A Dog Philosophy

   

 
A Dog Philosophy

If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went.

-Will Rogers

There is no psychiatrist in the world like a puppy licking your face. 

-Ben Williams

A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than he loves himself.

-Josh Billings

The average dog is a nicer person than the average person. 

-Andy Rooney

We give dogs time we can spare, space we can spare and love we can spare. And in return, dogs give us their all. It's the best deal man has ever made.
-M. Acklam

A dog teaches a boy fidelity, perseverance, and to turn around three times before lying down. -Robert Benchley

Anybody who doesn't know what soap tastes like never washed a dog. 

-Franklin P. Jones

My dog is worried about the economy because Alpo is up to $3.00 a can hat's almost $21.00 in dog money.
-Joe Weinstein

Ever consider what our dogs must think of us? I mean, here we come back from a grocery store with the most amazing haul - chicken, pork, half  a cow. They must think we're the greatest hunters on earth.
-Anne Tyler

You can say any foolish thing to a dog, and the dog will give you a look that says, "wow, you're right! I never would've thought of that!" 
-Dave Barry

Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole.
-Roger Caras

If you think dogs can't count, try putting three dog biscuits in your pocket and then give him only two of them.
-Phil Pastoret

I received this in my email as a FWD and thought it was perfect to add here. All dogs, all the time. :) Feel free to add any others you've heard or ones you've thought of.

Fate Brought Us Together

After we received the tickets from Honolulu to San Fransisco from the Coast Guard, I bought our tickets from San Fran to Portland to Eugene. All was set...

And then, the CG informed us that our flight information was changing. Instead of leaving in a month, we were leaving in 2 weeks. Of course, I thought this was the worst luck ever. Half the time to prepare to move over an ocean. Lots to do, and even plane tickets to change. The CG took care of changing our flight to California, but we had to take care of changing our flight to Oregon. I was so upset about the sudden change in plans; I wondered what we had done to deserve the Karma. (Now that I've been a Coastie wife a bit longer now, I have learned to roll with the punches when plans change.)

We worked our butts off getting everything ready to go. And the day before leaving, I saw a posting on craigslist that a family in the Eugene area were moving and couldn't take their chihuahua. They were looking for a good home for their dog and weren't asking for a fee. The dog was female, young, and potty trained. I immediately emailed the people and told them our situation. That we were going to be in Oregon temporarily and that we were also moving but could take a dog.

The day of the flight I was so anxious for our first stop so I could check my email to see if I got a reply back from the people regarding the chihuahua. We spent the night at the San Fransisco airport in the USO and I got an email back about the pup. They stated they wanted to view the new home that their dog was to be living in, but that was not an option for us. I emailed them back and told them we were just stopping in Oregon for a visit before our move to California. I gave them my phone number to call me.

The next morning, I checked my email once more before we had to get on our flight. Nothing; so we finished our trip to Eugene. As soon as we landed I checked my voice mail, but no phone calls. I didn't know what to do. We really had our hearts set on the dog, but they weren't contacting us and we wanted a dog as soon as we could. Our time home was packed with things to do, so it was going to be hard to schedule to get a dog.

The Eugene airport is quite close to the animal shelter, Greenhill Humane Society, so we decided to just visit the shelter to be around dogs. We had already checked the website and there were no dogs that we were interested in adopting, but we went anyway.

I saw a dog that had been on the website for weeks and I saw that she finally had an adoption sign on her cage. That warmed my heart. Her name was Nevaeh and she was a Husky/Border Collie mix. I asked if I could take her outside to exercise her, and they let me. The dog was very pretty, but not very people social. She wasn't really interested in getting attention from me. When I finished, I brought Nevaeh back in. I was ready to find Jeremy and leave, but he had passed  by a shelter worker who had a little cocker spaniel in his arms. Jeremy asked the guy what the story was on the pooch, and the guy said he had no idea because the dog had just arrived; all he knew was that the dog was fairly young. He asked if we could play with her, so he took us to the puppy room where the little dog called Ginger stole our hearts. I didn't know what to think because a part of me still wanted the little white and tan chihuahua, but the owners still had not contacted us.

The more we talked to the people at Greenhill during that short hour, the more we learned about Ginger. She had been surrendered by her previous owner. She was about 5 months old, and the owners could no longer care for her. We threw a little toy and she went and got it! She cowered around us, but showed interest in wanting attention. She came when we beckoned. She didn't wag her little nub tail much, but she was pretty scared. The price for her was much steeper than we had hoped. At $300, I was skeptical. Jeremy's mom offered to help pay as an early Christmas gift to us. The reason she was priced so high, they described it to us, is because she was a young highly desired breed. Someone would adopt her quick if not us, and there are other dogs in the facility who aren't so lucky - older dogs, larger dogs, specific breeds, etc. They are priced very low, and the shelter needs to make up for it somehow. They called her a rescue dog. The fees paid for her would help them keep the other dogs around longer. Jeremy and I discussed it and I think we decided we were in love with her the moment I called her Delilah instead of Ginger. I don't know what happened. It just came out of my mouth. She looked exactly like the cocker we had planned on having when we were much much much older. Here she was.

We would have taken her home that day if we could have, but the staff needed to vaccinate her, give her a health check, spay, and microchip her before we were able to take her home. The most we were able to do was put a $20 deposit down to hold her. If we decided not to take her, we'd be out the $20, but if we did want her, the $20 would go towards her $300 adoption fee. So we put a hold on her, and it's a good thing we did because when we went back in the kennel area to say goodbye to her, there was a couple looking at her saying how cute she was, but they moved on as soon as they saw a hold sign on her kennel door.

We were back to visit her every chance we got. I think she started recognizing our faces, too. One of the times we went to visit, she was paired up in a kennel with a little black terrier type dog. The other dog was yapping and barking at us, but Ginger sat there with her nose peeking through the wires of the kennel door. I swear she got annoyed at the other dog because as it was barking for our attention, she kept looking over at it - more of a glare, I swear - and then all of a sudden, she sat up on her back legs and slapped down on the other dog as if to say, "SHUT UP ALREADY, GEESH!" It was the cutest thing in the world.

The day we brought her home was very happy. The last thing the staff said to us before we walked our new dog out the door was, "She's going to follow you guys everywhere."

Ginger...now starting a new life as Delilah, wasn't so sure about the situation. She cuddled and burrowed into Jeremy's arms the whole drive. She even piddled a little bit. Maybe she had a bad experience in a car, maybe a crash, or maybe she just thought we were taking her somewhere to abandon her, like her previous owners did. She is a very submissive and affectionate dog. She was probably super attached to whoever owned her before us. Then for them to drop her off in a place with lots of dogs barking and lots of commotion, it probably traumatized her.

But now, she's in her forever family, and though we may move from place to place, she will always come with us. She is now a Coastie Dog.

I now say it was truly God that brought us together. The series of little events that led up to us being the first people to see her as she arrived at the shelter, fall in love, and adopt her. It's crazy going back and realizing that if the Coast Guard hadn't changed our flight information - which seemed like such a bad thing at the time, if the family with the Chihuahua had called us back sooner, if we had decided not to visit Greenhill Humane Society, if I had not seen Nevaeh online and played with her in the dog run for a while, then Ginger...Delilah would have been adopted by someone else.

Welcome, Delilah, to our little family. November, 2008

 

Married Life - The Search For A Dog

   

 
In August, 2008, I married my high school sweetheart, Jeremy. He joined the Coast Guard a couple years after high school and got married a year after his enlistment began. Our first station together was Honolulu, Hawaii. We had discussed getting a dog, but not until we moved to a different location. Our apartment wouldn't allow pets, so no matter what we wanted, we couldn't act upon it. It did not stop us from visiting the local animal shelters, though. We researched together what kind of dog would be best for us. We knew we wanted a smaller dog. With all the traveling we'd be doing as a Coast Guard family, a larger dog would be much harder to transport. Via car, a larger dog would take up a lot of room. Via plane, a larger dog would be a lot more expensive to transport.

Back in high school, I remember a conversation Jeremy and I once had. We decided on the pets that we wanted, their names, and chronological order. I know, I know; normal couples discuss their future kids' names, but not us. First, we wanted a rottweiler named Lizzie. At the same time, we wanted a cockatoo named Donahue. We wanted our second dog to be a Siberian husky named Nuka (Little Sister). Finally, in our golden years, we wanted a little American cocker spaniel named Delilah.

When Jeremy got his orders to California, we put in all our efforts to find an apartment that allowed pets. The serious search for a dog began, however, from Hawaii our resources were limited. During our official move to California, we were going to take a couple of weeks and detour in Oregon. This is where we decided to adopt our first fur baby together. After much research, we decided on a little chihuahua. Small, cute, and playful. We wanted the youngest one we could find for a reasonable price. We also wanted a girl dog. During the days before our flight from Honolulu to San Fran to Portland to Eugene, we checked daily with the local animal shelter, and we even checked craigslist.com. We found no matches at the shelter, and very few matches on craigslist. The search continues...

Siberian Husky: My Opinions, Experiences, and Researched Facts

   

 
From my personal experience, Siberian Huskies are wonderful dogs. I've never met a mean Husky, though I have only met about a dozen.

Good Points: (In my personal experiences with Nikki)

• Very gentle with me even when I was a toddler
• Defensive of her family
• Loved snow and cold weather
• Was able to keep food in her bowl all the time
• Didn't bark, but made a great Husky whine/sing

Bad Points: (In my personal experiences with Nikki)

•  Didn't like strangers in uniforms
• Guarded raw meats
• Shedding season was a hard time to keep her groomed

In my research of the breed, I have found Siberian Huskies on some lists including: Dangerous Breed, and Great for Families.

I can't stress enough that the temperament of a dog has nearly everything to do with how it was raised. I have visited numerous forums discussing dangerous breeds, and everyone seems to have their own opinion about different dogs. Most of the "Dangerous Dogs" lists I have viewed list only large breed dogs, and many people argue that smaller breeds can be more vicious than pitt bulls - which are commonly found at the top of the lists as most dangerous breed. However, one thing I must clear up to all who read this, is that when these lists are made, they research the history of the dog: what the dog was bred for, general breed temperament, and the potential damage a breed can havoc if it were to strike. Therefore, larger breeds are more likely to do more damage than a chihuahua. And Pitts, loving and loyal as they can be, can still do some of the worst damage. Sorry for ranting a bit, but some of the forum replies I've read get pretty defensive over Pitts. I'm no Pitt hater, but I respect them and that the reason they were bred was to fight. In a multiple pet family, Pitts would not be my personal first choice as they love humans, but not other dogs. Not to say all are dangerous around other dogs, but it is in their genes. Anyway, back to the real reason I started this blog: My experiences, and my experiences began with Siberian Huskies, who are on a few of the dangerous dog lists that I have encountered.

With that said and my personal knowledge out there, I'd like to point out some facts I have gathered about the breed.

All further information on this entry I have gathered from Animal Planet's original series, "Dogs 101: Siberian Husky"

• Siberian Huskies were bred in Siberia and brought to the USA by way of Alaska.
• They were bred to work in cold harsh environments
• Balto was a Siberian Husky
• They can have either blue or brown eyes, or one of each (Nikki had 2 blue eyes)
• Their howl can be heard 10 miles away

If you're thinking about adding a Husky to your family, some things you should know:

• They need space to run
• They need regular brushing due to their thick double layer coat
• They shed considerably in the Spring
• They can be trained, but have patience; they are smart and cannot easily be outsmarted
• They are generally healthy, but are prone to hip dysplasia and eye problems
• Since they are bred to be pack animals, they love children and make great family pets

Again, I'd like to give full credit to the above facts to the Animal Planet original series, "Dogs 101: Siberian Husky"


RIP Nakiska: 1988-October, 2003 

(Siberian Husky) Growing Up: The Family Dog

   


My first dog was about the time I started walking. My family had had dogs before I was born, and I've heard wonderful stories of these fur-babies, but making my own memories with my fur-sis is irreplaceable. She was a Siberian Husky puppy. They named her Nakiska, Nikki for short. We grew up together. When I would come home from school after a bad day, she would sit and listen to me vent. From kindergarten through high school, she was there, loyal and loving.

When I was 3, we moved from our home in town to some family property a couple miles outside of city limits. There was plenty of room outside for Nikki to run, so my Dad rigged a zip line dog run for her. Being a Siberian Husky, she needed the exercise and especially during shedding season, my mom would not have all the dog fur in the house. Nikki had a nice big dog house for her to escape the elements, but she loved sun bathing in the mid afternoon in the middle of her dog run.

Being the only dog I really knew, I couldn't compare her to any other. She was the best in my mind, and spoiled, too! Every day, I'd give her a milk bone. I loved watching the ever so gentle way she took it from my hand and tenderly ate it. She only knew a couple of tricks. Sit, Shake, Other Paw, and Lay Down. She had to do every trick before I gave her the milk bone. After her last trick, I'd offer her my hand with the bone and she would stay in a sit position, outstretch her neck with her mouth open an inch. Her mouth would slide over the end of the bone and she would look at me and slowly and gently bite the bone with just enough force to hold it on her own. Then she would gently pull it from my grasp. After biting the bone in half, both pieces would fall to the ground. Her focus shifted to one half, biting that piece into two more manageable pieces. She would then eat those two pieces one at a time before returning to the second half. The process repeated until the big pieces were gone. Then there were the crumbs which she sniffed and licked until all was gone. It was such a tidy tender process; I'll never forget it.

Among the daily milk bone, hunting season was a real treat time for Nikki. If my dad came home with a deer, Nikki got a couple of the meat enriched bones to chew on. Those, she wasn't so gentle with. Milk bones and her regular kibble you could take away from her even if some was already in her mouth, but give her raw bloody venison, and forget it; sister wolf came out. Heaven help the bees who tried to get their piece.

I also remember hot summer days when Dad would be sitting on the porch drinking an ice cold Bud Lite. Nikki would lay next to him watching the beer can. She always hoped for a taste of the fizzy beverage. Every once in a while, Dad would cave and cup his hand and give her a few fizzy licks. She absolutely loved it.

And I had my hand in spoiling her with people treats. On grocery days during the summer, mom and I would stop at McDonalds for a Happy Meal. I would always save a couple french fries for pup.

 

And on occasion, after dinner, Mom would tell me to take out the leftover gravy and give it to Nikki. Usually I'd just pour it on her kibble, but every once in a great while, I would let the gravy harden and mold it into a round blob and stick a dog bone in it like Nikki's very own gravy cake. She LOVED that.

I loved her, as I suspected she loved me. She wasn't the most loyal of dogs. We couldn't let her off the leash too often, and I suppose that's due to her having been an independent outside dog. She didn't have 100% human interaction. My family and I were the only people she knew, and we weren't with her 100% of the time. Now, in my adult life, that is one thing I regret, though I had no control over it.

All I was able to do was spend time with her after school, or after my homework, or on the weekends. During the summer, I would hang out with her in her dog house, talk and play, go for walks around the property, help my brother give her baths, and help brush her winter coat out. In the Spring, she lost half her bulk in fur. It all died and turned white. She looked like a molting bird. It was impossible to get it all out in one sitting. Her skin would get sensitive before it ever looked like you made a dent in the dead fur, yet a grocery bag would be full of brushed out fur.

One very fond memory I have of Nikki was the time she alerted me to an opossum with rabies. I was playing on my tree swing; Nikki was on her zip line and all of a sudden she started straining against her line, jumping up and down, and whining. At first I thought she just wanted to come play with me, but she kept at it, and it struck me as odd, so I stopped swinging and turned around, and about 20 yards behind me was an opossum. It was growling and would stagger closer to me and stop for a minute, then stagger closer and stop. I stood on the swing and started screaming for my Dad's attention. He came out on the porch and saw the little beast and went back inside for his rifle.  If it hadn't been for Nikki, who knows how much closer it would have gotten to me before I noticed it. It could have bitten me. I don't remember how old I was, but I was still in grade school at the time.

She was a great dog. My whole life growing up, I swore to myself I'd never have a different breed. She died the fall after I started my senior year in high school. She had been going downhill for a while. For a couple of years before she died, every time I left the house, I wondered if I'd be coming back home to find out she had died. Mostly, it was just her old age showing through. She slept out in the sun a lot, and I would look out and make sure her chest still rose and fell. She didn't do her crazy run up and down the dog run as often, if at all. The fur on her face started to gray. Her joints started to stiffen with arthritis, or Hip Dysplasia - common to most large breed dogs. (Though I wouldn't call her large breed weighing in at 30 lbs.) 

We took her to the vet to get some pain medicine for her. We didn't have the heart to put her down in her last few months, and the vet told us the pain meds would help her a lot. We kept her inside a lot of the time as the weather was getting colder and wetter outside. She slept a lot, but while awake, she seemed happy to be near us. I took her out on short walks, but it wasn't long before she was lagging behind me on the leash. It was hard for her to walk. It was hard for me to see her that way; I remembered the days we'd walk around and she would literally pull me while running. I would travel greater distances in less steps with her pulling me mid stride.

She died during the night on October 11, 2003.

It's strange the tiny details we remember about loved ones lost, including pets. Even now, almost 7 years after her passing, I distinctly remember her red collar, her blue leash, the way she gave me the crazy eyes when she saw me with a treat, the way she jumped up and down when we came home, and the softness of her curved fluffy tail. I like to think she had a good life with us, though in my adult life, I know it could have been better if she had been an indoor dog. A part of me regrets not spending more time with her, training her, and socializing her, but living out in the country there's less people - beautiful and serene as it is - it was hard for me as a kid to be in places there were neighbor kids and more activities.

One thing is for sure, she will always be my first dog, and she - as well as the Siberian Husky breed - will always have a special place in my heart.