John has been sorting, organizing and tossing miscellaneous contents of old boxes from the garage. Last Sunday, when I returned from church, I found a chewed box of staples! There was ample evidence that some of its contents had been ingested. Bingley was the prime suspect. He is also the dog with the really sensitive tummy. But he ate and pooped, so we were cautiously optimistic. On Monday morning, we awoke to the sounds of Bingley choking and vomiting. (A fabulous way to begin a new week, I must say.) Sure enough, there was a lump of half digested food with a bunch of acid-etched staples sticking out from all angles. Neither John nor I can remember seeing that box of staples before discovering it after Bingley did. We're breathing a deep sigh of relief that our boy escaped a really bad episode.
Today I had occasion to spend some time in a crowded parking lot waiting for a group of students to depart on a trip abroad. Cars were coming and going, dropping off people and luggage. An enormous coach bus threaded its way between people and cars. And. There was a woman walking around the parking lot with her Boston Terrier off leash!! I really wanted to say something to her. But I was lost for words.
Showing posts with label loose dogs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label loose dogs. Show all posts
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Monday, December 19, 2011
When Will They Ever Learn?
Yesterday, about 5:40 a.m, while I was walking Bingley and Magic, I chatted with another early rising neighbor. She has a VERY small Pomeranian, which, thankfully, was sleeping soundly inside her house. The ruckus that Bingley and Magic would have made over a Little Bundle of Fluff would have woken the entire neighborhood.
But I digress. Our chat drifted toward the subject of dogs and our loss of Portia. I mentioned that the attacks on all five of our dogs had occurred a short distance from their owner's houses. The dogs had been permitted to run loose from the car to the front door, or given a "brief" elimination break on their neighbor's lawns, or had "accompanied" their humans who were setting out trash cans for collection day.
My neighbor's eyes got large. She said, "Oh! I let Punkin come out with me when I roll out the trash cans."
I murmured that she was taking a great risk. She then remembered that Lucky, a minimally socialized mixed breed, lives directly across the street from her.
I rest my case.
But there was more to come.
Later in the morning I stopped at the light before turning right onto a four lane street that gives access to the freeway. Two women crossed the street with two Shih Tzus trotting along in close proximity. Actually, one woman was walking ahead of the dogs and one behind. Neither seemed to be paying close attention to what the dogs were doing. I looked closely to detect my bete noir the Awful Retractable Leash. But neither dog was leashed at all! Just two little Bundles of Fluff trotting merrily along a 4 lane street that is a favorite walking route for many neighborhood dogs of all shapes and sizes. I know of two Mastiffs and one Akita who are frequently walked there.
I wondered just what the little dogs--they're in the Toy group, for crying out loud--might meet on their totally unprotected walk. I didn't have to drive far to answer my question. Less than a block ahead of this nonchalant band of dogs and humans, another dog was being walked--Thank Heaven, on leash. A large Rottweiler.
Perhaps that particular Rottie can tolerate tiny creatures rushing up to it, yapping "hello", dodging back and forth in front of its face without feeling the urge to lunge and capture the little nuisances. Perhaps the two women, who were paying little attention to their canine companions, would see the Rottie, recognize potential disaster, scoop up the little darlings and turn for home.
Perhaps something frightening but not fatal would instruct those two women in the importance of walking their little dogs on leash.
Perhaps some tiny creature did not survive the inevitable encounter.
Call me a coward, but I was relieved that, whatever happened, I wouldn't be a witness. Traffic was moving rapidly. I didn't have time to change lanes, make a U-turn and warn the women with the Shih Tzus before they would have caught up with the Rottie.
And if I had, what do you think the odds are that they would have smiled at me and said, "Don't worry, our dogs love everyone.
But I digress. Our chat drifted toward the subject of dogs and our loss of Portia. I mentioned that the attacks on all five of our dogs had occurred a short distance from their owner's houses. The dogs had been permitted to run loose from the car to the front door, or given a "brief" elimination break on their neighbor's lawns, or had "accompanied" their humans who were setting out trash cans for collection day.
My neighbor's eyes got large. She said, "Oh! I let Punkin come out with me when I roll out the trash cans."
I murmured that she was taking a great risk. She then remembered that Lucky, a minimally socialized mixed breed, lives directly across the street from her.
I rest my case.
But there was more to come.
Later in the morning I stopped at the light before turning right onto a four lane street that gives access to the freeway. Two women crossed the street with two Shih Tzus trotting along in close proximity. Actually, one woman was walking ahead of the dogs and one behind. Neither seemed to be paying close attention to what the dogs were doing. I looked closely to detect my bete noir the Awful Retractable Leash. But neither dog was leashed at all! Just two little Bundles of Fluff trotting merrily along a 4 lane street that is a favorite walking route for many neighborhood dogs of all shapes and sizes. I know of two Mastiffs and one Akita who are frequently walked there.
I wondered just what the little dogs--they're in the Toy group, for crying out loud--might meet on their totally unprotected walk. I didn't have to drive far to answer my question. Less than a block ahead of this nonchalant band of dogs and humans, another dog was being walked--Thank Heaven, on leash. A large Rottweiler.
Perhaps that particular Rottie can tolerate tiny creatures rushing up to it, yapping "hello", dodging back and forth in front of its face without feeling the urge to lunge and capture the little nuisances. Perhaps the two women, who were paying little attention to their canine companions, would see the Rottie, recognize potential disaster, scoop up the little darlings and turn for home.
Perhaps something frightening but not fatal would instruct those two women in the importance of walking their little dogs on leash.
Perhaps some tiny creature did not survive the inevitable encounter.
Call me a coward, but I was relieved that, whatever happened, I wouldn't be a witness. Traffic was moving rapidly. I didn't have time to change lanes, make a U-turn and warn the women with the Shih Tzus before they would have caught up with the Rottie.
And if I had, what do you think the odds are that they would have smiled at me and said, "Don't worry, our dogs love everyone.
Friday, November 11, 2011
A Not-So-Modest-Proposal
Now that Friends of Portia is well past its second anniversary, I have been considering how this blog has clarified my understanding of the relationship between my two most important concerns about canine welfare:
1.) Safety for dogs on leash and their human walkers
2.) The plight of hundreds of thousands of homeless dogs
The initial focus of Friends of Portia was on the first concern: being able to walk dogs on-leash without fearing an attack by an unleashed dog. Indeed, that was the motivation for this blog, since we had just lost Beautiful Portia because of an attack by a loose dog.
However, as Friends of Portia evolved, the other basic fact of Portia's biography became an even more frequent focus. She was a rescued dog. Had Greyhound Adoption Center, one of a number of Greyhound Rescues, not picked up Portia from the Caliente Racetrack in Tijuana when she broke her ankle, Portia would have been killed. Ooops, should I put that less starkly? She would have been "put down." Probably shot. If one really wants to speak honestly about the fate of homeless, unwanted, abandoned dogs, the facts are inevitably stark.
It is a cliche to say that the plight of dogs in the United States is a national disgrace. Too many dogs. Too few forever homes. Most Dog People have the maximum number of dogs that they can afford. I know of many people who devote a significant proportion of their discretionary spending to the maintenance of their canine companions.
Meanwhile, puppy mills, backyard breeders, and negligent owners who refuse to spay or neuter dogs that will never see the inside of a show ring, flood an already saturated "market" with puppies who will live lives of misery until they are "humanely euthanized" by a burned out, heartbroken animal control employee in a facility that we call a "shelter."
I believe we could do a much, much better job of looking after the welfare of our canine companions. And I don't think if would take more money than is currently being spent. It would only take re-thinking laws that apply to human/canine interaction and the enforcement of those laws.
It seems to me that leash laws should be enforced much the way traffic laws are enforced, with DUI enforcement as the model for serious leash law offenders.
Every driver is familiar with the Point System. Why not institute a similar system for Animal Control? If you are cited for having a dog off leash, or your dog is found wandering the neighborhood, you receive a point on your record which can be removed only by attendance at a class on responsible dog ownership, a class for which you will be required to pay a fee that not only covers the costs of instruction, but also contributes to the Animal Control budget.
Classes would include not only the basics of dog training and care, but they would also address aspects of typical behavior of breeds and groups of dogs. An option of caring for shelter dogs could be given--particularly for repeat offenders.
The ultimate penalty for habitual infractions would be loss of the privilege of having a canine companion.
Animal control points would lead to higher liability insurance for the home owner or the landlord--who would pass the added expense on to the renter.
During my years as a California resident, I have seen harsher consequences for Driving Under the Influence significantly reduce drunken driving in our state.
I think it's time that we tackle canine welfare more seriously.
1.) Safety for dogs on leash and their human walkers
2.) The plight of hundreds of thousands of homeless dogs
The initial focus of Friends of Portia was on the first concern: being able to walk dogs on-leash without fearing an attack by an unleashed dog. Indeed, that was the motivation for this blog, since we had just lost Beautiful Portia because of an attack by a loose dog.
However, as Friends of Portia evolved, the other basic fact of Portia's biography became an even more frequent focus. She was a rescued dog. Had Greyhound Adoption Center, one of a number of Greyhound Rescues, not picked up Portia from the Caliente Racetrack in Tijuana when she broke her ankle, Portia would have been killed. Ooops, should I put that less starkly? She would have been "put down." Probably shot. If one really wants to speak honestly about the fate of homeless, unwanted, abandoned dogs, the facts are inevitably stark.
It is a cliche to say that the plight of dogs in the United States is a national disgrace. Too many dogs. Too few forever homes. Most Dog People have the maximum number of dogs that they can afford. I know of many people who devote a significant proportion of their discretionary spending to the maintenance of their canine companions.
Meanwhile, puppy mills, backyard breeders, and negligent owners who refuse to spay or neuter dogs that will never see the inside of a show ring, flood an already saturated "market" with puppies who will live lives of misery until they are "humanely euthanized" by a burned out, heartbroken animal control employee in a facility that we call a "shelter."
I believe we could do a much, much better job of looking after the welfare of our canine companions. And I don't think if would take more money than is currently being spent. It would only take re-thinking laws that apply to human/canine interaction and the enforcement of those laws.
It seems to me that leash laws should be enforced much the way traffic laws are enforced, with DUI enforcement as the model for serious leash law offenders.
Every driver is familiar with the Point System. Why not institute a similar system for Animal Control? If you are cited for having a dog off leash, or your dog is found wandering the neighborhood, you receive a point on your record which can be removed only by attendance at a class on responsible dog ownership, a class for which you will be required to pay a fee that not only covers the costs of instruction, but also contributes to the Animal Control budget.
Classes would include not only the basics of dog training and care, but they would also address aspects of typical behavior of breeds and groups of dogs. An option of caring for shelter dogs could be given--particularly for repeat offenders.
The ultimate penalty for habitual infractions would be loss of the privilege of having a canine companion.
Animal control points would lead to higher liability insurance for the home owner or the landlord--who would pass the added expense on to the renter.
During my years as a California resident, I have seen harsher consequences for Driving Under the Influence significantly reduce drunken driving in our state.
I think it's time that we tackle canine welfare more seriously.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
What I Would Have Said
Given the fact that I have had FIVE leashed dogs attacked by unleashed dogs, it's not surprising that I am still mentally reviewing my Walk In The Park yesterday. I am more grateful than I can say that I am not spending today home-nursing two traumatized, stitched and drained dogs. Or worse, visiting a wounded, bewildered dog fighting for its life in intensive care.
Only someone who has done all that can possibly know how much I never want ever, ever to have to do any of that again.
But until the general level of knowledge about dog behavior and differences bred into various groups and breeds of dogs is raised, I must accept that every time I harness and leash my beloved Bingley and Magic and take them out for their favorite treat--a walk--one of them, both of them, or all three of us, might very well end up in an emergency medical facility because some other dog owner has failed to exercise common sense or has failed to follow the law.
As I was shouting to the Boxer's walker "Leash your dog!", "Keep your dog away from my dogs!", "Don't come any closer to me!", she was walking toward me, shouting "You need to train your dogs better!", "My dog is perfectly trained!"
Aside from the fact that I doubt her dog would have remained calm and obedient if it had been leashed and had an unleashed dog charging directly at it,there are other facts that cannot be "shared" when one is literally fighting for the life of one's beloved canine companions.
I would have explained that Bingley and Magic are Sighthounds, and, as such, were bred for a very different purpose than her dog, a Boxer.
Boxers belong to the Working Group, dogs who were developed to work alongside humans, looking to humans for guidance and direction. Their work required a tough, strong body and jaws that rival those of the large terrier breeds.
I am very glad that the Boxer in question has been to obedience classes. If Boxers are not trained and socialized early in life, they can be as serious a canine menace as can be imagined. Well socialized, they are wonderful companions and family pets.
Sighthounds are just about as different from Boxers as can be imagined and still belong to the same species. Sighthounds were bred to run. Fast. They were not bred to "take directions." They were bred to follow normal canine instincts as efficiently as possible.
Greyhounds are the crowning achievement of canine aerodynamics. Greyhounds have long, slender bones, long, fine muscles, that are covered in the thinnest layer of skin and hair. Their skin is so thin that in some places not only can it not be stitched, it cannot even be cauterized. Direct pressure is the only way to stop bleeding. A Greyhound that has been attacked by another dog requires immediate veterinary care to save its life. Even that was not enough to save my beautiful Portia.
Greyhounds--and other Sighthounds, Magic is a Greyhound/Scottish Deerhound--are bred to respond to movement. They will chase ANYTHING that moves. Furthermore, their long distance vision is superior to humans', so they will see something moving before the keenest-eyed human sees it. The running/chasing response to movement is instantaneous. It cannot be trained out of their behavioral repertoire. AND within two strides, the Sighthound is moving so fast and their heart is pumping so loudly, they cannot hear even the loudest shouted command. It is nature's ultimate over-ride of training. Not only does the Sighthound not hear commands, it does not see anything but the object of the chase. Not the tree it is about to hit, nor the car that is about to hit it. An unleashed, unconfined Sighthound is very likely to be a dead Sighthound.
Now. Imagine that you are the fastest breed of dog in the world. You love your walks, but your greatest joy in life is running unrestrained. However, you cannot run unrestrained very often because your human is concerned about your safety. So, you settle for walks. And every week you get to walk with some other dogs who look a lot like you and live in similar circumstances. It's the highlight of your week.
Then, one day, you see a dog across the park who gets to run free. But it cannot run half as fast as you can. You really want to show that silly dog how running should be done! But you've got on a collar, a harness and two leashes and your human isn't responding to your urgent request to run after that clumsy excuse for a running dog.
You get the picture.
But yesterday, it got worse. The loose dog's human let it run DIRECTLY at my two excited, aroused dogs.
I supposed it's unrealistic to ever expect other dog owners to understand the unique vulnerabilities of my sweet Magic, and especially of my sweet Bingley.
But leash laws are there to protect Magic and Bingley. And Franklin and Hattie and Odie.
I can expect people to obey leash laws. Even if they don't understand them
Only someone who has done all that can possibly know how much I never want ever, ever to have to do any of that again.
But until the general level of knowledge about dog behavior and differences bred into various groups and breeds of dogs is raised, I must accept that every time I harness and leash my beloved Bingley and Magic and take them out for their favorite treat--a walk--one of them, both of them, or all three of us, might very well end up in an emergency medical facility because some other dog owner has failed to exercise common sense or has failed to follow the law.
As I was shouting to the Boxer's walker "Leash your dog!", "Keep your dog away from my dogs!", "Don't come any closer to me!", she was walking toward me, shouting "You need to train your dogs better!", "My dog is perfectly trained!"
Aside from the fact that I doubt her dog would have remained calm and obedient if it had been leashed and had an unleashed dog charging directly at it,there are other facts that cannot be "shared" when one is literally fighting for the life of one's beloved canine companions.
I would have explained that Bingley and Magic are Sighthounds, and, as such, were bred for a very different purpose than her dog, a Boxer.
Boxers belong to the Working Group, dogs who were developed to work alongside humans, looking to humans for guidance and direction. Their work required a tough, strong body and jaws that rival those of the large terrier breeds.
I am very glad that the Boxer in question has been to obedience classes. If Boxers are not trained and socialized early in life, they can be as serious a canine menace as can be imagined. Well socialized, they are wonderful companions and family pets.
Sighthounds are just about as different from Boxers as can be imagined and still belong to the same species. Sighthounds were bred to run. Fast. They were not bred to "take directions." They were bred to follow normal canine instincts as efficiently as possible.
Greyhounds are the crowning achievement of canine aerodynamics. Greyhounds have long, slender bones, long, fine muscles, that are covered in the thinnest layer of skin and hair. Their skin is so thin that in some places not only can it not be stitched, it cannot even be cauterized. Direct pressure is the only way to stop bleeding. A Greyhound that has been attacked by another dog requires immediate veterinary care to save its life. Even that was not enough to save my beautiful Portia.
Greyhounds--and other Sighthounds, Magic is a Greyhound/Scottish Deerhound--are bred to respond to movement. They will chase ANYTHING that moves. Furthermore, their long distance vision is superior to humans', so they will see something moving before the keenest-eyed human sees it. The running/chasing response to movement is instantaneous. It cannot be trained out of their behavioral repertoire. AND within two strides, the Sighthound is moving so fast and their heart is pumping so loudly, they cannot hear even the loudest shouted command. It is nature's ultimate over-ride of training. Not only does the Sighthound not hear commands, it does not see anything but the object of the chase. Not the tree it is about to hit, nor the car that is about to hit it. An unleashed, unconfined Sighthound is very likely to be a dead Sighthound.
Now. Imagine that you are the fastest breed of dog in the world. You love your walks, but your greatest joy in life is running unrestrained. However, you cannot run unrestrained very often because your human is concerned about your safety. So, you settle for walks. And every week you get to walk with some other dogs who look a lot like you and live in similar circumstances. It's the highlight of your week.
Then, one day, you see a dog across the park who gets to run free. But it cannot run half as fast as you can. You really want to show that silly dog how running should be done! But you've got on a collar, a harness and two leashes and your human isn't responding to your urgent request to run after that clumsy excuse for a running dog.
You get the picture.
But yesterday, it got worse. The loose dog's human let it run DIRECTLY at my two excited, aroused dogs.
I supposed it's unrealistic to ever expect other dog owners to understand the unique vulnerabilities of my sweet Magic, and especially of my sweet Bingley.
But leash laws are there to protect Magic and Bingley. And Franklin and Hattie and Odie.
I can expect people to obey leash laws. Even if they don't understand them
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
A Walk In The Park
Marilyn and I walk our hounds in a park close to my home just about every week. The City of San Marcos has strict but reasonable leash laws. It has also provided four off leash parks for people who prefer to run their dogs off leash. The park where Marilyn and I walk Franklin, Hattie, Odie, Bingley and Magic is NOT an off leash park and is posted as such.
This morning was cloudy and cool--ideal weather for dog walking. The dogs were frisky and happy to see each other.
As we were strolling, discussing recent placements of kennel dogs in "forever" homes and dogs who need "forever" homes, Bingley let out a distinctive whine. It means: I see something I really want to chase, or, I see another dog. Sometimes it means both.
Across the width of the park, a woman was walking a large Boxer. All five of our dogs went on alert, and we did what we always do, changing the direction we were walking to maximize distance between our two packs and the new dog.
But just at the moment we thought sufficient distance had been achieved between our dogs and the Boxer, the Boxer's walker removed its leash and let it run.
Leashed dogs--especially leashed dogs whose main joy in life is running and who can out-run any other breed--become quite agitated when they see another dog running free when they are restrained.
We prepared to leave that section of the park.
But the Boxer's owner had a further "surprise" for us. She turned her dog, who began to run directly at Bingley and Magic.
I called for her to leash her dog. She was very angry with me for such presumption.
I called for her to keep her dog at a distance from my dogs. She told me to send my dogs to training school. Her dog, she said, was "perfectly trained."
Her dog was charging my dogs.
Marilyn, ever quick witted, performed an evasive action with her pack which distracted the Boxer while she engaged the Boxer's owner in further "conversation".
Eventually the Boxer and its owner left the park so that the owner could "research" San Marcos leash laws. She refused to believe that it wasn't permissible for her to run her "perfectly trained" dog off leash since there was an "open field."
I trust the Boxer's owner discovered that the park in question is,indeed, only for leashed dogs. I trust that next week we will not encounter her or her Boxer.
Only Marilyn's quick thinking and intervention saved Bingley, Magic and me from something I can't bear to picture.
As Marilyn said after the incident, Some people shouldn't have dogs.
This morning was cloudy and cool--ideal weather for dog walking. The dogs were frisky and happy to see each other.
As we were strolling, discussing recent placements of kennel dogs in "forever" homes and dogs who need "forever" homes, Bingley let out a distinctive whine. It means: I see something I really want to chase, or, I see another dog. Sometimes it means both.
Across the width of the park, a woman was walking a large Boxer. All five of our dogs went on alert, and we did what we always do, changing the direction we were walking to maximize distance between our two packs and the new dog.
But just at the moment we thought sufficient distance had been achieved between our dogs and the Boxer, the Boxer's walker removed its leash and let it run.
Leashed dogs--especially leashed dogs whose main joy in life is running and who can out-run any other breed--become quite agitated when they see another dog running free when they are restrained.
We prepared to leave that section of the park.
But the Boxer's owner had a further "surprise" for us. She turned her dog, who began to run directly at Bingley and Magic.
I called for her to leash her dog. She was very angry with me for such presumption.
I called for her to keep her dog at a distance from my dogs. She told me to send my dogs to training school. Her dog, she said, was "perfectly trained."
Her dog was charging my dogs.
Marilyn, ever quick witted, performed an evasive action with her pack which distracted the Boxer while she engaged the Boxer's owner in further "conversation".
Eventually the Boxer and its owner left the park so that the owner could "research" San Marcos leash laws. She refused to believe that it wasn't permissible for her to run her "perfectly trained" dog off leash since there was an "open field."
I trust the Boxer's owner discovered that the park in question is,indeed, only for leashed dogs. I trust that next week we will not encounter her or her Boxer.
Only Marilyn's quick thinking and intervention saved Bingley, Magic and me from something I can't bear to picture.
As Marilyn said after the incident, Some people shouldn't have dogs.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Happy Fourth!
Happy Fourth of July! It's a wonderful holiday, commemorating the founding of the most remarkable country imaginable. I'll always be in awe that of all the periods in history that people have been born, of all the places in the world that they have been born, I was among the fortunate few to have been born in Twentieth Century United States of America. I have been blessed and I will celebrate whole-heartedly today.
But for many of our canine companions, The Fourth of July is the most frightening day--or evening--of the year. We will be returning home before dark this evening to give what comfort we can to Bingley. He's a fearless hunter, but loud noises upset him. We wouldn't think of leaving him alone to panic.
So. Celebrate and have a wonderful time. But think of your dogs. Above all, do not leave a dog alone in a backyard. Tomorrow morning, Animal Control will be gathering up lost dogs who jumped fences, broke chains, ran in terror because they were left to fend for themselves during the fireworks. Don't let one of those poor creatures be one of yours.
But for many of our canine companions, The Fourth of July is the most frightening day--or evening--of the year. We will be returning home before dark this evening to give what comfort we can to Bingley. He's a fearless hunter, but loud noises upset him. We wouldn't think of leaving him alone to panic.
So. Celebrate and have a wonderful time. But think of your dogs. Above all, do not leave a dog alone in a backyard. Tomorrow morning, Animal Control will be gathering up lost dogs who jumped fences, broke chains, ran in terror because they were left to fend for themselves during the fireworks. Don't let one of those poor creatures be one of yours.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Do You Know Where Your Dog Is?
Bingley is not a barker. But if he sees a cat or rabbit or small dog out the front window, he will bark. Usually, if I open the sliding door that leads from the kitchen into the back yard, he will race out, apparently thinking that he will find the critter of interest on the opposite side of the house.
Usually, after a few minutes, Bingley comes back in, tongue hanging out from his exertions, having forgotten that the critter still might be in front of the house. He's happy to have run around the back yard. I'm happy that he has been distracted.
This evening was different. When Bingley started to bark at something he saw outside the front window, I didn't bother to check the object of his concern. I simply opened the kitchen door and he exited. But he didn't do his usual inspection tour of the garden. He stood at the door, barking and barking. So, in interest of neighborly relationships, I let him back in and followed him to see what the bother was.
Across the street, in the front yard of people I know have only indoor cats, a young boy, perhaps five years old, was trying to corral a small white dog--without any success. The erratic movements of the little boy and little dog were what had set off Bingley's unusually strong reaction. Two moving critters that needed pursuit and no way for him to pursue them. What frustration!
I managed to wedge myself out the front door without Bingley's bolting, as he clearly wished to do, so I could investigate the situation.
The little boy confirmed that the dog was his: what appeared to be a Miniature Poodle/Bichon mix, named "Chubby." No leash, collar or tags.
I called the dog and started walking up the street to where the boy said he lived--about six houses up. Chubby was happy to follow me until we passed two houses across the street with open garage doors. Both houses have dogs and Chubby needed to investigate. But it wasn't hard to coax him back and a kind neighbor driving up the street was acting as a traffic break to protect Chubby from being run over. When we arrived at the house that the little boy identified as his, the garage door was also open. No mystery how Chubby had escaped.
Since no adults were in evidence, I told the boy to take Chubby inside and close the door. I also suggested that Chubby needed a collar and tags. But five year olds shouldn't be expected to remember messages of that nature.
The episode ended happily. Chubby and his little human got safely home. Bingley settled down after Chubby disappeared. You gotta love a good distractable Sighthound--Out of Sight, Out of Mind.
But we were lucky. On our short walk to Chubby's house, we passed one house where a Rottweiler lives and another house where a Pit Bull lives. Both are well cared for dogs with responsible humans. But on warm days, the Rottweiler's people let him bark and carry on with only a screen door for protection. I've always wondered just how strong that screen door is. And on some days an irresponsible young man visits the Pit Bull and he insists it's ok for the Pitty--"he loves everyone"--to run loose in front of the house.
Today the Rottweiler's front door was closed and the Pit Bull had no irresponsible visitor.
I hope today's escape was a strange event for Chubby that will never occur again. I certainly hope that I never encounter Chubby loose at 5am when I'm walking Bingley and Magic.
I really hate to walk up to a neighbor's house and remind them that they need to keep track of where their dog is at all times and that small dogs are particularly vulnerable if left to wander.
Perhaps I'll wait to see if it happens again.
But summer is coming. That's when a lot of people in our neighborhood keep garage doors open to cool off their houses.
I'll probably be seeing Chubby again.
Usually, after a few minutes, Bingley comes back in, tongue hanging out from his exertions, having forgotten that the critter still might be in front of the house. He's happy to have run around the back yard. I'm happy that he has been distracted.
This evening was different. When Bingley started to bark at something he saw outside the front window, I didn't bother to check the object of his concern. I simply opened the kitchen door and he exited. But he didn't do his usual inspection tour of the garden. He stood at the door, barking and barking. So, in interest of neighborly relationships, I let him back in and followed him to see what the bother was.
Across the street, in the front yard of people I know have only indoor cats, a young boy, perhaps five years old, was trying to corral a small white dog--without any success. The erratic movements of the little boy and little dog were what had set off Bingley's unusually strong reaction. Two moving critters that needed pursuit and no way for him to pursue them. What frustration!
I managed to wedge myself out the front door without Bingley's bolting, as he clearly wished to do, so I could investigate the situation.
The little boy confirmed that the dog was his: what appeared to be a Miniature Poodle/Bichon mix, named "Chubby." No leash, collar or tags.
I called the dog and started walking up the street to where the boy said he lived--about six houses up. Chubby was happy to follow me until we passed two houses across the street with open garage doors. Both houses have dogs and Chubby needed to investigate. But it wasn't hard to coax him back and a kind neighbor driving up the street was acting as a traffic break to protect Chubby from being run over. When we arrived at the house that the little boy identified as his, the garage door was also open. No mystery how Chubby had escaped.
Since no adults were in evidence, I told the boy to take Chubby inside and close the door. I also suggested that Chubby needed a collar and tags. But five year olds shouldn't be expected to remember messages of that nature.
The episode ended happily. Chubby and his little human got safely home. Bingley settled down after Chubby disappeared. You gotta love a good distractable Sighthound--Out of Sight, Out of Mind.
But we were lucky. On our short walk to Chubby's house, we passed one house where a Rottweiler lives and another house where a Pit Bull lives. Both are well cared for dogs with responsible humans. But on warm days, the Rottweiler's people let him bark and carry on with only a screen door for protection. I've always wondered just how strong that screen door is. And on some days an irresponsible young man visits the Pit Bull and he insists it's ok for the Pitty--"he loves everyone"--to run loose in front of the house.
Today the Rottweiler's front door was closed and the Pit Bull had no irresponsible visitor.
I hope today's escape was a strange event for Chubby that will never occur again. I certainly hope that I never encounter Chubby loose at 5am when I'm walking Bingley and Magic.
I really hate to walk up to a neighbor's house and remind them that they need to keep track of where their dog is at all times and that small dogs are particularly vulnerable if left to wander.
Perhaps I'll wait to see if it happens again.
But summer is coming. That's when a lot of people in our neighborhood keep garage doors open to cool off their houses.
I'll probably be seeing Chubby again.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Westminster
No, I wasn't going to ignore the momentous choice of Best In Show at Westminster. But personal anniversaries take precedence over national events. I wanted to keep Bingley's magnificent portrait up for a while.
However, we were Very Excited about the Best In Show winner at Westminster. We always pull for a Sight Hound to win the Hound Group, so that alone was a thrill. But Best In Show! That is beyond wonderful!
Perhaps the scones and shortbread that were served for refreshments at Book Study last Tuesday night were a sign. We like to think so.
On a more serious note. We hope and pray that Scottish Deerhound Breeders are able to keep close tabs on every single intact puppy that they breed and sell. They have a good reputation in this department. But our own Miss Magic is living testimony to at least one intact Deerhound that was sold to the Wrong Person. And while I wouldn't have missed knowing Magic and having the honor of her presence in my home, a heavy price in canine misery was paid because one Scottish Deerhound was sold to an unscrupulous breeder. Magic suffered for four long years in an outdoor cage in the High Desert of California. No protection from extreme heat. No protection from extreme cold. Little socialization. Producing puppies whose lives would be no better than the one she was living.
Magic, three of her puppies, and the puppies' father were all rescued and are presently living in loving homes. But few rescues have facilities for unsocialized, mixed Sight Hounds.
All paws are crossed here in our home that Hickory's historic win will only serve to open more homes to wonderful Sight Hounds--Not produce more Sight Hounds than can find loving homes.
However, we were Very Excited about the Best In Show winner at Westminster. We always pull for a Sight Hound to win the Hound Group, so that alone was a thrill. But Best In Show! That is beyond wonderful!
Perhaps the scones and shortbread that were served for refreshments at Book Study last Tuesday night were a sign. We like to think so.
On a more serious note. We hope and pray that Scottish Deerhound Breeders are able to keep close tabs on every single intact puppy that they breed and sell. They have a good reputation in this department. But our own Miss Magic is living testimony to at least one intact Deerhound that was sold to the Wrong Person. And while I wouldn't have missed knowing Magic and having the honor of her presence in my home, a heavy price in canine misery was paid because one Scottish Deerhound was sold to an unscrupulous breeder. Magic suffered for four long years in an outdoor cage in the High Desert of California. No protection from extreme heat. No protection from extreme cold. Little socialization. Producing puppies whose lives would be no better than the one she was living.
Magic, three of her puppies, and the puppies' father were all rescued and are presently living in loving homes. But few rescues have facilities for unsocialized, mixed Sight Hounds.
All paws are crossed here in our home that Hickory's historic win will only serve to open more homes to wonderful Sight Hounds--Not produce more Sight Hounds than can find loving homes.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Dog Stories
Two unrelated dog stories that are probably connected--in some weird way--only in my mind.
Last week, an Intrepid Dog Rescuer who operates in California's Central Valley, was called by a public animal control to assist in rescuing dogs from a hoarding situation. Nothing strange about that. Puppy Mills, Backyard Breeders and Hoarders are rampant in California's Central Valley. But there was a Big Surprise in this story. The hoarding involved Pembroke Welsh Corgis!!! Sixty Pembroke Welsh Corgis, to be precise. Some mental health professionals believe that dog hoarding is related to Obsessive/Compulsive Disorder. Perhaps, in this instance, there is also some element of over identification with Her Majesty, the Queen of England, who is known for her attachment to Pembroke Corgis and has owned quite a few--and has staff to care for them.
From time to time, I have discussed Junk Yard Dogs and have mentioned what I believed to be a potential Junk Yard Dog living near my house. Eighteen months ago, new neighbors moved into a house on our block. It was their first house and both parents worked full time. While they were still unpacking, they acquired two puppies: a Toy Poodle and a Mastiff mix. Both dogs were left alone for long hours. Older neighbors gently encouraged the owners of the canine Odd Couple to refrain from letting their dogs run loose.
I feared for the survival of the Toy Poodle and for the socialization of the Mastiff mix.
Unfortunately, my fears were founded. The Toy Poodle disappeared shortly after I began to encounter a Coyote on my morning walks. The Poodle's family thought the little dog had been stolen.
That left the Mastiff, who grew and grew and grew. It also became quite territorial and barked from behind the side gate at anything or anyone who passed by on the sidewalk. Eventually, he began to rouse himself shortly after 5am to bark vociferously at Bingley and Magic as we began our morning walk. In deference to our sleeping neighbors, I altered our route. But later in the day, when I went for the mail, the Mastiff would bark his displeasure--or perhaps just his boredom. His head came to the top of the gate. I prayed he didn't learn to jump.
Recently, however, there has been silence when I collected my mail. Today I confirmed that the Mastiff is no longer there. My informant did not know the dog's fate.
The sixty Corgis have been rescued by Corgi rescue organizations. I am not optimistic that the Mastiff's fate is as bright as the Corgis'. Whether he was passed off to another family as a "Guard Dog", or he was dropped off at the local public animal shelter, the chances of his receiving the care and training he needs to become a suitable canine companion are slim.
My life will certainly be easier now that the Mastiff is gone. When I take Bingley and Magic out on warm summer days, I won't have to glance up the block anxiously to see if the Mastiff is loose. I can walk by his old house at 5:15 am and not worry about starting a barking spell that will waken my neighbors.
But I am mourning a sad life of a dog who never had a chance because humans whose job it is to protect and care for the dogs in their lives, didn't protect and didn't care.
Last week, an Intrepid Dog Rescuer who operates in California's Central Valley, was called by a public animal control to assist in rescuing dogs from a hoarding situation. Nothing strange about that. Puppy Mills, Backyard Breeders and Hoarders are rampant in California's Central Valley. But there was a Big Surprise in this story. The hoarding involved Pembroke Welsh Corgis!!! Sixty Pembroke Welsh Corgis, to be precise. Some mental health professionals believe that dog hoarding is related to Obsessive/Compulsive Disorder. Perhaps, in this instance, there is also some element of over identification with Her Majesty, the Queen of England, who is known for her attachment to Pembroke Corgis and has owned quite a few--and has staff to care for them.
From time to time, I have discussed Junk Yard Dogs and have mentioned what I believed to be a potential Junk Yard Dog living near my house. Eighteen months ago, new neighbors moved into a house on our block. It was their first house and both parents worked full time. While they were still unpacking, they acquired two puppies: a Toy Poodle and a Mastiff mix. Both dogs were left alone for long hours. Older neighbors gently encouraged the owners of the canine Odd Couple to refrain from letting their dogs run loose.
I feared for the survival of the Toy Poodle and for the socialization of the Mastiff mix.
Unfortunately, my fears were founded. The Toy Poodle disappeared shortly after I began to encounter a Coyote on my morning walks. The Poodle's family thought the little dog had been stolen.
That left the Mastiff, who grew and grew and grew. It also became quite territorial and barked from behind the side gate at anything or anyone who passed by on the sidewalk. Eventually, he began to rouse himself shortly after 5am to bark vociferously at Bingley and Magic as we began our morning walk. In deference to our sleeping neighbors, I altered our route. But later in the day, when I went for the mail, the Mastiff would bark his displeasure--or perhaps just his boredom. His head came to the top of the gate. I prayed he didn't learn to jump.
Recently, however, there has been silence when I collected my mail. Today I confirmed that the Mastiff is no longer there. My informant did not know the dog's fate.
The sixty Corgis have been rescued by Corgi rescue organizations. I am not optimistic that the Mastiff's fate is as bright as the Corgis'. Whether he was passed off to another family as a "Guard Dog", or he was dropped off at the local public animal shelter, the chances of his receiving the care and training he needs to become a suitable canine companion are slim.
My life will certainly be easier now that the Mastiff is gone. When I take Bingley and Magic out on warm summer days, I won't have to glance up the block anxiously to see if the Mastiff is loose. I can walk by his old house at 5:15 am and not worry about starting a barking spell that will waken my neighbors.
But I am mourning a sad life of a dog who never had a chance because humans whose job it is to protect and care for the dogs in their lives, didn't protect and didn't care.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Happy News: Sad News
This morning John and I took Magic in for a check up on her eye.
Happy News: Magic's eye looks great! Dr. Schultz is very pleased with her progress. The swelling is markedly reduced and the cloudiness is just a hint of what it was a week ago. One more week of eye ointment should be the end of this anxiety provoking episode.
Sad News: When we arrived at the vets, we learned that a Bull Dog was in surgery, "being stitched back together" after an attack by another dog. The surgery had been in progress for a while and was expected to last at least another hour and a half. I have no details of the attack. But my heart goes out to the Bull Dog's humans. John and I have spent our own anxious hours waiting while our beloved dogs were being "stitched back together." And our memories of losing our beloved Portia are still painful.
What can I say? Our living situations are too compact for dogs to be permitted to roam off leash. No dog "always obeys." Know your dog. Be VERY CAREFUL if more than one dog is present when food is available. Your dog's life and the lives of all the dogs that your dog encounters depend on your watchfulness and responsible care.
All paws crossed that the Bull Dog survives.
Happy News: Magic's eye looks great! Dr. Schultz is very pleased with her progress. The swelling is markedly reduced and the cloudiness is just a hint of what it was a week ago. One more week of eye ointment should be the end of this anxiety provoking episode.
Sad News: When we arrived at the vets, we learned that a Bull Dog was in surgery, "being stitched back together" after an attack by another dog. The surgery had been in progress for a while and was expected to last at least another hour and a half. I have no details of the attack. But my heart goes out to the Bull Dog's humans. John and I have spent our own anxious hours waiting while our beloved dogs were being "stitched back together." And our memories of losing our beloved Portia are still painful.
What can I say? Our living situations are too compact for dogs to be permitted to roam off leash. No dog "always obeys." Know your dog. Be VERY CAREFUL if more than one dog is present when food is available. Your dog's life and the lives of all the dogs that your dog encounters depend on your watchfulness and responsible care.
All paws crossed that the Bull Dog survives.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Chihuahuas
It's strange, isn't it, how something will be outside one's range of awareness and interest, then it quickly comes to one's attention from more than one source?
Confession: I have never found the Chihuahua to be an appealing breed. My stereotype of them has been of a small, yapping dog who is more than likely to defy any attempt at training.
But, slowly, over the past five years or so, I have become more and more aware of their serious plight, of the great suffering of many Chihuahuas and Chihuahua mixes.
At least once a week, I check out the dogs available for adoption at Pet Orphans of Southern California.
It's a sentimental thing with me. Pet Orphans was Daphne's, our first rescue's, Alma Mater. I hold the kind, caring people there in high esteem and I cheer every time one of their rescues finds a forever home.
Pet Orphans takes dogs of all breeds and mixes. But what I began to observe over the past few years was the comparatively high proportion of Chihuahuas and Chihuahua mixes among their dogs available for adoption. It also seemed to me that many of these dogs waited an appreciable length of time before finding homes. I began to realize that Chihuahuas were a breed in considerable distress.
Then, about a year ago, a kind animal lover sent me the picture of a particularly beautiful long haired, blue merle Chihuahua. This lovely, carefully bred creature was in desperate need of a home asap. Another indication of Chihuahua distress.
Then, just this past Sunday, John called my attention to a book mentioned in the San Diego Union Tribune: A Small Furry Prayer: Dog Rescue and the Meaning of Life. The author, Steven Kotler, was signing books at Warwick's in La Jolla last night. There was no way I could go, so I did the next best thing and looked Kotler up on the net. It turns out that he and his wife run a dog rescue in New Mexico: Rancho de Chihuahua. These are people who are serious about doing something for the Chihuahua's plight. I urge you to click around their site and educate yourself about the special needs of these tiny, indomitable dogs.
Then, in case I wasn't getting the message, it was underlined for me last night as I was walking Bingley and Magic just before bedtime. A car was moving slowly down the street. When it came opposite us, the driver stopped and rolled down his window.
"Excuse me, m'am. Have you seen a very small dog?"
My immediate reaction was Thank Heavens I have not seen a loose, very small dog! It's one of my biggest nightmares as I walk two high prey sight hounds.
But I didn't share that reaction. I asked for a description.
Surprise, Surprise. The lost, loose dog was a Chihuahua.
I wanted to weep. I wanted to yell at the man, HOW COULD YOU LET SUCH A TINY, FRAGILE CREATURE OUT OF YOUR SIGHT HERE IN COYOTE COUNTRY?????
But, gentle reader, I restrained myself. I asked how the little dog had gotten loose.
It seems the the man was "dog sitting" three Chihuahuas. He had left them alone in his backyard for a sufficiently lengthy time that they had dug under his fence and wandered off. The other two had been found, but one little girl was still loose. The last sighting had been down the hill along the edge of a busy four lane street.
All paws are crossed this morning, hoping and praying that the little dog was found, that the owner has now learned to screen his "dog sitter" more carefully, and that the "dog sitter" now knows better than to leave a dog unattended in his back yard.
Meanwhile, lovers of this beleaguered breed are doing all they can. A local rescue is: Chihuahua Rescue of San Diego Friends of Portia send you a Big Thank You!
Confession: I have never found the Chihuahua to be an appealing breed. My stereotype of them has been of a small, yapping dog who is more than likely to defy any attempt at training.
But, slowly, over the past five years or so, I have become more and more aware of their serious plight, of the great suffering of many Chihuahuas and Chihuahua mixes.
At least once a week, I check out the dogs available for adoption at Pet Orphans of Southern California.
It's a sentimental thing with me. Pet Orphans was Daphne's, our first rescue's, Alma Mater. I hold the kind, caring people there in high esteem and I cheer every time one of their rescues finds a forever home.
Pet Orphans takes dogs of all breeds and mixes. But what I began to observe over the past few years was the comparatively high proportion of Chihuahuas and Chihuahua mixes among their dogs available for adoption. It also seemed to me that many of these dogs waited an appreciable length of time before finding homes. I began to realize that Chihuahuas were a breed in considerable distress.
Then, about a year ago, a kind animal lover sent me the picture of a particularly beautiful long haired, blue merle Chihuahua. This lovely, carefully bred creature was in desperate need of a home asap. Another indication of Chihuahua distress.
Then, just this past Sunday, John called my attention to a book mentioned in the San Diego Union Tribune: A Small Furry Prayer: Dog Rescue and the Meaning of Life. The author, Steven Kotler, was signing books at Warwick's in La Jolla last night. There was no way I could go, so I did the next best thing and looked Kotler up on the net. It turns out that he and his wife run a dog rescue in New Mexico: Rancho de Chihuahua. These are people who are serious about doing something for the Chihuahua's plight. I urge you to click around their site and educate yourself about the special needs of these tiny, indomitable dogs.
Then, in case I wasn't getting the message, it was underlined for me last night as I was walking Bingley and Magic just before bedtime. A car was moving slowly down the street. When it came opposite us, the driver stopped and rolled down his window.
"Excuse me, m'am. Have you seen a very small dog?"
My immediate reaction was Thank Heavens I have not seen a loose, very small dog! It's one of my biggest nightmares as I walk two high prey sight hounds.
But I didn't share that reaction. I asked for a description.
Surprise, Surprise. The lost, loose dog was a Chihuahua.
I wanted to weep. I wanted to yell at the man, HOW COULD YOU LET SUCH A TINY, FRAGILE CREATURE OUT OF YOUR SIGHT HERE IN COYOTE COUNTRY?????
But, gentle reader, I restrained myself. I asked how the little dog had gotten loose.
It seems the the man was "dog sitting" three Chihuahuas. He had left them alone in his backyard for a sufficiently lengthy time that they had dug under his fence and wandered off. The other two had been found, but one little girl was still loose. The last sighting had been down the hill along the edge of a busy four lane street.
All paws are crossed this morning, hoping and praying that the little dog was found, that the owner has now learned to screen his "dog sitter" more carefully, and that the "dog sitter" now knows better than to leave a dog unattended in his back yard.
Meanwhile, lovers of this beleaguered breed are doing all they can. A local rescue is: Chihuahua Rescue of San Diego Friends of Portia send you a Big Thank You!
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Welcome September
I think the Jews are on to something, celebrating the New Year in September. September always has the feel of a fresh start: the beginning of the school year--at least for those few remaining school systems that wait to take up classes until after Labor Day--and slightly shorter days, which give promise to the end of summer heat. Although this summer in San Diego County was wonderfully temperate, we remain vigilant for heat and winds. Our worst Santa Anas--and, Heaven Help Us, fires--usually come in late September or October.
John is on the mend, using a cane only for difficult maneuvers. He is accompanying Bingley, Magic and me on our nightly walks, although he isn't quite up to taking one of the leashes. Soon, though, I think he will.
Last week, Magic had her annual shots and complete physical with blood work. Her lab results were "perfect." She can put on an impressive display of anxiety, but she is a healthy doggie. For which we are very, very grateful. She continues to explore her inner princess. Who would believe that our opinionated little lady who insists on being first spent four years in an outdoor cage, exposed to summer heat and winter cold with no loving care? I'm beginning to think that her proper name is Lady Me Me.
Bingley continues to be Bingley. Sweet tempered but always ready to give chase. Our street has been occupied by a family of rabbits. It is one of the true sadnesses of Bingley's life that he cannot be permitted to fulfill his inborn destiny and pursue them all. But he is enjoying new super-tough toys: Harvey the Rabbit and Clyde the Bear. So far, both are living up to the claims made by the catalog, In the Company of Dogs. Magic occasionally pays Harvey and Clyde a little bit of attention by tucking them under her chin. Adorable.
Meanwhile the needs of our canine companions continue to challenge all of their human care givers and well wishers. Too many dogs are being bred. Too many humans acquire dogs without consideration for the basic responsibilities that come with dog ownership. Too many people thoughtlessly permit their dogs to roam off leash, risking the safety of their dogs, other people's dogs, and the humans that might happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Friends of Portia is back from summer vacation, ready once more to be a voice for sanity and responsibility in the care of that great gift to human beings: our sweet, funny, knowing, mysterious, courageous, forgiving, trusting, irreplaceable and sadly vulnerable dogs.
John is on the mend, using a cane only for difficult maneuvers. He is accompanying Bingley, Magic and me on our nightly walks, although he isn't quite up to taking one of the leashes. Soon, though, I think he will.
Last week, Magic had her annual shots and complete physical with blood work. Her lab results were "perfect." She can put on an impressive display of anxiety, but she is a healthy doggie. For which we are very, very grateful. She continues to explore her inner princess. Who would believe that our opinionated little lady who insists on being first spent four years in an outdoor cage, exposed to summer heat and winter cold with no loving care? I'm beginning to think that her proper name is Lady Me Me.
Bingley continues to be Bingley. Sweet tempered but always ready to give chase. Our street has been occupied by a family of rabbits. It is one of the true sadnesses of Bingley's life that he cannot be permitted to fulfill his inborn destiny and pursue them all. But he is enjoying new super-tough toys: Harvey the Rabbit and Clyde the Bear. So far, both are living up to the claims made by the catalog, In the Company of Dogs. Magic occasionally pays Harvey and Clyde a little bit of attention by tucking them under her chin. Adorable.
Meanwhile the needs of our canine companions continue to challenge all of their human care givers and well wishers. Too many dogs are being bred. Too many humans acquire dogs without consideration for the basic responsibilities that come with dog ownership. Too many people thoughtlessly permit their dogs to roam off leash, risking the safety of their dogs, other people's dogs, and the humans that might happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Friends of Portia is back from summer vacation, ready once more to be a voice for sanity and responsibility in the care of that great gift to human beings: our sweet, funny, knowing, mysterious, courageous, forgiving, trusting, irreplaceable and sadly vulnerable dogs.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Unleashed Report
Even as our household observed a formal week of mourning for Portia, a beautiful Greyhound who died needlessly because:
1.A neighbor carelessly let his dog out of the yard while rolling a trash can to the curb in front of his house.
2. Our Leash Law Authority had imposed NO penalty WHATSOEVER on the SAME DOG, SAME NEIGHBOR less than three years earlier when the SAME DOG ravaged our great Greyhound, Zephyr,
purposely unleashed dogs continue to be potential threats to themselves and others here in our little suburban city.
These dogs are frequently under the "care" of humans who declare, "My dog ALWAYS obeys me!"
I pause here, dear reader, to let you ponder the IDIOCY of such a declaration.
In another case, major injury was sustained by a dog whose adult owners stated that their children had been left to care for said dog--and its companion. We're talking HUSKIES, not Toy Poodles or Shih Tzus. But then, I also have neighbors who think that children can adequately supervise a MASTIFF.
The first instance of unleashed dogs involved two Huskies. Friends of Friends of Portia might recall a Husky puppy who cried pitifully on Thanksgiving Eve and shortly thereafter through an afternoon and early evening. My repeated calls to Escondido Humane Society resulted in an officer being sent to the Husky's home to counsel the family on the responsibilities of dog ownership.
Evidently, the family's solution to the problem was to purchase a second Husky to keep the first one company. That solution worked--as far as the crying Husky was concerned.
However. Confining TWO young Huskies in a back yard for long periods of time is not the job for children.
Two Friends Of This Blog and true dog lovers were on their way one evening to pick up another friend from the airport. They had had just turned onto the main road out of our sub-division when they witnessed two Huskies running across the four lane, divided road, right into the path of an oncoming car. The Husky who had cried all Thanksgiving Eve was hit, resulting in multiple injuries, including a broken pelvis. My friends facilitated rescuing the dog and getting him to emergency veterinary care.
The good news is that the dog will survive. The hope is that this episode will motivate his owners to take a serious look at their responsibilities as dog owners. Meanwhile, there is one traumatized car driver who did all she could to stop in time. But laws of physics are laws of physics.
Same Friends of Portia. Same major thoroughfare. A Sunday morning and my friends were walking their three Miniature Dachshunds on a pedestrian path that runs parallel to four lanes of traffic.
Who should appear, but Marilyn's and my old acquaintance from Tuesday morning walks in the park. On this occasion, he was accompanied by his wife/lady friend and his Herding Dog--off leash! Is there some macho issue about walking your dog on-leash in the presence of your love interest?
My friends scooped up their little dogs and reminded the man that he was in violation of San Marcos Leash Laws. He insisted that all the law requires is that the dog be "properly restrained", and his was, because (you guessed it)"My dog always obeys me."
Too bad my friends had not witnessed this man chasing madly after the dog "who always obeys him" the day that the dog was chasing Mallards in the park.
Fast forward to the next Tuesday morning. Same man. Same dog. Marilyn and I were finishing our walk, but looked across the park to see The Man Whose Dog Always Obeys Him, chasing after his dog--who had seen a rabbit.
We laughed. But if timing had been different, things might have been very, very bad indeed. Five Greyhounds on leash, one Herding Dog off leash plus one rabbit is a recipe for disaster.
Two days later, I went to pick up my car after a lube and oil change. As I was driving out of the parking lot, a handsome Pit Bull walked out in front of my car from behind a dumpster container. I needed to get home and start dinner, but I have resolved never to ignore a loose dog. So I began to make inquiries.
A young man at a nearby business told me, yes, the dog in question was their "Shop Dog."
I informed him that letting the dog run loose was breaking the law and suggested that the "Shop Dog" needed to stay in the shop.
The young man shrugged off my suggestion. But he was sufficiently concerned to inform the dog's owner, who emerged from the shop as I was returning to my car.
"Is there a problem?" he asked me.
"Yes," I replied. "You are breaking the law by letting your dog run loose. He's a fine, handsome dog, but he needs to be leashed or confined. If I see him loose again, I'll report you."
"He's not hurting anything, and besides, (by this time, I knew what he would say next) "My Dog Always Obeys Me."
He attempted to demonstrate this assertion by calling the dog, who trotted away in the opposite direction.
"That does it," I said. "I'll report you as soon as I get home."
And, dear reader, that is what I did. I waited patiently through the mind numbing decision tree of my Local Leash-Law Authority. Heard no option that fit what I needed. Finally chose what seemed to be the likeliest number and--miracle of miracles--a Live Human Voice answered.
After questioning me closely to ascertain that The Authority would not be wasting its time by intervening, the person at the other end of the line determined that Action Was Needed. She is sending the Pit Bull's owner a letter! I will also be receiving a letter informing me of their action. Soon I will be able to paper the walls of my study with letters I receive in response to my calls to The Authority.
Yesterday, Marilyn and I walked our dogs in the park. We saw the man with the Herding Dog on the other side of the park. They were too far for me to see clearly. The dog might have been loose or might have been leashed on a long, retractable leash, which is over the legal length in San Marcos. But The Authority has informed me that they are unable to enforce that part of the law.
Then, as we were putting our dogs in our cars in preparation for departure, another man appeared with a large mixed breed dog on the end of a long retractable leash. As I was driving away, I saw the man remove the leash and begin what appeared to be obedience lessons with the dog.
Marilyn and I had seen two rabbits in the park, not far from where the man was training his dog off-leash.
Call me uncharitable, but I left without warning the man. One unleashed dog and two rabbits just might provide him with a valuable lesson that His Dog Does NOT Always Obey Him.
I live in hope.
1.A neighbor carelessly let his dog out of the yard while rolling a trash can to the curb in front of his house.
2. Our Leash Law Authority had imposed NO penalty WHATSOEVER on the SAME DOG, SAME NEIGHBOR less than three years earlier when the SAME DOG ravaged our great Greyhound, Zephyr,
purposely unleashed dogs continue to be potential threats to themselves and others here in our little suburban city.
These dogs are frequently under the "care" of humans who declare, "My dog ALWAYS obeys me!"
I pause here, dear reader, to let you ponder the IDIOCY of such a declaration.
In another case, major injury was sustained by a dog whose adult owners stated that their children had been left to care for said dog--and its companion. We're talking HUSKIES, not Toy Poodles or Shih Tzus. But then, I also have neighbors who think that children can adequately supervise a MASTIFF.
The first instance of unleashed dogs involved two Huskies. Friends of Friends of Portia might recall a Husky puppy who cried pitifully on Thanksgiving Eve and shortly thereafter through an afternoon and early evening. My repeated calls to Escondido Humane Society resulted in an officer being sent to the Husky's home to counsel the family on the responsibilities of dog ownership.
Evidently, the family's solution to the problem was to purchase a second Husky to keep the first one company. That solution worked--as far as the crying Husky was concerned.
However. Confining TWO young Huskies in a back yard for long periods of time is not the job for children.
Two Friends Of This Blog and true dog lovers were on their way one evening to pick up another friend from the airport. They had had just turned onto the main road out of our sub-division when they witnessed two Huskies running across the four lane, divided road, right into the path of an oncoming car. The Husky who had cried all Thanksgiving Eve was hit, resulting in multiple injuries, including a broken pelvis. My friends facilitated rescuing the dog and getting him to emergency veterinary care.
The good news is that the dog will survive. The hope is that this episode will motivate his owners to take a serious look at their responsibilities as dog owners. Meanwhile, there is one traumatized car driver who did all she could to stop in time. But laws of physics are laws of physics.
Same Friends of Portia. Same major thoroughfare. A Sunday morning and my friends were walking their three Miniature Dachshunds on a pedestrian path that runs parallel to four lanes of traffic.
Who should appear, but Marilyn's and my old acquaintance from Tuesday morning walks in the park. On this occasion, he was accompanied by his wife/lady friend and his Herding Dog--off leash! Is there some macho issue about walking your dog on-leash in the presence of your love interest?
My friends scooped up their little dogs and reminded the man that he was in violation of San Marcos Leash Laws. He insisted that all the law requires is that the dog be "properly restrained", and his was, because (you guessed it)"My dog always obeys me."
Too bad my friends had not witnessed this man chasing madly after the dog "who always obeys him" the day that the dog was chasing Mallards in the park.
Fast forward to the next Tuesday morning. Same man. Same dog. Marilyn and I were finishing our walk, but looked across the park to see The Man Whose Dog Always Obeys Him, chasing after his dog--who had seen a rabbit.
We laughed. But if timing had been different, things might have been very, very bad indeed. Five Greyhounds on leash, one Herding Dog off leash plus one rabbit is a recipe for disaster.
Two days later, I went to pick up my car after a lube and oil change. As I was driving out of the parking lot, a handsome Pit Bull walked out in front of my car from behind a dumpster container. I needed to get home and start dinner, but I have resolved never to ignore a loose dog. So I began to make inquiries.
A young man at a nearby business told me, yes, the dog in question was their "Shop Dog."
I informed him that letting the dog run loose was breaking the law and suggested that the "Shop Dog" needed to stay in the shop.
The young man shrugged off my suggestion. But he was sufficiently concerned to inform the dog's owner, who emerged from the shop as I was returning to my car.
"Is there a problem?" he asked me.
"Yes," I replied. "You are breaking the law by letting your dog run loose. He's a fine, handsome dog, but he needs to be leashed or confined. If I see him loose again, I'll report you."
"He's not hurting anything, and besides, (by this time, I knew what he would say next) "My Dog Always Obeys Me."
He attempted to demonstrate this assertion by calling the dog, who trotted away in the opposite direction.
"That does it," I said. "I'll report you as soon as I get home."
And, dear reader, that is what I did. I waited patiently through the mind numbing decision tree of my Local Leash-Law Authority. Heard no option that fit what I needed. Finally chose what seemed to be the likeliest number and--miracle of miracles--a Live Human Voice answered.
After questioning me closely to ascertain that The Authority would not be wasting its time by intervening, the person at the other end of the line determined that Action Was Needed. She is sending the Pit Bull's owner a letter! I will also be receiving a letter informing me of their action. Soon I will be able to paper the walls of my study with letters I receive in response to my calls to The Authority.
Yesterday, Marilyn and I walked our dogs in the park. We saw the man with the Herding Dog on the other side of the park. They were too far for me to see clearly. The dog might have been loose or might have been leashed on a long, retractable leash, which is over the legal length in San Marcos. But The Authority has informed me that they are unable to enforce that part of the law.
Then, as we were putting our dogs in our cars in preparation for departure, another man appeared with a large mixed breed dog on the end of a long retractable leash. As I was driving away, I saw the man remove the leash and begin what appeared to be obedience lessons with the dog.
Marilyn and I had seen two rabbits in the park, not far from where the man was training his dog off-leash.
Call me uncharitable, but I left without warning the man. One unleashed dog and two rabbits just might provide him with a valuable lesson that His Dog Does NOT Always Obey Him.
I live in hope.
Friday, July 9, 2010
Dog Parks
Read any magazine for dog owners, or even some travel magazines, and you will discover articles about "Dog Friendly Cities, Towns, Communities." There are "Dog Friendly" resorts. The translation of "Dog Friendly" is: "It's OK To Let Your Dog Run Around Off Leash."
Off-leash parks and beaches are represented as ultimate Nirvana for both dogs and their people. The image is of dogs of all breeds and sizes frolicking joyfully together as their people chat about the latest in doggie toys and treats and set up play dates for their pooches. Not exactly the Utopia of the Lion lying down by the Lamb, but getting close.
The intrinsic problem with this image is admitted by some off-leash dog parks that have separated areas for "small dogs" and "large dogs". At least this arrangement is a nod to the realities of potential dog behavior, but it's just a nod. The fact is, there are serious reasons why many dogs should NEVER be let loose in an off-leash dog park. Let's look at some of those reasons.
1. A very small dog is a very vulnerable dog. PERHAPS there is a small dog off-leash park available where your 4 pound Maltese can gambol about with other tiny, delicate creatures. But letting a small dog "play" with anything but the smallest of toy breeds is like bringing pizza to a group of teenage boys and asking them to ignore it.
2. Inherent, bred-in instincts of your breed. "Fish gotta swim. Birds gotta fly." Terriers and hounds were bred to kill--or chase and kill. Some dogs--you know the breeds--were originally bred to fight other dogs. Some dogs were developed to be guard dogs. With the exception of our first dog, Mame, a five pound Toy Poodle, all of John's and my dogs have been terriers or hounds. They have been wonderful companions and I would not want to have missed the presence of one of them in my life. But terriers and hounds are Serious Dogs. Beneath the blonde, wavy coat of a Soft Coated Wheaten Terrier, under the elegant lines of a Greyhound, lies the potential to attack and kill with efficiency and--let's be honest--joyful enthusiasm.
3. Other physical vulnerabilities. The first of these that comes to mind is a very thin skin covering. Having been a Greyhound person for a number of years, I have seen first hand the havoc that can be inflicted when a Greyhound is bitten by another dog. Indeed, Portia died as the result of one horrific bite that ripped a ten inch diameter wound that could not be closed, even with state of the art veterinary care, before her courageous heart stopped beating. Even in non-fatal wounds, days of care for a dog who has suffered an attack by another dog is a painful and exhausting ordeal for both dog and human. In addition to more stitches than I could count, Zephyr had four drains that had to be treated with warm compresses several times a day following an attack by an off-leash dog who was set loose to relieve himself on neighbors' lawns.
4. Individual dog history. I am completely dedicated to rescuing and re-homing dogs who have been abandoned, lost, or mistreated. I have had five rescued dogs as my companions, two of which live with me now. There are many advantages in rescuing an older dog. Given my age, I doubt that I will ever again tackle the challenge of a puppy. For me, walking Greyhounds is NOTHING compared with the task of civilizing a baby canine. HOWEVER. The fact is: EVERY rescued dog has some baggage that is not always apparent until some event triggers a hidden memory for the dog. Until your rescued dog has lived with you for a while and you have observed it under a variety of circumstances, until you have established mutual trust and have established general behavioral expectations, don't even THINK about taking your dog to a Dog Park. In my experience, six months is not too long to wait to really know what your rescued dog's personality and behavioral repertoire are like.
I am not advocating the closure of off-leash parks and beaches. For one thing, it's not a realistic proposal. The conviction on the part of what seems to me to be the majority of dog owners that dogs MUST be permitted to play off leash in places other than their own yards requires such facilities. Even many dog trainers encourage off-leash exercise by insisting that dogs can be trained to reliably obey commands when unconfined and off-leash. All I can say about that is, my faith in the Tooth Fairy is stronger than my faith in any dog's 100% obedience. I once held my breath and prayed while a highly trained, off-leash police dog eyed my two Greyhounds and hesitated to follow his trainer's order to get into his squad car.
I do believe that people who love their dogs deserve more education and caution before they merrily let their dogs loose in a dog park. Call me overly cautious, but I shudder to think of any group other than Sporting, and, perhaps, some Herding and the occasional Working breeds regularly visiting an off-leash park.
My daughter's Lab is a dog that is a perfect Dog Park Dog. Georgia has thick skin with a layer of protective fat that is characteristic of her breed. She barks at other dogs, but is not dog aggressive. She is a RETRIEVER, not a killer. In short, Georgia is the sort of dog for which off-leash dog parks are ideal.
On Thursdays, I answer the phone for a local Greyhound rescue. In addition to wrong numbers asking for bus ticket prices, I receive a wide variety of calls. Yesterday I spoke with a woman who will forever be traumatized by an attack in an off-leash dog park that resulted in serious injuries to THREE dogs. Witnessing a dog attack is traumatic. The woman I spoke to will never again be without some fear when she walks her dog. Believe me. I understand TOTALLY. I say a prayer EVERY time I hook up leashes and harnesses on Bingley and Magic.
Would Bingley and Magic like to run free? Fish gotta swim. Birds gotta fly. Bingley and Magic were born to run--and kill. But John and I are the only protection they have in a world that is completely different from the world in which their ancient breed was developed. For their protection and for the protection of other dogs, they will never be let loose in a Dog Park or on a Dog Beach.
Off-leash parks and beaches are represented as ultimate Nirvana for both dogs and their people. The image is of dogs of all breeds and sizes frolicking joyfully together as their people chat about the latest in doggie toys and treats and set up play dates for their pooches. Not exactly the Utopia of the Lion lying down by the Lamb, but getting close.
The intrinsic problem with this image is admitted by some off-leash dog parks that have separated areas for "small dogs" and "large dogs". At least this arrangement is a nod to the realities of potential dog behavior, but it's just a nod. The fact is, there are serious reasons why many dogs should NEVER be let loose in an off-leash dog park. Let's look at some of those reasons.
1. A very small dog is a very vulnerable dog. PERHAPS there is a small dog off-leash park available where your 4 pound Maltese can gambol about with other tiny, delicate creatures. But letting a small dog "play" with anything but the smallest of toy breeds is like bringing pizza to a group of teenage boys and asking them to ignore it.
2. Inherent, bred-in instincts of your breed. "Fish gotta swim. Birds gotta fly." Terriers and hounds were bred to kill--or chase and kill. Some dogs--you know the breeds--were originally bred to fight other dogs. Some dogs were developed to be guard dogs. With the exception of our first dog, Mame, a five pound Toy Poodle, all of John's and my dogs have been terriers or hounds. They have been wonderful companions and I would not want to have missed the presence of one of them in my life. But terriers and hounds are Serious Dogs. Beneath the blonde, wavy coat of a Soft Coated Wheaten Terrier, under the elegant lines of a Greyhound, lies the potential to attack and kill with efficiency and--let's be honest--joyful enthusiasm.
3. Other physical vulnerabilities. The first of these that comes to mind is a very thin skin covering. Having been a Greyhound person for a number of years, I have seen first hand the havoc that can be inflicted when a Greyhound is bitten by another dog. Indeed, Portia died as the result of one horrific bite that ripped a ten inch diameter wound that could not be closed, even with state of the art veterinary care, before her courageous heart stopped beating. Even in non-fatal wounds, days of care for a dog who has suffered an attack by another dog is a painful and exhausting ordeal for both dog and human. In addition to more stitches than I could count, Zephyr had four drains that had to be treated with warm compresses several times a day following an attack by an off-leash dog who was set loose to relieve himself on neighbors' lawns.
4. Individual dog history. I am completely dedicated to rescuing and re-homing dogs who have been abandoned, lost, or mistreated. I have had five rescued dogs as my companions, two of which live with me now. There are many advantages in rescuing an older dog. Given my age, I doubt that I will ever again tackle the challenge of a puppy. For me, walking Greyhounds is NOTHING compared with the task of civilizing a baby canine. HOWEVER. The fact is: EVERY rescued dog has some baggage that is not always apparent until some event triggers a hidden memory for the dog. Until your rescued dog has lived with you for a while and you have observed it under a variety of circumstances, until you have established mutual trust and have established general behavioral expectations, don't even THINK about taking your dog to a Dog Park. In my experience, six months is not too long to wait to really know what your rescued dog's personality and behavioral repertoire are like.
I am not advocating the closure of off-leash parks and beaches. For one thing, it's not a realistic proposal. The conviction on the part of what seems to me to be the majority of dog owners that dogs MUST be permitted to play off leash in places other than their own yards requires such facilities. Even many dog trainers encourage off-leash exercise by insisting that dogs can be trained to reliably obey commands when unconfined and off-leash. All I can say about that is, my faith in the Tooth Fairy is stronger than my faith in any dog's 100% obedience. I once held my breath and prayed while a highly trained, off-leash police dog eyed my two Greyhounds and hesitated to follow his trainer's order to get into his squad car.
I do believe that people who love their dogs deserve more education and caution before they merrily let their dogs loose in a dog park. Call me overly cautious, but I shudder to think of any group other than Sporting, and, perhaps, some Herding and the occasional Working breeds regularly visiting an off-leash park.
My daughter's Lab is a dog that is a perfect Dog Park Dog. Georgia has thick skin with a layer of protective fat that is characteristic of her breed. She barks at other dogs, but is not dog aggressive. She is a RETRIEVER, not a killer. In short, Georgia is the sort of dog for which off-leash dog parks are ideal.
On Thursdays, I answer the phone for a local Greyhound rescue. In addition to wrong numbers asking for bus ticket prices, I receive a wide variety of calls. Yesterday I spoke with a woman who will forever be traumatized by an attack in an off-leash dog park that resulted in serious injuries to THREE dogs. Witnessing a dog attack is traumatic. The woman I spoke to will never again be without some fear when she walks her dog. Believe me. I understand TOTALLY. I say a prayer EVERY time I hook up leashes and harnesses on Bingley and Magic.
Would Bingley and Magic like to run free? Fish gotta swim. Birds gotta fly. Bingley and Magic were born to run--and kill. But John and I are the only protection they have in a world that is completely different from the world in which their ancient breed was developed. For their protection and for the protection of other dogs, they will never be let loose in a Dog Park or on a Dog Beach.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Remembering Portia
A year ago today, Portia's heart stopped. And all of the efforts of a determined veterinary operating team could not get it started again.
Portia came to live with us in February, 2008. We had her for less than seventeen months. But her memory will never fade. She was the most challenging of all the dogs of my life: living proof that beauty and brains can go together. She picked up on the most subtle cues that I was planning to leave the house. And she was determined to either stop me or persuade me to take her with me. She could do great mischief in the house--shredding magazines or clothing that John and I had forgotten to put out of her reach. But on her walks, she was the perfect little lady, basking in the compliments of all who paused to comment on her beauty and comportment.
After a day or two of trying to match wits with Portia, John and I agreed that it would be better for her to have a doggy companion on which to focus some of her energy. So we took her back to Greyhound Adoption Center to choose a pal. She played tirelessly with two male Greyhounds. But it was Bingley who looked up at me with his warm brown eyes that said, "Please take me home with you."
There was never a question of who was boss. Portia teased and taunted Bingley for weeks. But he was so good-natured, he was always ready to play--on her terms. After six months, Bingley slowly took back some turf for himself and even though Portia was still the leader, their relationship was a true partnership.
They were complements. Portia reserved misbehavior for in the house. Outdoors, she was perfectly behaved. Bingley is a Good Boy in the house. Outdoors, he is The Great Hunter, constantly on the lookout for something to chase.
With adequate law enforcement, the attack that took Portia's life would not have happened. Not only Portia, but the dog who attacked her, Bingley , John and Zephyr would have been contained after his attack on Zephyr and he also would still be alive.
I cannot bring Portia back. But I pledge to do everything I can do to create a more responsive and realistic approach to leash laws and leash law enforcement in North San Diego County. When I talked about my dream with Marilyn, my Greyhound rescuing friend, she said, "We'll call it 'Portia's Law'."
Portia came to live with us in February, 2008. We had her for less than seventeen months. But her memory will never fade. She was the most challenging of all the dogs of my life: living proof that beauty and brains can go together. She picked up on the most subtle cues that I was planning to leave the house. And she was determined to either stop me or persuade me to take her with me. She could do great mischief in the house--shredding magazines or clothing that John and I had forgotten to put out of her reach. But on her walks, she was the perfect little lady, basking in the compliments of all who paused to comment on her beauty and comportment.
After a day or two of trying to match wits with Portia, John and I agreed that it would be better for her to have a doggy companion on which to focus some of her energy. So we took her back to Greyhound Adoption Center to choose a pal. She played tirelessly with two male Greyhounds. But it was Bingley who looked up at me with his warm brown eyes that said, "Please take me home with you."
There was never a question of who was boss. Portia teased and taunted Bingley for weeks. But he was so good-natured, he was always ready to play--on her terms. After six months, Bingley slowly took back some turf for himself and even though Portia was still the leader, their relationship was a true partnership.
They were complements. Portia reserved misbehavior for in the house. Outdoors, she was perfectly behaved. Bingley is a Good Boy in the house. Outdoors, he is The Great Hunter, constantly on the lookout for something to chase.
With adequate law enforcement, the attack that took Portia's life would not have happened. Not only Portia, but the dog who attacked her, Bingley , John and Zephyr would have been contained after his attack on Zephyr and he also would still be alive.
I cannot bring Portia back. But I pledge to do everything I can do to create a more responsive and realistic approach to leash laws and leash law enforcement in North San Diego County. When I talked about my dream with Marilyn, my Greyhound rescuing friend, she said, "We'll call it 'Portia's Law'."
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
A Year Ago
For months I have been dreading June 30, 2010. That's because shortly before 8pm on June 30, 2009, I heard the painful yelp of a dog half a block away. A few minutes later, I received a phone call from a neighbor with the news: John, Portia and Bingley had been attacked by the very same dog who had ravaged Zephyr less than three years earlier.
We rushed both dogs to the emergency vet's. Bingley was able to come home that night with multiple stitches, some holding the skin of his knee together that looked more like raw hamburger than skin. The vet wasn't sure that those stitches would hold. But with careful supervision of Bingley's every move, they did. And his rapid healing potential took over.
Portia was not so lucky. She was transferred to a veterinary hospital for specialty care for her massive wound. We visited her regularly and she seemed to be improving. But the ordeal was too much for her heart. It stopped beating on the morning of July 7, a needless loss that inspired this blog.
So we enter a week of remembering Portia. Her beauty. Her deviousness. Her love of play. Her perfect deportment on walks. Her mischievousness in the house.
We miss you, Portia. And we promise to do all we can to make our neighborhood safer for dogs on leash.
We rushed both dogs to the emergency vet's. Bingley was able to come home that night with multiple stitches, some holding the skin of his knee together that looked more like raw hamburger than skin. The vet wasn't sure that those stitches would hold. But with careful supervision of Bingley's every move, they did. And his rapid healing potential took over.
Portia was not so lucky. She was transferred to a veterinary hospital for specialty care for her massive wound. We visited her regularly and she seemed to be improving. But the ordeal was too much for her heart. It stopped beating on the morning of July 7, a needless loss that inspired this blog.
So we enter a week of remembering Portia. Her beauty. Her deviousness. Her love of play. Her perfect deportment on walks. Her mischievousness in the house.
We miss you, Portia. And we promise to do all we can to make our neighborhood safer for dogs on leash.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Animal Control 2010
About four years ago, my suburban--or exurban, I've never been able to figure out which--city in North San Diego County switched its contract for animal law enforcement from County Animal Control to a neighboring city's non-profit humane society.
The reason for the change was dramatically escalating charges by County Animal Control accompanied by what was perceived as a deterioration of service.
The humane society contracted to provide the same services for considerably less money.
Flash forward four years. Four years in which three of my dogs and my husband were attacked by by the same neighbor's dog on two separate occasions. The attacking dog was euthanized after the second attack and my beautiful Portia died while being treated for a massive wound. The deaths of both dogs, in my opinion, were the result of an overwhelmed agency selectively enforcing laws pertaining to dogs and people.
The humane society which originally quoted a comparatively low price for leash law enforcement is now requesting well over a half million dollars for the next fiscal year. They are now contracted to provide enforcement for a total of four jurisdictions and apparently have not increased their thinly spread staff to cover hundreds of square miles of urban, suburban and rural territory.
Something has to change.
On my way to share my experiences of attacks by unleashed dogs with the City Council, I stopped by my polling place to vote in the California Primary Election. During the brief time I was voting, TWO unleashed dogs approached the garage where I was voting and had altercations with a leashed dog who was in a voting booth with its owner.
San Marcos, we have a problem.
Two friends from my block and I made short statements to the City Council about our experiences with unleashed dogs and interactions with our current enforcement agency. Members of the Council listened and seemed to be engaged with the problems we presented.
The Council is reluctant to spend over half million dollars for what is clearly inadequate enforcement. And, while our city has been out of County Animal Control's enforcement area, their charges have continued to rise while enforcement has become problematic. Returning to their jurisdiction is not a viable option.
Things look bleak for those of us who say a prayer for safety every time we leash up our dogs and take them out for a walk.
But there is some hope. Our city is in discussion with two other North County cities about setting up an enforcement entity among the cities.
I'm really, really trying not to be too optimistic. But I must say, I love this concept. The current system of laws covering humans and their responsibilities toward their dogs, and the enforcement of those laws, is broken, broken, broken.
San Diego County, like most highly populated counties which cover a very large geographical area containing urban, suburban and rural areas, is just too much for one or even two animal control entities. I understand that it a major break in precedent, but the time has come to bring these services closer to the population served. And that means cities and municipalities MUST take over the responsibility for keeping dog walkers and pedestrians safe from unleashed dogs.
AND, if our local councils can be persuaded to take a fresh look at the laws from a perspective of consequences, deterrence and education, I believe a structure can be put in place that will defray a large amount of the costs of enforcement.
Stay tuned.
The reason for the change was dramatically escalating charges by County Animal Control accompanied by what was perceived as a deterioration of service.
The humane society contracted to provide the same services for considerably less money.
Flash forward four years. Four years in which three of my dogs and my husband were attacked by by the same neighbor's dog on two separate occasions. The attacking dog was euthanized after the second attack and my beautiful Portia died while being treated for a massive wound. The deaths of both dogs, in my opinion, were the result of an overwhelmed agency selectively enforcing laws pertaining to dogs and people.
The humane society which originally quoted a comparatively low price for leash law enforcement is now requesting well over a half million dollars for the next fiscal year. They are now contracted to provide enforcement for a total of four jurisdictions and apparently have not increased their thinly spread staff to cover hundreds of square miles of urban, suburban and rural territory.
Something has to change.
On my way to share my experiences of attacks by unleashed dogs with the City Council, I stopped by my polling place to vote in the California Primary Election. During the brief time I was voting, TWO unleashed dogs approached the garage where I was voting and had altercations with a leashed dog who was in a voting booth with its owner.
San Marcos, we have a problem.
Two friends from my block and I made short statements to the City Council about our experiences with unleashed dogs and interactions with our current enforcement agency. Members of the Council listened and seemed to be engaged with the problems we presented.
The Council is reluctant to spend over half million dollars for what is clearly inadequate enforcement. And, while our city has been out of County Animal Control's enforcement area, their charges have continued to rise while enforcement has become problematic. Returning to their jurisdiction is not a viable option.
Things look bleak for those of us who say a prayer for safety every time we leash up our dogs and take them out for a walk.
But there is some hope. Our city is in discussion with two other North County cities about setting up an enforcement entity among the cities.
I'm really, really trying not to be too optimistic. But I must say, I love this concept. The current system of laws covering humans and their responsibilities toward their dogs, and the enforcement of those laws, is broken, broken, broken.
San Diego County, like most highly populated counties which cover a very large geographical area containing urban, suburban and rural areas, is just too much for one or even two animal control entities. I understand that it a major break in precedent, but the time has come to bring these services closer to the population served. And that means cities and municipalities MUST take over the responsibility for keeping dog walkers and pedestrians safe from unleashed dogs.
AND, if our local councils can be persuaded to take a fresh look at the laws from a perspective of consequences, deterrence and education, I believe a structure can be put in place that will defray a large amount of the costs of enforcement.
Stay tuned.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Tag Your Dog
A few days ago, I received an email from my sister, Carolyn. It's always nice to hear from her. But the one word in the subject line struck fear in my heart: "Rose." I really, really didn't want to open that email.
Rose is a 10 year old Brittany who jumped into my niece's car one day about eight years ago. The owner couldn't be found. Life being what it is, Carolyn and her husband eventually became Rose's guardians.
A canine companion cuter and funnier than Rose would be hard to find. I opened the email with trepidation.
Here's the story.
While Carolyn was out running errands, Rose and Chanel--a rescued miniature poodle--stayed home. Nothing strange or unusual about that. But when Carolyn returned home, Chanel would not stop whining and Rose was nowhere to be found. Eventually, Carolyn discovered the problem--a broken bedroom window. The best guess was that the old window had given way as Rose was expressing her opinion about a dog passing by the house.
A loose, missing dog. One of the worst fears of any dog owner.
But when Carolyn went to the phone, there was a message. Rose had found her way to an elementary school two miles away. They called Carolyn, because in addition to her license, Rose has a name-tag with her home phone number on it.
Now there might have been a "happy" ending to this story even if Rose had been wearing only a license. The school secretary would have called the authorities. Rose would have been taken to a shelter, and either the shelter would have contacted my sister, or my sister would have contacted the shelter and a reunion would eventually have happened.
But such a scenario would have taken hours or days to play out. And the entire episode would have been far more traumatic for both Rose and her family.
Trauma like that is stressful for any dog and the people who love it. But for a ten year old dog with advanced arthritis, the situation would have been serious. Proper identification brought an unpleasant, unhappy incident to a close in the fastest way possible.
When we adopt dogs from Greyhound Adoption Center, we not only agree to keep license and Greyhound Adoption Center I.D. tags on the dogs, we also agree to give them a personalized name tag with their name and our phone number on it. It makes for a lot of "jingling" as they move around the house. (Interestingly, because of their different gaits, I can tell which dog is moving around just by the sound of their tags.)
If a dog is loose, nothing can guarantee its safe return. Rose crossed two very busy streets during her wanderings. Cars remain the biggest threat to lost dogs. But if you love your dog, do everything you can to help it get back home asap if it accidentally gets loose.
Tag your dog.
Rose is a 10 year old Brittany who jumped into my niece's car one day about eight years ago. The owner couldn't be found. Life being what it is, Carolyn and her husband eventually became Rose's guardians.
A canine companion cuter and funnier than Rose would be hard to find. I opened the email with trepidation.
Here's the story.
While Carolyn was out running errands, Rose and Chanel--a rescued miniature poodle--stayed home. Nothing strange or unusual about that. But when Carolyn returned home, Chanel would not stop whining and Rose was nowhere to be found. Eventually, Carolyn discovered the problem--a broken bedroom window. The best guess was that the old window had given way as Rose was expressing her opinion about a dog passing by the house.
A loose, missing dog. One of the worst fears of any dog owner.
But when Carolyn went to the phone, there was a message. Rose had found her way to an elementary school two miles away. They called Carolyn, because in addition to her license, Rose has a name-tag with her home phone number on it.
Now there might have been a "happy" ending to this story even if Rose had been wearing only a license. The school secretary would have called the authorities. Rose would have been taken to a shelter, and either the shelter would have contacted my sister, or my sister would have contacted the shelter and a reunion would eventually have happened.
But such a scenario would have taken hours or days to play out. And the entire episode would have been far more traumatic for both Rose and her family.
Trauma like that is stressful for any dog and the people who love it. But for a ten year old dog with advanced arthritis, the situation would have been serious. Proper identification brought an unpleasant, unhappy incident to a close in the fastest way possible.
When we adopt dogs from Greyhound Adoption Center, we not only agree to keep license and Greyhound Adoption Center I.D. tags on the dogs, we also agree to give them a personalized name tag with their name and our phone number on it. It makes for a lot of "jingling" as they move around the house. (Interestingly, because of their different gaits, I can tell which dog is moving around just by the sound of their tags.)
If a dog is loose, nothing can guarantee its safe return. Rose crossed two very busy streets during her wanderings. Cars remain the biggest threat to lost dogs. But if you love your dog, do everything you can to help it get back home asap if it accidentally gets loose.
Tag your dog.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Some People Should Not Have Dogs II
I suppose I must be overdue for a rant. This past week has provided me with three examples to fuel one.
First Example: Last week, a woman called a volunteer dog rescue line that I answer one day a week. She wanted to know who to call about the disappearance of a chipped dog. She seemed not to understand that unless a dog is found and scanned, a missing chipped dog is not different from a missing unchipped dog. Unless, of course, she had paid for an extra alert service along with the chip. But even so, a chip is not a GPS.
She then explained the situation further. She had two dogs: A Pit Bull and a Silky Terrier. She has repeatedly left these dogs out alone at night--in a semi-rural community! They've gone missing before, but have always "turned up" in the morning.
But this time, the Pit Bull returned, lathered and panting--evidently from running. But the Silky was nowhere to be seen. The woman was certain that her "valuable, papered, chipped" Silky had been stolen.
It took all my patience and restraint to suggest that 1. No dog should be left outside unattended at night where coyotes, owls and hawks might be expected to be hunting. 2. A toy dog belongs IN THE HOUSE except for needed, brief potty breaks under human supervision.
I encouraged her to post as many notices as possible and organize search parties. But I did suggest that there was evidence that her little dog had met foul play. I didn't say that the original foul play had been hers.
Example Two: A couple whose work involves constant travel, and who want their home to be spotlessly clean and orderly when they return to it, purchased an English Toy Spaniel from a pet store, in spite of being urged not to do so by a knowledgeable "dog person."
The ETS is now two years old, not reliably house trained, and is destructive of furniture and other household items.
Surprise, surprise, surprise.
A little research would have told them that even under ideal conditions, toy breeds--with the possible exception of Toy Poodles--are slow and difficult to house train. Think about it. These tiny creatures can duck behind a chair, scoot under a table, do the deed--which results in a small product, not immediately detectable--and walk away looking as innocent as the day they were born. And a lot cuter.
Add to that the fact that these breeds were developed for one purpose and one purpose only: human companionship.
What happens when a dog's purpose is totally frustrated?
IT BECOMES DESTRUCTIVE!
Now. If this couple had consulted a reputable breeder, they would have been further warned about the breed's characteristics. And if they had purchased from a reputable breeder, there would have been follow-up, and probably a gentle conversation resulting in the return of the poor dog to the breeder. But no such safety net is available for dogs purchased at pet stores.
Will there, can there be a happy ending for this little dog? I don't know. In my opinion, the only hope is for a rescue intervention. But, these are tough times for rescues of breeds with grooming requirements. (Yes. Brody STILL needs a forever home.) And there is always a question of even very unhappy, frustrated owners giving custody of a dog to a rescue when they have paid a thousand or more dollars for a dog.
Hint: You do NOT save money buying a dog from a pet store.
All paws are crossed.
Example Three: While on a quick trip to the vet's, I overheard a conversation between a man who had brought in his dog for treatment and the long-suffering receptionist who was responsible for receiving payment for said treatment.
One clue that he was not the most educated of dog owners was that he referred to his dog as an English Bull Dog. There are French Bull Dogs. But the breed commonly called English Bull Dog is actually named Bull Dog. If I had paid the going rate for a Bull Dog, I would be sure to call it by its proper name. But, perhaps, I'm being a little picky.
If the man had done research on Bull Dogs before acquiring one, he would have been forewarned that the breed is subject to physical problems requiring veterinary attention. I am sentimentally attracted to Bull Dogs, and if others in my family had shared my attraction, a Bull Dog might very well have become our family dog. But I know for a fact that it does not take much "due diligence" to discover that Bull Dogs can be costly to maintain in good health.
If I had been quoted the amount that the man was disputing, I would have been relieved. I felt sorry for the receptionist who was having to politely insist that the very reasonable charges did have to be paid.
Hint: If you are unwilling to sacrifice to maintain your dog in good health, you shouldn't get a dog. Before you acquire a pure bred dog, do adequate research. The AKC has a wonderful website with all sorts of resources and contacts for prospective dog owners. The internet is chuck full of breed-specific information.
There is an abundance of research confirming that having a dog in your life will make you healthier and happier. Your dog is totally dependent on you for all of its needs. If you can't or won't be a responsible dog guardian, Don't Get A Dog!
First Example: Last week, a woman called a volunteer dog rescue line that I answer one day a week. She wanted to know who to call about the disappearance of a chipped dog. She seemed not to understand that unless a dog is found and scanned, a missing chipped dog is not different from a missing unchipped dog. Unless, of course, she had paid for an extra alert service along with the chip. But even so, a chip is not a GPS.
She then explained the situation further. She had two dogs: A Pit Bull and a Silky Terrier. She has repeatedly left these dogs out alone at night--in a semi-rural community! They've gone missing before, but have always "turned up" in the morning.
But this time, the Pit Bull returned, lathered and panting--evidently from running. But the Silky was nowhere to be seen. The woman was certain that her "valuable, papered, chipped" Silky had been stolen.
It took all my patience and restraint to suggest that 1. No dog should be left outside unattended at night where coyotes, owls and hawks might be expected to be hunting. 2. A toy dog belongs IN THE HOUSE except for needed, brief potty breaks under human supervision.
I encouraged her to post as many notices as possible and organize search parties. But I did suggest that there was evidence that her little dog had met foul play. I didn't say that the original foul play had been hers.
Example Two: A couple whose work involves constant travel, and who want their home to be spotlessly clean and orderly when they return to it, purchased an English Toy Spaniel from a pet store, in spite of being urged not to do so by a knowledgeable "dog person."
The ETS is now two years old, not reliably house trained, and is destructive of furniture and other household items.
Surprise, surprise, surprise.
A little research would have told them that even under ideal conditions, toy breeds--with the possible exception of Toy Poodles--are slow and difficult to house train. Think about it. These tiny creatures can duck behind a chair, scoot under a table, do the deed--which results in a small product, not immediately detectable--and walk away looking as innocent as the day they were born. And a lot cuter.
Add to that the fact that these breeds were developed for one purpose and one purpose only: human companionship.
What happens when a dog's purpose is totally frustrated?
IT BECOMES DESTRUCTIVE!
Now. If this couple had consulted a reputable breeder, they would have been further warned about the breed's characteristics. And if they had purchased from a reputable breeder, there would have been follow-up, and probably a gentle conversation resulting in the return of the poor dog to the breeder. But no such safety net is available for dogs purchased at pet stores.
Will there, can there be a happy ending for this little dog? I don't know. In my opinion, the only hope is for a rescue intervention. But, these are tough times for rescues of breeds with grooming requirements. (Yes. Brody STILL needs a forever home.) And there is always a question of even very unhappy, frustrated owners giving custody of a dog to a rescue when they have paid a thousand or more dollars for a dog.
Hint: You do NOT save money buying a dog from a pet store.
All paws are crossed.
Example Three: While on a quick trip to the vet's, I overheard a conversation between a man who had brought in his dog for treatment and the long-suffering receptionist who was responsible for receiving payment for said treatment.
One clue that he was not the most educated of dog owners was that he referred to his dog as an English Bull Dog. There are French Bull Dogs. But the breed commonly called English Bull Dog is actually named Bull Dog. If I had paid the going rate for a Bull Dog, I would be sure to call it by its proper name. But, perhaps, I'm being a little picky.
If the man had done research on Bull Dogs before acquiring one, he would have been forewarned that the breed is subject to physical problems requiring veterinary attention. I am sentimentally attracted to Bull Dogs, and if others in my family had shared my attraction, a Bull Dog might very well have become our family dog. But I know for a fact that it does not take much "due diligence" to discover that Bull Dogs can be costly to maintain in good health.
If I had been quoted the amount that the man was disputing, I would have been relieved. I felt sorry for the receptionist who was having to politely insist that the very reasonable charges did have to be paid.
Hint: If you are unwilling to sacrifice to maintain your dog in good health, you shouldn't get a dog. Before you acquire a pure bred dog, do adequate research. The AKC has a wonderful website with all sorts of resources and contacts for prospective dog owners. The internet is chuck full of breed-specific information.
There is an abundance of research confirming that having a dog in your life will make you healthier and happier. Your dog is totally dependent on you for all of its needs. If you can't or won't be a responsible dog guardian, Don't Get A Dog!
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Walking Sight Hounds
Most Tuesday mornings, my friend, Marilyn, and I walk our hounds in a park not far from my house. I say "hounds" rather than "Greyhounds", because two of our dogs are of mixed heritage. Franklin, Marilyn's big male, has some indeterminate breed in his background. But he "thinks" he's a Greyhound and is a star of Show and Tells. My female, Magic, is all Sight Hound, but a blend of Greyhound and Scottish Deerhound. She looks a little like a "Wirehaired Greyhound", or as Greyhound Adoption Center says, she's a "Fuzzy".
The last two weeks' walks have offered the added interest and challenge of a Mallard couple who have found that grub hunting on the spacious lawns of the park is the way they want to spend their mornings. Sight Hounds aren't particularly "birdy", but they are wired to chase anything that moves. So our walks have involved turning all five dogs before they fix their attentions on the Mallards and become a pursuing pack.
Yesterday, as we were executing one of these avoidance maneuvers, an old Nemesis appeared to our left.
For months last year, we did battle with a man who brought his herding dog to the park and ran it off leash, causing our dogs to do everything in their power to pull free so that they could show that clunky herder what real running was all about.
Multiple phone calls to The Authorities, and a few face to face confrontations in front of the official sign that notifies dog walkers of the leash law in San Marcos finally convinced the herding dog's owner to leash him--on a retractable leash that technically still violated the law. But even this inadequate restraint gave Marilyn and me a chance to turn our dogs and avoid a serious incident.
Until yesterday, when the herding dog was off leash--and relatively close to our dogs. It was a formula for disaster. But miracle of miracles, the herding dog saw the Mallards before our dogs saw him. I had the distinctly mean-spirited pleasure of watching the herding dog's owner, "Mr. My Highly Trained Good Citizen Canine Always Obeys Me," running to catch up with his dog who was in hot pursuit of the Mallards.
I am still amazed that Bingley, who had been "on point" and trembling with the urge to run all morning, somehow failed to notice what was going on--just yards behind him. But sometimes, sight hounds' hard wiring works to my advantage. With Bingley it is really almost always the rule, "Out of sight, out of mind." He had found something else on which to focus. Who knows what? Perhaps a branch on a distant tree blowing in the wind. Or a plastic bag, floating far out of my range of vision. All I can say is, for once, he was not in the middle of the drama. What a relief!
The last two weeks' walks have offered the added interest and challenge of a Mallard couple who have found that grub hunting on the spacious lawns of the park is the way they want to spend their mornings. Sight Hounds aren't particularly "birdy", but they are wired to chase anything that moves. So our walks have involved turning all five dogs before they fix their attentions on the Mallards and become a pursuing pack.
Yesterday, as we were executing one of these avoidance maneuvers, an old Nemesis appeared to our left.
For months last year, we did battle with a man who brought his herding dog to the park and ran it off leash, causing our dogs to do everything in their power to pull free so that they could show that clunky herder what real running was all about.
Multiple phone calls to The Authorities, and a few face to face confrontations in front of the official sign that notifies dog walkers of the leash law in San Marcos finally convinced the herding dog's owner to leash him--on a retractable leash that technically still violated the law. But even this inadequate restraint gave Marilyn and me a chance to turn our dogs and avoid a serious incident.
Until yesterday, when the herding dog was off leash--and relatively close to our dogs. It was a formula for disaster. But miracle of miracles, the herding dog saw the Mallards before our dogs saw him. I had the distinctly mean-spirited pleasure of watching the herding dog's owner, "Mr. My Highly Trained Good Citizen Canine Always Obeys Me," running to catch up with his dog who was in hot pursuit of the Mallards.
I am still amazed that Bingley, who had been "on point" and trembling with the urge to run all morning, somehow failed to notice what was going on--just yards behind him. But sometimes, sight hounds' hard wiring works to my advantage. With Bingley it is really almost always the rule, "Out of sight, out of mind." He had found something else on which to focus. Who knows what? Perhaps a branch on a distant tree blowing in the wind. Or a plastic bag, floating far out of my range of vision. All I can say is, for once, he was not in the middle of the drama. What a relief!
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