Gizmo: now the dog that heels

         Woman walking miniature poodle early in the morning.  They are approaching Gizmo and me.  She is forced to walk in the street because of her yapping, pulling dog, giving the entire sidewalk to us. 

         The tiny poodle is yipping, whining and making enough noise to waken half the neighborhood.  He is also pulling on the leash trying to get to Gizmo when his owner doesn’t want him to. 

         Gizmo glances at him, but continues to walk on a loose leash, not pulled tightly, obeying me.  A perfectly well-behaved dog.  AH, PROGRESS.

     "Dachshunds are ideal dogs for small children, as they are already stretched and pulled to such a length that the child cannot do much harm one way or the other." - Robert Benchley

A three-mile walk

Tired?  Who's tired?

     I took a long walk today with Gizmo, an hour and 15 minutes, about 3 miles+.  At the end of this Long March, Gizmo was still air pissing, lifting his leg, pretending to urinate, even scratching the dirt or grass as if a single drop of moisture had actually been released.

          And, after that 3-mile walk, he was able to run into the house, greet Grace with energy and joy, and show no tiredness whatsoever.

         Of course, after that, he slept through most of the morning.

"If you get to thinking you're a person of some influence, try ordering somebody else's dog around." ~Unknown

Fast Learner:

From Barbara Maron: I have a friend, Robin, who found a collarless dog, now named Angelina, in a field, abandoned. 

After just one month with Robin, late in the evening, Angelina picks up Robin’s pajamas and puts them at her feet.  Angelina does this because she already knows that, when Robin’s pajamas are on, she goes to bed.  When she’s there, she lets the dog sleep at the bottom of the bed.

           Robin has five dogs, but she says Angelina is one of the smartest dogs she has ever met. The minute anyone walks through the door, she jumps into their lap and demands attention.   After all, with five other dogs in the house, she has competition.

       “Happiness is a warm puppy.”
-Charles M. Schulz

How to Raise a Jewish Puppy.

Is this Kosher?

        The used book was titled: “How to Raise a Jewish Dog,” by the Rabbis of the Boca Raton Theological Seminary, 2007, and written with all their almost kosher, mythical tongues firmly in their cheeks.

For instance, Orthodox Jews who observe kosher laws that require one set of dishes when eating food with milk in it and a completely separate one when eating meat.  The book notes that Rabbi Monica’s mother had her own reform kosher observance: one set of dishes “for normal, everyday use and one for Chinese takeout… “

What I learned from reading it is that, without thinking about it too much,  I am already raising a Jewish dog.  But not quite.  For instance, I have not started putting up “NOT MISSING YET” signs all over the neighborhood …yet.

I have not performed the It’s-All-About-Me Spotlight grab by “offering an effusive display of admiration and praise grotesquely out of scale with the good act being rewarded.  The goal is to shift everyone’s attention to you even as you (ostensibly) direct yours to the dog.”  For instance, by shouting, “ISN’T THIS THE BESTEST, SMARTEST CUTEST DOG THAT EVER LIVED?” simply because the dog shook hands with you.

However, by creating this blog I am doing some of what is suggested in the book—boasting about how good my dog is.   And at times, such as when his walk is a few minutes late, I do feel guiltier than Gizmo looks.

“Scratch a dog and you'll find a permanent job.”  Franklin P. Jones

the Polite Owner

Princess, the Bichon, is not my neighbor's dog, but she's close enough.

         Met Don, a friendly neighbor, and his two pure white Bichon Frises, one named Sampson.  We went on a long walk, the three dogs and the two owners because Don had a key which would open the gates of a nearby members-only country club and this would give Gizmo a chance to mark an entirely new area.

        Earlier, Don spoke about carefully wiping off his dogs’ feet with dish soap to get off the tar from the street.

        Gizmo runs and leaps and wants to play with Sampson, who also wants to play, at the end of our long walk.  But Don the owner demurs, politely pointing out that, “Rolling a white dog on a tar-covered street is something I’d rather not see done.”  Ooops, and he is so polite about it.

     “The ideal age for a boy to own a dog is between forty-five and fifty.” 
- Robert Benchley  

The Owner’s Correct Call

First, stretch; then, walk

During our walks, I always ask will it be OK for our two dogs to meet.  A big hulking flag-flying owner of a tiny black and white Shih Tzu, answered, “Well, he does have a little trouble with other dogs.”

My translation: “His beloved pet is a viscous little bastard.” 

I tried to pull Gizmo away as quickly as possible, but his dog snapped at Gizmo, who backed up of his own accord. 

As we walked away, I heard the beefy (read fat) owner yell at his dog, “You little bitch.”

Everyone disciplines in his or her own manner.

        “I like a bit of mongrel myself, whether it's a man or a dog; they're the best for everyday.”  George Bernard Shaw

Stop the Presses: The Poodle Puddle Report

      The previously staid, gray New York Times is attempting to liven its pages.  To that end, they have created a snide column, the Nocturnalist, covering social events.  In this story, the lead concerning a poodle’s puddle “marked” a new low for the newspaper:

NOCTURNALIST, April 13, 2011

At Carnegie Gala, Cameo by a Canine By SARAH MASLIN NIR

         Poodles, despite their airs, know little of pomp and circumstance.  That might account for why Valentina, a little white dog, left a puddle on one of the three red carpets lolling out of Carnegie Hall into the rain on 57th Street on Tuesday night before James Taylor’s gala concert celebrating the 120-year-old hall.

            No matter; there was a brigade of attendants with vacuum cleaners who swooped in among the uncouth canine, and guests like Bette Midler, Michael Douglas and Steve Martin, to clean up footprints and other little messes.

         I do believe that the world is a better place now that we know about Valentina’s gaff.  

“I know that dogs are pack animals, but it's difficult to imagine a pack of standard poodles . . . and if there was such a thing as a pack of standard poodles, where would they rove to? Bloomingdales?”  Yvonne Clifford

Teaching Gizmo

After Grace not-so-kindly reminded me to hang up my jacket (“Were you never taught to hang up your clothes?” was what she said.  To which I could probably, truthfully say, “No,” but I didn’t want any sort of an argument.)

I immediately turned this into a teaching moment for Gizmo.  I said to him, as he hugged my thigh and gazed up at me with big eyes, “Never marry the oldest sister.  If you do, she will always think that she is right and will always be teaching you the correct way to do things.”

Gizmo’s response: he let go of my thigh, went to a sitting position and looked back and forth from Grace to me.

Grace’s reaction, “Who are you talking to?”

My reaction, “Just teaching Gizmo about dealing with women.”

Neither dog nor wife appreciated my wisdom.

“Don't make the mistake of treating your dogs like humans, or they will treat you like dogs.”  Martha Scott

Gizmo’s First Fan Mail:

Bitsey: if I tell you what I'm doing, it would be too much information

        From a cat named Bitsey, owned by Jody Miller

Hello Gizmo,

         If your Mom and Dad give you too much trouble, you can live with us for awhile.   Sounds as if you’re doing your Doggy thing and behaving very well, thus far.   (I've always been attracted to Dogs with High IQ's.)

         I know it takes awhile to figure your parents out.   One early trick of mine was to get very close to my parents face - as if I were loving them, and then sneeze all over them.  

Not sure if you like cats or not, but I am very tame and a good listener.

Hugs,  Bitsey 

 Dear Bitsey:

         I think I can get over any prejudice against cats, especially if you do not sneeze all over my face.  I prefer to be the sneezee, something I have often done to others (it does wonders for clearing my nose so the full aroma of poop can come through). 

         I am also a good listener.  I do not know if we would have fun together -- maybe we’d both be waiting and listening for the other to say or do something.  Do you enjoy long silences?

         Lotsa Licks: Gizmo.

"The difference between cats and dogs is, dogs come when they are called, cats take a message and get back to you." – unknown

Question: Are we Gizmo’s "owners"?

Because he can.

One columnist had a small snit about that: “There is a movement to call those of us who keep a pet its “guardian,” “companion,” “steward,” or “caretaker” rather than “owner.”  My understanding is that the objection to ownership relates to a master-slave relationship. The implication is that one cannot “own” a pet without making it a slave. Balderdash!”

Well, when pet columnists use words like “balderdash,” one understands that this is an emotionally charged issue.

I might be adding even more heat to the fire when I ask: Am I Gizmo’s “daddy” and is Grace his “mommy”?

We know people who refer to themselves as their dog’s mom or dad and, I have to admit, sometimes late at night when a bit of tired teasing is almost acceptable, I will refer to Grace as his “Mommy.”  It is always a dangerous expression.

If we are, in any way, Gizmo’s mom and dad, are our children his brothers and sisters?  Half-brothers?  Step-sisters? 

How do we break it to them that they have a furry 30-pound brother that likes to lick his own remaining testicles?   Will they be jealous of both the love we have for him and the licking testicles thing?  Will this lead to family strife or, worse, extremely odd behavior at the Thanksgiving dinner table?

Some days you're the dog; some days you're the hydrant. Unknown

Six Days Accident FREE

          At night, when it is time to go to bed, Gizmo dashes into his cage when told to and when the top of the cage is lightly tapped.  Then he gets a treat.  No more wrestling match with him on getting into the cage.

           Tonight, while I was watching the Dog Whisperer and just as I was learning how to teach a dog to heel (go “ssst”, slow down or stop, and insist), I heard Gizmo scratching on his cage.  The door was closed.

         When I went to him, I opened the door and, with a sigh, he walked inside and lay down.

         Later, when I opened the cage door and indicated that perhaps he wanted to go outside to relieve himself before he went to sleep, he just lay there, eyes half shaded and indicated that he was down for the night.  He even looked at me for a half second as if to say, “Are you crazy?  It’s time for bed.”

           He has learned.

           Incidentally, if we are away during the day, we close the doors to the rooms where he made “mistakes” in the past (our bedroom, my office, etc.) and allow him to roam free.  This has been going on for six days.  No accidents.

         We feel like putting up a sign, resembling the ones they have in manufacturing plants: DAYS ACCIDENT FREE: 6.  

“If dogs talked, one of them would be president by now. Everybody likes dogs.” 
-Dean Koontz

Another lesson learned from Gizmo: Patience

         When I stagger awake at 6:30 or 7 am and walk back and forth trying to remember everything I need to bring along on our walk – cell phone, plastic bags, camera, hat, sun glasses, IPod, water, wallet and, oh yes, leash – Gizmo is lying down in his cage, tail wagging, but quiet, waiting, patiently.  Very patiently, considering that he has not relieved himself for nearly eight hours and is thirsty.

         When we are outside and Gizmo begins his energetic bounding, running, tail way up, legs reaching high into the air before hitting the ground, he rushes to the side gate.  And waits.  Staring at the gate, longing to be on the walk, tail wagging even more intensely.  But patient.

         When I have to walk back into the house because I forgot something – probably the most important accouterment to our walk, his leash – he will wait at the back gate until I get back to him.  Waiting.  Still excited.  But patient.

         And the patience almost always pays off for him: if he waits long enough, with an expectant look on his cute face, attentive but not nagging, the walk will happen.

         I might try that, but I don’t think I could ever be as patient as he is.  And my tail would never wag as cutely as his does.

“Cats are smarter than dogs. You can't get eight cats to pull a sled through snow.” Jeff Valdez

Worth it... although the price is going up!

The cost of raising a medium-size dog to the age of eleven: $16,400 

Gizmo Adoption III: the emails.

Email from Grace Mark to Ginny Weisman, who saved Gizmo:                 Dear Ginny:   Gizmo is such a gentle, wonderful little animal that it is hard to realize that, had it not been for your intervention and your extreme efforts to drive to and from LA to pick him up, he would have been silenced forever.                                                                                    We really do love the little guy--really love him--and it's all because you made this little miracle happen in your lives.   I've been thinking about this for the last couple of days and realize that I was not nearly fulsome enough in my thanks and praise for your mission.  But I really did want you to know how grateful Norm and I are that you saved this little dog for us.  

Email from Ginny Weisman to Grace:                                                       Dear Grace,  It means so much to know that this adoption has such a happy ending.  The minute I saw Gizmo’s photo in that email I thought of you and Norm and somehow “knew” it was a match.                                                               I get literally hundreds of photos each week about dogs needing to be rescued before it is too late.  Needless to say, I can only help a few but for some reason I HAD to make that drive to get that particular dog when you generously agreed to be his foster home.                                                                           After over a decade of animal rescue, I am convinced we just don’t pick our pets but they also pick us, and it is clear you, Norm and Gizmo were meant to be.
         Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your thoughtful acknowledgement of my part in cosmic plan.  Animal rescue truly feeds my soul and touches my heart in a way that only saving a life can do.  
         And most of all, thank you for your willingness to give that sweet little “angel in a fur coat” the  wonderful, loving, forever home he deserves.  
         Wishing all of you a long, happy, healthy and loving life together!  Wags and Hugs,                Ginny Weissman    www.PetMinistryCSL.com
         Email From Norm to Ginny: I read your email aloud along with tears of gratitude and joy.
           Joy: which brings us to Gizmo, waiting now patiently for his morning walk: he is a joy, the ultimate good dog for us, a relationship that can best be described as a wedding:  Yes, unreservedly we love him and he loves us, is now family — and that is due to you, you darling, wonderful, giving, love-sending soul.
           Which brings me back to why I am writing this: thank you — for your generosity of heart and spirit, for your realization that you could be the instrument of uniting beings that wanted to be together and didn’t know it — until you took that long drive to save Gizmo.   Sending you love, Norm
“There is no snooze button on a dog who wants breakfast.” Unknown

Leaving Gizmo for a month: Will love disappear?

Don't they know I miss them already?

         Reflections on leaving Gizmo for a month with a dog sitter when we travel to Chicago and France, culminating with a week in a Paris apartment, thanks to our daughter, who apparently not only wants to talk to us, but wants to live with us in an apartment in Paris: Grace did something very right when raising her as a single mother.                                                                  .      Both of us need to go to France.  If one of us went to France and the other stayed at home with the dog, both of us would think the other was completely crazy, more than one card short of a full deck.  If we cancel the trip, Russell would, with justification, think of having us committed to a loony bin, where we would sit around with the other inmates showing pictures of our dog.                                                                                                     .      More problems: The dog sitter is a stranger.  I have never met him until the day before we leave.  He will stay part time in our home and because he has a Cocker Spaniel, part time with both dogs in his apartment.  $30 a night, 30 nights, to protect a dog we obviously love.                                                                                                                    .      The problems, in my mind, center more on Gizmo than anything else.  Will Gizmo know us when we return?  Will he miss us?  Will we have to re-teach him about our ways?  Will he forget his training?  Will he have accidents indoors?  Will he forget where he likes to go outdoors?  Will the dog sitter, Daryl, take him to his favorite spots?                                                      .      Will Gizmo be happy?  Will the dog learn bad habits?  And what about us?  We will surely miss him, but how much?  Will we talk about him?  Reminisce?                                                                                                     .      Will he be safe?  Healthy?  Happy?  Will he suffer psychologically?  Is leaving the dog for less than a month driving me crazy?  Am I beginning to seem like a “cat lady,” one of those women who have 24 cats, who talks to them and, when she dies at home, they nibble on her? 

       “That's the only dog I know who can smell someone just thinking about food.”  Charles M. Schulz

Gizmo adoption Story II: Three Rejections

 First a lovely woman from Chicago fell in love with him, took him to her home and that same night discovered that she was allergic to him.  We had our doubts: the vet wrote that he was a Shih Tzu and Shih Tzu’s do not shed.  Maybe he laid cable on her side of the bedroom.                                                      Another woman, at the Pet Ministry dog adoption Sunday (in the rain and fog) wanted a lap dog.  But she was enormously overweight and, to put it bluntly, had no lap.  When she tried to fit Gizmo, who was wet and bedragled, on her lap, his legs draped over one side of her non-lap and his head over the other.  She went home with a Chihuahua.                                                                                                                     Another woman, who held dozens of dogs, took him to her doggy farm for a week.  No takers.                                                                                  Each time, Gizmo came back to us, had to be retrained and learn to fit in.  Each time, Gizmo became less of a problem and more of a joy.  Each time, we loved him more.                                                                                   I was madly in like with this dog from the moment I saw him (the way I was with Grace when I saw her at the cigarette machine at Northwestern University when she was a freshman, but that’s another story).  Grace wasn’t sure, until one morning after Gizmo had had zero accidents for two weeks and was the most loving, accommodating, cute and beautiful dog in the world.  Grace looked at me and said, “You know I love that dog.”                                                                                                   We became a family.

“Yesterday I was a dog. Today I'm a dog. Tomorrow I'll probably still be a dog. Sigh! There's so little hope for advancement.” Snoopy, in You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown

Gizmo’s Adoption story I:

Gizmo's adoption picture

       So we took him on a temporary placement, an adoption to save his life until another home could be found for him.   We are not fools.  We understood that Ginny was hoping that this would become permanent, but we were saying that a dog did not fit into our life style.  That Beowulf, our beloved, almost silent Shih Tzu, had died after a long descent into blindness, incontinence and lethargy, ending with a lot of pain for Beowulf.  We were determined not to go through that again.                                                                                             The first night at our home, Gizmo crapped on Grace’s side of the bedroom.  More than once.  Many lines of cable were laid on the white rug between the window and the bed.                                                                         It was not the best introductory calling card for a dog we really didn’t want and which Grace particularly was looking at as a great and unwanted interference in our lives.                                                                              Gizmo, named either Zinfandel or Malbec at the time, was a poor salesman and knew nothing about closing a deal.                                                                                                                                                             A friend of ours observed, “He didn’t have time to buy a gift.”

“The eyes of a dog, the expression of a dog, the warmly wagging tail of a dog and the gloriously cold damp nose of a dog were in my opinion all God-given for one purpose only — to make complete fools of us human beings.” Barbara Woodhouse

Gizmo's adoption picture, Gizmo today

Gizmo: a month in a shelter, a lifetime as good dog loved
Gizmo: hours from death, now good dog loved

Gizmo's sad adoption picture

          This picture of a sad, thin, bedraggled Gizmo was emailed to us on Dec. 5, 2010 with the description: “I am described as a male, white and brown Shih Tzu mix.  The shelter thinks I am about 1 year and 1 month old.  I have been at the shelter since Nov. 2, 2010.”  He was, we were told, hours from death.
     We gave him a temporary home that same day, after getting the information and a plea from Ginny Weissman, who runs a Pet Ministry in Palm Desert, CA.

Gizmo today

           This is a more recent, happier picture of Gizmo, the personality-plus dog.

“Hardly any animal can look as deeply disappointed as a dog to whom one says "no."”  Jeffrey Moussaieff Masson

Gizmo vs. dog Statue with Apple

What is this?  A statue???

This is worthy of a good sniff.

Now that I'm nearly on top of it, I still do not know what it is!

“Saving the life of one animal may not change the world, but the world will change for that one animal.”    Unknown 

Poop Rules

        Priding myself at being a good citizen and a good dog owner, I clean up my dog’s poop, although I must admit I do not enjoy putting a large pile of steaming cable into a plastic bag and then carrying it for a mile or more to the nearest garbage can.                                                                                                   I have quickly created several rules about that chore:                                       1. If the home is abandoned or in foreclosure, a clean up is not necessary.  Yes, this is an additional penalty for those going through foreclosure.  If I had the energy, I would have brought my bag of steaming dog poop to the bank that offered the original loan and deposited it there.                                                                                           2. Empty lots that were formerly beautiful gardens filled with desert plants, but which are now empty except for the “LOT FOR SALE” sign are also perfect receptacles for Gizmo’s aromatic gifts.                                                                 3. Gizmo gets praise when he waits until we are within 50 feet of a designated doggy refuse container, meaning that I do not have to carry my plastic bag all that far.                                                                                            4. Garbage cans placed at the curb for collector pick ups are fair containers for Giz refuse.  Yes, I saw the Larry David HBO show in which he got into a huge argument because he put garbage in someone else’s garbage can.  And I do not do this when the owner is patrolling his can.  However, I do believe in stealth poop dumping.                                                                                                             5. If I see another dog owner leaving his pet’s poop, even if it is in places where I have allowed Gizmo’s poop to fester, I feel severe disapproval for his or her non-action.  I secretly hope he or she can feel my negative vibes.

“Dogs are the leaders of the planet. If you see two life forms, one of them's making a poop, the other one's carrying it for him, who would you assume is in charge?” Jerry Seinfeld

Gizmo on His Own!

I know there's a bird out there somewhere.

         Big success: Gizmo was outside with Grace.  While she was reading and more or less ignoring him, he went over the bridge (which he fears just a bit), went on to the path behind the palm trees and relieved himself, by himself, with no prodding from us.

         In other words, he has now learned to take care of his own business on his own.  VICTORY!!!

        “Diplomacy is the art of saying "Nice doggie!"... till you can find a rock.” Unknown 

Doggy Diaper Story

Marty, the not-so-retired judge, had a large, eight-year-old dog named Dolly, who became incontinent with age.  In Marty’s words, “I do mean incontinent because she peed enough to cover a continent.”  

Doggie diapers were not up to the task.

To handle Dolly’s “gushers,” Marty’s wife went to the drug store to buy human incontinent pads to insert in the doggie diaper.

When she went to the check-out counter, the clerk would always give Marty’s wife a knowing and pitying look.

Marty’s wife would always loudly proclaim, “NOT ME.  IT’S FOR THE DOG.”  To this day, she doesn’t know if the clerk and any customers within 25 feet of her believed her strong protestation.

“If you want the best seat in the house, move the dog.” Unknown

Heartwarming dog stories:

Early in April, 2011, a miracle dog was found clinging to the floating roof of a house miles at sea off Japan.  The dog had survived three weeks without food or water, and exposed to the weather to say nothing of sharks and other predators.

When Coast Guard rescuers descended on a line from a helicopter the dog disappeared into the half-floating structure and could not be lured out.  The chopper then ran low on fuel  and had to leave the scene.

A Coast Guard boat, which relieved the chopper, finally allowed the dog to be pulled to safety.   The dog was in pretty good shape for having spent three weeks on a rooftop at sea. 

The dog was wearing a collar, but it had no address or information.  After three weeks, there was little hope of ever finding the dog’s owners.

         Then, a few days after the rescue, another “miracle”: the owners recognized the dog in news footage.  The couple were reunited with their pet, which jumped into their arms and happily licked their faces, all recorded on YouTube.  One story, two tear-provoking endings.Also in April, 2011, a 22-month-old toddler was lost near Elgin, S. C., and survived frigid overnight temperatures thanks to his best friend, a Labrador retriever mix, who stayed close to the child until the boy was rescued.

Also in April, 2011, a 22-month-old toddler was lost near Elgin, S. C., and survived frigid overnight temperatures thanks to his best friend, a Labrador retriever mix, who stayed close to the child until the boy was rescued.

Tyler Jacobson had only his T-shirt, diaper and dog to save him from death by exposure or wild animals.  The county sheriff said, “To tell you the truth, that dog is what kept him alive.”

After his ordeal and a medical examination, the boy was cold, but otherwise in pretty good condition.

His mother did not fare so well.  Authorities found conditions in her home to be “deplorable.”  No action was taken against her, yet.  Perhaps authorities should consider putting the mother in a kennel, or “training cage.”

           “Most owners are at length able to teach themselves to obey their dog.”  Robert Morley

DOG PARK WAR, part I

Early on, during our adventures in nearby Ironwood Park, the humans there were most upset: someone identified as a city animal control officer was there on a Sunday (and apparently being quite angry about working on that day).  He reminded those therethat the signs in the park plainly say that all dogs must be leashed and, after the first warning, there was the possibility of a ticket with a $155 fine for having a dog off leash.

The owners pointed out to me that this was one of the few areas where a dog could be off leash.  They also energetically pointed out that when the dogs are there, the children are not. 

Oh, the injustice.  Oh, the unfairness.

I volunteered to call our local council representative and point out the necessity of a dog park.  The others cheered, offered to help create and sign a petition, etc.  A day or so later one woman even announced that there would be a doggie/human Sunday brunch at her home so more strategy could be planned.

While we waited for the council member to call back, for days anyone seeing an un-initiated dog walker heading towards the park, would issue a warning about the pet patrol person possibly being in the vicinity. 

A friend told me the name of the best and most easily reached of our council leaders. 

We were motivated, we were energetic, and we would not be stopped.   We would be as purposeful and demanding as the protesters in Egypt’s Tahrir Square in 2011, when they toppled Mubarek.

We were fighting for doggie democracy!!

"Things that upset a terrier may pass virtually unnoticed by a Great Dane." --Smiley Blanton

Dog Park War II

Maybe I can get this guy to chase me. 

       As the days walked by and our council member and I exchanged phone messages but had no conversation, the tensions at the regular 8 am Ironwood Park dog-owners meetings increased.   

            It was all so unfair: It was the one place where our dogs could run free3, off leash, for a few minutes each day.  No children were in the park when the dogs were there.  We’re voters and tax payers, and here a mean animal control officer was ruining our pleasure and fun.  Oh, the unjustness of it all. 

         We had nothing good to say about the animal control officer, despite the fact that I had never seen him (not that I wanted to: Gizmo was waiting for his $8 dog license and I didn’t want to be accused by an over-zealous animal control wonk of having an unlicensed dog.)

         When they gathered in the park, people muttered that the ticket-happy guy (who had yet to write a ticket) was probably someone whose small amount of power went to his head.  Some theorized that he was overcompensating for deficiencies in his male member (always a smug assumption). 

         Several days in a row, I walked to the Ironwood Park at the usual time and there were no dogs or dog owners there.   Is this the way we want our country to be run?  No, No, No – all this government interference was enough to turn some of us into Tea Party Republicans!!

         Leash no, peace yes.  Give me leash liberty or we leave you poop (also against the rules).

“You can say any fool thing to a dog, and the dog will give you this look that says, "My God, you're right! I never would've thought of that!" . – Dave Barry

DOG PARK WAR, part III

So many dog-park friends

         Jan, one of our five council member, finally called me back when I was home.  After I explained how upset more than a dozen constituents were, after I suggested that either a dog park or hours reserved for dogs which are off lease, I told her that the dog owners of her district (more accurately, I should have said the dog owners who arrive at Ironwood Park between 7:45 and 8 am and who may or may not be actual voters for her) want a dog park, but if that is not possible, how about reserving the hours in the morning, when the children aren’t there, to off-leash dogs.

         She politely answered that already there were 7 dog parks or dog runs in Palm Desert, two were trails into the mountains, but the others had fences, water, garbage cans and so on.

         I didn’t know this, so while she was talking, I went on the Palm Desert, found the addresses of the dog parks and printed them up.

         The dog park in the Civic Center park area was perfrectly grand: less than 10 minutes by car from our home, with separate enclosures for large and small (under 30 pound) dogs, water nd bowls, benches in the shade so the owners can relax and so on.

          It was so good that I called the council member back and told her that the Civic Center dog park could not be improved upon.  I thanked her for her patience and the information.

         I concluded by saying that, as a tax payer, I now oppose any additional dog parks in our city as a waste of money.

“Men cheat for the same reason that dogs lick their balls... because they can.”   Kim Cattrall, as Samantha Jones in TV’s Sex and the City series

Dog Stories:

Diaper?  Fugget about it. 

Rachel wants to toilet train her new, young, hairy dachshund, but wanted convenience.  So she puts a diaper on him.  He sits down, and looks at her as if she is completely nuts. 

She buys a larger diaper, figuring that perhaps the first one was uncomfortable.  He  sits down, refuses to move and looks at her as if she has just become a flock of insane parrots in a tree.

Undeterred, Rachel buys what she is told  a doggy litter box like a cat might have.  The little dog stares at the box for a few moments, cocks his head and looks at Rachel as if she is now quite completely loopy.

Rachel then takes her doggy litter box outside, figuring the dog mightd be more comfortable out there and she could still scoop up whatever he leaves in the box.  Now the dog looks at her as if she is one card short of a full deck.

Act Five consists of Rachel carefully sopping up the considerable urine the dog leaves in the apartment and placing the rag on the litter box in the hopes of attracting the dog. 

I point out that dogs like to pee where other dogs have marked the spot and can’t seem to care one way or another at their own spots.  Rachel agrees and remembers that the dog looked  at her as if she had both oars in the water but kept the boat tied firmly to the dock. 

She finally gave up on her clever new-fangled solutions and began praising the dog when it did something right and scolding (a little) when it erred.  The4 dog was housebroken within a week.

         We also attempted to apply modern thinking and technology to housebreaking.  We bought a pointed yellow with a large flat top that looked like a big yellow plastic thumb tack.  It was supposed to contain stick pheromes designed to attract the dog to pee on the stick.  Or maybe it was the yellow color.  Whatever it was, the only success of the piss stick was in the sale to us.  Other than that, it didn’t work, not once.

         

"Whoever said you can't buy happiness forgot about puppies."

--Gene Hill