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| I always thought I could train a dog. I was wrong then and I'm still wrong. Unless it's a MWD, or a really trained guide dog. It's a dog. My big thing was "with." If I said it, the dog went with you. Now I have Jack. He is an awesome dog, but he is our dog. She told him to go with me. Now I cant shake him... |
| I just took my untrained dog to the corner store. I wanted a beer. First, she said he couldn't come in. I said, you tell him that. Next, he had to be on a leash. I said, he's a paying customer. We got beer and a hot dog. |
| I used to think I could train a dog. I can't. My hope is my dogs listen to me when it's important. Jackson, my rescue from a few years back, does on occasion. I often wake up early on weekends, and take him to "his" park. If it's 5:00 am, I can take him off leash. STREET! That's the most important. I don't care if a car is coming, but I rarely have to use it. He stays on the sidewalk until he gets to the park where he runs and runs ... and poops. So we're on our way back. Now Jackson has a harness, I have his leash, but no one is around, so I let him go. He won't go more than thirty feet from me, probably a mastiff thing, but a cop pulls up behind us. Says my dog needs to be on a leash. I said he has a harness, I have the leash, but no one is around. Didn't matter. I call the dog. "ME"! He comes. I hold out one hand, palm up, he sits. I did not train him, we just worked it out. So I said, what leash is better than that? Just put it on him ... once I'm gone, do whatever. Jack hates the leash. Maybe that's why he listens so well. |
Sounds like you and Jack listen to each other well! (If only all dog "owners" understood it's a partnership you have with your pets.) I'm impressed he was so agreeable in the presence of the police officer - that's awesome, he knew, didn't he? Have you read any books on dog behavior (as opposed to "training"? I can recommend, if you're interested. Cheers & happy walking with Jackson!  |
| I always wondered. What in the world would make you ever first smoke crack. I've asked a few addicts, they don't remember. All they know is how much the high means to them. Then I recalled a time when I'd just buried the best dog I ever had. I was a mess, but some girl was hitching a ride. I took her all the way to where she was going, because I wasn't going to do anything but drive around all night anyway. She said, "Come in, I can make you feel all better. Then even better." I was married and said so... and no. And it was crack, not meth then. Is that how it happens? |
| I have been rescuing dogs for over thirty years. Mostly mastiffs, but I did what I could for any canine. One thing I never have done is let one off the leash. Ever. They are wonderful, but unpredictable. Save one if you can... Jack surprised me. He knew he could get by the screen door when I had my hands full, but didn't. So I kept it open a couple times, then let him out around the parking lot. Usually they take off. So, we went to the park. He was always harnessed, but not today. Watching him run almost brought me to tears. He is such a great dog. He's worn out and asleep on the couch next to me. We'll go to the park again tomorrow. |
| Hockey just gets in your blood I guess. I haven't played in thirty years, but still. My soon to be ex-roommate opened a door real fast and damn near hit me with it. I deked, spun, and missed him and the door. Later I told him to open the door more slowly, or someone could really get hurt. I don't like him. I was just glad I had a split second to get out of the way. Today, I had a full second when the door swung open fast, and in a natural reaction, I put a full body check on it. Shoulder, hip, legs, and all that it entails. Poor girl. She might have just been going to the bathroom, but the jackwagon she was visiting didn't tell her to open the door slowly. He can explain it to her when she wakes up. |
| There are a lot of people who don't understand a fight. I'm not talking about arguments, but real physical altercations. There are two kinds. One, withe some scrapes and bruises, and the other, where someone could die. Many have been in the former, but few the latter. But once you've been in the latter, no fight is the same. I've been there a few times, and have almost always come out on top. I'm still alive, and all but one opponent is as well. The worst part is you can never go back to scrapes and bruises... |
| I'm usually a peaceful person, but my living conditions have deteriorated. Badly. But nothing physical. Is it wrong for me to wish it did? I'm almost sixty, he's maybe 25, and two foot taller and above my weight class, but I so want to go... Am I wrong? |
| It was some Thanksgiving. I'm glad I went home. My rescue dog Max of six years was not feeling well, but no one thought it was serious. But when I got there, and they described it, I told my wife to make him an appointment with the vet immediately. Some forty eight hours later he died in my arms. I was so happy I was home. So very very happy. I got to tell him what a great dog he was... Rest easy, Big Dog, Jackson has the watch from here. |
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