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DOGS

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see "ANIMALS" for related links

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The only dog I ever met that was dumber than
Shawna belongs to my editor. This dog, a collie
named Augie, also looks smart, if you grew up
watching "Lassie."

Lassie looked brilliant, in part because the farm
family she lived with was made up of idiots.
Remember? One of them was always getting
pinned under the tractor, and Lassie was always
rushing back to the farmhouse to alert the other
ones.

She'd whimper and tug at their sleeves, and
they'd always waste precious minutes saying
things: "Do you think something's wrong? Do
you think she wants us to follow her? What
is it, girl?" as if this had never happened
before, instead of every week.

What with all the time these people spent pinned
under the tractor, I don't see how they managed
to grow any crops whatsoever. They probably got
by on federal crop supports, which Lassie filed the
applications for.

--Dave Barry (1947— )
American humorist.
_Dave Barry's Greatest Hits_ [1988],
"Earning A Collie Degree"

-

A dog is the god of frolic.
--Henry Ward Beecher (1813—1887)
American Congregational minister;
[brother of Harriet Beecher Stowe, son of Lyman Beecher.]

Dachshunds are ideal dogs for small children, as they
are already stretched and pulled to such a length that
a child cannot do much harm one way or another.
--Robert Benchley (1889—1945)
American humorist and newspaper columnist.

-

The only thing on this earth that loves
you more than he loves himself.
--Josh Billings [Henry Wheeler Shaw] (1818—1885)
American humorist.


Money will buy a pretty good dog,
but it won't buy the wag of his tail.
--Josh Billings [Henry Wheeler Shaw] (1818—1885)
American humorist.

-

The greatest pleasure of a dog is that you may
make a fool of yourself with him, and not only
will he not scold you, but he will make a fool
of himself, too.
--Samuel Butler (1835—1902)
English novelist, essayist, and critic.

-

'Tis sweet to hear the watch-dog's honest bark
Bay deep-mouth'd welcome as we draw near home;
'Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark
Our coming, and look brighter when we come.
--Lord Byron [George Gordon Byron] (1788—1824)
English Romantic poet and satirist.
_Don Juan_ [1818], canto I, st. 123


Epitaph To A Dog

Near this spot
Are deposited the Remains
of one
Who possessed Beauty
Without Vanity,
Strength without Insolence,
Courage without Ferocity,
And all the Virtues of Man
Without his Vices.

This Praise, which would be unmeaning flattery,
If inscribed over Human Ashes,
Is but a just tribute to the Memory of
"Boatswain," a Dog
Who was born at Newfoundland,
May, 1803,
And died at Newstead Abbey
Nov. 18, 1808.

When some proud son of man returns to earth,
Unknown to glory, but upheld by birth,
The sculptor's art exhausts the pomp of woe,
And storied urns record who rests below.
When all is done, upon the tomb is seen,
Not what he was, but what he should have been.
But the poor dog, in life the firmest friend,
The first to welcome, foremost to defend,
Whose honest heart is still his master's own,
Who labors, fights, lives, breathes for him alone,
Unhonored falls, unnoticed all his worth,
Denied in heaven the soul he held on earth —
While man, vain insect! hopes to be forgiven,
And claims himself a sole exclusive heaven.

Oh man! thou feeble tenant of an hour,
Debased by slavery, or corrupt by power —
Who knows thee well must quit thee with disgust,
Degraded mass of animated dust!
Thy love is lust, thy friendship all a cheat,
Thy smiles hypocrisy, thy words deceit!
By nature vile, ennobled but by name,
Each kindered brute might bid thee blush for shame.

Ye, who perchance behold this simple urn,
Pass on — it honors none you wish to mourn.
To mark a friend's remains these stones arise;
never knew but one — and here he lies.

--Lord Byron [George Gordon Byron] (1788—1824)
English Romantic poet and satirist.
Tribute to his dog "Boatswain," on a
monument in the garden of Newstead Abbey.

-

My dog went mad and bit my hand,
I was bitten to the bone;
My wife went walking out with him,
And then came back, alone.

I smoked my pipe, I nursed my wound,
watched them both depart,
And when my wife came back alone,
I was bitten to the heart.

--_D is for Dog_, by William Davies

-

Agreeable friends — they ask no questions,
they pass no criticisms.
--George Eliot [Mary Ann Evans] (1819—1880)
English novelist.

-

The House Dog's Grave (Haig, an English bulldog)
by Robinson Jeffers (1897—1962)
American poet.

I've changed my ways a little; I cannot now
Run with you in the evenings along the shore,
Except in a kind of dream; and you, if you dream a moment,
You see me there.

So leave awhile the paw-marks on the front door
Where I used to scratch to go out or in,
And you'd soon open; leave on the kitchen floor
The marks of my drinking-pan.

I cannot lie by your fire as I used to do
On the warm stone,
Nor at the foot of your bed; no, all the night through
I lie alone.

But your kind thought has laid me less than six feet
Outside your window where firelight so often plays,
And where you sit to read — and I fear often grieving for me —
Every night your lamplight lies on my place.

You, man and woman, live so long, it is hard
To think of you ever dying
A little dog would get tired, living so long.
I hope than when you are lying

Under the ground like me your lives will appear
As good and joyful as mine.
No, dear, that's too much hope: you are not so well cared for
As I have been.

And never have known the passionate undivided
Fidelities that I knew.
Your minds are perhaps too active, too many-sided. . . .
But to me you were true.

You were never masters, but friends. I was your friend.
I loved you well, and was loved. Deep love endures
To the end and far past the end. If this is my end,
I am not lonely. I am not afraid. I am still yours.

-

Who kicks a dog kicks his own
soul towards hell.
--Will Judy

-

The Power of the Dog
by Rudyard Kipling (1865—1936)
English writer and poet.

There is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.

Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie —
Perfect passion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart for a dog to tear.

When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet's unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find — it's your own affair —
But . . . you've given your heart to a dog to tear.

When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!)
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone — wherever it goes — for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart to a dog to tear.

We've sorrow enough in the natural way,
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we've kept 'em, the more do we grieve;

For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short-time loan is as bad as a long —
So why in — Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?

-

Dogs are our link to paradise. They don't know evil
or jealousy or discontent. To sit with a dog on a
hillside on a glorious afternoon is to be back in
Eden, where doing nothing was not boring — it
was peace.
--Milan Kundera (1929— )
Czech writer.

There is no faith which has never yet been broken
except that of a truly faithful dog.
--Konrad Lorenz (1903—1989)
Austrian zoologist.

A few creatures fear us, most are unaware of us
and not one loves us...Now in this indifference...
in this incommunicable world...where exist
among things no other relations than those of
executioners and victims, eaters and eaten...
one animal alone, among all that breathes upon
the earth, has succeeded in breaking through
the prophetic circle, in escaping to come
bounding towards us...This animal, our good
familiar dog...has nevertheless performed one
of the most unusual and improbable acts that
we can find in the general history of life.
--Maurice Maeterlinck (1862—1949)
Belgium poet and playwright.

Just give me a comfortable couch, a dog, a good
book, and a woman. Then if you can get the dog
to go somewhere and read the book, I might have
a little fun!
--Groucho [Julius Henry] Marx (1895—1977)
American film comedian.

Examples of this sweat-detection ability are
amazingly impressive...Bloodhounds can follow
a trail that is as much as four days old and
track a subject for up to a hundred miles. The
scent from human feet is so strong to a dog that
it can identify individual feet even in areas
where many other feet have trodden, and where
shoes have been worn by all concerned.
--Desmond Morris (1928— )
English anthropologist and author.

Dogs' lives are too short. Their only fault, really.
--Carlotta O'Neill (1888—1970)
Actress and third wife of Eugene O'Neill.

Histories are more full of examples of
the fidelity of dogs than of friends.
--Alexander Pope (1688—1744)
English poet.

-

kap writes to USENET in August 1997:

On Friday I took my dog Sandy to the vet for her final visit. She had
developed renal failure and I didn't want her to suffer. For almost 16
years Sandy was our faithful friend and companion. As I am sure you
will soon agree, she looked out for us in death as she did in life for all
those years.

That evening we went out. We didn't want to go out but we didn't
want to stay home alone, with the the reminder of our loss.

Saturday was a memorable day. Margaret decided to join my neighbor
Jay, and I, on a day-trip to the mountains. She wanted to get out of
the house so she wouldn't have to think of Sandy so much.

We climbed a mountain called Cathedral Rock. After reaching the top,
Margaret and I rested and looked at the spectacular view. It was
a beautiful clear day and Margaret commented how close we were
to God. And to Sandy, although she didn't say it.

Not ten minutes later we were on our way down and three girls were
hiking up the mountain followed by a dog. We stopped to pet the dog,
inquired to his name, and found out it was a stray - it had been following
them up the mountain. They asked us if we wanted a dog. Just one
glance at Margaret told me this was our new dog. Walking down the
mountain the dog wandered away at times, but quickly returned when
summoned. We checked at the ranger station to see if anyone had lost
the dog (he didn't have any identification.) They recognized him as a
stray who had been hanging around the park for two weeks. After a
bath and shots at the vet we brought Rocky (named after Cathedral
Rock) home. He's part Akita and part question mark and is good
tempered. He's a little less than a year old and is brindle of color.

The memories of Sandy will be easier to recall now:

Like the time Sandy got drunk on New Year's Eve. Or how she loved to
chase cats out of our backyard in New York. When we moved to Las Vegas
she had to learn to coexist with cats. I remember telling her that 'cats are
our friends.' That's all it took - that one reminder, and she never had a
problem. There were two cats in the apartment complex that let her come
right up to them. Most, of course, would run away, and Sandy would give
me a look that said 'I tried.'

When Sandy was young she could jump about three feet in the air while
catching a tennis ball. She didn't see the urgency in sitting down or rolling
over or getting the paper or my shoes. I think she learned early on that
she didn't need to impress us with tricks. But she was a good judge of
character. One time my son had a friend over to the house. Sandy didn't
approve of this kid and my son wondered why. About a month later the
kid was arrested for stealing a car.

Adults rarely and kids never passed Sandy without saying "hi" to her
or asking her name. She was the sweetest dog and anyone could
sense it.

After we retrieved Rocky from the vet on Saturday afternoon, Margaret
told me that on Thursday she had a last talk with Sandy. Margaret had
asked Sandy to look over us.

Had we not found Rocky on the mountain, it would have taken a long
time to get another dog. The pain was simply too great.

We truly believe Sandy sent us Rocky.

[ps: the middle dog in the photo above looks like Sandy]

kap

-

The noblest of all dogs is the hot-dog;
it feeds the hand that bites it.
--Laurence J. Peter (1919—1990)
Canadian teacher and author.
_Quotations for Our Times_ [1977]

I think dogs are the most amazing creatures; they
give unconditional love. For me they are the role
model for being alive.
--Gilda Radner (1946—1989)
American actress and comedienne.
"It's Always Something" [1989]

Any man who hates dogs and
babies can't be all bad.
(Of W.C. Fields, and often attributed to him.)
--Leo Rosten (1908—1997)
Polish-born American writer and social scientist.
Speech at the Masquers' Club dinner [16 February 1939].

I have nothing against little dogs that look like
dust mops. I'm sure they make wonderful pets
and companions. Even fierce watchdogs, should
your home be invaded by midget burglars... If I
owned one of the tiny fuzzy dogs, I would spray
it with Endust and use it to clean under the beds...
I'd tie it to a long stick and use it to wash the
windows.
--Mike Royko (1932—1997)
American journalist.

Let Hercules himself do what he may,
The cat will mew, and dog will have his day.
--William Shakespeare (1564—1616)
English dramatist.
_Hamlet_ [1601], act v, sc. i

Some of my best leading men have been dogs and horses.
--Elizabeth Taylor (1932— )
American motion-picture actress.

-

The best friend man has in the world may turn
against him and become his enemy. His son,
or daughter, that he has reared with loving care
may prove ungrateful. Those who are nearest
and dearest to us, those whom we trust with
our happiness and good name may become
traitors to their faith. The money a man has he
may lose. It flies away from him, perhaps when
he needs it most. A man's reputation may be
sacrificed in a moment of ill-considered action. . . .

The one absolutely unselfish friend that man
can have in this selfish world, the one that
never deserts him, the one that never proves
treacherous, is his dog. A man's dog stands
by him in prosperity and poverty, in health
and in sickness. He will sleep on the cold
ground when the wintry winds blow and the
snow drives fiercely, if only to be near his
master's side. He will kiss the hand that has
no food to offer, he will lick the wounds and
sores that come in encounters with the
roughness of the world. He guards the sleep
of his pauper master as if he were a prince.

When all other friends desert, he remains.
When riches take wing, and falls to pieces,
he is as constant in his love as the sun in
its journey through the heavens.

If fortune drives his master forth, an outcast
in the world, friendless and homeless, the
faithful dog asks no higher privilege than that
of accompanying him, to guard him against
danger, to fight against his enemies,. And
when that last scene of all comes, and death
takes his master in its embrace and his body
is laid away in the cold ground, no matter if
all other friends pursue their way, there, by
the graveside will the noble dog be found, his
head between his paws, his eyes sad, but
open in alert watchfulness, faithful and true,
even in death.

--George Graham Vest (1830—1904)
American lawyer and U.S. Senator [1879—1903].
Speaking to a jury about Old Drum, shot in 1869;
Johnson County Circuit Court, Warrensburg, Missouri.

-

If a dog will not come to you after having looked you
in the face, you should go home and examine your
conscience.
--Woodrow Wilson (1856—1924)
American Democratic statesman and President [1913—1921].

-

If you expect the underdog to save the day, don't
put your faith in Fido. Psychologists at the
University of Western Ontario tested dogs not
trained to respond to emergencies. Owners faked
having a heart attack or being pinned under a
bookcase, and every canine failed to fetch a
bystander. Bad dog.
--_Psychology Today_ (mag.) [September/October 2006]
"In Brief: Still Man's Best Friend?"

-

A DOG'S PLEA

Treat me kindly, my beloved friend, for no heart in
all the world is more grateful for kindness than the
loving heart of me.

Do not break my spirit with a stick, for though I
should lick your hand between blows, your patience
and understanding will more quickly teach me the
things you would have me learn.

Speak to me often, for your voice is the world's
sweetest music, as you must know by the fierce
wagging of my tail when your footstep falls upon
my waiting ear.

Please take me inside when it is cold and wet, for I
am a domesticated animal, no longer accustomed to
bitter elements. I ask no greater glory than the
privilege of sitting at your feet beside the hearth.

Keep my pan filled with fresh water, for I cannot tell
you when I suffer thirst.

Feed me clean food that I may stay well, to romp
and play and do your bidding, to walk by your side,
and stand ready, willing and able to protect you
with my life, should your life be in danger.

And my friend, when I am very old, and I no longer
enjoy good health, hearing and sight, do not make
heroic efforts to keep me going. I am not having any
fun. Please see that my trusting life is taken gently.
I shall leave this earth knowing with the last breath
I draw that my fate was always safest in your hands.

--Unknown author

-

"The Rainbow Bridge"

When a beloved pet dies who has been especially
close to someone, that pet goes to The Rainbow
Bridge.

It is a land of meadows, hills and valleys with lush
green grass. There is always plenty of food and
water and sunshine; our friends are warm and
comfortable.

Those old and frail animals are young again,
restored to health and vigor. Those who have been
hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again.
The animals play all day; they are happy and
content with each other.

But, there is only one thing missing, they are not
with their special person who loved them on earth;
the one who had to be left behind.

Then the day comes when one suddenly stops and
looks into the distance. The bright eyes are intent;
the eager body quivers. Suddenly he breaks away
from the group, flying over the green grass; his legs
carrying him faster and faster.

You have been seen.

And when you and your special friend meet, you
take him in your arms and embrace. The happy
kisses rain upon your face. Your hands again
caress the beloved head. You look once more
into the trusting eyes of your pet.

And then, together, you cross The Rainbow Bridge.
Never to be separated.

--Unknown author

-

If you can start the day without caffeine, If you
can get going without amphetamines, If you can
resist complaining and boring people with your
troubles, If you can eat the same food every day
and be grateful for it, If you can understand when
your loved ones are too busy to give you any time,
If you can overlook it when something goes wrong
through no fault of yours, and those you love take
it out on you, If you can take criticism and blame
without resentment, If you can ignore a friend's
limited education and never correct him, If you
can resist treating a rich friend better than a
poor friend, If you can face the world without
lies and deceit, If you can conquer tension without
medical help, If you can relax without liquor, If
you can sleep without the aid of drugs, If you can
say honestly that deep in your heart you have no
prejudice against creed, color, religion or politics,
...then, my friend, you are almost as good as your
dog.

--Unknown author

-

TOKYO, JAPAN - Loyalty, faithfulness and
unconditional love are qualities that have
earned dogs the title of "man's best friend."
One particular Akita dog took these qualities
to such an extreme, he has earned a place
in the hearts of all Japanese people, and has
kept that place for over sixty years!

Nestled amid hoards of harried commuters,
a variety of shops and department stores,
and a giant television screen that covers
half a skyscraper, a life sized bronze statue
of a dog can be found at Tokyo's busy Shibuya
Train Station. Despite the diminutive size of
the statue in comparison to the massive neon
flash of the city, it isn't difficult to find.
Millions of Tokyoites have been meeting at the
landmark since 1934 and continue to do so
today.

Chu-ken Hachiko (lit. the faithful dog Hachiko)
was born in Akita in 1923 and was first brought
to Tokyo in 1924. He and his owner, Mr. Eisaburo
Uyeno, were inseparable friends right from the
start. Each day "Hachi" would accompany
Eisaburo, a professor at the Imperial University,
to the train station when he left for work. Upon
returning, the professor would find the dog patiently
waiting, tail wagging. This happy routine continued
until one fateful day in 1925, when the professor
was taken ill on the job and unfortunately died
before he could return home.

Despite the fact that Hachiko was less than two
years old at the time, the bond between dog and
owner was strong. Hachiko continued to wait
each day at Shibuya station for a friend who was
never coming back. At times, he wouldn't return
home for days at a stretch.

The Akita became a familiar sight to commuters as
he kept his vigil for over ten years. On March 8, 1935,
Hachiko finally went to meet his master. He died on
the very same spot he last saw his friend alive.

Statue Erected

The people who passed the loyal dog each day were
so touched by his story that they erected a statue in
his honor in 1934. The famous artist Ando Teru was
commissioned for the original bronzed sculpture,
which was melted down during the war.

After the war, Hachiko was hardly forgotten. In
1948 The Society For Recreating The Hachiko
Statue commissioned Ando Tekeshi, son of the
original artist who has since passed away, to
make a second statue.

Being a dog lover, the Hachiko statue has become
an important pilgrimage for me each time I find
myself in Tokyo. During my last visit with "Hachi,"
I encountered an old man who had also come to
pay his respects. He told me in broken English
"I knew him. I used to bring him treats. The
station was much smaller then." With that he
approached the statue, gave it a friendly pat,
wiped a tear from his eye and slowly walked
away.

Though Hachiko stood only two feet tall and
weighed 92 pounds, the message he left on
the importance of good friends is enormous.
Hachiko's life has been portrayed in a book
and motion picture (The Hachiko Story).
Travelers going through Shibuya station can
buy gifts and souvenirs of their favorite canine
at the Hachiko Memorial Store called Shibuya
No Shippo or "Tail of Shibuya." A colorful
mosaic of Akitas at play covers the nearby
wall of the station.

Hachiko may be gone but he will never be
forgotten. The story behind the statue is one
that has endured and continually warms the
hearts of locals and tourists alike.

--Author unknown

---

"Dogs' Role in Society Evolved; Their Catcher Never Won Our Hearts"
by Cynthia Crossen
_The Wall Street Journal_ [5 February 2007]

Louis Crusater didn't last long as the dog catcher of Murphysboro, Ill., in 1935. His instructions were to shoot any dogs that weren't wearing tags. One day, he saw an untagged dog accompanied by its owner, and he told the man what he was going to have to do. "Go ahead and shoot it," the owner replied. "Then I'll shoot you." Mr. Crusater promptly returned to City Hall and quit.

Dog catching could be a lucrative profession in the 19th and early 20th centuries, but it was also often dangerous. In 1894, a Brooklyn, N.Y., dog catcher, going about his business, was tied to a telegraph pole by an angry mob and jeered for five hours. In Manhattan in 1887, a dog catcher who had just snatched a puppy from the front of a 22nd Street stable received a "wholesome and vigorous thrashing" from the dog's owner, according to a newspaper account.

The lives of dogs changed radically with the urbanization of America. When most people lived in rural areas, dogs were guardians and workers, hunting game, catching mice and herding livestock. They usually lived outside in doghouses. But as people migrated from farms to cities, many dogs lost their jobs. Their owners, accustomed to their animals running free, allowed them to roam the city streets and would no more try to curb their breeding than they would their own.

Before long, many towns and cities were overrun with thousands of feral dogs — "tramps," as they were called — many underfed, flea-bitten or diseased.

In 1877, New York City passed a dog ordinance, built a pound and hired 25 dog catchers, who were paid 30 cents for each stray dog they rounded up. One dog catcher may have set the record by bringing in 46 dogs in a single day.

The dog pound had two sections — one divided into individual compartments for "the better class of dogs" and the other a large pen for "curs of low degree." Owners had 48 hours to rescue their dogs and pay a $3 fine. The unclaimed dogs, up to 100 at a time, were put in a large iron cage and lowered into the East River by a derrick. After six minutes, the cage was hoisted up again.

Three years later, in 1880, more than 8,000 dogs were put to death in New York. "And there," opined one editor, "was thus destroyed more intelligence, more faithfulness and more common sense than ever bothered some of their persecutors."

The tools of the dog catcher were rudimentary: a wire lasso, a cage and a wagon. Some also carried guns. In 1899, for example, the keepers of Central Park in New York were armed with shotguns and told to shoot any stray animals they saw.

Some dog catchers, who were either appointed or elected as part of the local government, became overzealous in their mission. In New York in 1882, a dog catcher who had snatched a puppy was pelted with stones by a mob of outraged children. The dog catcher, Terrence McQuade, shot and killed a 14-year-old boy.

More common were scams like that of a Frederick, Md., dog catcher who was found to have brought eight puppies into town from the surrounding countryside so that he could collect his $2-a-head fee. City officials acknowledged that the dog catcher worked hard, but, they said, "we draw the line on the importation of dogs."

Some people couldn't afford the license fees that would have protected their dogs from the catcher. In 1933, three young Ohio brothers sent a handwritten plea to the governor, George White. "We are very poor, Mr. White," they said, "and we don't have playthings or wagons or bicycles like other boys. Our grandmother is good and kind but she doesn't have no money. All we had was a little fox terrier pup, and the dog catcher from Lima took her away because grandmother couldn't buy her a license. Please don't let the dog catcher kill her."

With stories like that making the rounds, it's no wonder the title of dog catcher became synonymous with bungler. "I wouldn't appoint John L. Lewis dog catcher," President Harry Truman said about the head of the United Mine Workers in 1950.

A few years later, Texas Rep. Jack Brooks promised the U.S. Senate some "entertaining reading" if President Eisenhower nominated Leonard W. Hall, a former Republican national chairman, "to any job besides dog catcher."

But municipalities still needed workers to pick up stray dogs, as they continue to do today, so they simply changed the title. A survey by the Purina Pet Care Center found that by the early 1960s, cities were giving their dog catchers such titles as canine controller, pet rehabilitation officer, dog constable, mongrel administrator, and chief, dog-depot section. Because of aggressive spaying and neutering programs, many fewer dogs are euthanized now.

Although most dogs past and present try to elude the dog catcher, at least one turned the tables on his hunter. "Ringer chases me all over," complained Joe Clark, the dog catcher of Euclid, Ohio, in 1958 about an eight-year-old mutt. "He comes to my home. If I'm not there, he heads for the police station. Ringer can spot my wagon six blocks away."

---

Now that the last dog has crossed the finish line, Iditarod organizers are
rushing to patch up "The Last Great Race's" tattered reputation. Three
dogs died, and a veteran musher, Ramy Brooks, was disqualified from
this year's race. Witnesses caught Brooks beating his dogs, one of whom
later died.

[...]

In the Iditarod, dogs race approximately 1,150 miles, roughly the distance
from New York City to St. Petersburg, Fla., over a grueling terrain in 8
to 16 days.

They often run more than 100 miles a day - the equivalent of four marathons
back-to-back with few (and brief) intervals of rest. They are subjected to biting
winds, blinding snowstorms, sub-zero temperatures and falls through
treacherous ice into frigid water.

Their feet become bruised, bloodied, cut by ice and just plain worn out because
of the vast distances they cover. Many dogs pull muscles, tendons and ligaments,
rupture discs, incur stress fractures and become sick with bloody diarrhea,
dehydration, intestinal viruses or bleeding stomach ulcers.

Dogs have been strangled by tow lines, trampled by moose and hit by
snowmobiles and sleds. One dog in this year's race became lost in a snowstorm
and was missing for 11 days.

At least 133 dogs have died in the Iditarod since records started being kept —
and that doesn't include dogs who die in training or after the race ends. One
dog in this year's race died of "acute pneumonia" and another from internal
bleeding from a ruptured ulcer, two common causes of death for Iditarod
dogs.

[...]

The cause of death for the dog belonging to Ramy Brooks has yet to be
determined, but it is likely that her death was a direct result af being forced
to run too far too fast. Brooks reportedly beat his team after they lay down
on an ice field and refused to go any further.

Iditarod apologists describe the beatings as "spankings," but this euphemism
implies that the dogs had done something to deserve being whacked with a
stick (and kicked and punched, as some witnesses allege), when in all
likelihood they were simply too exhausted to go any further. [...]

--Jennifer O'Connor
"Dogs Deaths Stain Reputation of Dog Race"
Mcclatchy-Tribune News Service [30 March 2007]

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http://www.drunkandretired.com/dogs/

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cockapoo (noun)
A small dog that is a cross between a cocker spaniel and a poodle


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