Slobberfest 2009

Last Saturday we celebrated our Beach version of the annual Woofstock-the largest outdoor dog festival in North America.

Our canine community celebrates Slobberfest. This dog-day afternoon is presented by Center 55, our local community center. It's a fund-raiser in support of the many excellent services they offer for children, seniors and families.

The first year I attended this gathering, it was held in Kew Park. In my opinion, a venue better suited to this celebration.

Now, for the second year, it's held parallel to the boardwalk, on the grassy area in front of the old boathouse, also referred to by some as the open-air building. The only pro I can think of for using this space is the accessibility to the off-leash area, directly across the boardwalk.

Journey and I headed down to the site with a friend who'd made her way into Toronto along with her very large-sized dog Walter, to experience the festivities.

A block from our destination, we could hear music in the air-some 60's or 70's tunes blasting from the general direction in which we were heading.

Upon arriving, I noticed the DJ/MC had set up his impressive sound equipment under the shelter of the boathouse, while the booths-about ten of them, were scattered out front along the grass. I had to raise my voice an octave or two to be heard above the music and was wondering about the comfort level of the dogs.

As a responsible dog owner, I appraoched the DJ, and asked if he might consider turning down the volume, explaining a dogs sense of hearing is ten times more acute than a humans. (shouldn't he have been aware of this??)

My friend from out of town commented on the lack of room on the walkway from the boardwalk to the boathouse-the center of the action, where the contests were being held-it was far too narrow. Flanked on either side by booths and tables, there was not room enough for people and dog traffic.

I remember the first year I attended Slobberfest in Kew Park, approaching the organizers with my concerns about their choices of the various contests. I see my concerns fell on deaf ears--

The 'Hot Dog Eating Contest' has dogs bobbing for hot dogs out of a bucket...who can eat the most hot dogs in a given time frame-I think it's a minute.

Does anyone really want to cheer their dog on, under the pressure of a stopwatch, to ingest nitrates, dyes and high sodium in copious amounts?? Great fun I suppose, if your dog is used to eating crap.

I reiterate---with all the quality, natural choices on the canine market, could the organizers not have considered another option? Unconscionable and indefensible.

If that's not enough to make any healthy dog (and any responsible owner) ill, there's the 'Canine Ice Cream Eating Contest.'

All these contests are held in the shade of the boathouse-however the floor is concrete. Why, with so many shade trees couldn't the revelry be held on a grassy area adjacent to the boathouse??

Why can't the organizers get together with doggy people (because they certainly don't seem to be!) and come up with healthier, more challenging contests??

Relay races, hide-and-seek-an-item, fastest response to a given command...are just a few that come to my mind...but come on--chowing down on hot dogs?!

Time for the organizers to give their tails a shake and spend some time and put a little more thought into the planning of this celebration. Perhaps a 'suggestion box?' I'm sure there would be a few good ones to chew on!

Respect The Code!

Most law-abiding dog-owners in the beach are using the designated off-leash areas to ensure their canines get sufficient exercise and socialization in an attempt to appease the rest of the community and the powers-that-be.

Within the past two weeks, I've been told by multiple sources about two dog fights in the off-leash areas.

These have not been the brief, vocal conflicts where dogs confront one another for momentarily being in one another's space or for nabbing a toy.

Those skirmishes usually only last about ten seconds and it's over. The less dominant ( or less energetic) of the two sustaining no injuries-save for a bruised ego. Not giving it another thought, he returns to his socializing, a rung lower on the ladder.

These fights have been blood-drawing, have-to-break-them-up battles. One owner got his hand badly bitten in his attempt to separate the clashing canines.

The off-leash areas have a 'Code of Conduct' posted at the entrances.

It simply isn't being adhered to-Pit Bulls are running loose, unmuzzled in the partially-enclosed areas, in-tact males are in there, (against the code) dogs who show aggression toward another dog are not being leashed and removed from the space-instead the person who complains about a dogs aggressive behavior has to listen to a flurry of obscenitiesfrom its owner (wonder why the dog is aggressive??!). Dogs who aren't under voice or signal control are not being retrieved and leashed.

As summer approaches, the problems can only escalate.

When tourists from other areas of the city flock to the beach with their canine companions for some sand and sun, the off-leash areas will be the place to exercise them.

It will be culture shock for many dogs who may not be as socially adept as most of our fortunate friends.

If we can't respect other dog owners and the required code, perhaps we should consider having the areas patrolled by impartial parties-who have knowledge of both dog behavior and the code of conduct.

Gentle (?) Leaders

Advertisments for head collars-the Gentle Leader and the Halti-claim to 'calm the boisterous dog who pulls on the leash.'

Every obedience school, trainer, every expert in the canine field-even veterinarians-are expounding on the excellence of these devices.

Unfortunately, I beg to differ. In my opinion, these collars border on abusive and can lead to injuries, especially when coupled with a flexi-leash. There is no teaching involved with this product.

The concept behind the design is to simulate the pack leaders control by encircling the puppy or dogs snout and lower jaw as well as applying pressure at the scruff of the neck.

Anytime I've watched a dog discipline another dog using this technique, it's done for no more than fifteen seconds, then it's over, with the desired effect, a calm, respectful dog. When the more dominant dog uses this form of discipline, it never leaves a mark-it's done with a firm gentleness.

There are dogs who have permanent hair loss and scars on top of their snouts from these gentle leaders. I'm not even sure where the term leader comes into play. Most dogs I see wearing this contraption are either squirming desparately to get out of it-pawing at their own snouts and rubbing them onto the ground or the skin on their faces is pinched up and twisted, contorting their features so the dog can only see with one eye due to the tautness of the equipment.

I would be concerned with the obvious damage over time, to the cervical vertebrae from the constant twisting motion of the neck as the dogs head is continually yanked sideways. If it's used as a training device for a few weeks, (which I've never seen happen) injuries incurred while wearing one can last a lifetime.

Not all snouts are shaped the same. To offer this product in small, medium and large doesn't make a whole lot of sense (except of course, to the manufacturer!). At the very least, customizing the head gear to reflect the needs of individual breeds would show some basic knowledge of canine structure-and a little intelligence!

Could there be a correlation between the use of this head equipment and the rise in the number of cases of Wobbler's disease in recent years?

Convenience certainly plays a part in its popularity... let's face it, it's far less time-consuming, strapping on the head gear than devoting a couple of weeks teaching the basic etiquette, rules and expectations of walking together.

There is no collar that can take the place of training!

What appears to be a quick and easy fix is not necessarily the best way when dealing with nature.

You'd think by now we'd all have learned that lesson!!

Live Dogs Used As Shark Bait

With a burdened heart I create this post tonight. It gives me no pleasure at all.

There will be no pictures on my blog tonight to reflect this post. I can't bring myself to desecrate this space that way.
You can however check out the links below but the images are quite graphic and very disturbing.


I speak of the barbaric use of both live or dead dogs and cats being used as shark bait. The practise of taking a dog, piercing a giant hook through both upper and lower lip or snout or paws of someones more than terrified domesticated companion as its stuggling is in vain.


Once the dog or cat is captured, the fisherman 'hook' them the day before to let them bleed sufficently.

Some escape before being tossed overboard, to live without being able to eat or walk, depending where the hooks are and to die a pitiful dealth due to infection or starvation.


The dog is then hoisted over the side of the boat and dragged through the water, using the blood streaming from the open wounds caused by the fish hooks to attract any shark in the vicinity. Sometimes the fishermen leave the dog or cat out in the water overnight and return the next day to check for their catch.


Apparently this practise has been going on for over a decade.


I can't spend more time on this topic....it's unhealthy for my soul.
I just wanted to make anyone who is interested aware there are two options.

There is an on-line petition you can sign.

http://www.petitiononline.com/13by3/petition.html


http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2005/10/1019_051019_dogs_sharks.html


Or (and better) you can take a few minutes out of your busy schedule and send a letter (you know, that primitive practise of writing on paper, signing your name to it, placing it into an envelope with a stamp!) addressing it to any French Consulate.


Shame on the French Government. France-a country that professes such love of dogs to allow this barbarism to go unchecked for so long!

Choose Wisely!

I once named a sweet-as-pie puppy Scandal. Her registered name was 'Sandalwood What A Scandal.' I wasn't considering her personality or character at the time but instead was reflecting on the trauma surrounding the whelping.

How many times people would comment that she suited her name! From running down the boardwalk with a squirrel she'd just caught, stopping to show her 'treasure' to passers-by, to catching a seagull as it was taking flight, then charging along the sand blindly, its wings covering her eyes, while tourists stared in shock and disbelief.

I think it has alot to do with our voice inflection when we utter their given word (name). The energy and quality behind what that name brings to our mind.

'Boomer,' a black lab, is rough and ready to go anywhere, ingest anything and in his twilight years is unaccepting of his physical limitations (adventurer/construction-worker/hockey-night lad).

'Lacy,' a sheltie, is a gentle, mild-mannered, slightly aloof girl (frilly-girl/teatime/poetry reading).

'Carl,' a great dane, shows signs of leaning toward having OCD, is genuinely fun to be around and kind (living vicariously through others/dependable/a bit needy).

'Ruckus,' a boxer, is always at the center of any disruption at the dog park, not in a nasty way but just wants to be where the action is ( dash and dare/nosey/high-energy).

'Lucy,'a yellow lab, is a fun-loving, high-energy, what'll-we-do-next girl (shopaholic/where's-the-party girl).

'Whiskey,' a beagle, is full of energy, (and himself!) and wants to be the center of attention (the comic-relief/always regale-you-with-a-story type).

Then there's my 'Journey.' An unassuming sort, plodding along, taking everything in, investigative, exhibiting a low-key acceptance of life.

How often have we exclaimed--or heard, 'that name really suits your dog'....or is it the dog who has grown into the name...the subconscious qualities, the subliminal message we send when we utter their name?

So when you bring your new puppy home or decide to keep that 'special one' out of a litter, the first order of the day is to decide on a suitable name.

We can hardly entertain the idea of proudly presenting our newest member of the family without an identity, without a label conjuring up the character and qualities we're hoping the pup will one day embody.

Logically speaking, we should probably wait until our new charge has given us more to go on than the expected accident on the carpet upon bringing it home...it would be more prudent for us to wait for a glimpse into its character and personality.

I believe a dog grows into its name. It will become the embodiment of the name you choose...so choose wisely.

It's All Fun & Games until...

Yesterday we celebrated Queen Victoria's birthday in Canada. Every year, the last Monday before May 24th is a statutory holiday. The May 2-4 weekend.


It's also the unofficial weekend we recognize as the kick-off to the summer season.


We celebrate this weekend in various ways. There's a slow-moving exodus along every major highway in the country as people get back to nature, returning to open up their cottages. We have our barbeques heating up for get-togethers, we flock to garden centers with a list in hand of perrenials, annuals and garden ornaments as we mentally prepare our backs and knees for the hours we'll put in beautifying our gardens.


We celebrate with a plethora of pyrotechnics...fireworks!!


Most cities put on a display on the holiday Monday. Many individual communities gather in local parks to hold their own mini-displays. In backyards, in shopping-mall parking lots or if you're a group of teenagers, on the street after 1:00a.m.


Go into any corner store at this time of year and there's a bevy of all the newest fireworks to choose from-The Eliminator Shell, The Wheel, Beast of Artillary, Dominator Candle, Triple Whistling Bottle Rockets, Molatov Cocktail. The choice is endless and seldom requires age verification.


The chemicals used to make us 'oh' and 'ah' are hardly environmentally friendly. Barium, used to produce the brilliant green colors is poisonous and radioactive. Copper compounds used to produce blue colors, contain dioxin, which has been linked to cancer. Cadmium, lithium, antimony, rubidium, strontium, lead and potassium nitrate are used to produce different effects, even though they can cause a host of respiratory and other health problems. Couple this with the really big displays put on by the cities usually being set off over or close to a body of water, where all the dusts and contaminants fall, contributing to our water contamination.


Not to mention the amount of refuse left at any location where people gather in large groups or the toll on the local bird and wildlife population.


I'm always put off when I see a dog brought along to these displays. The crowds of revellers and the brilliant colours and designs of pyrotechnics may appeal to the child in us all but they DON'T appeal to my dog or any dog I know of for that matter.


The sound alone is enough to put the most laid-back dog on alert. Their noses being more sensitive than ours, pick up the scent of the chemicals emanating from these creations... these 'terrors in the sky.' They register them as foreign and unfriendly.


Last year, on this holiday, I received a frantic phone call from a neighbour. There were some teenagers passing by her house who stopped long enough to let off a few firecrackers. Her dog was in the fenced-backyard at the time. It panicked at the noise and somehow escaped.
We searched for hours. The next morning, she received a call from Animal Control. Her dog was found on Lakeshore Blvd. It had been hit by a car as it tried to cross the busy street.


I have seen dogs quivering in their paws, panting and displaying any number of stress signals when they are within ear-shot of our celebratory fireworks. Some seek out refuge in the basement, a closet or under a blanket. If a dog is at all sensitive, as with thunderstorms, it's intolerance will grow as it ages.

Dogs can become withdrawn for days after-refusing to go outside after dark, exhibiting apprehension when they come across a sparkler left in the grass at the park the next day.

As far as I'm concerned there should be a ban on selling fireworks to the public. Yes, even the innocent sparklers. Not so innocent when lit and slid into someones shirt.


It's all fun and games until someone gets their eye poked (or burned) out.

There's One Born Every Minute

If you open any dog-related magazine and turn to the classified ads, you'll stumble on two or three dog psychics for hire.



For a fee, you can hear your dog's innermost feelings verbalized and if your dog has had a 'past-life' or multiple past lives, you can hear all about that too. From the dog's innermost thoughts straight to your ears...via a psychic.

If you can't get to where the psychic of your choice is, this isn't a problem. They can do a reading over the phone. Just hold the phone in the general direction of where your dog is resting and the psychic will pick up your animals vibes and relay the message to you.

I don't mind admitting, I have a few problems with this whole picture. I'm a skeptic.

I'm alot more comfortable with the term animal communicator. We all communicate on many different levels with our dogs...body language, energy levels, voice inflection and good old verbal commands or words our dogs have come to recognize. (not 'understand' but recognize)

I do believe dogs communicate with us and if we're in-tune' with them, they are capable of sending us messages, to get our attention. We sense their being. They read us.

On the other paw, there's the self-proclaimed animal psychic.

I don't believe anyone can communicate with a deceased animal-which is a service most of these people offer, some with a promised 99% accuracy!


I don't believe they can read my dog's past lives, nor do I believe a dog can tell them what happened to him/her when he/she was three months old or a year-old, that is still traumatizing him/her today.


Dogs do not have the cerebral reasoning ability it takes to tell a psychic, or anyone else, a story in any language...but watch them long enough and their story will unfold.


A woman who dearly loved her dog sought the aid of a local animal psychic to find out if it was'time to say goodbye' to her 16-year old companion.


I had been strongly suggesting her dog was trying to 'tell her something' for-the-past year-and-a-half, watching as it stumbled and fell over, too old and feeble to walk. (she got a carriage for it) The dog had lost it's eyesight the year before and at this point was plagued with seizures throughout the day. It gave up on eating. There was something almost mournful in it's body language. It was tired. Her owner was desparate to know what was wrong-what her friend was 'feeling.'

The 'message' was loud and clear to me.

During the winter months when the snow became too deep to push the carriage to the psychic's house for a weekly reading, her owner was relieved when the psychic told her she could do a reading over the phone. How very convenient for all involved!

My dog has a half-dozen ways of 'telling me' or communicating to me when she's tired, thirsty, hungry, needing a walk, wanting to play, not feeling well, disappointed, suspicious of an individual, feeling lazy, angry, excited, happy, nervous, concerned, fed-up, wanting my attention, desiring a cuddle, contented and yes, even when she's a little miffed with me---


I've set the stage for this type of communication and we are 'in tune' enough with each other to reap the benefits. We're conscious of each other's energies-each other's being...we feel/sense each other.


Unfortunately, it's a far cry from carrying on a conversation, although I'd probably prefer a conversation with any animal than most humans. (oops-did I say that??!)

People who seek out dog psychics are in need. They are searching for someone to console them, to share their path with...or perhaps they need to seek out professional help for themselves.


Besides, if I were blessed with psychic abilities, I don't think there would be a fee involved in sharing my gift.

Pippi Longstocking Gone Wrong

I've just come in from my last walk of the evening with my dog.


The neighourhood is quiet at this hour of the night, a couple sitting out on their front porch, enjoying the still, cool night air. A cat crossing the street on some kind of mission. We pass a couple of dog owners out on their last call. No raccoon sightings, which is not unusual as garbage pick-up was this morning--they've had their fill after rummaging through any of the loose trash before daybreak.

Journey stops her investigative sniffing on a lawn long enough to recognize a person approaching from a distance. I acknowledge the on-coming pedestrian traffic by stepping slightly to the side,motioning Journey over onto the grass to allow an unobstructed passage.

When the person, a female of about thirty years old, gets within two feet of us, she jumps up, lands in a crouch position, at eye-level with my girl, stares at her and doesn't say a word.

I'm fairly thrown by this behavior and Journey has taken a step backward with a concerned expression on her face.

I ask her what she's doing and she lets me know she's 'saying hello' to my dog.

I suggest this isn't the best way to do so anytime but especially in the dark at night.

She then informs me she trains dogs (would NOT have ever slotted her as a trainer--of any sort!) and, 'yes, this is exactly the way you do it'.

'No,' I say, my patience surprising me. 'You should never get down at eye-level with an unknown dog and just stare at it.'

'Too bad you've got a scaredy-cat there. You've made her that way, you know,' she tells me as she's bringing herself back to an erect position.

Fixing her with a frosty, eye-level stare of my own, conscious of her bright blue and white Pippi Longstocking tights, I'm trying to formulate what path I want this confrontaion to to take.

As she slowly starts to pass us, I realize there's no response necessary--I'm dealing with a complete maniac.

Journey twists her neck around and watches Pippi until she's completely out of sight, still wondering, I'm sure, what that human was all about.

Hmm...I wonder if I'll ever get to meet a dog she's trained--or who her employer is??!!?

With her skills, I guess it could be one of those big-box pet stores who are brokers for puppy mills. And I bet you could find a couple of those designer breeds there too!

Lip curling...

My Breed of Choice

It's no secret my breed of choice is the Great Dane.



In 1991 I purchased my first Dane. I knew nothing about the breed aside from it being one of the giant breeds, as well as being referred to as one of the 'grief' breeds. The latter label bestowed upon them (and most of the giant breeds) due to the special requirements in their growth stages and their shorter life expectancy.



I have been graced with having four Danes to date; my first, my heart-girl. She had one litter of pups. From that litter, I kept my 'pick'-another female. And then there were two.


The more I learned about these Danes the more I realized how much I admired them and my quest to know everything about their personalities, every nuance, every quirk, every characteristic, grew. From a behaviorist point of view, they were a real study.


A dog is a dog is a dog. Species first, (canidae) breed second, (Great Dane) and call name last.


By their very stature, they are set apart from so many other breeds. They are part lion, part lamb. They are sensitive to all energies (I have followed along behind one of my Danes as she tracked a single ant along a sidewalk, studying it every centimetre of it's journey with intense solemnity, at the same time exhibiting such a profound joy in her discovery!) and if you take the time to 'read' them, you realize they reflect their emotions in their facial expressions just as plainly as through their body language.


Their desire to live in harmony with their human is tantamount to their well-being. Their desire. They want to 'fit in' to their human's lifestyle and energy level. They don't expect you to alter your lifestyle (save the walks and outdoor exercise we all need more of!) to suit them, which is a noble quality in itself and is not so with many other breeds. They are an unassuming lot. They specialize in making their body fit the space alloted to them. (except in bed-where they like to take up as much room as possible!)


Providing guidance and leadership to two Great Danes has it's moments but with the older one, the mother, enforcing my rule with her off-spring, it was a peaceful existance.


After a few years and the required health checks, I bred the daughter, kept the 'pick' puppy-another female...and then there were three.

We were a family, a pack, with the hierarchy in place. I now owned three-generations, grand-dam, dam and her daughter.


With females (of any breed) one must always stay one step ahead of the brightest one.


We lived in peace and harmony in our 'den.' If there was discipline doled out or an admonishment, it came from me, always backed up by the now-veteran grand-dam, the QueenD.


This breed enjoys living in a pack situation, whether it's with other complimentary breeds or their own, they're happier, more fulfilled.


By the time they're beginning to mature at around two, two-and-a-half, they become breed specific where play is concerned. They will greet and be friendly with other breeds but recognize their (sometimes self-imposed) differences and will deign to share their nobility only on occasion.


When they've reached that magnificent age of a veteran...or senior at age seven, they sleep the sleep of an old dog, Raising their head from time to time with bleary-eyed acceptance, to nudge a warm nose into a close-by hand in loving gratitude.


I'm now back to a single companion, old paw time claiming the pieces of my heart one by one.

Never, ever ready to say goodbye to one when the inevitable time comes but the lessons they each leave me with, have been learned.

With their individual personalities, allowing me a glimpse into their internal mosaic, I move on with a richer understanding of the souls within the breed we refer to as The Great Dane!

Too Much of a Good Thing

Once or twice a day, everyday, a well-meaning, responsible dog owner loads his dogs into the vehicle, drives them out to what is probably the closest thing these dogs will know this side of the rainbow bridge--the perfect location for dogs to get their daily exercise.

For the next hour he follows along the paths as the dogs chase each other, run through the woods and have a real great time!

Satiated, they return to the vehicle, pile in and return home. After their bellies have been filled they'll retire to a comfortable sofa for their much-needed beauty sleep.

What could be wrong with this scenario...?

Of course every dog needs off-leash time. Of course socialization is vital for a well-balanced dog.

But can there be too much of a good thing?

If the off-leash time doesn't balance out with on-leash-learning-respect-for-owner-time, or some form of set guidelines, then yes, you can anticipate some problems.

There has to be respect before the earned reward of off-leash priveleges. (I don't mean respect by behaving while in the vehicle on the way to an off-leash area either!) I mean the challenge- the job of being attentive and submissive.

There are very few dogs who don't love their owners. Loving people comes easy to dogs.

Respect is another matter altogether in the canine world. Just because a dog loves you, it doesn't necessarily follow that it respects you. One has to earn respect.

A dog will give you respect when you will settle for nothing less. When you expect nothing less.

When there is no question about 'who's walking who.' When no means 'no questions-not acceptable.' As with a child who is left to 'run wild' without limits, boundaries or expectations, this can lead to far-reaching effects.

Owning a confident, well-socialized dog is wonderful but too much freedom does not beget self-restraint in the canine world. It can produce a dog with dominance issues.

Dogs are forever attempting to climb that ladder...to be 'top dog.' Not only within a pack but if given the chance, will dominate whoever they can, whether it's subtle in nature (pawing at your knee for affection now or curling a lip when a toy is taken away) or a more obvious behavior. (lunging at an approaching dog while being walked or letting out a quiet growl of disapproval when ordered off the sofa)

So before you allow your charge unlimited exercise and socialization, make sure there's a balance-make sure it's well-deserved!

Designer Genes

Goberian, Havaton, Doxie-Chon, Eskifon, Wauzer, Rottaf, Miniboz, Cheeks, Japeke.

Nope, not a foreign language...these are some of the new 'designer breeds', the newest trend flooding the market.

A great percentage of these mixed breeds end up in petstores, where with a fancy designer name and an outragous price, you can take one home and conveniently enroll your pup in said store's puppy or obedience classes!

Fifteen years ago, we called them 'mixed breeds .'

I refer to them as 'Canadian Classics.'

I have nothing against mixed breeds, I was exposed to more mixed breeds growing up than purebred dogs. (although our family did own a couple of purebred dogs; a dachshund, a beagle) There were more mixes, I assume because we lived in an urban area and anyone who was serious enough to have purebred dogs probably lived in a more rural setting. All the kennels were out in the country where there was plenty of land.

Our dogs were let out in the morning, to wander around and scratched at the door when they returned. When a neighbour came knocking at the door ( sometimes knocking at more than one door, because sometimes there was more than one sire, since LuLu was out wandering too!) to share the news their little LuLu had just had six puppies and a few of them closely resembled our dog, there were congratulations all around and the pups were given away to good homes.

As a 'mixed breed', the pup might cost $10-20.00.

Now some of the mixed breeds--oops! I mean 'designer breeds' are going for $800.00. One site has their pups listed for $1200.-

Since these 'breeders' don't belong to any kennel club (or they wouldn't be cross-breeding) they are not held to any breeder's code of ethics or regulatory committee. They don't need to do any health testing, which is obvious by the number of Golden-doodles with hip issues.

They do have their own registry though--I don't know who's brain-child that was but they 'recognize' certain hybrids. Recognize them as what?? Dogs??!?

They don't do pedigree work to see which dogs were inflicted with what diseases and what percentage of dogs have genetic issues to be passed on in their off-spring.

Some claim hybrid dogs are healthier, because you are mixing up the gene pool. Yes, indeed they're mixing up the gene pool...but they don't tell you instead of concerning yourself with one breeds disposition and health issues, you are now dealing with two (or who knows how many) distinct breeds who both carry separate health issues within their breed.

I have a problem with people who are crossing Catahoula Leopard Dogs with Boerboels-now that's a whole lotta dog for someone without the knowledge of that mix! Or a Great Dane with a Neopolitan Mastiff.

I shudder to think of the possible ramifications of combining those genetics!

If you are interested in the list of 'designer breeds' or the registry club:

http://www.dogbreedinfo.com/americancaninehybridclub.htm

http://www.dogbreedinfo.com/hybriddogs.htm

Jenny Craig Candidate

I have never seen a wolf trudging along behind the pack in attempts to keep up. I've never seen any overweight animals in the wild.

Optimum health is essential to their survival skills-the physical exertion of the hunt and chase, bringing their prey down, it all takes a toned, muscular, well-appointed body and a sharp mind.

A far cry from close to 50% of our domesticated canine companions! Obesity is not only on the rise-it's higher than it's ever been in the history of the domestic dog.

The waddle is not a natural gait for any dog. (not even the Basset Hound)

One should be able to run their hands down the dog's side and feel ribs, not have to dig through body fat to 'find' them!

While it may be very well and good for us to lay around on the sofa munching on a bowl of Doritos (and tossing the odd one to the dog) the ramifications are not so comforting for your companion!

A dog needs exercise, more than just a walk around the block two or three times a day. Or a big fenced-in backyard. They need to run-chase, play. They need to exert themselves physically and be challenged mentally.

When I hear of a dog who is a poor eater, the first question I ask is what kind of exercise the dog is getting. When I hear about a dog who is destructive in the house-the same question comes to mind.

Predators/scavengers are genetically programmed for the hunt, the chase and the bringing down of their prey. A dog owner who can employ all these events into a walk, will never have a dog who is a picky eater.

Nor will they have an over-weight dog...or any of the ailments that go along with or are exascerbated by obesity-diabetes, joint dysfunction, heart disease, orthopedic issues.

There's even a pill out now for treating over-weight dogs--Slentrol.

I say, shame on any vet who prescribes it.

There are too many armchair owners-too many fair-weather walkers. It's far easier to throw the dog a treat (or three) or to put the dog into the backyard than to grab the leash and head outside for an hour's exercise.

Not always convenient to put aside an hour a day to enjoy the outdoors with your dog. To play, to discover. to bond. Find that trigger for your dog-that game it just loves to play until you're worn-out! A frisbee, a ball, jogging, whatever it might be.

A necessity for the responsible dog owner and for the healthy, well-balanced dog!

The Salad Bar

My dog eats grass.

There are two distinct types of grass she ingests.

One type is when she has something going on in her intestines and she wants to clear out her stomach. The effect of eating this type of grass produces immediate results. The stomach is cleaned out. These blades are darker green and broad.

Then there's the daily salad bar, when the blades still hold the dew. These are the young, new shoots of grass and in the early spring, there

is a daily foraging for this superior speciman.

I've seen multiple dogs gathering at what must be a particularly up-scale salad bar. The owners just hang around until their dogs have had their fill, then with their appetite satisfied, move on.

I've heard it's the trace minerals that attract dogs to eating grass. It could be the actual act of chewing they're going for. Perhaps the grass has a sweet taste to it.

Whatever the reasons, I don't think it's a harmful indulgence!

A Rose By Any Other Name...

As breeder or owner of a female, one gets to choose the names for the puppies born in a litter. It's a name on paper for the kennel club registration forms. The 'official' name. This is not necessarily the name that will stick once the puppy goes off with its pack members to it's new den. Any other chosen name is the pup's 'call' name.

Sometimes the call name will be somewhere in the registered name or will be referenced in the choice. 'Sweet Lily of the Valley' may be shortened to 'Lily.' 'Stars in My Eyes' may become 'Cassy', short for the constellation Cassiopeia.' You get the picture...

At times the new owners will figure out their own name for their new charge, that has no reflection on the official name. I had a pup go to his new home proudly sporting the name, 'Sandalwood Steppin' Out.' His owners decided on 'Carl.' No big deal!

"That which we call a rose. By any other name would smell as sweet."

Ten years ago, I had a big strapping puppy who reminded me of a locomotive coming at me. I decided on the name, 'Sandalwood SteamHeat.' It suited him perfectly.

I sold this puppy to a family out of country-first time I'd shipped a puppy anywhere. It was very difficult leaving him at the airport but I knew he'd be greeted by his new people within three or four hours. They called me later on that day and told me all was well and they were in love and would send photos.

There were photos of him arriving weekly, he'd settled in well.

When I received the official paperwork from the kennel club, I mailed them off right away to 'Heaters' owners.

The photos stopped coming....something was wrong!

About a month later I got an emotionally-charged phone call from Heater's parents. They had received his papers and wanted to change his name. They felt they couldn't use the name 'Steamheat' in public because they were Baptists and they felt the name carried a 'sexual connotation.'

I patiently explained my reason for choosing this name for the stocky little fellow but it was no use. I agreed they should call the pup whatever they chose-but his name would remain as it was on his registration papers.

They were going to write a letter to the kennel club and get his official name changed. They preferred 'Saxon.' They would get a lawyer if necessary!

I mentioned (as delicately as possible) the Saxons held far darker connotations for some. They invaded, raped, pillaged and murdered.

They contacted the kennel club and of course, were informed it's 'breeder's choice' where names are concerned.

That was the last time they contacted me, shared photos or let me know how he was doing. I called them a few times over the years but they never responded.

That was ten years and four months ago.

Last month, on Easter morning, I got an email asking me if I was the breeder who'd sold them 'Saxon'. I could easily have let them know I never had a puppy named Saxon but I took the higher road and joyfully told them yes! Was he still alive? Was he healthy? Happy?

Yes, he's healthy and happy. Yes, he's the best dog they've ever owned. Then I received the photos. I can tell he is much loved.

I'm told they will perhaps consider another pup from me in the spring....I will give serious thought before naming that one!

The Open Door

This afternoon I was coming home from the store-a short walk up from Queen St. In the past week the trees have gone from promising buds to lush green foliage and I was enjoying the swing into spring on a sunny afternoon.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a streak of movement in a backyard. I stopped, trying to identify that familair slinking motion.

No more than a minute later a large-size, male dog came loping down the driveway, head and tail down. At first glance, his gait and physical appearance reminded me of a coyote. he was quite majestic-looking. He paused, glanced behind him-waiting for something. Ten seconds later, a smaller, stocky female followed. When she caught up with him, they proceeded down the driveway, along the sidewalk to the next driveway. They headed toward that backyard at a steady pace.

Now I was intrigued!

Our neighbourhood is not one where dogs run at large. There's the odd dog lazing on a front porch while the owner is doing some gardening or once in awhile a bark from a fenced backyard but that's as feral as the dogs get around here.

Another minute later and the same pattern occured. The male emerged from the backyard first, waiting to escort the female along the sidewalk to the next driveway, up the driveway and into the backyard. I followed along, trying to get their attention. They were obviously on some kind of mission.

After trailing these two for seven backyards, I called over to two women who were walking their Portugeuse Water dogs on the opposite side of the street. I explained the situation and asked if either could perhaps spare a leash.

One of the women excused herself, letting us know her dog was dominant where other males are concerned. She crossed the street to stay at a safe distance. The other woman took her dog's leash off (well-trained dog!!) and offered it up.

Since my arms were weighed down with grocery bags, I asked her if she'd make an attempt at leashing one of the dogs.

Using treats she brought along for her dog walk, she offered some to the two dogs on their way down the driveway. Throwing them in their general direction, the dogs rushed over and gobbled them up hungrily. Gingerly the female approached close enough, and finally accepted the exchange of freedom for some treats.

It was painfully obvious though, getting the male to do likewise was not going to happen. On top of that, treat lady's bag was empty.

I took a moment to assess the dog's behavior and physical well-being. I noticed the male was thin-not starving but not well-fleshed out. The female was friendly and portly but still seemed to be very hungry. Their tongues were lolling, they needed water. They were both walking stiff-legged, as if they'd put a few miles under those paws.

I called my son and asked him to bring out a bowl of water. (he knows me well enough by now, not to question these strange requests.)

Spying a fenced-in yard on the corner, I told treat lady to lead the captive over to it. These two vagrants were obviously a pair-where one went the other would follow. I put my grocery bags down, took the leash, opened the gate and led the female into the yard. The male hesitated but out of concern for his partner, followed.

With the gate closed behind us, we had them both!

They drank their fill and thanks to the lady with the dominant dog who ran home to get them food, they finished off a full bowl of kibble.

A neighbour called Animal Control and gave them the address. They told us they could come right away and pick up the dogs but if they weren't claimed in three days-they'd be put down.

These dogs are obviously owned by someone, they are wearing collars, no tags though. Perhaps they will find they're microchipped.

Observing their behavior in the yard, it comes to me---she's pregnant!! If I was a betting woman, that's where I'd put my money!

Rick with Animal Control arrived within twenty minutes. He took a look at the dogs and said, 'I know these dogs, they live down the block. I've never really seen them but they match the description. Their owner has been sited for the piles in the backyard.' There's no one home there right now but the door is wide open. Probably a disgruntled neighbour. Lots of barking complaints.' Rick leads the female into the van and the male dutifully follows. I thank him for his quick response and he gives me his card.

Now I'm another disgruntled neighbour...although I'm within 500 ft. from my own door, I pick up my bags of groceries and storm down the street, looking for the house with the 'open door.'

I locate it easily. It's an ill-kept place with boxes and over-flowing garbage bins at the side.

I hear a dog barking in the backyard.

Approaching two gentlemen sitting out on a porch two houses down, I ask them what they can tell me about their neighbour-the one with the open door. They tell me there's a dog in a cage in the backyard, and the young guy who rents the place breeds his huskys quite frequently but they never see him walking the dogs.

I have to ask them if they have any idea why his door is wide open if he's not at home. They tell me they wouldn't be surprised if a neighbour opened it in hopes of getting rid of those dogs.

I will return to this house tomorrow and continue to do so until I find someone at home. I want to speak to this person...badly!!

Big Dogs Little Dogs

We're strolling along Queen Street on our way down to the beach for our afternoon play. More than one person stops us along our route to ask if they can 'pat the dog.' Journey dutifully stands still long enough to accept the praise and admiration and after a quick pat, we're off again.

There's a middle-aged lady with a miniature Schnauzer coming toward us from the opposite direction along the sidewalk. At twenty-five feet away, it starts...the dog is yapping, growling and pulling at the end of it's leash. His owner responds by shortening the leash while letting her poor baby know, 'it's o.k'. (No--It is NOT o.k!!!)

Journey is averting her eyes toward the park across the street, trying to control the situation by letting the Schnauzer know there is no threat from over here.

The lady and her 'poor baby' (now in a frenzied state) have managed to squeeze by us, relieved to have made it past us in one piece.

Once we've crossed the street and entered the park, a man walking a smart-looking Shetland Sheepdog is passing by. Over the barking, the man elucidates. When his dog was a puppy, he was attacked by a big dog-ever since, his dog is 'afraid of the big ones.' I ask him how many stitches the dog received from the attack. He assures me there were none required.

I don't buy it...it just doesn't justify this dog's behavior--lunging at the end of the leash, growling and snapping in my dog's face. Why was this issue not addressed right after the 'alleged attack?'

Not all small breeds exhibit this behavior but unfortunately, the majority do.

I'm so tired of hearing the reasons, I don't care what the owner's story is anymore. Willingly accept the blame for your dog's anti-social/bad behavior and set it right! Whether it stems from apprehension, lack of discipline or a Napoleon Complex, it's as much your responsibility to control your dog as it is my responsibilty to control mine.

Alot of times what people interpret as being an 'attack' is nothing more than a dominant dog doling out discipline-putting the overly zealous, misbehaving puppy or dog in its place. Calming its energies-letting it know what's 'acceptable behavior.'

I've seen my dog pin an annoying dog to the ground, after a warning ('get out of my space, I am not amused') holding it down, using her front legs until the dog lies still--gives in. Always done with an air of calm intent. After which she will release the dog, gather her dignity and stroll away. This is much the same as a parent containing an out-of-control child, who's in a temper tantrum, a paws-on time-out! If the dog approaches her again, it tends to display the required manners and respect.

This is the same way the mother dog teaches her puppies and if they tend to loose the lesson when they go to their new home, another dog will re-educate them.

I know if my dog were to respond in the same manner to these dogs or approach any dog-no matter what its size, barking and lunging at the end of her leash, there's a good chance I'd have a visit from an Animal Control officer and possibly a court order for a 'dangerous dog' designation.


This is a perfect case of 'size discrimination'!!