Where did your dog come from?

Oct 30 00:22 UTC 1999

Dogs are cool.  Under what circumstances did you get your buddy, and how's
it going now.  Is it a dog of lineage, or a blender special.  Pup or 
crusty gardian?

response 2 of 13:

Oct 30 00:44 UTC 1999

I currently have two great dogs.  Both mini-dachshunds, and each a character 
unto itself.  DeeDee the Devil Dog, and Buster-boy.  Each are dogs of great
lineage, having come from a prize winning breeder of fine, healthy,
long-lived dachshunds.

Dachshunds can live to ages from 12 years to 18 years.  They maintain
their puppy-ness well into late middle age.  Look in the dictionary for
the word mischievious, and there will be a picture of a Dachshund.

Both of our dogs are loving lap dogs.  Frequently when sitting and watching
television in my  easychair, one or both will take advantage of the 
crevice my legs create and push their way along the trench, stretching
their long body as far as they can reach.  Since my lap has limited space,
there can be one comfortable on my lap, with another snuggled into my hip
waiting for the moment they can poach the spot.

Buster is the clown.  He is barely 7 lbs, but his jaw can hold a tennis
ball with a solid grip.  He will spend hours running down the hill chasing
the thrown ball and returning with it to play keep-away.  He also likes to
show off his catching ability, and can nearly always catch a reasonably
aimed toss or bounce in his direction.  Even errant aim will produce some
amazing speed and catching ability.

DeeDee is the guardian.  Buster takes most of his defensive cues from
DeeDee.  She will often be the first to defend the sidewalk or property line
from neighbors, walkers, other dogs, and some wildlife.  While she has
never nipped a stranger, she has an amazing quick dance, sharp bark, and
shows virtually no fear, all of which is very intimidating to those who
are unfamiliar with her 11 lb whirlwind of fury.  She loves to explore, 
which shows up when there is any implication of a walk around the 
neighborhood, or if the car keys jingle in just the right way.

Both dogs sleep in our bed, under our covers between Barbara and I.  Every
morning promptly at 6:25 am, they stir for morning duty and breakfast,
even on weekends.  The spring and fall clock changes fool them for only
a few days and then they are right back on schedule.  

Each one fills a special place in our home.  Even so, I still have 
melancholy memories of our first cutie, CoCo, who died of lung cancer
at the tender age of 12 and a half years old.

response 4 of 13:

Oct 30 10:09 UTC 1999

'Shiki' - full name "Murashaki Shiki Bu" was named after the first
female author in Japan of note.  It was a pure bred mut of alaskan
'husky' - japanese 'akita' and 'german shepard' or something like that.
Whatever her breed she looked like a 'wolf' amd was the terror of many a
Jehova Witness who between her and my father preaching back never came
back when we lived in that small town in michigan.  We moved elsewhere
and 'Shiki' was 'dogknapped' a few years after the half a year
quarantine to 'import' her there.  

I remember two things about 'shiki'.  One was the time the local police
officer tried to sue my parents over the damage caused to his car when
his car hit 'shiki' and knocked her out (driven by his wife - drunk at
the time).  "Ok, you pay for the vet bills, I'll pay for the car
damage", said me Dah.  (Before 'No fault').  'Shiki' was fine after she
'woke up' and the officer's car was 'totaled'.

The second was after a 'dogknapper' had stolen 'shiki' and realized that
a 'spayed' pet was not going to probably breed more money making
opportunities.  Anywhile, there is a scene in the remake of _From here
to Eternity_ where the director placed 'food' out on a large area in
order to gather a large number of 'feral' dogs to get the scene.  There
is a rather large dog that goes rather methodically from one stash to
another and ignores everything else to eat that I personally believe is
"Shiki-bu" even though I don't know for sure.  I'll likely continue to
think that although I'll never get over the feeling that there was
something I coulda done to bring "Shiki-bu" back home that she was alive
and well fed back then.

response 6 of 13:

Oct 30 14:26 UTC 1999

We had Mitzi when I was growing up. Looked a lot like Lassie. My mom was 
her primary caretaker, so Mitzi was very protective of her. (The name 
was from some old man that had a whole bunch of dogs, though it was not 
a puppy mill situation. She'd already had the name and parents didn't 
see the point in changing it). 

We got her when I was three or so, so I couldn't remember a time without 
her. She was great with kids, but a little scared of men she didn't 
know. She and my dad would wrestle with an old sock. :)

Mitzi was adorable, a sweet dog, but a little bit prissy. She'd sit on 
the stairs with her front paws crossed, very ladylike. She'd never jump 
on people. Would growl only if she felt threatened, or if one of us was 
threatened. 

Mitzi lived to be 13 1/2. She became terribly arthritic and could barely 
 move her back legs. So we had to put her to sleep. She's buried in my 
parents' backyard with a little angel statue to mark it.

response 8 of 13:

Oct 30 16:23 UTC 1999

The closest thing I ever had to a dog was my grandfather's dogs, Muffy 
and Quincy, with whom I spent a great deal of time whenever I visited.  
They were mutts, but they were good mutts.  Quincy was something of an 
old man by the time my memories came out of the fog, having shed his 
distinction as a tree dog some years earlier.  I first met Muffy as a 
puppy, and I was scared out of my wits the first time I opened the car 
door and saw her.

We would spend hours running around the family homestead in the country 
north of Toronto, or running down to the railroad tracks to see if 
there was any traffic (I was big on trains in my younger days).  Muffy 
would tear along ahead of us, Quincy would cooly jog behind.  

They've passed on since then.  Quincy aged quickly, and died a long 
time ago.  Muffy was put down as an old lady last year.  

I don't think Muffy ever forgot who I was.  Years later, shortly before 
she was put down, I was visiting on my own and showed up at the house.  
Muffy was still there, greeting me eagerly, asking to be scratched 
behind the ears.  I sort of wish I had spent more time with her.  I 
don't think I will have any other dogs.

response 10 of 13:

Oct 30 18:41 UTC 1999

My parents have a lovely German Shepherd named Dutchess. My brother Jim has
strongly been lobbying for a dog, as the family hadn't had one in years.
The last dog was an Airedale named Dusty that I barely remember, she went
away when I was really little.  Before that they had a black leb, Fritz, who
was supposed to become a guide dog- and he passed all the tests, except
stairs- so my parents got to keep him.  So, I was 13 and Jim was really really
wanting a do gna dmy dad saw an ad in the paper about two german shepherds
whose owners had moved, leaving them at the humane society. We went and looked
and Jim fell in love.  The female was Dutchess, the male Duke. Well, a few
days later we took Dutchess (the secretary at the place spelled 'duchess' with
a t and we rather liked that spelled and it stuck.).  Awhile later my dad
found out that Duke was still there, and he thought we should take him too.Not
a whole lot of logic in that thought- Dutchess was two and full grown, fairly
small for a shepherd, Duke outweighed Ditchess by 20lbs and was only 6 months
old and half-grown, and half-housebroken.  It ended up not working with Duke
in the house, Dutchess did NOT want him there and wouldn't leave him alone.
So my dad gave him to a friend of his who lived out in the country- more room
for Duke (the big galoot) to run around.

Dutchess is getting old now, but she's still a great dog. She almost flunked
obediance school though (she's a free spirit, when told to 'Sit!' she climbed
into a chair and sat down.).  Every once and awhile she'll take herself for
walks without a person being with her, but she always comes home, or the
neighbors will call us to come get her.  She was hit by a car once- her only
damage was a 1 inch or so long cut that my mom (an RN) stitched closed.  We
got a cat shortly after getting Dutchess and she just thought that was great.
She's so much bigger then cats that she scares them, but she really just wants
to be friends. My sister's kitten used to lie on the dog's front feet and
slowly clean them, and the dog would just look up at us after awhile with an
expression of "Umm... how much longer is this going to take?"

Okay, I'll stop babbleing now...

response 12 of 13:

Oct 31 19:03 UTC 1999

My parents have two dogs, whose stories and personalities are a study 
in opposites.  
  Brandy is a beautiful Brittany Spaniel, acquired from a breeder at 
some cost (I believe, I wasn't involved in the acquisition process) 
after a great deal of research and debate about what kind of dog to get 
(there was a strong beagle faction, as I recall).  She's one of the 
most intelligent dogs I've ever met, with big, clear eyes and a very 
expressive face.  She is very energetic, and will cheerfully and 
violently play with anyone who gives her the slightest encouragement.  
They say dogs and their owners come to resemble each other, and this is 
certainly true of Brandy and my father.  It's highly amusing to watch 
them roll on the floor wrestling.  
  Banjo, on the other hand, is a classic Mop Dog.  We acquired him from 
my grandmother, who unfortunately no longer has the energy to take care 
of a dog.  I have no idea what breed or combination of breeds he is, 
but he's one of the ugliest dogs I've ever laid eyes on.  His eyes, 
whose existence is doubtful unless you look carefully from the right 
angle, are small and beady.  His mouth is filled with crooked, stained, 
and/or missing teeth, and is surrounded by fur that is matted down and 
stained with something, probably water or drool.  This creates a dark 
brown ring that stands in stark contrast to the rest of his fur, which 
I would swear was fake if I didn't know better, and is the color of a 
badly overbleached blonde.  He's about eight inches tall, and his top 
speed is a slow waddle.  He has this nasty habit of making retching 
noises, as if he's about to cough up a hairball or something, which, 
combined with the ever-present stain around his mouth, is really 
disturbing.  
  They get along with each other quite well, though.  Brandy doesn't 
terrorize Banjo too much, since she asserted her dominance from the 
start, and Banjo never puts up too much of a fight.  Banjo has gotten 
more energetic.  My family treats them with approximately equal love 
and attention, which isn't hard to do, since they're usually together.