Tag: dogs

Posted in Life

I live here: walks around the neighborhood

Posted on by William Douthwaite

When we brought Winston home last June, I started taking him for walks around our neighborhood every morning and evening. An eight-month-old West Highland White Terrier puppy has energy to spare, so we explored every street in our corner of the community.

When we brought home puppy number two, a Great Dane, our walking habits changed. At eight weeks, Willow wanted nothing to do with leashes, walks or the neighborhood. She was content staying close to home and exploring the back yard. Both dogs still get plenty of exercise wrestling with each other and chasing each other around the yard.

When I took Winston out for a walk around the block last week I realized how much I missed those walks. Those walks around familiar streets make me feel part of the neighborhood and the community.

I enjoy watching the progress of lots being cleared and houses being built on the last wooded lots. Boxes along the curb or a rental truck in the driveway announces who is moving in our out even before a realtor puts a sign up in the yard.

I’ve gotten to know a lot more of my neighbors and on my walks. They are working in the yard, on their car, or getting some exercise themselves. We always pause at the bus stop so the kids have a chance to pet Winston. Plus, we get to know the other dogs who live near us. Some bark at us from inside of their house, while others are out for walks, too.

I enjoy everyone’s Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas decorations. I’m amazed at the weekly piles of mattresses, appliances, and furniture on trash collection days. Squirrels, bunnies and cats watch as we walk by. If we time it right, we get to hear the owls talking to each other at dawn or dusk.

One neighbor has a garage full of birds singing in cages. Another is restoring a car from the 1940’s. Some greet us with heavy Russian or Hispanic accents. Many have gotten a new roof in the past year. One had the roof torn off by a tornado. Lots of cars parked along the street announce who’s having a party. A walker in front of one garage door hasn’t been moved in months.

When I go for walks, I feel alive. I think of stories to write. I think of prayers to pray. I find coins on the street. I check out what’s in people’s recycling bins. I whistle back at the birds. I feel like I live here.

Willow is coming along. She was willing to walk on a least around our front yard today. Just a few more steps every day and before you know it, she’ll be walking me around the block, too.

Posted in dogs

“Are you saying you want a piece of me?”

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Martin Katler on Unsplash

As I pulled into the driveway of a friend’s house, the neighbor (also a friend) was walking a tan french bulldog in her front yard. She dog-sits in her home, and this was her latest guess, a little girl named Poppy, just a year old.

Of course I walked over to say hi, but Poppy was having none of that. She got into a defensive stance and let out her fiercest growl, letting me know that I was not welcome. I can’t help but laugh when I am held at bay by fifteen pounds of pup. As I chatted with my friend, I sat on the ground about five yards away. Once I did that, Poppy’s curiosity got the best of her, and she took a cautious step in my direction. Numerous sniffs and steps later, she was smelling the back of my hand, her stumpy tail beginning to vibrate back and forth. Once I ran my hand down her back, she crawled up into my lap and my friend said, “Now you’re speaking her love language.” I only had a few minutes to pet her back and scratch her tummy, and we parted as each other’s new best friend.

The night before, at the meal before bible study, I met a first time attender, Troy, who shared a very different dog story with me. After a moment of small talk he told me about the dog who bit his seven-year-old daughter. The daughter was across the street at a neighbor’s house for a birthday party. Something triggered their friendly and familiar German Shepherd to attack, and the little girl had to be airlifted to a trauma center. Thankfully, doctors were able to save her life and repair the damage. In fact, his daughter was there that night for the children’s program and she looked just fine.

I asked, “Did they put the dog down?”

He replied, “No. The case was dismissed. She still lives across the street.”

Yes, that would make me very uncomfortable. Plus, I’ll bet there’s a lot more to this story.

Anyway, when it comes to dogs or people, it’s not always the gruffest and grouchiest ones you need to watch out for. The friendliest ones might be the ones who really want a piece of you.

Posted in dogs

Where are the leather leashes?

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Jon Koop on Unsplash

After searching the whole rack of leashes, collars and harnesses at my favorite local pet store, I had to ask an assistant manager, “Do you still carry leather leashes?”

He said, “No, but I wish we did.”

I replied, “I guess they make them too well. You only ever have to buy one.”

Unless you get a second dog. When we took our shepherd/lab mix pup for training, the first instructions were “Get a metal prong collar and a six-foot leather leash.” We were glad we did. Nylon and cotton leashes cut into my hands, unlike the leather, which gets more comfortable the more we use it walking, exercising and training a large (or small), energetic dog. The one we have has lasted over twelve years. Even the vet commented, “Nice leash!”

Our newest pup, a Great Dane, isn’t large yet. But she visibly grows each day. With a Westie one hand, we need a second leash for the other. None of the local pet stores have leather leashes. I found a cheap nylon one on the pet store clearance table that will do for now, but it’s junk and I hate it. So it’s off to Amazon we go.

I like to support local businesses, but they don’t often have what I need. I don’t enjoy feeding the Amazon monster, but there I can usually find what I’m looking for.

Posted in dogs

My favorite animal? It’s not even close.

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Bloganuary writing prompt
What is your favorite animal?
View all responses

Anyone who’s read any of my blog posts would know that dogs are at the top of my list. My life has been filled with dogs and dog stories. I love going to the zoo to see the elephants, lions, and giraffes, but I love coming home to our dogs even more.

Other pets along the way have included aquarium fish, hermit crabs, a few cats, and a parakeet. They all had bit parts in our life. All the awards for best supporting actors go to the dogs.

Mild-mannered Gabriel the Labrador retriever pinned a suspicious repairman against the wall in our Baltimore home. Chica was the world’s fastest three-legged chihuahua. Michael the Labrador had enough energy to accompany me on six-mile runs through the snow in Des Moines, Iowa. Samson the lab/shepherd mix ran off energy by chasing a laser pointer at breakneck speed up and down the street. Sable the Bassett hound howled along with every siren in the distance. Gabriel and Rachel, yellow and black labs respectively, retieved balls until they dropped from exhaustion.

Each one was fluent in the dialect of our home. Their vocabulary included “ball,” “bone,” “park,” and “bike ride” as well as the requisite “sit,” “come,” and “heel.”

More than just animals or pets, they’ve always been our guardian angels. Presently assigned to us: Winston the West Highlands White Terrier and Willow the Great Dane.

Posted in dogs

A pile of puppies

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Bloganuary writing prompt
Think back on your most memorable road trip.
View all responses
Photo by Garrett Karoski on Unsplash

We were dog-less for the first time ever. That spring, we put both of our Labrador retrievers to sleep. Gabriel was fifteen and simply aged out. Rachel, age ten, started limping with a tumor in her rear leg the vet said was most likely a cancer you could treat but not cure.

A few months later, my wife blindfolded me and took me and our two children for a drive through Iowa farmland. About an hour west of Des Moines, we stopped, I took off the blindfold, and found myself on a typical Iowa farm. What was not typical was the sound of many barking dogs. My wife had brought me here to pick out a Labrador retriever puppy for my birthday.

So I sat down in a big box of eight-week old chocolate puppies to decide which one to take home. There are few things more fun than sitting under a pile of furry, wiggling, wagging, yipping, whining, licking, and sniffing Lab puppies. I picked a male that wasn’t the shyest nor the most aggressive, and we drove home with Michael. While he wasn’t shy or aggressive, Michael turned out to be a wild ball of energy.

That was a memorable road trip!

Posted in dogs, Life

The nose knows: what’s up on the counter

Posted on by William Douthwaite

It didn’t take long before we forgot. Over the course of one summer we forgot a cardinal kitchen rule: don’t leave food near the edge of the counter.

It a dog thing. Years of Labrador retrievers hammered that statute home. The most retold story was from the Gabriel archives when we lived in Baltimore, almost forty years ago. My wife decided to make homemade noodles from an old family recipe. She mixed them up, rolled them out, sliced them up, and laid them out on towels to dry. We had to go out that night and upon our return, the noodles were missing. They were gone. Every single one of them. Yes, Gabe helped himself and like a lot of delicious foods, once you start, you just can’t stop.

Lesson learned. From that point on we pushed any kind of food to the back of the kitchen counter or placed it on a higher shelf, out of reach. Our most recent large dog, Samson, wasn’t really a counter surfer, but we still didn’t leave anything in reach.

With a smaller dog at home now – my readers will know him as Winston the West Highlands White Terrier – it’s not an issue. At less that one foot high, he’s no threat to food on the counter. However, one of his best friends, my daughter’s one-year-old Golden Retriever Rex is.

I had several pans of meatballs ready to go into the oven. I walked over to the refrigerator to grab something, and by the time I turned back, Rex had eaten one row of uncooked meatballs. If I had not caught him, it would have been a pizza delivery night.

Then, just the other night, my wife baked a loaf of cranberry bread. After it had cooled on the counter she sliced it in two to freeze half and eat the other. Winston and Rex were outside chasing each other around the yard and the family sat around the fire pit getting ready to roast marshmallows for s’mores. My two grandsons ran in and out of the house as they usually do, one time letting the dogs inside. When my wife went inside to get a drink, she discovered half of a half a loaf was missing. Teeth marks betrayed the culprit, Rex. With that goofy dog smile on his face, I’m sure he thought, “If you didn’t want me to try it, you shouldn’t have left it on the counter.”

Yes, we should have known better. In fact, there’s no guarantee a short dog won’t find his way up on the table. Winston has gotten up on the dining room table when a bench wasn’t pushed in all the way. Sharp eyes caught him before he got any food.

And then there is the legend of Sable our basset hound from a decade or so ago. With a vertical leap of about 2 inches, we never thought she would be a threat to a kitchen counter. However, we did pull into the driveway one day, and saw her up on the kitchen table looking out the window. Somehow she got up on a chair and from there up onto the table. No food was consumed and from that perch, she was able to effectively watch the house while we were gone.

We’ve learned to be safe rather than sorry. Keep all food out of reach.

Posted in dogs, Life

Walking around: miles of kids, dogs, and friends

Posted on by William Douthwaite

My early morning and late afternoon walks with Winston (our West Highland White Terrier) take us around all the eleven streets of our neighborhood.

We know all the kids at the bus stops. The younger ones always want to pet the dog. Winston’s tail begins wagging four times a second when we’re still fifty yards away, so happy to see his friends. Keep in mind, he thinks everyone is his best friend. He enthusiastically wriggles, hops, spins, rolls over, and thoroughly enjoys their attention.

We know most of the dogs in the neighborhood, too. There’s Bailey the Shih Zhu, Blue the Golden Retriever, Ramona the Rat Terrier, Sadie the some-kind-of-terrier, Sophie the black miniature Poodle, Winston the Maltese (a miniature version of Winston), Gunnar the Brittney Spaniel, Franco the Rottwiler, Natchez, a mixed breed, Teddy a nervous little terrier, and an assortment of Labs, Shepherds, Terriers, and Chihuahuas. As I write this, I realize there are a lot of dogs around here. Sometimes they are out with their owners, sometimes they bark at us from a window. I always ask Winston, “What are they saying?” He refuse to tell me. Must be some kind of honor code among canines.

We watch all the new houses being built and get to meet a lot of the new neighbors moving in. They are, of course, all best friends.

We know where all the bunnies are going to be, too. They are so funny. The bunnies think that if they sit real still by the edge of the road, no one will notice them. Winston sees them long before I do. His excitement builds as he thinks, “I think I can catch him today!” Of course, he never does. The bunny is much faster and scoots off into the woods, leaving nothing but a scent behind. Winston doesn’t dwell on it. I am sure he thinks, “I’ll get him next time!”

Early this morning, an SUV began to back out of a driveway when Winston and I were about ten yards away. I don’t take any chances. I stopped and Winston immediately sat, just like he supposed to do. Once the man had backed out I said, “Heel,” and we were on our way. He rolled down his window and said, “Thank you!” I though that was really nice. Most people don’t even notice us and roar away. That little moment made my day.

Posted in dogs, Life

Who’s ready to rumble?

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“In this corner, at one year of age, hailing from Palm Coast, ladies and gentlemen put your hand together for Win-stonnnnn!”

“And in the other corner, a three-year old veteran from Ormond Beach, let’s hear it for Bro-deeee!”

Last year, my in-laws brought their West Highland White Terrier, Brodie, to our house to meet our Westie, Winston. The tale of the tape: they were pretty much the same size. We figured they would love each other. Brodie had played with plenty of other Westies at daycare. Winston believed every one, man or beast, was his best friend. We knew they would chase each other around and wear each other out and everyone would be happy.

That’s not exactly how the encounter went. Winston was on his home court and still very much a puppy. Brodie was having a “Who’s the annoying kid?” kind of day. They snarled and snapped and yapped and didn’t get along at all. We didn’t expect that. “Alright, break it up!”

Then the old man wandered out. Samson, the thirteen-year old shepherd-lab-whatever brown dog came out to see what all the commotion was. He wasn’t really interested in either of the other dogs, but the little guys settled down immediately. Samson commanded respect and was an instant calming presence in the pack of dogs in our backyard. This was his house, and both of the terriers knew it.

We don’t have Samson anymore, and Winston has grown up (a little). When he and Brodie had a rematch a month ago, they got along better. They ran around some, but decided they liked each other better from a distance. I’ll bet they do even better the next time they get together.

When I was a pastor, I noticed that people tended to behave a little better when I was around. Not always good, but better. They would clean up their language and keep the funny but questionable jokes to themselves. Many times I really wasn’t interested in other people’s squabbles, but I’m glad I could get people to calm down a little.

Posted in dogs, Life

Breaking in the new folks

Posted on by William Douthwaite

The moment I walked in the door, I knew these two would be a challenge. First of all, this was a big dog household. The dog who already lived there was big. The food and water bowls were big, the collars were big, the leashes were long, the dog bed was huge, the chew toys were enormous. And here I am weighing in at a mere twenty pounds. I had my work cut out for me.

Everything I owned fit in one sack. Rubber toys, chew bones, a couple of stuffed animals, a leash, a raincoat embroidered with my name, a bandana, a few miniature Westie figurines, and a couple of bowls. They found it all very entertaining. “Look how small everything is!”

First things first. They carried me out the back door into the yard. I have a yard! I ran and rolled and panted and peed. This was going to be great. But it would be a lot of work to keep my space lizard and squirrel free. Fortunately, I could walk the landscape wall to keep an eye on my domain.

I simply wanted to make the place feel like home, so I sprinkled a few corners and rugs in the house. For some reason that didn’t go over well. Come on, guys, it’s not that much. I got the folks to pay attention to my subtle woof when I needed to go outside.

Checking out the inside of the house was as awesome as the outside. I couldn’t believe how many toys were scattered around. I sank my teeth into a plastic apple, purple Lego brick, miniature Pokemon character, a colored pencil, a sock, and a Hot Wheels car. None of that was well-received either. I got the folks to organize and store up the grandkids toys they didn’t me to chew in plastic totes.

My first few weeks here were amazing. I had so much energy. I just loved zooming around, jumping up on things, barking at dogs walking by on the street, and scattering my toys around the house. I got the folks to take me for nice long walks around the block every morning and evening to meet the neighbors, the neighbors’s dogs, and check out the neighbors’ mailbox posts. It’s my job to keep them active. After all, they aren’t getting any younger.

Okay, so just because I’m a white (West Highland Terrier) dog doesn’t mean that’s my favorite color. I like to dig till my snout and feet are brown. I like to sniff around until my face is covered with green hitchhikers. The folks finally figured out that I needed to be combed and brushed every day.

Let me tell you, the food here is great. Kibble? My favorite. They even mix it with some canned food and a little bone broth. Biscuits? There are plenty. Rawhide sticks? As many as I want. Cheese? I always get a bite of the folks’ cheese sticks. I told the folks not to worry. I work off all those calories on my twice daily walks.

Every once in a while, big dogs come over to play. And I mean big. And brown. Kennedy and Rex tower over me. I love to chase them around the yard. The folks don’t worry about me. They know I can handle myself and run with the big boys.

But one day, Brodie came over. He’s a Westie, too. It was like looking in a mirror. Everyone has a Doppelgänger, right? We’ve got a few things to work out, but we’re learning to be good friends. Bailey lives across the street. She’s a little bigger than me, and cute, but she always stays in her own yard. The folks know I can handle myself around the little guys, too.

Speaking of little guys, all these kids come over to the house from time to time. They are so much fun. They scream when I jump on them or chase them or take their toys. They always let food drop to the floor so I can have some. They taught me how to climb up into the play fort and go down the slide. The folks got a gate to keep us apart so they don’t bug me too much. Works for me.

A couple of months after I moved in, the old brown dog who lived here had to leave. I hardly got to know him. But the folks really loved him. They seemed so sad, so I was glad I could cheer them up with cuddles, kisses, and barking.

So I’ve lived about half my life here, and the folks are doing well. They know my favorite spot to hang out is in their lap or on one of the love seats. They let me nap with them in the afternoon. They get all my toys out from underneath the furniture. They often leave the back door open so I can come and go as I please. And I get to play with any lizards or snakes who happen to wander into the back porch.

They still have a few things to work on. They wake me up too early in the morning. Come on, I need my sleep. They need more practice combing and brushing all the stuff out of my coat. Come on, that hurts! I’d like to go for a few more rides in the car. Let’s go! It’s one of my favorite things to do.

I’ll tell you, it is a full time job keeping an eye on these two. But hey, that’s my job.