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Black Dogs: Danger…or Menace?

Posted in Humor, Sleeping Between Giants, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , on December 18, 2015| Leave a Comment »

By Dave Jaffe

Black dogs tend to be passed over for adoption because they are associated with evil. Yet studies have proved that relatively few actively worship Satan.

This Black Dog Syndrome, as it’s known to its advocates, would have black-furred shelter dogs adopted less quickly than lighter colored ones. Despite strong anecdotal evidence from animal shelters that this stigma is real, Science has yet to be convinced.

“Controlled tests need to be conducted,” insists Science in that high-pitched, nasaly voice that makes you want to push its head in the toilet. “If it can’t be measured, then I can’t build an app and make money. And this research crap is killin’ me! You know how old my car is?”

Yes sir, right down deep in the toilet!

At the root of this supposed phenomenon is a diversity of conflicting explanations; Black dogs are shunned by the superstitious. Films and television portray them as vicious. A black dog killed my parents.

Watching, waiting, plotting, Budleigh knows that eventually...eventually we have to sleep.

Watching, waiting, plotting, Budleigh knows that eventually…eventually we have to sleep.

However, just as compelling is evidence that suggests coat color is only a minor consideration of dog adopters. Shelter dogs are adopted in nearly equal numbers whether their coats are black, light, brindle or, as in one study, transparent – that from a survey group which “thought it would be cool to watch blood circulate.” NOTE: Those last results were never replicated and that group was hurriedly ushered from the test facility, their names forwarded to the National Security Administration.

So how does one know if a black dog would be a good choice? To determine that, let us leave the realm of the analytic and focus our attention on an area of study I call “me”.

Last year when we first met Budleigh, our vicious, Satan-worshipping, parent-killing terrier thing, I was unaware of the stigma surrounding black dogs. Kelly, the lovely lady who runs the homeless animal shelter, praised this smart, social little fellow while he vibrated around the room, occasionally passing through solid objects. During our conversation Kelly mentioned that such dogs as Budleigh can be difficult to place. I asked why.

“Well first, because he’s black.”

“Ah HAH!” I snapped, nodding with Anderson Cooper clarity. “Isn’t that just typical of The Man?”

“Sorry?” said Kelly, puzzled.

“Well, it’s just like Ferguson. And Selma.”

“Oh…heh!” Cautiously, Kelly edged herself between me and Budleigh.

I felt the conversation coming unmoored, and tried to clarify without actually explaining.

“I mean, you see it in the news, right? People protesting. And they should! Not just on CNN. I watch all the coverage, of course. Because I’m fair. Oh, and balanced! Very, very balanced.”

I was like a man at a dinner party who confidently leaps into a debate on gun control, or religious persecution, or why Donald Trump’s a dick only to realize, late, that the topic is Justin Bieber.

And from Kelly’s tight but polite smile I suspected that I wasn’t getting a dog of any color.

“Anyway, my point is that he’s a very, very talent singer, but troubled,” I concluded. “Soooo…back to dogs.”

“Yes,” she said. “I was saying that black dogs aren’t as popular as the light ones. Also this little guy’s a terrier. And they’re a handful.”

“A terrier?” I gushed. “I love terriers! Terriers are wonderful!”

Some of my best friends are terriers! For God’s sake, mouth, don’t say it! Don’t!

“I’ll take him, Kelly. Wrap ‘em up!”

There are many advantages of a black terrier, none of which benefit their owner.

Chief among a terrier’s assets is stealth, just after teeth, speed, cunning, intelligence, stubbornness, and what passes for “adorable”. So stealthy is this breed that, according to the US Department of Homeland Security, every American is under constant covert scrutiny by as many as 17 terriers, all hoping their subject will turn into a rabbit.

Our formerly alive terrier Oxford, Budleigh’s predecessor, used stealth the way a seascape painter works with blue. He would shimmer into a room, take on the color of his surroundings, and sit quietly for weeks until I set down my toast. Then he’d evaporate, along with the toast and my fingers up to the knuckle.

Budleigh’s black fur renders him a far more effective operative. He’s all but invisible in photographs. Shot against a black attaché, the viewer sees only a black attaché with delightful little white paws. With eyes closed, his head becomes a featureless black ovoid much like the acid-spewing Alien, only with more teeth. Walking him at night, I hold a leash attached to a murky darkness that pees a lot.

Budleigh is Dracula. And his Prince of Darkness shtick is really pissing off the townspeople.

GIANT TOWNSPERSON 1: “Hon, I can’t find Budleigh. Have you seen him anywhere?”

BUDLEIGH: “Hi!”

GIANT TOWNSPERSON 2: “No, but I’ve been here folding laundry. Is he under the bed?”

GIANT TOWNSPERSON 1: “Hard to say. It’s dark as a Chilean mine. Budleigh! Budleigh boy!”

BUDLEIGH: “Am I under there?”

GIANT TOWNSPERSON 1: “I can’t see him. Torches! We need torches!”

GIANT TOWNSPERSON 2: “Or maybe just a flashlight and peanut butter?”

GIANT TOWNSPERSON 1: “And crosses!”

BUDLEIGH: “Can you see me? I can see you!”

GIANT TOWNSPERSON 1: “OK, he’s not under the bed. And he’s not outside and he’s not shut in any rooms. So where….?”

GIANT TOWNSPERSON 2: “Dave, is that pile of black yoga pants wagging.”

GIANT TOWNSPERSON 1: “Budleigh! Has he been lying here all this time?”

BUDLEIGH: “I could have taken your toast! Also your fingers up to the knuckle.”

###

Where’s Waldog?? There he is!

Where’s Waldog?? There he is!

Got some extra holiday money burning a hole in your pocket? Make a donation to the wonderful folks at Tails of Hope, a no-kill, non-profit animal rescue and adoption organization, and Budleigh’s alma mater.

This article is part of “Sleeping Between Giants”, a new series of columns on the Write Good!: The Blog blog.

Sleeping Between Giants explores life – if you can call it that – with a terrier.

Your feedback is welcome, probably. dj

Permission to re-use this material for non-commercial purposes is granted provided that Dave Jaffe, www.writegoodtheblog.com, is appropriately credited as the author and source. Please feel free to link to this page.

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Poisoning your Dog: A Thanksgiving Primer

Posted in Humor, Sleeping Between Giants, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 25, 2015| Leave a Comment »

By Dave Jaffe

With all the dangers to pets posed by ingesting turkey skin, chocolates, raisins, sweets, and other holiday fare, it’s a wonder that dogs celebrate Thanksgiving at all.

Yet Thanksgiving is a joyous holiday for dogs, one that dates back to the harvest feast of 1621 in Plymouth when members of the Mashpee Wampanoag tribe – or Native Americans – broke bread with Puritan settlers – or Immigrants-Who-Decided-They-Were-Now-The-Native-Americans. During the historical confusion, much of that broken bread fell on the floor and was quickly consumed by Non-Partisan dogs who wondered why everyone was shouting.

Like many dogs, Budleigh acquires table scraps by keeping a low profile.

Like many dogs, Budleigh acquires table scraps by keeping a low profile.

Dogs are primarily carnivores, or “meat eaters”, unlike humans who are omnivores, or “prone to heart attacks”. While dogs thrive best on a meat-based diet, they are naturally drawn to anything that is peanut-butter-shaped and will eat almost any food. Also any packaging materials. Oh, and bras.

Humans have been feeding table scrapes to canines since Prehistoric Man first lost a hand. Having learned nothing from that, many continue the practice, especially at the holidays and much to the detriment of dogs.

The list of common Thanksgiving foods that can be harmful to dogs is easily available online or through your veterinarian. As a precaution during the holidays, have the phone number for Animal Poison Control readily available. Ask for Jeremy.

The best way to safeguard your pet from ingesting unhealthy foods is to keep him away from Uncle Max.

GIANT ONE: “Uncle Max, please don’t feed table scraps to Budleigh. They can make him sick.”

GIANT MAX: “Since when are chocolate-covered turkey skin raisins bad for dogs?”

BUDLEIGH: “I love you!”

GIANT ONE: “Actually, Max, those can be very dangerous.”

GIANT MAX: “Nonsense! My second, fourth and eleventh dogs were raised on table scraps.”

BUDLEIGH: “Can I have your bra?”

Especially in homes with multiple dogs, guests should be warned to guard their unattended hors d’oeuvres, drinks, and purses. Dogs like Brisby, our innocent schnoodle, and Budleigh, our thug, cooperate in packs much the way Dickens’ street urchins work in organized crime syndicates.

GIANT FAGIN: “And what ’ave you brought for me, my dears?”

BRISBY: “A bit of ham, sir.”

GIANT FAGIN: (Looking about comically) “Where is it?”

BRISBY: “Where’s what, sir?”

GIANT FAGIN: “The bit of ham, my dear!”

BRISBY: “Don’t know what you mean, sir.”

GIANT FAGIN: “The ham! You said you nicked a bit o’ ham.”

BRISBY: “Oh, that! Well….don’t know what you mean, sir.”

GIANT FAGIN: (Sighing) “And what have you, young Budleigh, my fine terrier?

BUDLEIGH: “Are you gonna finish your bra?”

To a dog unaccustomed to crowds, the stress from a sudden houseful of guests can also be toxic, especially if they’re your family. Keep pets from becoming overexcited by providing them a safe, comforting sanctuary such as a separate room or their crate. Firmly caution guests away by posting a small sign on the door reminding them that “He’s Rabid!!” Even then, your dog might require further protection.

GIANT ONE: “Uncle Max, let Budleigh’s crate alone and come watch the Bears game.”

GIANT MAX: “Where’s th’ dog. Swear ta’ God, there’s a dog in there.”

GIANT TWO: “Nope, we don’t have a dog. Come have another drink.”

GIANT MAX: “Hey, Doooog!”

GIANT TWO: “Max, Budleigh needs his space and his quiet.”

GIANT MAX: “But he’s so much like my third, seventh, eighth and fourteenth dogs. (Begins sobbing.) He’s my bes’ little go’damn friend.”

BUDLEIGH: “Hey, I’m trying to sleep in here! Can you give him a bra, or something?”

###

This article is part of “Sleeping Between Giants”, a new series of columns on the Write Good!: The Blog blog.

Sleeping Between Giants will explore life – if you can call it that – with a terrier.

Your feedback is welcome, probably. dj

Permission to re-use this material for non-commercial purposes is granted provided that Dave Jaffe, www.writegoodtheblog.com, is appropriately credited as the author and source. Please feel free to link to this page.

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A Night in the Box: Crate Training the Convict Dog

Posted in Humor, Sleeping Between Giants, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 16, 2015| 3 Comments »

By Dave Jaffe

How different the rules for crate training a dog would be had the Constitution of the United States been signed by Thomas Jefferson’s hound, Monroe Doctrine.

JEFFERSON: “Good and reasonable gentlemen, with the signing of this treatise we forthrightly express the unity of Americans to cast off the oppressive collar that is the tyranny of Britain!”

FOUNDING FATHER PERSONS: “Hear-Hear!”

JEFFERSON: (Stoops to affectionately cradle sleeping dog’s head) “And also cast off the oppressive collar that Monty’s wearing. Who’s a GOOD boy? You’re not a tyrant! No, you’re not! Oh, no you’re not!”

BEN FRANKLIN: (Quietly to John Adams) “Has he had any sleep?”

ADAMS: “I’ll get him more coffee.”

JEFFERSON: “Ohhhh, Monty’s a GOOD American! Go fetch the quill! Can you get the quill?”

Crate training can be a very effective way to acclimate a new pet to your home. The method works better with dogs than, say, fish due to the porous nature of the bars. First-time puppy owners are sometimes reticent to crate train, thinking it cruel. However, dogs tend to take well to crates because by their natural instincts they are “den-dwelling” animals rather than “seed-bearing” or “conservative-leaning.”

Properly implemented, crate training provides your pooch with its own safe, secure, well-defined space from which it can control its vast, off-shore financial empire. A crate also aids in housetraining, as dogs are averse to soiling their den – a stimulus-response reaction behavioral scientists refer to as “shitting and pissing all over themselves.”

Patience and consistency are the most effective approaches to crate training. Also, the crate should always be associated with something pleasant for your pup – a soft towel or blanket covering the floor, a favorite toy, small food treats, cable.

Never, never use the crate as a punishment because:
a. Who the Hell do you think you are! And,
b. Get out!

We’ve enjoyed great success crate training our succession of dogs. As a puppy, Oxford, our formerly alive, bunny-killing terrier mutt, quickly took to the crate kept downstairs in the kitchen. But that changed when he realized life was more fulfilling upstairs in our bed, which had been true until he joined us.

Brisby, our good-hearted schnoodle also known as Saint Brisby of the Martyred Bunnies, would have stayed in his crate forever, locking himself in at night then tossing the keys onto the kitchen table. But the inequity troubled me, so when he came of an age he joined Oxford, who grudgingly relinquished the northeastern-most corner of our bed, an area referred to as Sinai.

With Budleigh, our year-old rescue dog who chiefly is constructed of bits and pieces from unpopular terrier breeds, I planned to get this crate training just right. I know nothing of Budleigh’s past. We adopted him from a shelter after police in Waukegan, Illinois picked him up on the streets, charging him with shoplifting and prostitution.

Budleigh doing a 3-to-5-year stretch. Or 21-to-35 in dog years.

Budleigh doing a 3-to-5-year stretch. Or 21-to-35 in dog years.

Within our safe place Budleigh would have a safe place of his own. His Fortress of Solitude with a rubber bone. The Bat Cave featuring a faded pink blankie. Switzerland behind skinny, little bars.

We named it The Budleigh Box.

As a humorist writing a dog blog I meet a lot of convicts. They all confide that the first night in The Big House is the hardest.

When that cell door slams behind you, your life is over, they say. You’re just another number wearing a rabies tag with yet another number. And maybe an ID chip. You know, in case you get lost?

Help transition your new dog to a crate through a series of small, gentle steps, the first of which is to figure out how to put the crate together. This represents an excellent bonding opportunity between Canine and Giant.

GIANT 1: “Is this the bottom panel? I think this is the bottom panel.”

GIANT 2: “No, that’s the top or a side. Or maybe just packaging.”

BUDLEIGH: “Can I eat this?”

GIANT 1: “Aren’t these supposed to snap into place? I heard no snap.”

GIANT 2: “There was definitely a snap. Or a snappish kind of click.”

BUDLEIGH: “I’m just gonna eat this!”

GIANT 1: “Well, was it a click, like a bat’s echolocation system, or a snap, like when the Alien’s teeth tear through a space helmet?”

GIANT 2: “Dave, I don’t know what that means. No one knows what that means!”

BUDLEIGH: “I’m eating this!”

GIANT 1: “The top panel connects with a black rubber strap. Where’s the strap?”

GIANTS 1 & 2: “Budleigh! NOOO!”

BUDLEIGH: “Definitely a click.”

Terriers are naturally inquisitive, even those that have been convicted. Once the Budleigh Box’s structural integrity was secured and the Chicago building inspectors paid off, Budleigh climbed in to explore his new space. When he flopped down for a nap, I closed the door but stayed nearby to keep an eye on him.

Brisby also kept tabs on Budleigh. Having long ago graduated from a crate, Brisby now served as a prison trustee, wheeling his library cart past Budleigh’s cell and preaching The Word of the Lord.

All day, Budleigh seemed very comfortable in his crate, coming and going in accordance with the terms of his work-release agreement. At bedtime, he climbed in without complaint and, with visiting hours concluded, the rest of us headed upstairs to bed.

Whining is a common practice by dogs to test your resolve. In that way they are much like telemarketers. The challenge comes in knowing how long to ignore them and when to give them your credit card number.

GIANT 1: “Hon, he’s crying.”

GIANT 2: “That’s a car alarm, Dave.”

GIANT 1: “Nonsense! How could he set off a car alarm? He’s too small. He has no thumbs. He’s locked in a dank, rat-infested Hell hole. How long is this torture to go on?”

GIANT 2: “Listen! It’s stopped. Budleigh’s fine. So is the car.”

GIANT 1: “Wait! You hear that? That’s definitely a dog crying.”

GIANT 2: “That’s the NCIS opening theme. We’re watching NCIS. They also play a kind of warble before commercials. That also won’t be a dog crying.”

GIANT 1: “Unless he warbles when he cries. I’m going to check on him.”

GIANT 2: “Dave, he’s been in his crate six minutes. Do not disturb that dog!”

After the other giant had fallen asleep I snuck out of bed. She was awake when I returned.

GIANT 2: “Is that Budleigh?”

GIANT 1: “No, no! I checked on him, but he was asleep. This is just a big piece of chocolate cake with white frosting on the paws and the chest.”

GIANT 2: “You woke a sleeping puppy and brought him up to our bed?”

GIANT 1: “I was worried he’d warble.”

Crate training was going to be tricky.
###

This article is part of “Sleeping Between Giants”, a new series of columns on the Write Good!: The Blog blog.

Sleeping Between Giants will explore life – if you can call it that – with a terrier.

Your feedback is welcome, probably. dj

Permission to re-use this material for non-commercial purposes is granted provided that Dave Jaffe, www.writegoodtheblog.com, is appropriately credited as the author and source. Please feel free to link to this page.

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Halloween and the Hound from…if Not Hell, then Nearby

Posted in Humor, Sleeping Between Giants, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 29, 2015| 4 Comments »

By Dave Jaffe

While Halloween is a whimsical time for children, it can be disquieting for dogs and even more troubling for dog owners unaccustomed to working with the violent criminally insane.

Halloween spending this year is expected to reach $6.9 billion dollars, according to a survey by the National Retail Federation. Of that, the NRF release states, nearly $350 million will be spent on “fashionable and fun costumes” for pets.

As a dog owner, let me clarify for the NRF. Dogs don’t consider any costume “fashionable and fun” unless it smells like it’s already passed through them once or twice, if you know what I mean. And I hope you don’t.

Halloween-costumes FINAL

Dogs don’t really enjoy wearing costumes, even those constructed mostly of tuna. This aversion dates back to prehistoric times when Early Neanderthal hunters would lure prey using Early Wolf cubs wrapped in bacon, until Early Wolf mother heard about it. Then that was the end of Neanderthal.

Today’s domesticated canines are more tolerant of wearing costumes, once you get the hood past their snapping teeth. However, a dog’s acceptance of a costume chiefly depends on whether or not they’re a terrier.

Budleigh is our one-year-old rescue dog who, as near as the vet could determine, is a mix of half-terrier and half-some-other-terrier. Despite Budleigh’s early life on the streets boosting cars and running numbers for the Mob, he’s very social and well adjusted.

But he has no intention of being put in a costume without first clearing it with our nine-year-old, baseline model, bell-curve dog, Brisby.

BUDLEIGH: “Brisby! Wake up! WakeUpWakeUpWakeUpWakeUpWakeUp!”

BRISBY: “Shut up!”

BUDLEIGH: “OK! Brisby, the giants want me to wear a costume. Should I wear a costume? What’s a costume? Is it tuna?”

BRISBY: “No. Shut up!”

BUDLEIGH: “OK! Can I have your ball? Can I have your ear?”

BRISBY: “No! Everything is mine.”

BUDLEIGH: “OK! Can I have your tuna?”

BRISBY: “Shut up!”

When selecting an appropriate costume for your dog, think safety first, cautions such animal humane groups as the ASPCA, an acronym for Weapons of Mass Destruction.

Sorry! It’s an acronym for The American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, the oldest animal-protection organization in the Western Hemisphere that also has access to Weapons of Mass Destruction.

The group counsels that costumes must not interfere with a pet’s movement, hearing or “ability to breathe, bark or meow.” Good advice, because if my dogs meow I need to know immediately, as does YouTube!

The Society also suggests that owners try costumes on their pets before Halloween in case it turns out that, as I’ve already implied, they’re a terrier. Costumes needn’t be elaborate. A simple, cheerful, child-friendly bandana tied around your pet’s neck perfectly complements the blood-drenched, rotting Donald Trump corpse replica decorating your front lawn.

The other giant and I decided to go the bandana route. Brisby, a poodle-schnauzer mix, would be no problem. Nature’s Perfect Animal, Brisby splits his time between ministering to lepers, rolling bandages for the Red Cross, and eating goose poop. Budleigh would be the challenge.

Tying a bandana around a terrier is no different than tying a bandana around the Death Star. Both should be attempted by someone other than you. A well-behaved terrier usually won’t bite so long as you’re relatively chipmunk-free, but they tend to be less cooperative than, say, North Korea.

To win Budleigh’s trust, the other giant and I first dressed Brisby in his bandana – a complicated ritual that involved raising his head slightly from the pillow he was asleep on, then tying on the bandana. Brisby roused himself enough to roll us a few bandages, then went back to sleep.

Now, oozing the charm of a carpetbagger we approached Budleigh, warmly assuring him that he was A GOOD DOG and A VERY, VERY GOOD DOG and A DOG WITH MANY FACEBOOK LIKES!

You know how the eyes of some portraits follow you around the room? Budleigh does that with his whole body. But since he wasn’t ticking, I gently wrapped his cowboy-themed bandana around his neck, careful not to tie it unless he told me we were cool, man! Encountering no protests I knotted it, easy-peasy.

Trouble started when I removed his collar. Budleigh is very fond of his collar and likes to keep it close by, much the way I like to keep my liver and pancreas close by. I think it’s the reassuring sound of the jingling tags. The ones on his collar, I mean. There are no tags on my liver or pancreas, as far as medical science has been able to determine.

Budleigh took the dangling end of the collar firmly in his mouth and assured me with his sweet Buster Keaton expression that I could have it when I pried it from his cold, dead teeth.

Eventually I was able to negotiate a release by way of a comforting voice, firm commands and 186,000 doggie treats.

Now just days before Halloween, Budleigh has reached an uneasy compromise with us giants. He will wear his handsome, cowboy bandana provided he can carry his handsome, jingling collar in his teeth.

And should any wide-eyed, innocent trick-or-treaters ask, “What kinda’ costume is that, and why’s he got a collar in his mouth?” I’ll answer playfully.

“Why, he’s just an ol’ cowpoke who’s eaten another ol’ cowpoke’s dog.”
###

A big ‘Howdy!’ from Cowboy Budleigh and his trusty sidekick, Collar.

A big ‘Howdy!’ from Cowboy Budleigh and his trusty sidekick, Collar.

(This post marks the launch of “Sleeping Between Giants”, a new series of columns on the Write Good!: The Blog blog.

Sleeping Between Giants will explore life – if you can call it that – with a terrier.

Your feedback is welcome, probably. dj)

Permission to re-use this material for non-commercial purposes is granted provided that Dave Jaffe, www.writegoodtheblog.com, is appropriately credited as the author and source. Please feel free to link to this page.

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Adopting a Dog: It Takes a Village. Also a Pooper Scooper

Posted in Humor, Sleeping Between Giants, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on April 30, 2015| 4 Comments »

We rescued a terrier, although why anyone would is beyond me.

Terriers are what dingos strive to be – wild dogs semi-domesticated because there’s something in it for them. Terriers are the The Joker of the animal kingdom.

Yet my wife and I chose a terrier. We felt obliged to our formerly alive terrier, Oxford, a young thug who matured into a dignified, coldly ruthless mob leader lacking only a fedora and Miami tan. His rule was paternal, loyal but arrogant. He passed away to a kidney ailment although he’d have preferred withering under police machine gun fire in a Chicago alley.

He left behind his muscle, Brisby, a German schnauzer-French poodle mix ever at odds with himself. Now with no one to guide him except a couple of pet owners who just didn’t “get me”, Brisby risked succumbing to a lifestyle of violence, drug addiction and madness.

So we got him another little thug.

Choosing to adopt a homeless dog is not an easy decision, and frankly, Sarah McLachlan isn’t helping. It’s not that I don’t want to rescue an abused animal that’s pretty much just a snout, a collar and half a paw. I just don’t have the emotional strength. I’ve always acquired my dogs from well-established, responsible breeders that I’ve never heard of except afterwards when they appear on the national news.

Going the shelter route was our way of giving back to the community without actually giving anything back. The dogs are bargain priced to move. Our veterinarian offers a steep discount on the initial checkup. Friends and family treat us like heroic characters from a Dickens novel.

And with relatively little effort we located a very social, black and white, cow-eyed terrier, about a year old. We bonded immediately, brought him into our fold, and within weeks he’d hacked our passwords and begun siphoning our accounts. But he was housebroken.

Terriers, like Budleigh, are energetic dogs that, with the proper diet and training, can vibrate through walls.

Terriers, like Budleigh, are energetic dogs that, with the proper diet and training, can vibrate through walls.

April 30 is National Adopt a Shelter Pet Day – a significant holiday that falls between Hairball Awareness Day and International Turtle Day. Our new terrier, Budleigh, has enriched all facets of our lives, with the exception of footwear. For those considering adopting a shelter dog, here are a few tips to make the transition easier:

1. All shelters name their dogs “Bandit”. No one knows why. It’s ok to change it.

2. Like Congress, not all shelter dogs are housebroken. This is easily managed with a pooper scooper and an educated, informed electorate.

3. There really is a Hairball Awareness Day.

4. Acquaint yourself with the many dog breeds so you know what to expect.
Retrievers, for example, make excellent companions but have become so popular that our nation is rapidly running out of things to retrieve.

5. Ensure an ideal match by carefully evaluating a shelter dog’s behavior when you first meet. Is he wiggly and licky or does he just hand you a business card? The former might be great with children, the latter a potential corporate investor.

Like many first-time adopters, my wife and I feared we’d be overwhelmed by the responsibility of raising a rescue dog. Yet, Budleigh, now in his fifth month with us, has proved no more a challenge than if we’d both pursued medical degrees.

All dogs want is to love their people and fit into the pack. Dog owners just need to commit a bit of time and patience and they’ll be rewarded with a wiggly, licky, devoted little buddy, or at very least a reliable corporate investor.

dj

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