Which dog is right for you?
My guess is that if you’re reading this, you’ve already made your selection and have your canine best friend at your side. Many, however, have decided that they’re interested in adopting a pet, but they’re not sure which one is right for them. Here’s a little friendly advice as you make your decision.
I give you the DoginBlog Four Ss of Dog Ownership:
1. Size
2. Shedding
3. Sportiness
4. Should I get a pure-bred or a mutt?
That last one was kind of tortured, I know. I couldn’t think of an S word that fit. Sue me!
Let’s start by talking about size. There are big dogs, tiny dogs, and everything in between. The size of your dog should be considered in light of the space you have available to accommodate him. (I know I always use “him” instead of “her” is my pronoun of choice in dog descriptions. That’s because, in my tiny mind, all dogs are boys and all cats are girls. Sexist? Perhaps. It’s just easier than warping the text to be gender neutral. If you have a female dog who is offended my canine chauvinism, I apologize profusely.)
If you’re an apartment dweller or have very little space in the backyard, a St. Bernard or a Great Dane wouldn’t be the wisest of choices. It also wouldn’t be fair to your dog. Consider his needs as much as you would consider your own. Tiny dogs don’t necessarily mean less responsibility, either. A small dog is more easily injured and can even be stepped on, whereas if you step on a German Shepherd, you’re the one who’s far more likely to be injured.
As part of size, you might also want to consider your dog’s age, too. Everyone imagines getting a puppy and going from there, but puppies need to be trained, and they require a lot more attention. Adult dogs have a track record and enough training to know what you’re getting yourself into. There are many, many wonderful adult dogs who need a good home, and if you’ve never owned a dog before, it might be a good idea to start out with a dog who knows what they’re doing better than you do.
Shedding seems like a silly qualifier, but it encompasses a good deal of what you’re going to be facing with this new addition to your home. You have to decide if you want a high-maintenance or a low-maintenance dog. Some dogs drool a lot; floppy-eared dogs are prone to ear infections. Do you want to be brushing a dog’s hair on a regular basis - or brushing that hair off of your couch? Don’t pick a dog if you can‘t deal with the consequences.
We’ll address the other two Ss in a future post…
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Monday, December 5, 2011
Gretel's Care Package
My mother refused to raise children in a home without a dog present. We had a succession of half a dozen canine companions throughout my growing-up years, beginning with Ishmael, ending with Cinder, and with Angel, Midnight, Gretel and Gremlin in between. Each of these guys had their own story worthy of several blog entries. There was also apparently a dachshund named Suzie who was before my time, so, in her case, I have no comment.
This memory focuses on Gretel, or, more specifically, on a Gretel by-product. Gretel, may she rest in peace, was a Bernese mountain dog and one of the most beautiful creatures ever to walk the face of the earth. She was also probably the sweetest and gentlest dog we ever had, and her time with us was altogether too short. She’s been gone for the better part of two decades, but I still miss her.
Back in the late 80s, I was living in Scotland for an extended period of time, and my mother would dutifully write real letters in that pre-Internet era and occasionally send a care package or two. On one occasion, I received a knitted scarf made by my mother’s own hand. Scarves were helpful in the cold Scottish weather, and I was grateful for the gift – until I smelled it.
The scarf was knitted out of yarn spun from Gretel’s sheddings.
Now don’t get me wrong. I loved that dog more than just about anything. But a scarf made out of dog hair still smells like – well, like dog hair. And in Scotland, where it rains every single day of the year and your scarf is bound to get soaking wet, the idea of having such an item that close to my nose was too horrible to contemplate.
There’s a reason that no perfume has been released under the label “Moist Dog Hair.”
I have no idea what happened to that scarf, and my relationship with both my mother and Gretel survived the exchange without incident. But the moral of the story is that if you want to send a care package to your son living overseas, I recommend cookies or breakfast cereal.
This memory focuses on Gretel, or, more specifically, on a Gretel by-product. Gretel, may she rest in peace, was a Bernese mountain dog and one of the most beautiful creatures ever to walk the face of the earth. She was also probably the sweetest and gentlest dog we ever had, and her time with us was altogether too short. She’s been gone for the better part of two decades, but I still miss her.
Back in the late 80s, I was living in Scotland for an extended period of time, and my mother would dutifully write real letters in that pre-Internet era and occasionally send a care package or two. On one occasion, I received a knitted scarf made by my mother’s own hand. Scarves were helpful in the cold Scottish weather, and I was grateful for the gift – until I smelled it.
The scarf was knitted out of yarn spun from Gretel’s sheddings.
Now don’t get me wrong. I loved that dog more than just about anything. But a scarf made out of dog hair still smells like – well, like dog hair. And in Scotland, where it rains every single day of the year and your scarf is bound to get soaking wet, the idea of having such an item that close to my nose was too horrible to contemplate.
There’s a reason that no perfume has been released under the label “Moist Dog Hair.”
I have no idea what happened to that scarf, and my relationship with both my mother and Gretel survived the exchange without incident. But the moral of the story is that if you want to send a care package to your son living overseas, I recommend cookies or breakfast cereal.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Just My Dog
He is my other eyes that can see above
the clouds; my other ears that hear above
the winds. He is the part of me that can
reach out into the sea.
He has told me a thousand times over that
I am his reason for being: by the way he
rests against my leg; by the way he thumps
his tail at my smallest smile; by the way he
shows his hurt when I leave without taking him.
(I think it makes him sick with worry when he
is not along to care for me.)
When I am wrong, he is delighted to forgive.
When I am angry, he clowns to make me smile.
When I am happy, he is joy unbounded.
When I am a fool, he ignores it.
When I succeed, he brags.
Without him, I am only another man. With him,
I am all-powerful.
He is loyalty itself.
He has taught me the meaning of devotion.
With him, I know a secret comfort and a
private peace. He has brought me understanding
where before I was ignorant.
His head on my knee can heal my human hurts.
His presence by my side is protection against
my fears of dark and unknown things.
He has promised to wait for me...
henever...wherever--in case I need him.
And I expect I will--as I always have.
He is just my dog.
- Gene Hill
the clouds; my other ears that hear above
the winds. He is the part of me that can
reach out into the sea.
He has told me a thousand times over that
I am his reason for being: by the way he
rests against my leg; by the way he thumps
his tail at my smallest smile; by the way he
shows his hurt when I leave without taking him.
(I think it makes him sick with worry when he
is not along to care for me.)
When I am wrong, he is delighted to forgive.
When I am angry, he clowns to make me smile.
When I am happy, he is joy unbounded.
When I am a fool, he ignores it.
When I succeed, he brags.
Without him, I am only another man. With him,
I am all-powerful.
He is loyalty itself.
He has taught me the meaning of devotion.
With him, I know a secret comfort and a
private peace. He has brought me understanding
where before I was ignorant.
His head on my knee can heal my human hurts.
His presence by my side is protection against
my fears of dark and unknown things.
He has promised to wait for me...
henever...wherever--in case I need him.
And I expect I will--as I always have.
He is just my dog.
- Gene Hill
Saturday, December 3, 2011
How To Eat A Cat
"Cats and dogs living together - mass hysteria!"
- Bill Murray, Ghostbusters, 1984
On a species-wide basis, there's no love lost between dogs and cats. I've discovered, too, that between pet owners, there's not a lot of crossover - you're either a dog person or a cat person, and never the twain shall meet.
Anyway, one of the more virulent cat haters I know brought to my attention a truly disturbing website, which I don't recommend for the faint of heart, because it shows graphic, hideous pictures of cats being skinned to be eaten. I won't provide the link, because it goes too far, but if you google "How to eat a cat," I'm pretty sure you'll be able to find it. The text of the site is pretty funny, but real-life pictures take the whole thing from the realm of the silly into the world of the hideous. I don't really want to skin cats and eat them, but I'm happy to joke about it. Perhaps that's an awkward line to draw, but that's where I am. I have two cats, personally, and while I'm happy to make morbid observations, I'd really rather they stayed alive, thank you very much.
Sites about eating cats might be good for a chuckle if you don't take them seriously.
For instance, I give you How to Make a Cat Tamale...
Friday, December 2, 2011
For the Dog Who Has Everything
It seems that, growing up, my lovely bride’s family always opened one present on Christmas Eve, something that was strictly verboten in our house. However, Santa Claus always left us pajamas to wear on Christmas morning, even though the need for new pajamas would have made more sense to leave them for us the night before.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Gabriel's Angels
Gabriel, a large gray Weimaraner from Phoenix, Arizona, died on May 17, 2010. He was 11 years old.
When a beloved pet dies, most of the world pays no attention. But Gabriel’s death prompted over 400 emails, several flower arrangements, and dozens of cards.
Gabriel was a therapy dog and the initial inspiration behind Gabriel’s Angels, a non-profit organization in Arizona that provides 150 dogs who comfort children in need in the Tucson and Phoenix areas.
Gabriel was adopted by Pam Gaber, who would entertain children from the Crisis Nursery in Phoenix with stories about the puppy’s shenanigans. Finally, Gaber decided to bring Gabriel to meet her friends, and she dressed him up as Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer for the occasion. The kids loved it, and so did Gabriel. He was a sweet-tempered dog who enjoyed all the attention that the children were happy to give him.
The concept of therapy dogs goes back to World War II, when a dog names Smoky was invited to visit patients in the famed Mayo Clinic. It wasn’t until 1976, however, when training for therapy dogs became regimented and use of them became more and more widespread in nursing homes and hospitals.
Gaber wanted to expand the reach of therapy dog programs, and she saw a particular need for Gabriel-style attention among abused and neglected children. Gabriel’s Angels now serves a wide variety of shelters, schools, treatment centers, and recreation programs. The program visits over 13,000 children every year in 100 facilities.
Therapy dogs have proven effective in helping children overcome any number of challenges, from emotional disorders to speech impediments. Children who fail to respond to traditional treatments often discover that unconditional canine acceptance provides the confidence and compassion necessary to overcome even the most daunting challenges.
Gabriel was especially good at his job. He dressed up as a biker in leather to wow the kids, or as leprechaun on St. Patrick’s Day. When he finally lost his bout with cancer, hundreds of children contacted Gaber to express their condolences and pay their final respects.
You can learn more about Gabriel’s Angels here:
When a beloved pet dies, most of the world pays no attention. But Gabriel’s death prompted over 400 emails, several flower arrangements, and dozens of cards.
Gabriel was a therapy dog and the initial inspiration behind Gabriel’s Angels, a non-profit organization in Arizona that provides 150 dogs who comfort children in need in the Tucson and Phoenix areas.
Gabriel was adopted by Pam Gaber, who would entertain children from the Crisis Nursery in Phoenix with stories about the puppy’s shenanigans. Finally, Gaber decided to bring Gabriel to meet her friends, and she dressed him up as Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer for the occasion. The kids loved it, and so did Gabriel. He was a sweet-tempered dog who enjoyed all the attention that the children were happy to give him.
The concept of therapy dogs goes back to World War II, when a dog names Smoky was invited to visit patients in the famed Mayo Clinic. It wasn’t until 1976, however, when training for therapy dogs became regimented and use of them became more and more widespread in nursing homes and hospitals.
Gaber wanted to expand the reach of therapy dog programs, and she saw a particular need for Gabriel-style attention among abused and neglected children. Gabriel’s Angels now serves a wide variety of shelters, schools, treatment centers, and recreation programs. The program visits over 13,000 children every year in 100 facilities.
Therapy dogs have proven effective in helping children overcome any number of challenges, from emotional disorders to speech impediments. Children who fail to respond to traditional treatments often discover that unconditional canine acceptance provides the confidence and compassion necessary to overcome even the most daunting challenges.
Gabriel was especially good at his job. He dressed up as a biker in leather to wow the kids, or as leprechaun on St. Patrick’s Day. When he finally lost his bout with cancer, hundreds of children contacted Gaber to express their condolences and pay their final respects.
You can learn more about Gabriel’s Angels here:
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Scratch Where You Itch
I was listening to a popular radio talk show where a woman was worried about making things right with her estranged husband. The host listened patiently and finally said, “Look, it’s very easy. Men are simple creatures – keep them fed, let them sleep, and give them lovin’ every once in awhile, and you’ll have a happy man.”
As a man myself, I consider that solid advice.
There’s a reason why dogs have become known as “Man’s Best Friend,” not “Woman’s Best Friend.” That reason is mostly sexism, but not entirely. I like to think it’s because men and dogs have way too much in common. Women are complicated and sophisticated, whereas men and dogs enjoy scratching and licking things that ought not be scratched or licked, except by trained professionals in laboratory conditions.
So thrilling your dog is not really a difficult thing to do.
If you doubt that, then try my patented dog-thrilling method. One of the first Laws of Doggism is that dogs will inevitable scratch any part of their body that they are capable of scratching. So to thrill your dog in ways that you never thought possible, all you have to do is scratch a dog in the one place that they cannot scratch themselves.
(No, not there. Dogs can scratch there.)
I’m talking about the spot on their back, right above their tails. That little tiny spot that connects the tail and tush and is out of reach to even the most nimble doggie leg. You’ll think you discovered a Tail Wagging Button, because the tail will begin to wag at the moment of first contact. If it doesn’t, there’s either something wrong with your dog or you’re scratching in the wrong place.
Ladies, that last sentence is also the best marital advice I could ever give you.
As a man myself, I consider that solid advice.
There’s a reason why dogs have become known as “Man’s Best Friend,” not “Woman’s Best Friend.” That reason is mostly sexism, but not entirely. I like to think it’s because men and dogs have way too much in common. Women are complicated and sophisticated, whereas men and dogs enjoy scratching and licking things that ought not be scratched or licked, except by trained professionals in laboratory conditions.
So thrilling your dog is not really a difficult thing to do.
If you doubt that, then try my patented dog-thrilling method. One of the first Laws of Doggism is that dogs will inevitable scratch any part of their body that they are capable of scratching. So to thrill your dog in ways that you never thought possible, all you have to do is scratch a dog in the one place that they cannot scratch themselves.
(No, not there. Dogs can scratch there.)
I’m talking about the spot on their back, right above their tails. That little tiny spot that connects the tail and tush and is out of reach to even the most nimble doggie leg. You’ll think you discovered a Tail Wagging Button, because the tail will begin to wag at the moment of first contact. If it doesn’t, there’s either something wrong with your dog or you’re scratching in the wrong place.
Ladies, that last sentence is also the best marital advice I could ever give you.
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