When my friend Walter, who's always had his dog on leash or close to home, came to see what could possibly be so wonderful about this park he was astounded. It was a sunlit Sunday, warm enough to draw out thousands of bumblebees, peepers and pups. At least fifty dogs played along the creek, from bridge to bridge. "They all get along. I can't believe it. They all get along," I heard Walter mutter again and again. He'd expected to see melée, danger and heartstopping ruckus and instead saw, for two hours straight, nothing but companionable play and sheer joy.
I think that is part of the concern over dog parks, a mistaken notion that off-leash dogs will run amok, brutes terrorizing wimps, energetic breeds pounding lapdogs. That mistakes dog nature. When dogs have adequate room for sorting out their places in a crowd it takes them a tiny fraction of the time to establish rank, decide who'll play with whom and start to party down than it would take a group of fifty humans in a pub or a law office.
The snarling and bumping, the toothy snaps and throaty growls do not signify (as they might among twenty teenagers) dominance to the death. It's a lovely posturing and sorting out, showing a bit of personality before they go tearing off together in a wild romp. They all get along. Which, as Rodney knows, is a step up from the human predicament.
1 comment:
What a wonderful intro for an exciting tale about my little pal, Mr. Nibbles.
Mr Nibbles is a 28 lb, pit-mix type dog and is the current champion and keeper of my heart.
Incidentally, this past weekend, we were the brand-new owners of a nifty basket muzzle so Mr. Nibbles could happily romp at the park.
Let me explain:
On a freezing cold December day, I had sadly banished the thoughts of a Christmas puppy out of my mind. The week between Christmas and New Year's eve, while starting my shift at your local, friendly, neighborhood animal emergency clinic, I saw a tiny little puppy huddled in the back of a cage, fearing for his life. I felt so sad for the little beast. He was a walking anatomy lesson, every bone and tendon peered through his skin. His body, although washed multiple times, had the faint odor of excrement. Because that was the only nutrition he could come by, his teeth and mouth were covered in feces. He had mange and had multiple broken nails from trying to dig his way out of some kind of confinement. Worse yet were old scars and fresh lacerations from multiple bite wound.
I fell in love with this scrawny, scrappy, emaciated 15 lb kid. His eyes were so gentle, he was so grateful for every compassionate touch, every morsel of food was eagerly gobbled. Even the scrap of blanket that our dogs take for granted was deeply coveted. I'm not usually an adoption sucker; in my line of business that only gets you 25 cats and an impending divorce, but this little guy was special. I decided immediately to adopt him.
Mr. Nibbles tale only grew more disturbing and weird. After speaking with the city animal control officer who brought him to the local, friendly, neighborhood animal emergency service, they said that they had found him half-starved "wandering the streets". This was probably code for discarded. Upon closer examination, it also turns out, he wasn't a puppy. Despite his small frame and puppy-like nature, he was actually about a year old, his growth probably stunted by the starvation.
He was hospitalized, de-wormed, vaccinated, eventually neutered and weighed weekly, taking care not to overfeed him. Re-feeding syndrome is something that was unfortunately discovered in WWII, when concentration camps were liberated. Although the veterinary world benefits from this knowledge, we also have to contend with its victims. One well-intended hot dog from a kind-hearted animal lover would send Mr. Nibbles into a vomiting fest. It so was difficult not to indulge him in his every food whim. His sad eyes and his emaciated body screamed: "Feed me! Love me!" I had to beg friends and family not to feed him, while I wanted to do nothing but feed him.
After 2 weeks, Mr. Nibbles was well enough to venture to Ellison Bark for a romp with his new found housemates, Apathy and Lady Cuddles. It was a day that I will never forget. Now I may be accused of anthropomorphizing animals, but I swear that you could see the shock and disbelief in his eyes when he realized that Ellison Bark was a place where humans took their dogs to romp and run. There were endless treats and there was no violence- not towards him, nor towards any dog. It took a while for Mr. Nibbles to become healthy and to actively engage in play, but for months and months he enjoyed Ellison Bark every weekend. His weekly improvement was astounding and joyful for many humans at the park.
During this time, I had a consultation with a veterinarian who was a behavioral consultant. The vet gave me some wonderful advice on how to minimize Mr. Nibbles stress (he was still having nightmares) and to deal with food aggression issues. Based on our knowledge of pit bull fighting in this country, she deducted that Mr. Nibbles was used as bait for pit bull fighting. In other words, he was thrown into a ring to sharpen the skills of dogs who are taught to fight. She also warned me that while he might be fine with humans, Mr. Nibbles could undergo a type of post-traumatic stress disorder and have dog aggression issues when he reaches a certain age.
We had Mr. Nibble for four months until there was any sign of trouble. We had painstakingly introduced him into our home, with our precious 4 year old daughter, with our two beloved canine companions, our three feline friends and to our cherished pooch pals at the park. One day, like the veterinarian said, he just snapped. I can't really say what set him off.
So here I am at Countrymax, purchasing a basket muzzle for poor Mr. Nibbles. I am a responsible pet owner and I want to keep all other dogs who enjoy the park safe. At the first romp in the park, he resisted the muzzle at first. It is still new to us, but for the most part he seems to tolerate it well and has actively enjoyed playing chase with some other dogs.
So if you see a tiny 2 foot black dog muzzled at the park, please give him a treat. Some people discard him because he is a "troublemaker" and needs a muzzle. So again, please, please give him a treat! It's a pain to give it through the muzzle, but it is well worth the effort. This little dog desperately needs to know that there is some good in humankind.
Post a Comment