Mudcat Café message #4016938 The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #166815   Message #4016938
Posted By: Stilly River Sage
03-Nov-19 - 01:34 AM
Thread Name: BS: man's best friend
Subject: RE: BS: man's best friend
My dogs are working dogs - I got one, then a second, in 2005 after the house was broken into. Their job is to keep an eye on things and bark at strangers. They don't lunge at the door or gate, they back up and bark. They also bark at the coyotes going past the other side of the back fence, and the blue heeler is incensed at the post carrier's truck, though she adores the postal carrier in person.

They're always happy to see me when I get up in the morning, when I arrive home from wherever I've been, and in general if I come in looking for someone's ears to scratch. They're particularly happy if I say the word "treat" or ask "is anyone hungry?"

Yes, they're tripping hazards, in particular when it is stormy or fireworks out (the blue heeler curls up beside my feet wherever and has accidentally been kicked many times that way). They're two black dogs and one dark brown, so walking through the house with the lights off at night isn't generally a good idea.

Steve's clinical characterization of canines doesn't take into account the world in general - and how unhygenic humans are (I just saw this evening a 2018 story about how every touch screen at McDonalds in the UK has "poo" on them when tested). He's not taking into account the capacity of a dog to worm its way into one's heart and provide great companionship. How they form a pack that is in existence to protect its person or people, and the synergy a household achieves with these relationships.

Steve, consider yourself chastised.

When my first dog, Cinnamon, a pit bull who never ever mauled anything arrived, she was an injured stray big pup. I learned later that neighbors had been chasing her off because of her breed, so she lived for days or weeks in the prairie behind neighborhood houses, mostly eating bugs and trash. I saw her limp up my driveway toward the garage and I walked out to the porch and made a noise. She shyly came up to me, wagging, and I petted her head. She licked my hand. She stayed the rest of her life because it turned out that first encounter was a contract, and if I was nice to her, she was totally bonded to me from that point on. It really happens that fast. Here is Cinnamon about a year before we lost her; she had some kind of cancer, and had lesions removed from her tummy. We agreed that if I didn't put her in a cone she would wear the t-shirt and leave the stitches alone. My old "I Love NY" shirt never looked so good on me.