Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Am I too brown to play with your dog?

I could be paranoid. I could be.

But I get this feeling I've mortally offended some humans.

It could be the way they roll their eyes and shake their heads.

It could be the way they sigh and mutter when they see me coming.

Or the way they sweep their dogs up - into their arms or onto their laps if they're small enough, into the house/yard/car, if it's close enough.
Most likely however, it's the way some of them shout. "CONTROL YOUR DOG!" or "KEEP THAT FUCKING DOG AWAY FROM MINE!"

I'm not too sure what that means, but it doesn't sound good and I'm pretty sure I'm too young to be listening to language like that.

No doubt they have their reasons.

After all, I AM a 43kg, clumsy, rough mongrel with A.D.H.D. that's been dragging innocent dogs by their collars, chasing and barrelling into them until they collapse into squealing heaps...all in the name of FUN! WHAT was I thinking?!
Thanks to a moment of madness on the part of my humans, I'm a dog that doesn't fit in a tea cup, living in a suburb that's slightly larger than a postage stamp.

A garbage-sniffing, in-your-face, don't mess-with-me street pup that one day, 10 months ago, got lucky.

It worries me a little, of course.

Not too long ago, a dog that used to come to the park d-i-s-a-p-p-e-a-r-e-d. He was a puppy American Pit Bull. Apparently that's something Very Bad to be, though I don't think he knew that. He just wanted to play but no one would let their dogs play with him. It was very sad. So he went away and I've not seen him since.

It's a dreadful thing to be unwanted. And it's entirely possible that since he never got the chance to make any friends, he'll grow up to be a crabby dog. I think it's called a v.i.c.i.o.u.s cycle.

Over the years, my friend, Mr Thumper, has been attacked by family favourite Labradors and sweet little dogs, coming home with a bloody nose and eye at least 3 times.

But it's a good thing he didn't try to defend himself because, being almost big enough to ride, he would have been in deeeeep poop if he'd tried to do that. Very Deep Poop Indeed.

Just last week, I was walking up the sidewalk on Darling Street, wondering wistfully if my human would ever fork out for a fat jam doughnut for me from Bertoni, when out of nowhere, 2 little dogs on very long leashes started running up to me, barking and growling. They were so furious, they started squabbling with each other trying to get to me first.

"What have I done?" I thought, "It must have been something very bad. Do I even know you?"

And then, I heard their human call out, "Oh, they just think they're big dogs!"

Well. I have news for you lady, I think I'm a chihuahua. Really, I do. Don't you think that's cute?
I love kissing and cuddling. I love sleeping on my human's lap and watching a bit of TV.

I love my pretty princess bed. I love my toasty flannel jammies with the pirate on it.

And I love fruit. I love apples and bananas, I love mangoes and lychees. And as everyone knows, vegetarians and fruitarians are Up There in Goodliness and will one day go to heaven. So there.

Here's what I think on my road to gaining sainthood...

There are good little dogs. And there are bad big dogs.

There are bad little dogs. And there are good big dogs.

There are dogs that are bad, in the process of becoming good.

There are dogs that will always be bad [though I suspect that usually has something to do with their humans].

There are bad Labradors and there are good Pit Bulls.

There are good mutts and there are bad pedigrees.

There are good brown dogs and there are bad brown dogs.

And you'd best watch this space.

Because - with the goodwill and patience of the many non-judgemental humans who stop to say hello, smile, encourage and give me a pat -

THIS brown dog is on her way... becoming *GOOD*.


This post is dedicated to all the dogs I've met and played with [or terrified] on my wanderings:

The Littlies Bubka, Ollie, Wally, Harry, Josie, John, India, Millie, Sparkie, Del, Timmy, Tank, Rocky, Ozzy, Georgie, Elvis, Millie, Minka, Billy, Flynn, Cooper, Ruby, Chippy, Frankie, Lockie, Oxley, Scupper, Ace, Prince, Satchmo, Cuddles, Dino, Tyler, Riley, Dexter and Otto

The Small to Large Middies Banjo, Trudeau, Camy, Nelson, Ruby, Sunny, Ranger, Bubba, Gideon, Marley, Coolie, Chopper, Tilly, Paddy, Shadow, Zarnie, Luke, Milo, Leo, Qinwa, Diesel, Molly, Peppa, Corby, Mister, Kimmy, Baci, Bisu, Zara, Yugo, Toiffle, Archie, Digger, Bronnie, Whiskey, Frankie, Pinky, Oscar, Delilah, Cody, Roy, Poppy, Hugo, Cato, Jack, Diva, Charly, Scottie, Molly, Link, Karma, Prince, Bisu, Baci, Father Jack and Spike

The Biggies Monty, Atlas, Karl, Pepper, Leopold, Roy, Huey Bear, Winston, Angel, Rustum, Amber, Tallulah, Jessie, Sasha, Shushi, Argus, Guiness, Lockie, Valentine, Hro, Fergus, Jasper, Nalla, Clayton, Hector and of course, Rufus.

And all the dogs I have yet to meet - monstrous and minute, skinny and fat, young and old, crabby and sweet, mongrel and manicured - that live in this wonderful place we call HOME.

Thanks also, of course, to the humans who scold, cajole, encourage and love us in the hope that we will ALL one day become...GOOD DOGS.


UPDATE 29 January 2010: As chance would have it, my stay-at-home human met Bubba, the Missing Pit Bull, yesterday while waiting for the bus. She says he was well, all grown up, and walking tail up and happy in front of 2 scrap-sized dogs.

UPDATE November 2010: My out-at-work human met Bubba's humans yesterday. Bubba had bone cancer. He's gone away and won't be coming back.

"My kids are around pit bulls every day. In the '70s they blamed Dobermans, in the '80s they blamed German shepherds, in the '90s they blamed the Rottweiler. Now they blame the pitbull." 
                                                                                                               - Cesar Millan

Friday, January 22, 2010

My little corner of the world.

I like walks.

I like them at least twice a day.

I like them in the sunshine.
I don't mind them in the rain.

But, as any dog will tell you, it's hard work training humans to feel the same way.

"Is it time already? Are you sure?" they plead.

"We have no life, Georgia Little Pea! Wouldn't you rather sit in a cafe,
with a crusty toasted ham and cheese croissant, cool water on the side?"

"How about a little snooze?"

"Maybe watch TV - Dogtown's on!"

"NOT YET!" I bark at them LOUDLY to be sure they hear me, "there's plenty of time to sit around when I get old, don't you know?"

"Where's my collar? Where's my leash? What are we waiting for?"

"Open the door! Open the gate! LET'S GO!"

And because the humans are responding really well to training...

...they do.



If YOU like to walk too...