised the one you mentioned was quiet. Sounds like good Pet Parents for the win.

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  6. We lived out in the country (at least it was country then) & the only dogs I knew were ours. There was Alexander, Lady, Shadow... all outdoor dogs who had the run of the neighborhood. And then while we were in college my mom got a little poodle mix named Winston who had to be tricked into eating his food (my mother fed him with a fork until my dad got tired of that & started pretending he was going to eat the food, which made Winston scarf it down Toot Sweet).

    I was always afraid of dogs. I don't even know why. My grandparents had a lovely calm collie mix who I was terrified of - for no good reason. I'd love to go back into little Dana's head & find out what happened. As a result, though, I'm still very skittish around dogs - afraid to pet them, not sure what do do with them. Sad.

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    1. Bug--Sigh. Outdoor dogs roaming the neighborhood could be the reason you are afraid of dogs. We called those Stray Dogs in our day.

      I'd like to say that I'd never resort to feeding a pet with a fork just to get it to eat, but I've learned to never say never. I can actually imagine at least one scenario in which it would happen, and then it would become an ingrained habit for both me and the pet. So I'm not judging. I love the image of a grown man down on all fours pretending to eat a little fluffy dog's food.

      BTW--the phrase is tout suite--French for All Done. But someone needs to make a cream-filled pastry horn and call it a Toot Sweet.

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    2. I knew that about tout suite - I was just trying to be cute. Ha! My dad was hilarious pretending to eat that food.

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    3. Bug--I think you're plenty cute without having to try. ;-)

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  7. It's interesting to think about how the norms of dog ownership have changed over time. The thought of a poor Pom running up and down a clothesline all day makes me so sad and I don't think you'd see that very much anymore. Or, at least, I don't see that very much. It's interesting to think about why that has changed. Maybe because we have smaller families, so pets are treated more like members of the family than like livestock or a working animal? Or maybe it's just a curve towards more humane treatment of all animals (although I don't see this replicated in large farming operations)? Interesting to think about.

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    1. NGS--I have a lot of theories, and one of them is the rise of Disney, as I commented to Mary G above. Anthropomorphizing animals was their thing, and it made a big impact on a couple of generations of pet owners, certainly.

      And you're right that most Pom owners don't see their little dogs as outdoor dogs. They're more lap/indoor pups. But Skippy provided a valuable service to the neighborhood, and we were thankful.

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  8. This is such a fun post. I am amazed at how many people nowadays own dogs. I don't remember very many dogs in our neighborhood. Our neighbors had two: Sundae and Shadow and they were lovely cocker spaniel mix, I think.

    I am with you. I would NEVER own a dog, even though I begged for an Old English Sheepdog as a child (my brother was very allergic). It is still a mystery to me on certain days when I realize that Lad and his Irish Setter puppy live with us. Hoping and praying for independence and adulthood-preparedness to kick in soon.

    At the airport to leave for Ireland. Coach and I planning another talk with Lad when we get home.

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    1. Ernie--Dogs are definitely trending. I'm very much a Dog Enthusiast, but I have zero desire to ever own one. I might as well have a toddler, really. And I am WAY OVER that stage of my life.

      Have fun in beautiful Ireland. I am shamrock green with envy. Forget about The Talk until your flight home.

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  9. [This is my third attempt to leave a comment here. I don't know why, but every time I get to a second line of text, the system tosses my comment out. However, I'm nothing if not persistent.]

    What I'd like to say is that we have lots of dogs in the neighborhood and no one breed prevails. I know the dogs better than the people they live with. Probably no surprise coming from an introvert.

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    1. Ally--Thank you for your persistence. I'm not sure why that happened to you, and certainly it shouldn't be. I've heard it a few times, and it's happened to me on other Blogger blogs, so it must be a bug.

      You bring up an interesting point about breeds. No one breed prevails in my neighborhood either, although I will say that pitties are well-represented. We even have a gorgeous pair that occasionally get loose and tear around the neighborhood at top speed in Reckless Abandon, and one or both usually end up on our front porch. I, of course, revel in this and have termed it The Running Of The Pitbulls. The owners of the two also go running around and holler at them unhelpfully, often adding a great deal of expletives, which I also enjoy immensely.

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  10. I just had the same comment issue that Ally had. Sigh. I laughed at the English Setter link, where it says "friendly / mellow / merry", which is NOT at all the experience you had with Pete.

    When I was a kid, dogs were outside, and if they misbehaved, you hit them. I feel very badly about both now, knowing that they are such social creatures and my darling Samantha just wanted to be inside with us. And hitting her when she was naughty. Ugh. I can't fix the past, so feeling badly about it doesn't help, but I do anyway.

    Our next door neighbors have a dog, Riyu, who is a darling sweet boy to people, but HATES other dogs. He and Mulder try to fight through the fence, which is alarming and annoying. A few weeks ago we were passing by their yard, and he had somehow escaped his gate and attacked Mulder! Mulder was on a leash, and boy, they went at it for a couple of minutes! So scary! Thankfully neither one seems to have gotten a bite into the other, there was no blood. Maya had Mulder, and Ted and I did exactly what you are NOT supposed to do, which is we got between them as much as we could, and I smacked Riyu. His people came running out and got him finally (felt like finally, but it was all pretty quick). Sad because the people who used to live there had a dog, Willy, who was so very sweet and liked Mulder. He was older and Mulder was a puppy, so I think he tolerated Mulder more than loved him, but they did play together sometimes. Willy's little girls made Mulder a birthday card one year. Sigh. They moved to Illinois during lockdown. I miss them.

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    1. J--Sigh. I don't know what that issue is, and it only crops up once in a while. I used to think it was my sidebar loading, but after streamlining it, that turned out not to be the case anyway. I appreciate you hanging in there and leaving a Comment.

      Your Comment made me think about how infrequently I see a dog tied out anymore. It's a very very rare occurrence, and I'm so glad. It's far more common to see a dog out in its fenced-in yard, able to move freely. A vast improvement.

      Zydrunas is the same as Riyu. His training has made him far more People Friendly, but he has not been able to overcome his opposition to other dogs. I can't imagine how terrified Maya was during this encounter, given Mulder's health history and the way a dog fight looks and sounds anyway. I'll bet the neighbors are extra careful about that gate from now on.

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    2. I follow an organization called Tug Dogs that works with dogs who have various issues, and I see a lot of dogs who are reactive towards other dogs. It generally comes from a place of fear, so getting them to be comfortable and feel safe around other dogs is the key. I don't know how they accomplish that with a dog as reactive as your Z or neighbor dog R, or if they even can. But it has helped me to be more understanding of R at least, to know he isn't MEAN.

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  11. Nance, You had me giggling with all the detailed descriptions of the dogs in your childhood neighborhood. I'm so impressed that you can remember their names, their personalities and their owners. Isn't it crazy how dogs have such varied personalities? Just like US, I suppose.
    I love that you are such a good neighbor now; loving and visiting with all the 'hood dogs. Aren't they lucky to meet up with you on their walks. Or your walks. ;)

    And I agree, for the most part, people are really INTO their pets now and treat them much better than back in the day. Lucky dogs!!

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    1. BB Suz--I'm awfully impressed that I can remember their names, too. The amount of stuff I forget in a week now is astonishing. (Where the heck is my phone, btw?)

      I think having the paper route and going to the same houses day after day after day for years solidified those names into my brain forever. I can walk that route in my head and name almost all the customers to this day.

      I just met a new dog on my walk yesterday, a simply gorgeous Husky named Sterling. His owner informed me that he was only a year old and "a lot of work." Sterling, who greeted me by standing up and planting his paws on my chest, personified the word Merry.

      Your phrase of people being "really into their pets now" is germane. I think now people get a pet with the intention that it truly becomes an integral Part Of The Family. They want a Companion in every sense of the word. And I do think this naturally results in better understanding, more compassion, and better treatment of that pet.

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  12. Other People's Dogs is my favorite breed, too. Loved this romp through the memory dog park. Dogs do have a way of lodging themselves into your heart and mind, don't they?

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    1. LDW--Thank you. And yes, dogs tend to be frequent denizens of Memory, I think. It's not often that I forget a dog even though I've only owned one my entire life. That was when I was a teenager living at home. Dusty (named after singer Dusty Springfield) was a smallish mixed breed who was replete with quirky habits and a big personality. We saved her from a life outdoors next to a drainage ditch bordering a busy highway. About the only thing I didn't like about her was her fluffy, long, whitish hair. We had avocado green sculptured carpet, and I was usually on vacuum duty. Sigh.

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Oh, thank you for joining the fray!

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