Doggone Dogs
by Charles C. Hall, Ed.D.

"Love is a many splendored thing..." (line from a song)

Why so many people put up with these four-legged mutts, I have no idea. Few of them earn their keep. Most of them lie around all day -- sleeping and scratching. They, of course, rally round when it's chow time. At such times, one never sees such tail-wagging energy as they wait for their daily fare. Their interest is at such a level, one wonders at the sudden spurt, and at its latency.

The alarm system we utilize is a mutt I rescued down at the end of my road where it abutts at Red Bud Rd. She was back in the tall weeds and brush when I saw her. I began taking food and water to her. Within a couple of days she would venture from her hiding place for a quick sniff, then run back to her safe haven.

After about a week of this, I noted in my rear view mirror, she ran after me a few paces. I picked her up one morning, put her in my truck, and now she's as lively as an electric wire. Since she's a "Jane Doe," I named her Janie. She brightens up each time I'm out the door. I like that. Her alarm system works quite well. Any vehicle coming over the small rise on my road, sets up a spate of yipping like you never heard. That sets off a chain reaction, similar to nuclear fusion in Pogo, the "house" dog, as well as the other two "outside" dogs.

One of those is Dolly. She wandered up to my place from Red Bud one day, or night, whatever. Each morning as I went down my drive to retrieve my morning papers, there she was, sitting and watching me. I talked to her every day but she gave no indication that she was interested. One morning, I fooled her. She had followed me about half way to the house. I set out food and water about thirty feet from the carport. At about nine thirty, I went out to make my daily trip to the post office. She was sitting by her food and water dishes. I refilled them. After that aimless act, she and I became fast friends. She follows me whenever I venture out into the wide world (of 15 acres!) and sits around (laying is a more accurate description) wondering what the heck I'm doing.

The other "outsider" is Cookie. Mark got her for me when I lost Rocky. He jumped from my truck one day to chase a rabbit, and I've not seen him since. Cookie is the couch potato of "Dogdom." She will not get too excited about life until the other three race off across the field in hot pursuit of "something," only they know what. But she's a real good dog and I appreciate her attitude -- it's much like my own.

When Janie sounds her warning that we are soon to have visitors, Pogo suddenly comes to life from his perch and lets out a cachaphony of loud barking. It reverbrates off the walls, ceilings, cook pans, and whatever else one has in a normal household. (I have been accused of not having a "normal" household at times). That's okay. Sara and I yell for Pogo to quiet down, to no avail. He's going to bark `til the front door is opened. Amazingly, he's now "bark free" when he wanders out to sniff the newcomers. His attack on the door, though, is a complex phenomenon.

Since I fall into the category of we humans who love our dogs, regardless of how we came by them, I can only explain the behavior as expressed in Antoine de st. Exaperey's tale in the Little Prince. The Fox tells the Little Prince, "Here is my secret. One sees clearly only with the heart. Anything that is essential is invisible to the eyes."

Maybe that explains many things. So it goes . . . .