Post by RealPitBull on Jan 14, 2008 15:38:10 GMT -5
No bull — there’s good and bad dogs
By Rick Methot
Lebanon Daily News
www.ldnews.com/columns/ci_7968089
“Blackie,” “Skip,” “Gypsy,” “Schaefer,” “Mick,” “Blue,” “Jake,” “Jock,” “Riley,” “Gunny,” “Bailey.”
Those, in somewhat chronological order, are the names of the dogs in my life, all gone to that big fire hydrant in the sky except for the Gunster, who is still with us after nine years, and Bailey, of whom we probably have official custody after four years — my daughter’s dog but not allowed in her apartment.
Beagles, bird dogs and mutts — my kind of company.
I detest cats but tolerate those owned by friends or relatives, barely. My spinster aunts harbored a herd of cats, and their house reeked of foul felines. I used to brace myself on my long-ago visits en-route to deer camp when I had to go through Wilkes-Barre, back before the bypass was built. They always offered sherry and pastry. I tried to ignore the cats, sinister little beasts.
It’s tough to pick the best of the
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dog bunch, but Riley stands out. He was a gentle lug of a black Labrador the kids grew up with. The poor guy died of a cancer in his 13th year. Gunny is tops of the three Brittanys I’ve owned, or vice versa. Never heard him growl in nine years. He’s sweet and gentle as the Lab but death on pheasants. He’s my road-trip pal and deer-camp buddy. Bailey is the house mutt, my daughter’s homeless mix rescued from the mean streets of Dover, Del. The troubled pup-hood sometimes shows. She lives for food and has been known to growl, at cats, squirrels and if Gunny tries to steal her chew toy. Bailey is a shepherd-beagle mix, we think, and her soulful look is usually upward at the kitchen table or counter, ever hopeful of a fallen or offered tidbit.
I figure I have one more dog in me if I outlast Gunny. I train my own bird dogs from pups, and it takes a lot of time and patience. A friend lost his Brit last year to old age and says he wants to buy a “started” dog rather than a puppy. That means the animal has been worked over birds and responds to basic commands. It’ll cost him $1,200 compared to $750 for an 8-week-old pup. My wife is on the fence about another dog once Bailey and Gunny are out of the picture. That’s owing to the dog-hair factor, which is part of the house décor. Plus it does put a crimp on travel plans for extended periods. I hate leaving the dogs in a kennel for a couple of weeks. I say, “one more.” She says, “we’ll see.”
But she still pines for old Riley, so think I can make the pitch.
I once saw a cartoon, probably in The New Yorker — which I usually only read in the dentist’s office, for the cartoons — showing a couple of canines meeting on the street. The caption was, “Hi, my name’s Bad Dog, what’s yours?”
So, what happens when “good dogs” go “bad?”
We’re probably to blame, or genetics. There is only one reason a dog will stay in the same room with you, sleep at your feet or be happy to see you — trust.
It means the dog knows he or she is not going to get whupped or otherwise abused. A stern “bad dog!” will cause the animal to slink and sulk perhaps, but the animal will get over it — it’ll take longer for the females, in my experience with dogs and other partners.
We’ve had dogs in the news here at home, not warm and fuzzy stories.
To wit: A pit bull attacked one of those little dust-mop critters and chomped down hard enough to break its back. The little one had to be put to sleep. The pit-bull owners face charges and no doubt a lawsuit.
A German shepherd named “Congo” (sound friendly?) is on a stay of execution since an attack on landscapers arriving to work a Princeton estate. The dog was ruled “vicious” and ordered to be euthanized. The case is in appeal. Insurance settled for $250,000 for the landscapers, who the dog owners say ignored warnings to stay in their truck while the dogs were out. “Congo” had a posse of his own kind with him.
Last year, just down the street, a 2-year-old toddler got mauled and bitten by a pit bull.
Mom and Dad owned the pit bull, a house pet. The police said the place was covered with blood. The little girl barely survived. She needed, and will need more, plastic surgery. The cur attacked her face, for no apparent reason.
A dog across the street is a rescue-mission animal. Barked like the devil himself until the next-door neighbor complained to the coppers. The dog is now inside but attacked a down-the-street neighbor walking his little Jack Russell and broke the wrist of the owner’s wife trying to intervene.
Bad dogs?
I don’t know. However, think of the term “pit bull.” This does not conjure up images of something named “Sparky” curled up at the foot of your child’s bed.
Again — “pit-bull” — fights, blood, death.
These are terriers — they bite and hang on. I don’t want a lot of e-mails from pit-bull lovers, but the neighbors thought they had a friendly dog. Not so.
It’s in a pit bull’s genes, in my opinion, to eventually snap and attack.
Rottweilers are their partners in crime on the rogue Rover watch.
The breeds have a “potentially vicious” rap sheet.
But owners of same swear their pets are lovable and loyal.
So did the folks at the end of the street — until their daughter was nearly mauled to death.
Want a “good” dog?
Buy a Labrador or a Brittany.
Pleasant pooches.
——————
Methot can be reached at:
rikwrite@aol.com
By Rick Methot
Lebanon Daily News
www.ldnews.com/columns/ci_7968089
“Blackie,” “Skip,” “Gypsy,” “Schaefer,” “Mick,” “Blue,” “Jake,” “Jock,” “Riley,” “Gunny,” “Bailey.”
Those, in somewhat chronological order, are the names of the dogs in my life, all gone to that big fire hydrant in the sky except for the Gunster, who is still with us after nine years, and Bailey, of whom we probably have official custody after four years — my daughter’s dog but not allowed in her apartment.
Beagles, bird dogs and mutts — my kind of company.
I detest cats but tolerate those owned by friends or relatives, barely. My spinster aunts harbored a herd of cats, and their house reeked of foul felines. I used to brace myself on my long-ago visits en-route to deer camp when I had to go through Wilkes-Barre, back before the bypass was built. They always offered sherry and pastry. I tried to ignore the cats, sinister little beasts.
It’s tough to pick the best of the
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Advertisement
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
dog bunch, but Riley stands out. He was a gentle lug of a black Labrador the kids grew up with. The poor guy died of a cancer in his 13th year. Gunny is tops of the three Brittanys I’ve owned, or vice versa. Never heard him growl in nine years. He’s sweet and gentle as the Lab but death on pheasants. He’s my road-trip pal and deer-camp buddy. Bailey is the house mutt, my daughter’s homeless mix rescued from the mean streets of Dover, Del. The troubled pup-hood sometimes shows. She lives for food and has been known to growl, at cats, squirrels and if Gunny tries to steal her chew toy. Bailey is a shepherd-beagle mix, we think, and her soulful look is usually upward at the kitchen table or counter, ever hopeful of a fallen or offered tidbit.
I figure I have one more dog in me if I outlast Gunny. I train my own bird dogs from pups, and it takes a lot of time and patience. A friend lost his Brit last year to old age and says he wants to buy a “started” dog rather than a puppy. That means the animal has been worked over birds and responds to basic commands. It’ll cost him $1,200 compared to $750 for an 8-week-old pup. My wife is on the fence about another dog once Bailey and Gunny are out of the picture. That’s owing to the dog-hair factor, which is part of the house décor. Plus it does put a crimp on travel plans for extended periods. I hate leaving the dogs in a kennel for a couple of weeks. I say, “one more.” She says, “we’ll see.”
But she still pines for old Riley, so think I can make the pitch.
I once saw a cartoon, probably in The New Yorker — which I usually only read in the dentist’s office, for the cartoons — showing a couple of canines meeting on the street. The caption was, “Hi, my name’s Bad Dog, what’s yours?”
So, what happens when “good dogs” go “bad?”
We’re probably to blame, or genetics. There is only one reason a dog will stay in the same room with you, sleep at your feet or be happy to see you — trust.
It means the dog knows he or she is not going to get whupped or otherwise abused. A stern “bad dog!” will cause the animal to slink and sulk perhaps, but the animal will get over it — it’ll take longer for the females, in my experience with dogs and other partners.
We’ve had dogs in the news here at home, not warm and fuzzy stories.
To wit: A pit bull attacked one of those little dust-mop critters and chomped down hard enough to break its back. The little one had to be put to sleep. The pit-bull owners face charges and no doubt a lawsuit.
A German shepherd named “Congo” (sound friendly?) is on a stay of execution since an attack on landscapers arriving to work a Princeton estate. The dog was ruled “vicious” and ordered to be euthanized. The case is in appeal. Insurance settled for $250,000 for the landscapers, who the dog owners say ignored warnings to stay in their truck while the dogs were out. “Congo” had a posse of his own kind with him.
Last year, just down the street, a 2-year-old toddler got mauled and bitten by a pit bull.
Mom and Dad owned the pit bull, a house pet. The police said the place was covered with blood. The little girl barely survived. She needed, and will need more, plastic surgery. The cur attacked her face, for no apparent reason.
A dog across the street is a rescue-mission animal. Barked like the devil himself until the next-door neighbor complained to the coppers. The dog is now inside but attacked a down-the-street neighbor walking his little Jack Russell and broke the wrist of the owner’s wife trying to intervene.
Bad dogs?
I don’t know. However, think of the term “pit bull.” This does not conjure up images of something named “Sparky” curled up at the foot of your child’s bed.
Again — “pit-bull” — fights, blood, death.
These are terriers — they bite and hang on. I don’t want a lot of e-mails from pit-bull lovers, but the neighbors thought they had a friendly dog. Not so.
It’s in a pit bull’s genes, in my opinion, to eventually snap and attack.
Rottweilers are their partners in crime on the rogue Rover watch.
The breeds have a “potentially vicious” rap sheet.
But owners of same swear their pets are lovable and loyal.
So did the folks at the end of the street — until their daughter was nearly mauled to death.
Want a “good” dog?
Buy a Labrador or a Brittany.
Pleasant pooches.
——————
Methot can be reached at:
rikwrite@aol.com