Dog Debacles
I have come to the indisputable, undeniable, inescapable conclusion that I live in the dog walkingest neighborhood on the planet. My home has a front facing kitchen window, and pretty much anytime I look out, I see them - men, women, and children of all ages casually traipsing along with one or more well-mannered, cooperative looking dogs at the end of a leash. They’re always there. I watch them as they go by, back-and-forth, back-and-forth, at all times of the day and into the evening. I live on a very quiet, pleasant little street that seems to draw them.
I too have had my fair share of dogs along the way, and although I don’t dislike dogs, I haven’t had very good luck with any of them. The first dog I had was a beautiful dog that no one could ever quite warm up to because he constantly chewed anything and everything he could sink his teeth into. He wouldn’t even let anyone pet him. When he almost chewed clean through one of the posts on the carport, we gave him to a family that lived out in the country. Last I heard he was being kept under close guard because he was terrorizing the neighbor’s sheep.
The next dog I adopted was very lovable, but he had a terrible problem - gas. It was bad, and I do mean bad. Actually, it was horrendous, and it was constant. The air quality in my home was toxic. I tried in vain to rectify the problem and was met with nothing but failure. The situation became intolerable, and the dog had to be given away. I have always hoped that the new owners fared at least a little better than I did, though I seriously doubt it. Maybe they turned him into an outdoor dog.
After those disasters, I swore off dogs. I had tiny children and didn’t think the time was right to take on anything extra, but years later I caved when the opportunity came along to adopt a fluffy little puppy that was cute beyond all belief. Things were going well until he started getting bigger, and then it was one issue after another. First he developed a stubborn skin condition that made him miserable. Then he had recurring ear infections that wouldn’t clear up. His medical expenses were higher than the children’s. When those infections began make him cranky, and he became a biter. One day he bit a neighborhood child so badly that he drew blood. It was with a very, very heavy heart and a few tears that I turned him over to a man who lived in a rural area with wide open spaces and lots of room for a dog to romp around. The guy also seem to know an awful lot about how to care for dogs. I later learned that he had acquired a female dog, and those two dogs had produced a litter of adorable little puppies. That dog had become a family man. There has never been any doubt in my mind as to whether or not I did the right thing.
All in all, I’d say things worked out rather well. I may have given up on the idea of joining the ranks of dog walkers passing by my window, but there was at least in this case a happy ending, and we all love that, don’t we?