Posted on 03/08/2021 6:48:18 PM PST by MinorityRepublican
What was Joe thinking—that the dog was a female Secret Service agent?
Yes, and for each good, there is a disaster. Never mind the racket for the last several decades of “adoption”/“rescue” (I actually rescued a kitten from a very weird abusive situation, but that did not involve any middlemen).
Truth is you just don’t know the parents, the upbringing, if any, the environment. Or how many.
It’s not a matter of bravado. “If I can handle it then I’m good and better.” The point should be to get a good animal and minimize problems for family and neighbors. Joy, not challenge.
Knowing the dam at least and the breeder’s environment gives one a huge advantage that is good, not a mark against the owner. Wise picks of character from baby animals. One can mold the animal more easily the way one thinks it should be, than risking an animal with baggage.
I have a cat right now who is my personal first true baggage background, but he is younger and seems to have been brought up very well. Again, no middlemen...just my nephew picked him off the streets and he had too many cats to start.
Bottom line...I handled several purebred German Shepherds from breeders as puppies. No problem.
mental cases raised by mental cases
A neighbor of ours had a Golden Retriever that shredded a cat to pieces in their back yard. This was shocking, to say the least.
:(
I spent many youthful, wonderful days trailing Beagle packs and blissful nights running after Coonhounds.
Hounds are made to function autonomously and that makes them less “biddable” than breeds created to look to their people for direction.
They’re special that way and I love that about them.
:)
When I was a military dependent living on a small Naval Communications Station near Andrews AFB as a 14 year old, there was a really cute girl (She was out of my league and age range, but she had nearly every guy following her around)
Her father was either a Chief or a Warrant Officer (I can’t remember which) and he raised beagles. He kept several dozen of them in a fenced in enclosure that went around a water tower on the base, and she had to go down each day with buckets of dog chow to feed them.
I just wanted to find a way to go with her, so I offered to carry the buckets of dog chow the several hundred yards from her house...adolescent boys are really so easily manipulated...:) Of course, being no fool, she readily agreed with a flirtatious smile at this young, gorky guy with BCD (Birth Control Device) black plastic glasses!
What I remember most is, nearly as soon as we began walking down there, there was no way they could have seen us coming, but they began baying, howling, and yodeling wildly in an insane chorus! It was incredible!
As I think of it now, I wonder if they somehow smelled the dog chow, or if they heard the screen door...I don’t know, but you could hear it all over the base!
They can hear and smell things a mile away, easily.
Few things are as beautiful as the belling of hounds.
Though my last Ibizan Hound passed away almost 2 years ago, my current Dobe was “raised” by her and even now, when he starts an alarm/alert bark, sometimes he “channels his inner hound” and begins with a bay, instead.
It’s funny to see him stop like “Where the hell did *that* come from??”
When I leave the room, he howls and sounds like a one-Dober-man pack of mournful hounds, a’baying.
Nature and nurture collides...he has an “accent”.
:)
I have two dogs...both BC's.
One is named Chip the other is named Pecos.
They don't take my last name!! They are not known by my last name. They are dogs...Not my boys or girls.
Hillary knew it....
They are neck deep corrupt...as hell.
Had people murdered....I'm of no doubt.
Hahahaha...that’s funny.
I was just reading the James Herriot veterinary series, and in one of the stories, he talks about two champion border collies who were best friends, raised together, and lived on the farm together. Then, the farmer sold one of the dogs leaving only one.
The remaining dog ended up having epilepsy, which not ended his career, but the crusty farmer who had no use for pets...well...he kept the dog as a pet.
When they were diagnosing him, the owner said “Funny thing, that dog has never made a sound in his entire life. Never barked, not even once.” The vet was amazed if that was true.
Anyway, they ended up at a fair some months or years later, where there was a sheepdog competition, and while his dog couldn’t compete, the one they sold to another farmer was competing.
The Vet just happened to be there, and they sat in chairs watching the trials and as their former dog appeared with its owner, the owners saw the dog and knew it was their former dog, but they didn’t think their dog would remember it.
As the dog began its trial, their own dog saw it, and sat up straight in rapt attention, as only border collies seem able to do in that way, it’s eyes fixed on his former pal.
When his former pal ran by with the sheep, the dog let out one lone, single, “Woof!”
Everybody turned to stare at the dog!
I love that story.
I was at a trial some years back, and there were people with their border collies sitting on the side watching, and every time the sheep came by with a competing dog, they all did the same thing: They literally trembled with intense, unblinking concentration, and as the dog and sheep passed, they would crouch involuntarily and shake as if they were going to explode!
Sigh. I love dogs. I hope I get to have another one before I go.
I really hope you do, too.
I can feel the ache and emptiness in your words.
{{{hugs}}}
LOL, don’t be too generous! I have two cats that would take issue if they knew I was pining for a dog!
That’s pretty cool the dog learned an accent.
I will however say that there’s some days you just want to throttle them when they’re whining or otherwise using the real high pitch bay to annoy the ever loving heck out of you and you ask yourself if you love them enough lol.
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