I MUST be premenstrual . . .

. . . because I sobbed like a baby when I read these. Thank God for the pole separating me from Dr. K's line of sight!

Just A Dog

From time to time, people tell me, "lighten up, it's just a dog," or, "that's a lot of money for just a dog." They don't understand the distance traveled, the time spent, or the costs involved for "just a dog." Some of my proudest moments have come about with "just a dog."

Many hours have passed and my only company was "just a dog," but I did not once feel slighted. Some of my saddest moments have been brought about by "just a dog,"and in those days of darkness, the gentle touch of "just a dog" gave me comfort and reason to overcome the day.

If you, too, think it's "just a dog," then you will probably understand phases like "just a friend," "just a sunrise," or "just a promise." "Just a dog" brings into my life the very essence of friendship, trust, and pure unbridled joy. "Just a dog" brings out the compassion and patience that make me a better person. Because of "just a dog" I will rise early, take long walks and look longingly to the future. So for me and folks like me, it's not "just a dog" but an embodiment of all the hopes and dreams of the future, the fond memories of the past, and the pure joy of the moment. "Just a dog" brings out what's good in me and diverts my thoughts away from myself and the worries of the day. I hope that someday they can understand that it's not "just a dog" but the thing that gives me humanity and keeps me from being "just a human."

What Animal Do I Speak Of?

Their love is like no other, their heart as pure as gold.
Yet while going on a friendly walk, they're faced with stares of cold.
They're so very close to human, in how they act and what they do, unless you've known their devoted love, it's impossible to explain to you.
They are greatly more misunderstood, than any other breed.
We tend to punish this loyal dog, instead of mankind's deeds.
They are always and forever clowns, with a wish for center stage.
Yet while displaying this sense of humor, most people disengage.
They, oh, so want to make new friends, and run and jump and play.
Yet when they happily approach, most people shy away.
Often I've seen children poke, or hop on for a ride.
And when I felt they might get mad, they've only beamed with pride.
I've seen there children yank and pull, with nary a reaction.
Yet media's not interested, unless they've put someone in traction.
When other dog's have made the news, this breed's name they affix.
But when this brave dog saves the day, they call him "boxer mix".
They love to snuggle up real close, to give lots of loves and kisses, yet they suffer more than any, from unfair prejudices.
Their tails wag hard and hips twist, too, more so than other mutts.
So those of us who know the breed, we call them "wiggle butts".
What animal do I speak of, whose love is so unique?
If you've truly known one, you know of whom I speak.
There is no creature on this Earth who will ever make you merrier.
The animal I do speak of, it's the American Pit Bull Terrier

By Patty Letawsky

I am an Animal Rescuer

My job is to assist God's creatures
I was born with the drive to fulfill their needs
I take in helpless, unwanted, homeless creatures
without planning or selection
I have bought dog food with my last dime
I have patted a mangy head with a bare hand
I have hugged someone vicious and afraid
I have fallen in love a thousand times
And I have cried into the fur of a lifeless body too many times to count
I have Animal Friends and friends who have animal friends
I don't often use the word "pet"
I notice those lost at the road side
And my heart aches
I will hand raise a field mouse
And make friends with a vulture
I know of no creature unworthy of my time
I want to live forever if there aren't animals in Heaven
But I believe there are
Why would God make something so perfect and leave it behind
Some may think we are master of the animals
But the animals have mastered themselves
Something people still haven't learned
War and Abuse make me hurt for the world
But a rescue that makes the news gives me hope for mankind
We are a quiet but determined army
And we are making a difference every day
There is nothing more necessary than warming an orphan
nothing more rewarding than saving a life
No higher recognition than watching them thrive
There is no greater joy than seeing a baby play
who only days ago, was too weak to eat
By the love of those who I've been privileged to rescue
I have been rescued
I know what true unconditional love really is
for I've seen it shining in the eyes of so many
Grateful for so little
I am an Animal Rescuer
My work is never done
My home is never quiet
My wallet is always empty
But my heart is always full

Author Unknown


Heaven's Doggy Door

My best friend closed his eyes last night, As his head lay in my hand. The doctors said he was in pain, And it was hard for him to stand. The thoughts that scurried through my head, As I cradled him in my arms, Were of his younger puppy years, And Oh... his many charms. Today there was no gentle nudge, With an intense "I love you" gaze. Only a heart that's filled with tears, Remembering our joy-filled days. But an Angel just appeared to me, And said, "You should cry no more, God also loves our canine friends, He's installed a doggy door!" -Author Unknown

The Rescue Rainbow Bridge

The young pup and the older dog lay on shaded sweet grass watching the reunions. Sometimes a man, sometimes a woman, sometimes a whole family would approach The Rainbow Bridge. The young pup playfully nipped at the older one. "Look! Something wonderful is happening!" The older dog stood up and barked, "Quickly. Get over to the path." "But that's not my owner," whined the pup, but he did as he was told. Thousands of pets surged forward as a figure in white walked on the path toward The Bridge. As the glowing figure passed each animal, that animal bowed its head in love and respect. The figure finally approached The Bridge and was met by a menagerie of joyous animals. Together, they all walked over The Bridge and disappeared. The young pup was still in awe. "Was that an angel?" he whispered. "No son." The older dog replied. "That was more than an angel. That was a person who worked for rescue."

A Dog's Prayer

Treat me kindly, my beloved master for no heart in the world is more grateful for kindness than the loving heart of me. Do not break my spirit with a stick, for though I lick your hand between the blows, your patience and understanding will more quickly teach me the things you would have me do. 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. When it is cold and wet, please take me inside, for I am now a domesticated animal, no longer used to bitter elements. And I ask no greater glory than the privilege of sitting at your feet beside the hearth. Though had you no home, I would rather follow you through ice and snow than rest upon the softest pillow in the warmest home in all the land, for you are my god and I am your devoted worshiper. Keep my pan filled with fresh water, for although I should not reproach you were it dry, I cannot tell you when I suffer thirst. Feed me clean food, that I may 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, beloved master, should the Great Master see fit to deprive me of my health or sight, do not turn me away from you. Rather hold me gently in your arms as skilled hands grant me the merciful boon of eternal rest... and I will leave you knowing the last breath I drew, my fate was ever safest in your hands.

How Could You

When I was a puppy I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You called me your child and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend. Whenever I was "bad," youd shake your finger at me and ask "How could you?" but then youd relent and roll me over for a bellyrub.


My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed, listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more perfect. We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only got the cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs," you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day.

Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and when you fell in love.

She, now your wife, is not a "dog person" still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy because you were happy. Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate. Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a "prisoner of love."

As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them and their touch because your touch was now so infrequent and I would have defended them with my life if need be.

I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams. Together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway. There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you just answered "yes" and changed the subject. I had gone from being "your dog" to "just a dog," and you resented every expenditure on my behalf.

Now you have a new career opportunity in another city, and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. Youve made the right decision for your "family," but there was a time when I was your only family.

I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said "I know you will find a good home for her." They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog or cat, even one with "papers." You had to pry your sons fingers loose from my collar as he screamed "No, Daddy! Please dont let them take my dog!" And I worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life. You gave me a goodbye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too.

After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked "How could you?"

They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you that you had changed your mind that this was all a bad dream...or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me. When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited.

I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table, rubbed my ears and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. The prisoner of love had run out of days. As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood.

She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured "How could you?"

Perhaps because she understood my dogspeak, she said "Im so sorry." She hugged me and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldnt be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself a place of love and light so very different from this earthly place. With my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my "How could you?" was not meant for her. It was you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of. I will think of you and wait for you forever.

May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty.

Copyright Jim Willis 2001

Friend to Friend

You're giving me a special gift, so sorrowfully endowed.
And through these last few cherished days, your courage makes me proud.
But really, love is knowing, When your best friend is in pain.
And understanding earthly act, will only in vain
So looking deep into your eyes, Beyond into your soul.
I see in you the magic that will, Once more make me whole.
The strength that you possess, Is why I look to you today.
To do this thing that must be done, for it's the only way.
That strength is why I've followed you, and chose you as my friend.
And why I've loved you all these years... My partner 'til the end.
Please understand just what this gift, You're giving, means to me,
It gives me back the strength I've lost, And all my dignity.
You take a stand on my behalf, For that is what friends do.
And know that what you do is right, For I believe it too.
So one last time, I breathe your scent, And through your hand I feel,
The courage that's within you, To now grant me this appeal.
Cut the leash that holds me here, Dear Friend, and let me run,
Once more a strong and steady dog, My pain and struggle done.
And don't dispair my passing, For I won't be far away,
Forever here, within your heart, And memory I'll stay.
I'll be there watching over you, Your ever faithful friend,
And in your memories I'll run...a young dog once again.


by Karen Clouston

Starfish Story

An old man was picking up objects off the beach and tossing them out into the sea. A young man approached him and saw that the objects were starfish. "Why in the world are you throwing starfish into the water?"

"If the starfish are still on the beach when the tide goes out and the sun rises high in the sky, they will die," replied the old man.

"That is ridiculous. There are thousands of miles of beach and millions of starfish. You can't really believe that what you're doing could possibly make a difference!"

The wise old man picked up another starfish, paused thoughtfully, and remarked as he tossed it out into the waves,

"It makes a difference to this one."

More About Andy

Andy's original post was a courtesy post by a Maryland rescue, but he lives in Kentucky - a bluegrass boy! - and I found his profile under his original rescue, True Heart MinPin Rescue. Here's his foster mom's update:

"18 months old 25 pounds Neutered Up to date on vaccinations, heartworm tested, microchipped Several guesses have been made as to what he is. Miniature lab, lab/weimeraner, vizula. It's hard to say. He's very well proportioned with lean lines. A cross between a jumping bean and a couch potato if there is such a thing. Loves to run and play with all dogs at the park- male or female, size doesn't matter. Still wants to chew - sticks, mulch, ratty tennis balls with the covers half off and rawhides. Rides very well in a crate in the car to the dogpark with his foster sister who is a heeler cattle dog mix. Would do best if he was crated while owners were at school or work since he tends to seek out magazines and shoes. (I'm sure sis helps) Andy has a lot of energy and needs someone who has another active dog willing to play and wrestle. He'd be an excellent candidate for agility training. Can respond to basic commands but should be worked with everyday. Doesn't seem to wear out but will get up on the couch and will burrow behind where you're sitting. Sweet,loving dog who enjoys life to the fullest. Dislikes: firecrackers and water. Has no interest in being rinsed off with a hose, getting in the creek or a child's swimming pool. Could have been a bad experience with water in his "past" life. Firecrackers are understandable. Hasn't truly been cat tested but when he sees one he's curious. Same for birds and squirrels."

I don't have a fence or another dog. Still, if they're looking for adopters as far away as Maryland, maybe they'll make some exceptions.

I also found a year-old male Shih Tzu for adoption in Annapolis. No photo but they say he's a real sweetheart. His name is Bo. He might be too small for me but since T-Bone LOVES Anyhc and wants an Anyhc-sized dog, I though I'd send away for more info.

Too cute!

Check out this cutie Gizmo's first bark!

What do you think?

This is Andy. He's a "Labrador Retriever, Pointer" mix, according to Petfinder. Looks just like a chocolate lab, only . . . he's just 25 POUNDS! Here's what his foster has to say:
"Hi, My name is Andy, and this is a courtesy post for me. Everyone likes me, so everyone wants to have pictures of me on their site. haha. I look like I'm a real big boy, but actually I only weigh 25lbs. I am a really good boy. I love dogs, kids, adults, and I even like cats. I'll be about 1yr old soon, but don't know when. I was there when it happened, but to young to remember. I am crate trained, house trained, up to date on all my vaccinations, neutered, and microchipped. See, so I come with everything."


Meet Fatty. This little cutie has some adorable pug features but he also has a bit of a snout instead of a smush-face, which means fewer health problems, and he has nice long legs so he can keep up on a hike and will pee in the rain (toy-sized dogs don't like to go when they have wet grass up their schnoodle - not that I blame them!) Here's what his foster says about Fatty:

"Breed: Pug mix
Sex: Male
Age: Approx. 6 months
Color: Black with white
Size: Approx. 18 lbs.
Status: Available v
Good With Kids: Yes
Good With Cats: Not Yet Determined
Good With Dogs: Yes

The only thing big about Fatty is capacity for love. He's a friendly and affectionate boy that enjoys attention. Fatty has a lot of bounce and prance in him, so he's always ready for some playtime. Fatty's owner took him to a county shelter because she could no longer afford a dog. Is there room in your home for Fatty? He never skimps on giving his heart!"

You may remember Belvedere! He is still available for adoption. I love his perky little face - he sure is a cutie! Only thing is, he's not recommended for a home with children. Seems he was treated badly by a previous owner and needs a family where he will be handled gently. Here's what his foster says about Belvedere:

"Belvedere is a 20# bundle of energy. He is good with most other dogs, but often plays hard. He has been handled roughly in the past so is still overcoming his fears. He needs love, patience and training to help build his confidence with new people. He is crate trained, house trained and has jumping beans in his feet. He is affectionate and very sweet and will do best in an adult home. He is a gem, although still in the rough."

So, what do you think?

Not Dead

I'm not dead. Really. It's just that I've actually had to WORK while I'm at work. I know, I couldn't believe it either. But now I have sent Dr. K off to her weekly BNI meeting and I finally have a few hours to get some real work done.

First, let me say that I have started a diet and I am hungry. If my writing sucks today, chalk it up to hunger and give me a couple of weeks to get my head on straight.

I am doing Diet To Go. They cook the food for you and you pick it up twice a week at a pickup location of your choice. I made my first pickup last night so today is my first day on the diet. The food is actually really good but the portions are, um, a little more modest than I am used to. I know, I know. That's a good thing, right? Except for those first few uncomfortable days when, as with any addiction, you have to break through the crazy, "Eat. Eat! EAT!!!!!" voice and can once again view animals and small children without calculating their calorie content in your head.

I had a fantastic dinner at Mama Eus's this weekend. I love Mama Eus. And she has the coolest friends. We had all kinds of marvelous eats and Mama and her friend Regnig Htims had me cracking up all night.

Luap and Yellek offered to give me a ride, which I accepted. There was a tiny inkling of a chance that they might come up after dinner, which actually prodded me to clean our apartment. See, the whole time that we have been considering moving, neither of us has done any of the "big cleaning" stuff. T-Bone takes care of the regular day-to-day things like dishes and laundry. He's also in charge of the bathroom. I mostly dust and vacuum and put things away. But we had both been kinda shrugging and saying, "Oh, we're moving soon anyway so we don't really have to clean." On top of that, the maintenance people had done their semi-annual changing of the HVAC filters, which meant that I'd had to unload and move one of our bookcases so they could get to the HVAC unit. Books, magazines, and newspapers were strewn everywhere. So I rolled up my shirtsleeves and dug in.

It's amazing how fast cleaning goes once you get started. It's just getting off your tuchus to go and do it. I got everything fairly clean and tidy, which made T-Bone very happy because a messy house makes him Crazy with a capital C. It felt really great to walk around the clean apartment. I really like having a tidy place to dwell in.

I'm still patrolling Petfinder. I wish we had enough space for a Lab. Oh, well. This dog is our starter dog and as soon as we have a little more space, we can give it a brother or sister. I know with my head that I will be gaga over any dog that is mine. It's just that Labs are so pretty and goofy-happy. And you can wallop on them, which makes them great dogs to have with kids.

Once we are on the lease at our apartment, we can get a dog. But first, the guy whose name is on the lease has to write a letter saying he no longer lives there. That letter is what is holding the whole process up. I keep urging T-Bone to get this guy to send the letter. Unfortunately this guy thinks we tried to trick him by saying we were moving and then deciding to stay. He thinks we plotted to tell the management that he is subletting so that we could get on the lease. HAHA - way more organized than we could ever dream to be. So he might decide not to write the letter out of spite. I rather think not - if he refuses to write the letter, he'll be paying three months worth of rent on the place. But at this point, we are just waiting for him to make the next move.

Ooh ooh ooh! I have a Crazy Dr. K story!

So she comes in today and says, "I want your opinion on something. My husband thinks I pushed something too far. Oh ho ho, honey, he ain't seen nothing!" She tells me that they had had a very scheduled evening planned, which included going to the gym, grabbing something to eat and catching a late movie. Apparently they showed up at a cafe at 8:50 and the cafe closed at 9:00. The manager was closing out the register and told her that they weren't taking any new orders.

"So I said, [insert really whiny neener-neener tone here] 'Well, your sign says you're open until 9. I guess you're deciding to close earlier than you're supposed to.'

"So he sighs and says, 'What can I get you, ma'am?'

"And I'm like, 'Oh no! Don't tell me you're closed and then offer to get me something! Far be it from me to disturb your closing down procedure!'"

Dr. K broke off as a patient entered the office. "Oh, hi! Good to see you!" Turning back to me, she said, "Anyway, so that's what happened." I thought she was trying to be discreet. Except after considering her patient for a moment, she tossed the idea of discetion out the window and rehashed the whole scenario for the patient. The patient's head reared back a little and she stared with a deer-in-the-headlights look as Dr. K assaulted her with her gripefest.

"So we didn't eat there." she continued. "But after we got outside, my husband was like, 'Why did you have to act that way?! Why couldn't you have been nicer?' Well, I just don't think that you should let people treat you that way. If they're doing something wrong, I'm gonna call them on it!" And then, using one of her seemingly endless supply of obnoxious cutesy phrases, she chirped, "Know what I mean, jelly bean?"

Now if the patient hadn't been there, she would have asked me what I thought. I could have told her that if someone I loved had behaved that way in public, I would be mortified beyond belief. I would question why I ever chose to be with that person. I would have explained - again - that retail workers are people with their own humanity and their own capacity either to serve you well or to dismiss you as a righteous bitch unworthy of their time. That if you treat people like underlings, they will treat you with resentment, indifference, and spite. And that frankly, I am shocked that she is not shocked at herself and I wonder how she can continue to excuse her scathing disrespect for her fellow man and still call herself a Christian.

However, the patient was there and was nodding in timid agreement. She looked terrified. I shrugged my shoulders and decided that Dr. K would almost certainly provide me with another "teachable moment" in the future. I could offer some, er, guidance then. "Ah," I told her. I handed her the patient's treatment card and sat down at my computer, effectively closing the exchange.

She led the patient back to the treatment room and adjusted her.

She has not brought it up again, so I suppose she'll go home and tell the poor man that everyone agrees with her. I've been squelching the urge to say something. I can't exactly offer my reflections unsolicited - at least not if I wish to remain gainfully employed. But I think that if she does ask again and if I preface it with, "I'm going to be totally honest," then she will hear what I have to say.

But this holding my tongue is killing me! I want to say something so bad! How do people get like that? How do their lives become so completely stripped of moments when they have to serve others that they lose any shred of compassion for people or even basic understanding of the psychology of management - i.e. don't piss off the help!

All right, I'm going to go eat my sandwich now.

Diary of a Dog Walker

I've been spending a lot of time recently searching for my firstborn on Petfinder.com. As I consider what to do on days when I am working ten hours a day, I have researched several different dog-walking services in the DC Metro area. Here's an article from the Washington Post written by a former dog-walker.

Diary of a Dog Walker

You would think walking dogs would be easy. I'd learned to walk before I was a year old--and that was half the dog-walking job.

But Washington is a place where some people threaten lawsuits if they find a bubble in their no-foam lattes, and you learn fast in this age of puppy Prozac that their dogs can be just as demanding. So when I tell you I was a dog walker, I'm really saying I was a gourmet chef, doggie psychologist, and pet trainer.

I found the job through Craigslist and figured upward of $20 an hour walking dogs was easy money. The dog-walking service issued me a cluster of keys for the dozen or so homes on my route along with poop-pickup bags.

Clients go to great lengths to ensure that their pups get good care. Many consider their dogs children, and who would allow their kids to be treated like animals? They ask their neighbors to spy on you to be sure you're not shaving minutes off the clock. Some count Milk-Bones to monitor the number of treats being fed. Owners even hide in their house or install nanny cams to make sure you're doing your job.

A couple with two Jack Russell terriers named George and Gracie left instructions that their dogs be fed homemade chicken soup poured over a bed of white rice, warmed exactly 15 seconds in the microwave and left to cool for 60 seconds. Mallory, who worked for the same dog-walking service between art classes at Montgomery College, faithfully followed the instructions, and every time she did, the dogs flew into a Pavlovian frenzy when she opened the fridge.

Once, distracted by this canine melee, she forgot to heat the food. The owners, who were on vacation in Hawaii, had set up a computer cam. They saw the infraction and called the dog-walking service to complain. George and Gracie never ate cold soup again.

A Dalmatian named Cassidy was on a raw-food regime known as the B.A.R.F. diet (bones and raw food) designed to replicate a canine's natural diet as a carnivore. This dog literally ate raw meat on the bone. Flip to the other side of the spectrum to Pippin, a sensitive-stomached pug who opted for such delicacies as veal baby food mixed into his kibble. A stickie on the fridge read: "If Pippin doesn't take to the food, I find he rather enjoys being spoon-fed." Any real dog walker will do whatever it takes to keep those tails wagging and clients happy.

Because many dog owners are pet lovers, I've seen an array of animals on my route. Turtles wanting a leaf of lettuce, iguanas who need misting, fish that crave bloodworms. I have to say cats are the most peculiar.

I admit that cats can outsmart me. During visits, cats--like all pets--need to be seen to ensure they're happy and healthy while their owners are away. Some cats don't want to be disturbed. It takes time to learn their hiding spots--inside the box spring, atop window treatments, behind the couch. Some walkers have spent an hour searching, only to find the cat in a place they had already looked.

Dogs are more predictable. It's the owners who are full of surprises. They're always forgetting to cancel service and often return home to find their dog missing. Sometimes the dog walker walks in on an owner.

A cowalker arrived at a Bethesda mansion while the parents were away on vacation to find the house littered with beer bottles and a four-foot bong while Woody, the chocolate Lab, was jumping in and out of the swimming pool and racing through the house. There was no sign of the suspected teenagers. Because we're charged with leaving houses as clean as they were when the owner left--no excuses--she cleaned up the mess.

Dog walkers are a pack; we cover for one another and help out as needed. Chanda, a cowalker, arrived at a house to find a puppy with its head wedged between the bars of its cage. The dog was standing on its tiptoes so it wouldn't strangle itself. Chanda couldn't pry the bars apart, so she called me, and I raced over with bolt cutters.

Then there is the call none of us wants to get: dog walker in distress. Zoë arrived early evening at a home in DC. During her house check, she found a surprise in a bedroom--an "early deposit" as we call them in the business. She cleaned it up with a handful of paper towels and flushed them in an upstairs bathroom before taking the dog out.

She returned 30 minutes later to find what she described in a quivering voice as "raining inside the house--from the ceiling, from the lighting fixtures--water everywhere." I was there in ten minutes and saw an inch of water on the kitchen floor. Zoë told me the toilet was clogged and she didn't have the strength to turn off the valve. I ran upstairs to plunge the toilet and turn off the water; I texted another walker on my two-way and called in a wet vac. The owners were expected home that evening.

The cowalker with the wet vac arrived, and we began cleaning. We must have sucked 100 gallons of water from the kitchen floor. The howling of the wet vac and the noise from the hair dryer I was using to dry a computer keyboard were enough to drown out the sound of the front door opening.

I could use a whole lot of words to describe how this homeowner reacted, but to sum up, she was really, really mad. I unplugged the vacuum and told her not to worry, that we were licensed, bonded, and insured. I didn't try to talk myself out of trouble like a downtown lawyer. I just left. I'm a dog walker, and some messes are just too big for poop bags.

Dogs generally assume the characteristics of their owners. Workaholics beget energetic "pop-a-lots," nicknamed for their nonstop pogo-jumping by the door. Humans who enjoy their meals and television time usually raise dogs that lean toward the rotund; those take a little longer to coax off the couch for a rally around the neighborhood.

Dogs can be as quirky as their humans. Boudreaux, a Catahoula, suffered from acute separation anxiety. When I arrived to walk and feed him, he was man's best friend. When I tried to leave, doggie drama. He knew the jingle-jangle of my keys meant I was leaving, and Boudreaux loathed to be left alone. He'd run to the door to block me, growling as the fur on his back stood up. After a few narrow escapes, I left a note for the owner asking for a solution. She put a Ziploc bag filled with Cheese Nips by the door and advised me to scatter them across the kitchen floor. When Boudreaux went to sniff them out, I bolted.

Once you learned how to work with each dog's eccentricity, you had a friend for life. Buddha the Shar-Pei liked her wrinkly skin kneaded like dough. Wilbur the pug liked having his tail uncurled and scratched. Boomer the mutt wanted the Animal Planet cable channel left on all day, and his owner requested I place nuts on the outside windowsill so Boomer could watchsquirrels.

Then there was Vince the dachshund, who hated men. He would lie under the sofa, playing hard to pet, staring right through me when I called for him while shaking his leash. I lured him out with a square of American cheese, or as we call it in the dog-walking trade, "canine kryptonite," for its ability to render dogspowerless.

I learned from the owner that Vince didn't respond well to male voices; she suggested I try speaking in a higher pitch. The next day I arrived with my finest falsetto, and by the end of the week I didn't even need the cheese. Still, Vince seemed very happy when I would leave. He always made me feel like he was walking me.


Ben Pekkanen (bentbrains@yahoo.com) retired from dog walking and is working in film and television while finishing a master's in fine arts at the University of Maryland.

Owed to the Spell Checker

In honor of all those who suck at spelling and/or typing.

Owed to the Spell Checker
from Jokester.com
Submitted By: Allen Reynolds

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I have a spelling checker -
It came with my PC.
It plane lee marks four my revue
Miss steaks aye can knot sea.
Eye ran this poem threw it,
Your sure reel glad two no.
Its vary polished in it's weigh,
My checker tolled me sew.
A checker is a bless sing,
It freeze yew lodes of thyme.
It helps me right awl stiles two reed,
And aides me when aye rime.
To rite with care is quite a feet
Of witch won should be proud.
And wee mussed dew the best wee can,
Sew flaws are knot aloud.
And now bee cause my spelling
Is checked with such grate flare,
Their are know faults with in my cite,
Of nun eye am a wear.
Each frays come posed up on my screen
Eye trussed to bee a joule
The checker poured o'er every word
To cheque sum spelling rule.
That's why aye brake in two averse
By righting wants too pleas.
Sow now ewe sea why aye dew prays
Such soft wear for pea seas