I grew up in a small city where people not only knew their neighbours, but also spoke to them on a daily basis. We weren't necessarily best friends but we all knew the basic details of each other's lives. And if you needed to borrow an egg, you didn't have to introduce yourself at a stranger's door first.
Toronto couldn't have been more different. We lived on a one block street and at best, we knew about 30 per cent of our neighbours. If you needed an egg, well, good luck to you. There were probably two families on our street that I would have even considered asking for one.
Then we moved to Israel. As I have said many times in the past, it is partly the Anglo thing and partly that in Israel your business is your neighbour's business. Without going into a long song and dance, I have so many egg-friendly neighbours that I could collect a dozen without effort.
Several of my neighbours' numbers are in my cell phone and I speak to them daily. That's why when my new American neighbour across the street called the other day and said: "Oh my God, can you please come over here now ...", I walked out the door and across the street while I was still talking to her on my cell phone.
She opened the door holding her adorable miniature poodle, Buddy. And since we are both dog owners I began the conversation by addressing Buddy. Except, it wasn't Buddy. It was the same size as Buddy and the same colour as Buddy, but she assured me that it wasn't Buddy. In fact, she said calling to her seven-year-old daughter, here's Buddy now. And with that, her daughter entered the room the the real Buddy in her arms. I just stood there amazed. And with that, my quiet Sunday afternoon came to an abrupt end.
As it turns out, one of the daughter's friends left school earlier that day and saw a dog that she was sure was Buddy in the middle of the street in front of the school. Thinking she was doing a great deed, she scooped up the little dog and headed to my neighbour's house four blocks away to return Buddy.
However, when my neighbour opened the door with Buddy in her arms, she got the shock of her life to see Buddy's Double in the child's arms. A complicating factor to say the least.
Buddy Double had no collar and no apparent identification. That's when she called me to help her figure out what she should do next. In retrospect it's funny because according to my husband, thinking things through isn't my strong suit.
After consulting with our friend the City Veteranarian, we headed off to the nearest Veteranary Clinic to have the dog's computer chip read. All the way there the little girl who found Buddy Double was planning her life with her new dog.
If it had been a mixed breed without identification, that might have been fine, but in a small country the size of Israel, a new purebred in town can only have come from one or two places and presented with the challenge of finding the owner, the vet we went to see turned into a private dectective on the spot.
The dog didn't have an identification chip because he was too young. To me, that pretty much settled the matter. No ID meant that we couldn't find the owner and therefore, the little girl was the proud owner of an adorable miniature poodle puppy.
The vet/detective didn't see it that way. He started making calls to his contacts in search of the rightful owner. Fortunately for the almost-new-dog-owning-child, the vet was batting zero and I was starting to apply pressure. "It's ownerless," I said, "and she wants to keep it. So we're leaving."
And just then, while the vet was stalling and trying to convince us that we had to put up posters to try to find the real owner, the door of the clinic opened and a teenage boy walked in, took one look at Buddy Double, and said: "Sonny!"
And with that, the day took another 90 degree turn.
"Hey, not so fast," we all yelled. "How do we know it is your dog?" (Of course, we knew in our hearts it was his dog, but we had already made plans for Buddy Double, and we weren't in a hurry to adjust our thinking.) "How did you find us?"
So here's the story as it can only happen in a small place.
The kid gets home and realizes his dog has escaped due to human carelessness. He goes out into the street near his house (which was a few feet from the public school) and starts asking if someone has seen his dog. He has a picture of the dog with him. Some kid sees the photograph and says: "I saw a girl pick the dog up and take it home. I think her name is ....."
Next, the teenager and his father go into the public school and ask where this kid lives. THE SCHOOL ACTUALLY GIVES OUT THE INFORMATION. (Mindboggling to North Americans) and then they go to the girl's house to get their dog.
Of course, the mother knows the whole story and tells them that their dog isn't there because it is at the vet. She tells them which vet and next thing you know they are at the door to the vet's clinic.
And with that, our little neighbourhood adventure comes to an abrupt end.
However, the next day I was in the corner store getting milk and in walks the teenager with Sonny. "Sonny," I sort of yelled out and the dog lurches for me to give me a few licks. Now we are neighbourhood friends.
Showing posts with label dogs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dogs. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Sometimes I even surprise myself
When I was in twelfth grade -- which was a very long time ago -- my friend Cathy's cat died. It was my first experience with pet death and Lucy, her cat, was the meanest cat from Nova Scotia to British Columbia. I'm not joking -- I would have put Lucy up against any cat in Canada for a good cat fight and I would have bet the farm because Lucy was truly a nasty piece of work. (I say that fondly all these years later.)
All my friends agreed, except Cathy who naturally thought Lucy was the best cat ever. Therefore, when Lucy died and Cathy went into a month-long depression, we, her friends, were baffled. I am even willing to bet that neighbourhood dogs who hadn't left their owners homes in years out of sheer fear of Lucy, were out on the street partying.
Last year when my friend Pat's dog died, I had a slightly warmer reaction. Emily, her now deceased doberman pincher had been been part of my working life for a year. She used to bark as I entered our office every morning and then she would sit beside while I ate my breakfast just waiting for my crumbs. I always made sure there were crumbs because she was big and scary and I was afraid that if there were not crumbs that snacking on me was her Plan B.
I am sure you get the picture.
No one has ever accused me of being a pet lover.
You may be baffled because as most of you know, I now own a dog. And a very cute dog at that. I am like those women who love their own children but are not children-lovers in the general sense. That is my feeling about animals.
I am not going into all the reasons we decided to get a dog but I will say that since getting Pepper, I have made several new friends with dogs all around our neighbourhood. Sometimes I only know the dog and the owners are baffled when their dogs approach me in a familiar manner for a little pat and chat.
However, one dog that I have liked as much as I could like any dog, was a beautiful golden pooch who lived on our street. Her name was Mica and my kids loved her from the moment we moved to Israel. So much so, that when her owner's son was doing his compulsory army service, my kids sent him a big food parcel one holiday, addressed to "Mica's Big Brother" at his army base. And when he wrote back to thank the kids for the junk food, he signed his name the same way.
Mica was Pepper's best friend -- primarily because she had the patience of Job and let Pepper, in her puppy-like enthusiasm, jump all over her for several minutes without loosing her patience.
While I was out doing errands today my husband called and said: "Did you hear?" Usually when he says that he is about tell me some crazy story about the goings-on in the synagogue. "No," I said casually, "what happened?" "Mica died," was his unexpected response.
Well, let me tell you. The news has completely ruined my day. I am just devastated. She was only six years old and the story is so mysterious that even her owners who found her mere hours before the end, don't really know what happened. They rushed her to the vet, but to no avail. They have some theories -- and I agree with those theories completely.
I am not going to list them here because there may be people who still want to buy houses on my street and I don't want compromise those deals. No, it's not poltergeists or serial murderers, so just don't go there.
What has surprised me the most is the depth of my personal sadness. It was just last week that Mica and Pepper were out playing together on the street and I was running after Pepper like a nutcase. It was only Mica's maturity (really) that made her go back to her owner when she called and as a result, I was able to catch up with Pepper. She was a beautiful dog and I am going to miss her. I think I am doing a Cathy!
All my friends agreed, except Cathy who naturally thought Lucy was the best cat ever. Therefore, when Lucy died and Cathy went into a month-long depression, we, her friends, were baffled. I am even willing to bet that neighbourhood dogs who hadn't left their owners homes in years out of sheer fear of Lucy, were out on the street partying.
Last year when my friend Pat's dog died, I had a slightly warmer reaction. Emily, her now deceased doberman pincher had been been part of my working life for a year. She used to bark as I entered our office every morning and then she would sit beside while I ate my breakfast just waiting for my crumbs. I always made sure there were crumbs because she was big and scary and I was afraid that if there were not crumbs that snacking on me was her Plan B.
I am sure you get the picture.
No one has ever accused me of being a pet lover.
You may be baffled because as most of you know, I now own a dog. And a very cute dog at that. I am like those women who love their own children but are not children-lovers in the general sense. That is my feeling about animals.
I am not going into all the reasons we decided to get a dog but I will say that since getting Pepper, I have made several new friends with dogs all around our neighbourhood. Sometimes I only know the dog and the owners are baffled when their dogs approach me in a familiar manner for a little pat and chat.
However, one dog that I have liked as much as I could like any dog, was a beautiful golden pooch who lived on our street. Her name was Mica and my kids loved her from the moment we moved to Israel. So much so, that when her owner's son was doing his compulsory army service, my kids sent him a big food parcel one holiday, addressed to "Mica's Big Brother" at his army base. And when he wrote back to thank the kids for the junk food, he signed his name the same way.
Mica was Pepper's best friend -- primarily because she had the patience of Job and let Pepper, in her puppy-like enthusiasm, jump all over her for several minutes without loosing her patience.
While I was out doing errands today my husband called and said: "Did you hear?" Usually when he says that he is about tell me some crazy story about the goings-on in the synagogue. "No," I said casually, "what happened?" "Mica died," was his unexpected response.
Well, let me tell you. The news has completely ruined my day. I am just devastated. She was only six years old and the story is so mysterious that even her owners who found her mere hours before the end, don't really know what happened. They rushed her to the vet, but to no avail. They have some theories -- and I agree with those theories completely.
I am not going to list them here because there may be people who still want to buy houses on my street and I don't want compromise those deals. No, it's not poltergeists or serial murderers, so just don't go there.
What has surprised me the most is the depth of my personal sadness. It was just last week that Mica and Pepper were out playing together on the street and I was running after Pepper like a nutcase. It was only Mica's maturity (really) that made her go back to her owner when she called and as a result, I was able to catch up with Pepper. She was a beautiful dog and I am going to miss her. I think I am doing a Cathy!
Sunday, November 1, 2009
A few important lessons I have learned from our new dog
We have now had Pepper (previously known as Rocky) for a little more than a month. During that month or so, I have to admit that I have grown more attached to her than I had previously expected. I have even arrived at the point that I look forward to our 6:30 a.m. walks. We now know lots of new people and dogs in the neighbourhood because everyone is out walking their dogs when I am out with Pepper early in the morning. And because Pepper is a relative baby, she just loves to stop and socialize with every dog that crosses our path.
As a result of her social, sunny attitude, I have learned a few life lessons that are equally applicable to my human life as they are to any dog's life.
Dog rule #1: If you want to get to know someone just walk up to them and sniff their bum. Yes, it is a bit direct, but dogs do it and they can tell after one quick sniff if they like you or they don't. I am not completely clear on what it is that they are looking for in this sniff-inquiry, but whatever it is, the results are black and white. If they like the smell of your butt, you are a friend for life. If not, has-ta-la-vista stinky bum.
Dog rule #2 (specifically for female dogs, who are probably called bitches for very good reasons): there is no need to go around pissing all over the place and marking territory for a good kilometer radius. Male dogs (and probably men as well) feel that they need to leave their mark everywhere they go, while female dogs (and women) have way more confidence in knowing that their simple presence is enough.
Dog rule #3: Two meals a day, six walks, several naps and a few minutes of roughhousing with a toy and a friend is pretty much as full a day as anyone should have. However, you may also have to tolerate a little dress-up with crazed nine- and 10-year-old girls now and then. It's a small price to pay for an otherwise stress-free life.
Dog rule #4: Once bitten, twice shy. Now I understand that phrase on a whole new level. It's very simple. If someone or something bites you, do not go back for a second round. They had their chance and they chose to bite.
I am sure that as I get to know Pepper better there will be more life lessons, but considering she has only been around for less than six weeks, she has already taught me a few things that I never figured out on my own after 48 years!
As a result of her social, sunny attitude, I have learned a few life lessons that are equally applicable to my human life as they are to any dog's life.
Dog rule #1: If you want to get to know someone just walk up to them and sniff their bum. Yes, it is a bit direct, but dogs do it and they can tell after one quick sniff if they like you or they don't. I am not completely clear on what it is that they are looking for in this sniff-inquiry, but whatever it is, the results are black and white. If they like the smell of your butt, you are a friend for life. If not, has-ta-la-vista stinky bum.
Dog rule #2 (specifically for female dogs, who are probably called bitches for very good reasons): there is no need to go around pissing all over the place and marking territory for a good kilometer radius. Male dogs (and probably men as well) feel that they need to leave their mark everywhere they go, while female dogs (and women) have way more confidence in knowing that their simple presence is enough.
Dog rule #3: Two meals a day, six walks, several naps and a few minutes of roughhousing with a toy and a friend is pretty much as full a day as anyone should have. However, you may also have to tolerate a little dress-up with crazed nine- and 10-year-old girls now and then. It's a small price to pay for an otherwise stress-free life.
Dog rule #4: Once bitten, twice shy. Now I understand that phrase on a whole new level. It's very simple. If someone or something bites you, do not go back for a second round. They had their chance and they chose to bite.
I am sure that as I get to know Pepper better there will be more life lessons, but considering she has only been around for less than six weeks, she has already taught me a few things that I never figured out on my own after 48 years!
Friday, October 2, 2009
Now I know why we should let sleeping dogs lie
Apparently I have watched way too many Disney movies in my day because I really thought that dogs talked to each other -- in English. I was acutely aware of this preconceived notion yesterday as we left the dog kennel section of the local dog pound with our new puppy.
After our friend and pound veterinarian Sarah (the same Sarah from the Half Ironman Weekend) had let our new puppy out of her cage, all the other dogs started barking as our new puppy strutted down the pound corridor for the last time. I am sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that all the other dogs were barking: "good luck pal, and come back for us if things are good on the outside." And I am pretty sure that my new puppy barked back: "I'm off to brighter pastures boys!"
I refuse to retract my speaking dog theory but since I was forced back into reality once we got home I now see that real-life dogs are nothing like those fake movie dogs. Beethoven was very independent and so were Lady and the Tramp. They went out for a spaghetti dinner as I recall. And what about all those clever dogs in Cats & Dogs? Humans seemed almost inconsequential in their lives beyond providing some food and shelter. This does not appear to be the case in real life.
Oh, and I must seguay for a second to THANK (not) everyone I bumped into yesterday who said: "Are you crazy?" or just burst into laughter when they saw us walking our new dog. If I hear the phrase: "you're in for a month of hell" again I am going to knock someone off. You all know who you are and I strongly advise that you keep an eye open when you see me and my dog coming. If not, he is going to pee on you once I teach him how to pee-on-demand. I would like to say that he will bite you if you aren't nice but he weighs all of three kilos and he has a sweet temperament so I am not counting on much in the tough-dog department.
Regardless of what I thought dogs were like, I am happy to say that we have survived the first 24 hours without a major incident. Of course, peeing on my beautiful Italian ceramics wasn't exactly the best thing that happened yesterday. And I am sure that the dog would be happier if Yael would stop trying to dress her up in doll clothes and carry her around.
Either way, I feel like our transition to Israel is nearing completion. The dog is really the icing on the cake.
(A few side notes... first, you will notice that I didn't mention the dog's name and that's because it has changed twice since we brought her home. Poor dog is going to end up with multiple personalities. I wanted to name her Tellulah but no one else would agree to that. Then we moved to Rocky but that was perplexing to some people because it's a she-dog (for now). We think we have finally arrived at the name Pepper, but you will have to wait until my next post for confirmation.
(Second of all, I would have posted a photograph of the dog IF WE HAD A CAMERA! But thanks to some thoughtless person on the 16 bus that stops in Picadilly Circus, we no longer own one.)
After our friend and pound veterinarian Sarah (the same Sarah from the Half Ironman Weekend) had let our new puppy out of her cage, all the other dogs started barking as our new puppy strutted down the pound corridor for the last time. I am sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that all the other dogs were barking: "good luck pal, and come back for us if things are good on the outside." And I am pretty sure that my new puppy barked back: "I'm off to brighter pastures boys!"
I refuse to retract my speaking dog theory but since I was forced back into reality once we got home I now see that real-life dogs are nothing like those fake movie dogs. Beethoven was very independent and so were Lady and the Tramp. They went out for a spaghetti dinner as I recall. And what about all those clever dogs in Cats & Dogs? Humans seemed almost inconsequential in their lives beyond providing some food and shelter. This does not appear to be the case in real life.
Oh, and I must seguay for a second to THANK (not) everyone I bumped into yesterday who said: "Are you crazy?" or just burst into laughter when they saw us walking our new dog. If I hear the phrase: "you're in for a month of hell" again I am going to knock someone off. You all know who you are and I strongly advise that you keep an eye open when you see me and my dog coming. If not, he is going to pee on you once I teach him how to pee-on-demand. I would like to say that he will bite you if you aren't nice but he weighs all of three kilos and he has a sweet temperament so I am not counting on much in the tough-dog department.
Regardless of what I thought dogs were like, I am happy to say that we have survived the first 24 hours without a major incident. Of course, peeing on my beautiful Italian ceramics wasn't exactly the best thing that happened yesterday. And I am sure that the dog would be happier if Yael would stop trying to dress her up in doll clothes and carry her around.
Either way, I feel like our transition to Israel is nearing completion. The dog is really the icing on the cake.
(A few side notes... first, you will notice that I didn't mention the dog's name and that's because it has changed twice since we brought her home. Poor dog is going to end up with multiple personalities. I wanted to name her Tellulah but no one else would agree to that. Then we moved to Rocky but that was perplexing to some people because it's a she-dog (for now). We think we have finally arrived at the name Pepper, but you will have to wait until my next post for confirmation.
(Second of all, I would have posted a photograph of the dog IF WE HAD A CAMERA! But thanks to some thoughtless person on the 16 bus that stops in Picadilly Circus, we no longer own one.)
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