On Fri, 16 Sep 2005 02:12:24 -0500, Don Foreman
wrote:

On Wed, 14 Sep 2005 05:35:39 GMT, Gunner Asch
wrote:



http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/gunnerasch4570/my_photos

Nice lookin' pups.

Hope you note their response to prospective owners before you let them
go. Give them a few minutes together, see how it goes.

A vet told me that dogs who choose their owners tend to live much
longer.

My late Charlie Dog, black lab and german shepherd, lived for 18
years. That's nearly twice a lifespan for those breeds.
We were both strays at the time, she decided to move in with me one
day as a half-grown pup. I liked her OK but she was a bit wild, being
a stray and all. She was a survivor, a mutt, living by wily charm.

After sorting out some matters of obligatory manners with zero
tolerance for error, I decided she could live with me for a while. I
liked her and she seemed to like me. She didn't need me; she could
charm her way into any kitchen in the 'hood and had been doing so.

We became buds for a very long time thereafter. She was never
what I'd call "obedient" but she never ever deviated from required
basic manners. She definitely had a mind of her own, loved playing
tricks on me, but she was incredibly gentle with children, very
polite about temptations including icecreamcones, while being
fiercely protective of "her" humans.

She even won the hawrt of milady that came later, who called her "that
goddamned tulip-eating dog" for some time. They got to be fast
friends eventually. Char was Mar's shadow in the northwoods,
guarding her against maurauding chipmunks, geese and nearly-feral
stray dogs that happened by from time to time. When Char passed on,
Mar grieved for "that goddamned tulip-eating dog" for months. There
is still a photo of Char stuck to the fridge with a magnet.

A good dog is a rare treasure. Charlie 'n I checked each other out
every day. If I had skeeter bites or bee stings, she somehow knew
--and it is quite amazing how dog licks can make those go away. She'd
gently use her front teeth to abrade some problems, then lick them
away. They healed overnight after her attentions. When she got a
tick I saw it, and she trusted me enough to hold still while I did the
necessary surgery that must have hurt a bit.

When Charlie died, I visited the vet to discuss final arrangements.
While I was waiting, a huge cat came around and crawled all over me.
I'm not a cat fancier, neither like them nor dislike them. The vet
noted that, said he'd never seen that cat behave that way. Perhaps
the cat sensed my grief. Mighta been a pretty good cat. Animals
and small children have uncanny instincts at times.



Indeed. And an excellent post.

Gunner

"Pax Americana is a philosophy. Hardly an empire.
Making sure other people play nice and dont kill each other (and us)
off in job lots is hardly empire building, particularly when you give
them self determination under "play nice" rules.

Think of it as having your older brother knock the **** out of you
for torturing the cat." Gunner