Recently, one of our daughters found a dog she loves, Callie, at an animal adoption agency. This act certainly adds a new dimension to a city dwellers life. We had dogs for much of our lives, but it was different back then.
Bo was the joy of my pre-adolescence. He was the ultimate free spirit. He roamed the small college town where we lived and would be gone for days. He would chase his tail and bark at objects on command. The only complaint we ever got was when the police said he was drunk. The college boys had just gotten him to bark at a beer bottle. Finally he went to a hunting camp where he could really roam. We saw him every so often when the vet had to remove porcupine quills from his muzzle.
The best was our Bambi, the dog of our children growing up. Bambi was an abused mixed breed young dog from the animal shelter. We lived on a school campus and Bambi could roam the school at will and was friends with all. She was a delight, playful and loving, playing hide and seek with us and helping me in my garden, home almost all of the time. The only trouble she got into was being a part of the school's outdoor graduation exercises.
We never concerned ourselves about who was the alpha and whether Bo or Bambi were anxious or insecure. We enjoyed and loved them and they were happy and loving. We never concerned ourselves about where they pooped unless we tracked it into the house.
Callie is a condo dweller. The Dog Whisperer is a big part of life with her. Of course, Cesar is right. We need to understand her and her communications with us. The poop does need to be picked up. And Callie needs to be walked, rain or shine. Things have certainly changed. For the better? Probably. It is enjoyable to work with Callie when we visit. But the good old days with Bo and Bambi were certainly fun, too.
