Thoughts on two dogs

Sometimes I miss having a dog. Or, maybe I should say I miss my dog, Smokey, a gray, black and white Collie mix my family got at the county shelter back in 1990 and had until age and arthritis took him from us in 2003. He was truly a good dog, and sometimes I really miss him.  I miss our walks. He never met a person he didn't like, but occasionally, he'd object to other dogs, if he thought I might be threatened. But even then, he reacted more passively than aggressively. A three-legged Cocker Spaniel who rushed us a bit too quickly comes to mind. I don't think it had bad intentions, but it was loose and coming fast and Smokey took no chances. He met the Cocker's charge and, faster than I could see how he did it, he pinned the smaller dog to the ground! Bedlam ensued for a moment. The poor little dog was yelping, the woman whose dog it was was yelling at her dog for running off, and I was pulling Smokey off saying, "Let him up, Smokey, he's only got three legs!"

Sometimes, when looking out at the open area across the street, I remember the games of Hide and Seek we played over there. I'd let Smokey off his leash and we'd start out like we were going to walk down to the river. Smokey would range on ahead a bit, checking things out and generally having a good time and I, when he wasn't looking, would duck behind a tree. After a few moments, Smokey would look back to see where I was and when he didn't see me, he'd come tearing back to find me.  It was especially fun in the snow, when I'd run clumsily away, yelling "Help, help! It's a wolf!"  Yes, the dog made me as nutty as he was.

Someday I'll have to post about him and our car wash experience, but that'll have to wait for another day.

But, as much as I loved Smokey and miss having a dog, I know it's better I don't have one. For one thing, I don't know if I could keep up with the walking he or she would need.  I'll content myself with my "grandpuppy" Gage, my daughter's and her husband's Beagle. A sweet dog, but not one to stay in the yard if his nose leads him elsewhere.  A fact I was a bit concerned about a few weeks ago when I was petsitting for a weekend. One morning when letting him out, I dropped his tie-out and had to go outside to get it. Gage didn't understand why I was pushing him back and squeezing past him (in my robe and slippers). I picked up the clip, clipped it to his collar while still on the steps, then opened the door further to let him out and me in. But Gage didn't seem to understand. He went out, but then came back in with me! And then expected a biscuit for coming in! I pushed him back out, telling him he had to "do something" first.

And now you've met the two dogs I've had in my life, and I'll end here, before this becomes a novel.