Used or Abused?

A friend sat in on a training session for a dog who would one day hunt birds. She said the trainer showed up a with something that resembled a wooden car antenna. She didn’t the hit dog with it, but would lightly tap it on the back if it didn’t respond to a command. Creepy, okay, but what do I know about training a dog to hunt? Here was the really weird part of my friend’s story: The trainer never rewarded the dog when he did something right. She also emphasized to the dog’s owner that she must never reward him—not with a pat on the head, no treats, nary an “Atta boy,” or “Good dog.”

When Forever Isn't

A frequent hotel guest ended up in the shelter a few weeks ago. It’s easy to judge someone who gets rid of his or her pet until you know the whole story. Chance found his Forever Family a few years ago with a young couple and their children. But the couple divorced, the house was sold and a single, working mother of three who lived in a small apartment could not give Chance the kind of care he needed. Fortunately, we bartered services so she did not have to pay for his visits here.

We Love You, Tex -- R.I.P.

Having a hospice dog means that the end comes sooner rather than later. But still we adopt, slide into denial and open our hearts much too wide. Sweet little Tex was euthanized Tuesday. Though blind, his eyes still gave him problems. We managed to fix one eye without surgery and then the other one went bad. His options were to live in constant pain or to have the eye removed.

Hospice meant that I would provide the ancient Chihuahua comfort and love, not more pain and suffering. We had a good six-month run, Tex and I. He hated all mechanical objects and furiously attacked the lawnmower, paper shredder, dust buster and vacuum cleaner. In order to engage me in play, he’d sometimes stand next to the carpet shampooer and stare angrily at it (Being blind, he could only approximate its location so might just as often stare balefully at the floor lamp or bed post.) He’d look to me, then back to the evil machine, then at me. With a sigh, I’d walk over and plug it in for a second so he could do a little ass-kicking on the noisy invader. I eventually swaddled it in towels so Tex wouldn’t break his teeth on the wheels. 

He marked constantly, humped every new client and bit me more times (accidentally) than I could count. But I still buried a little piece of my heart with him. He’s next to Lacy’s grave, so I figure they can growl and snap at each other for eternity.














My favorite definition of heaven: Where all the dogs you’ve ever loved are waiting for you.